still waiting for spring

LDC_20180416_24990005.jpg

My best friend and I spent a few days getting the cottage ready for the summer season, which presumably is coming even though the weather is doing its very best not to comply. We drove across state in rain the whole way with the threat of snow, sleet and ice for the following day. We tempted fate by not bringing snow boots, because, you know, the forecast is sometimes wrong and it was mid-April, for heaven’s sake.

LDC_20180416_24980001.jpg

We ended up getting snowed/iced in. Well. I’d like to say that’ll teach us but I’m not prone to learning my lesson. We managed, it was adventurous, and we had fun. Isn’t that all that matters?

In a break from the precipitation, I did get a brief walk on the beach with the Bronica SQ-A loaded with Kodak Porta ISO 160, a new film for me. The colors that day were muted but lovely; golden grasses and sand, teal water, a dark freighter, white snow; the sun poked through the clouds just a few times, making the water sparkle. I think this film captured the colors and the mood accurately.

LDC_20180416_24990001.jpg

The beach really took a pounding this winter, leaving even more staircases stranded or worse, broken and many miles away from where they once lived. A huge tree trunk that I’ve been watching get sand-covered and uncovered for years, and that was a quarter mile north of my community, is now lodged on my neighbor’s beach (I think it’s beautiful). We will have to find creative ways (rappelling? installing a lift?) to get from the bluff to the water line this year.

I can only hope the water levels start to recede so the beach begins to rebuild. It’s all cyclical, we know this. But I so miss walks on a big beach.

LDC_20180416_24990004.jpg

LDC_20180416_24980003.jpg

LDC_20180416_24980005.jpg

LDC_20180416_24980006.jpg

LDC_20180416_24990003.jpg

Anna Scripps Whitcomb Conservatory

Growing up, my parents never took us to Belle Isle, an island park in the middle of the Detroit River between Detroit and Windsor, Ontario. They were huge nature lovers, too, but Belle Isle, let alone downtown Detroit, just wasn’t in their rotation. So I grew up never experiencing the delights there. Then again, I’m not quite sure how delightful Belle Isle was in the late 1960s and 1970s. I know the Detroit riots in 1967 shook my dad up. He was a middle school teacher at the time, a new father, young and politically aware, a bit of an outsider himself as a bearded, dark, Italian man in a very golden suburb.

We didn’t go there as teenagers in the 80s, either. There was Greektown and Hart Plaza and Mexican Village, all places to find some trouble and have some fun. And then I left town for a decade and by the time I came back, Belle Isle was neglected and in disrepair. But some years ago the state took it over and it just keeps getting better.

LDC_20180324_000206630007.jpg
conservatory dome

One of my favorite places on Belle Isle is the Anna Scripps Whitcomb Conservatory. It’s muggy and green and earthy-smelling and feels like a sauna and makes your glasses and camera lenses steam up.

LDC_20180324_000206630006.jpg
Fernery entrance

I was there in early March and used the Bronica SQ-A with Fuji Velvia 50 ISO, which is slide film, and which I don’t totally know how to work with. I brightened up a few images in Lightroom but mostly these are as The Darkroom developed and scanned them. Slide film is less forgiving and I think I have to figure out how to meter it differently. I also think the roll turned out much more blue than color negative films I’ve used. Anyway. All experimentation, but I’m not unhappy with these results.

LDC_20180324_000206630009.jpg
greenhouse, shadows
LDC_20180324_000206630011.jpg
greenhouse and cracked pane
LDC_20180324_000206630010.jpg
rake and blue panel
LDC_20180324_000206630012.jpg
greenery in a greenhouse

Also, I really have no idea what I’m doing with Flickr. I set up an account and added some albums so that I could link to photos there rather than fill up space here. I’ve made the albums from the last two posts public. But, I’m not sure I want to have public Flickr albums. I’m just not sure how I feel about Flickr in general. Pros, cons, anyone?

Saint Joseph

I spent a few days in a little town on the west side of Michigan called Saint Joseph. I was there a week ago, and I can’t go there without spending some time on the beach.

LDC_20180321_91760005.jpg
longshadows

I like my beaches empty and windblown, moody, wild.

And I still can’t get enough of my Bronica SQ-A and the 6×6 medium format. The camera isn’t perfect; I’m getting some lines on my negatives that I can’t quite sort out how to get rid of. But, I’ve never been much for perfection anyway.

I used Kodak Ektar 100 ISO for these images. And I completely froze, although you’d never guess just how cold and windy it was from these photos.

LDC_20180321_91760004.jpg
surfer
LDC_20180321_91750006.jpg
driftwood
LDC_20180321_91750005.jpg
late afternoon shadows on the fishing pier
LDC_20180321_91750004.jpg
blue, reflections
LDC_20180321_91750002.jpg
windsicles
LDC_20180321_91740004.jpg
beached
LDC_20180321_91740005.jpg
101

possibilities, and light

So many things I’m looking forward to. One is the time change this weekend. More light! Longer days! I’m kind of acquiescing to the fact that I’m not a morning person, so I’ll relish in the addition of late afternoon light. I’m spending a few days with my dad next week, and I’m going to attend a writing workshop at the end of this month. A graduation next month, and then I will help my daughter move nearly 1,400 miles away. Road trip! New scenery!

After what seems like (aside from work travel) a few months of humdrum and not much else, I’m starting to get excited about what’s coming. I’m thinking about summer, and travel, and projects, and new adventures. Here’s to the coming light.

Two weekends ago I joined a group of photographers to shoot a former grand theater-turned-parking garage. Here in Detroit, we are in the midst of a renaissance. We are repurposing, rebuilding, revamping, recreating. Like crazy. But this place doesn’t fit in, at least to me. A nondescript square of a building from the outside, bits of grandeur left inside, gutted and exposed.

view from balcony toward what would have been the stage

I’ve seen some interesting photos from this place, but it was different than I expected. Much darker, less visible color. I wanted to capture it on film so I brought the Bronica SQ-A and used Kodak Ektar 100 color film. It was challenging, but a learning experience.

ceiling detail
ceiling at front of stage
ceiling over lobby
former lobby ceiling and arches
reflection
hallway and worklights
light and shadows in the mirror room

evolution, changes

And here things go again, all changing and rearranging.

I only just got used to the idea of my oldest graduating college and then the idea of her interviewing kind of snuck up (I know, it’s sneaked, but I like snuck better even if it’s wrong) on me and then just really out of nowhere it appears that just weeks after she graduates she’s moving too many states away from me. She’s leaving her mama.

How does that happen? (I’m only partially asking rhetorically. I’m dumbfounded.)

I’m excited–so excited!!!–for her. I’m obscenely proud. I will be thrilled to visit her when she invites me. But selfishly I want her right here, a couple of towns away from me, where I can drive to her when I need to lay eyes on her. She is capable, I know this. But I remember the first time I sent her to camp for two weeks and it felt like forever and I worried endlessly (and needlessly) and walked around feeling like a part of me was absent, like I’d left a piece of my body somewhere I couldn’t see. Out in the rain. And the wind. Dangling from a cliff.

I felt like that again when she moved off to college. You settle into these things and they begin to become okay, that odd feeling that a part of you is not attached ever so slightly starts to fade. You adjust. I know I will adjust, but oh how this part is bittersweet.

So, there is that. An end, a beginning, new adventures. These are good things.

stone rail, foot bridge in fog in distance
foot bridge railing

I sent four rolls of film to the lab and hoped I’d get them back before I went to California for work last week. One was a roll of 35mm Lomography Earl Gray film shot on the Minolta SRT 102, and the other three were 120mm film–Kodak Tri-X, a Kodak T-Max and Fuji Acros–all shot on the Bronica SQ-A (the square shots are the Bronica).

foot bridge detail

These first images are from a neighborhood park on a day that remained foggy all day.

I don’t know about you, but I kind of love fog. It’s mysterious, you know?

ice floats on river
ducks and ice

The rest are some of the images from that snowy hike with my son a few weeks ago.

My son.

I don’t want to put pressure on the kid, but with my daughter leaving I’m kind of hoping he sticks around a little longer.

the one I hope will stick around a bit

I know, I know. It’s what they’re supposed to do. I’ll roll with it.

frozen brook
branches and tree
snow on fungus on tree
the kid and the 8 x 10
8 x 10 and light leak

So, an oddity… I never have light leaks in the Minolta SRT 102, but in shooting the 8 x 10 in the snow I have this lovely light leak shooting through. Isn’t that interesting?

tiny nest
shelf, fungus
tree fort
leaf curls, close-up filter
milkweed pods with close-up filter
winter dried leaves

 

patience

If you shoot film, you know about patience. Even if you develop your own film, there’s the waiting. I think even if I was set up to develop my own film right now I’d still probably not have the time to run straight to my darkroom and develop the rolls I’d just shot (but wouldn’t that be lovely?). Even with digital you don’t always have the time to come home after a shoot, upload, sift through for the best shots, process those, etc.

There’s never enough time for the fun stuff, it seems.

Anyway, I spent last Saturday hiking and shooting film with my son, which was wonderful not just because I was out doing my favorite thing but because I was with this human that I like and I was doing my favorite thing, with him. There’s an interesting thing that happens when your kids are grown and you find things you have in common and do them together. Kind of magical, really. You spend all this time parenting them when they are little and then poof, they’re grown up and you’re not hanging out with each other because you have to but because you both want to. Also it was snowing while we were hiking, and that’s just magical in itself.

IMG_1062
my kid and his 8×10

So I just sent four rolls of black and white film off to the lab and now I do the waiting thing, obsessively checking USPS tracking to see when the package will be delivered. Checking the lab’s website. Checking email for an email from the lab.

I’m trying to get better about this, really, I am.

When I want to shoot color and I want film back quickly, fortunately there is a lab near me that does a great job with C-41 processing. They’re quick, their scans are great, they’re accommodating of my experiments, and their prices are pretty great.

I shot a roll of Rollei Chrome (which my local lab cross-processed) and a roll of Kodak Ektar on a sunny day with my friend Jane a few weeks ago. The cross-processed Rollei Chrome came out super funky and I quite like it. When I asked the lab to cross process it (they don’t do E-6, so I knew I was taking a chance) they warned me that sometimes the roll will come back empty. I was pleasantly surprised by the weird coloring and extra-crunchy grain.

A running theme for photo shoots with Jane is that we always seem to find the mud. That day was no different–we drove to our favorite marsh and found plenty of mud to bring back on our boots.

I also had the Bronica SQ-A with me that day. Kodak Ektar is one of my favorite color films a) because it’s affordable and b) because it offers up rich, true colors.

 

December surfer

Just a few days shy of mid-December, I drove on a snowy afternoon out from the cottage to see what I could find to photograph and found myself at “the channel,” a small spot of public beach where a little inland lake feeds out into Lake Michigan. While I was gathering my camera another car pulled up, and I watched two men get out of the car, one with a surfboard. We don’t see many surfers at this spot even in the warmer months, although the kiteboarders love the area.

While one was surfing, the other stood on the shore and we chatted a bit. Tom (I think that was his name) is a local; said his friend was in from California and this was his second time in the water today, although the waves had calmed down a lot from earlier that morning.

I like how at first glance he looks as if he’s walking on water.

December surfer, Lake Michigan
December surfer, Bronica SQ-A, expired Kodak Tri-X

as the dark sets in

Oh, these short, short days. They always take me by surprise. I know they’re coming, but they still upend me a bit. It doesn’t even make sense to attempt to be a morning person… those are too dark right now, too. The daylight is over before it’s barely begun.

Anyway, I always feel like I have to get a last blast of color in before the dark takes over and the landscape turns muddled grays and browns. Accordingly, I shot a lot of color film this month and managed to knock off four rolls while hosting Thanksgiving. We converged in waves at the cottage beginning early in the week–kids, friends, my dad–and we all ate and drank and laughed and got outdoors as much as the wild wind would allow until we all left.

LDC_20171129_52690002
Little Sable Point beach, Bronica SQ-A, Kodak Ektar 100
LDC_20171129_52680004
Little Sable Point Light, Bronica SQ-A, Kodak Ektar 100
LDC_20171129_52660004
neighbor’s boats, , Bronica SQ-A, Kodak Ektar 100
LDC_20171129_52700006
reaching, , Bronica SQ-A, Kodak Ektar 100
LDC_20171129_52700001
blue sky and crusty vehicle, , Bronica SQ-A, Kodak Ektar 100
LDC_20171129_52700005
long shadows, , Bronica SQ-A, Kodak Ektar 100

It wasn’t sunny and colorful the whole time we were there, though. There were gray days, too. At first I thought these two pictures with the snow were from when I first arrived on Tuesday, but now I can’t remember… they might have been a few weeks ago when there was a light dusting.

LDC_20171129_52670004
post, Bronica SQ-A, Kodak Ektar 100
LDC_20171129_52670003
fall meets winter, Bronica SQ-A, Kodak Ektar 100
LDC_20171129_52670006
dead tree and field, Bronica SQ-A, Kodak Ektar 100
LDC_20171129_52710002
beach fence, Bronica SQ-A, Kodak Ektar 100
LDC_20171129_52710003
farmhouse, Bronica SQ-A, Kodak Ektar 100

And I had some film in my Minolta SRT-102 needing to be used up, too.

LDC_20171129_52360007
dune, Minolta SRT-102, Kodak ColorPlus 200
LDC_20171129_52360002
tree and roots on dune, Minolta SRT-102, Kodak ColorPlus 200
LDC_20171129_52360028
inland lake, Minolta SRT-102, Kodak ColorPlus 200
LDC_20171129_52360020
milkweed pods and seeds, Minolta SRT-102, Kodak ColorPlus 200

I should have some black and white film from earlier in the month done soon. I’m feeling a black and white mood coming on, and some experimentation with expired slide film. Not sure where that’ll take me, but hopefully it’ll provide some winter entertainment.

I know myself

 

I had a minor epiphany last evening. It happened during pigeon pose in a hot yoga class that up until that moment I was feeling pretty fantastic about. Pigeon always throws me–I get panicky and want to run–but I’ve been practicing yoga long enough (on and off for more of my life than not) that I know not to run. Still, I have to breathe through this pose and remember that it’s just a passing moment. Like an unpleasant interaction, or ice cream brain freeze.

It was this: I know myself.

I actually heard that. My voice, but from somewhere else in the room, saying it.

I get flaky and wishy-washy and indecisive. But, in reality, I know what I like and don’t like. I know what’s good for me and what I need to move on from. I know more than I am letting on that I know about my own self-worth. I know my own mind. I know myself.

It felt pretty freeing to have this thought come to me as I became still and patient during pigeon pose, allowing its lessons to wash over me, with sweat dripping down my nose and a seriously clenching gluteus maximus.

Of course, I’ll probably need reminders. But there it was, plain as day. Or, plain as the voices in my head.

I know myself.

LDC_20171115_000412420006
my dad, laughing

I know where I came from, too. The guy in this picture, my dad. He was with me for a few days several weeks ago and agreed to let me photograph him, and I was eager to try the Bronica SQ-A for portraits. I only took 12 images. This one, to me, is him. His laugh takes over his face.