the fires of the fall

as the ice layers form, they think to put out the fires of the fall

I tried to do my assignment. Went back to the ice image and started working in black and white. Then I just had to see what happend if I layered the ice image on top of this wonderful photo of shore fires created by taking a long exposure of Frank Starr Park during an electrical storm the night Jennifer and Charlie got married.

I could be anywhere. I choose this place, these companions

Flocks of geese seem to me the epitome of freedom, loudly declaring their independence as they fly into open spaces. So...why are they here? Storm Lake in December? Is it because they were born here? Because their leader settled here? Are they stuck? Are they actually here by any choice at all? It that what all the chatter is about?

Why am I here? How long will I stay?

THE SONG OF THE GEESE

their song was glorious

Today I went hunting for geese to shoot with the "good" camera. I walked purposefully west along the lakeshore where a small gaggle had been yesterday. No luck. Returning home, I dropped off the camera, grabbed another scarf against the wind and walked east along the lake. A mile later I saw the first 100. But I carried on, around the curve, and there they were, singing to the sky at least 300 of them.

As you may remind me, "Silly goose, don't you know they always show up when you leave the camera at home?"

Race back home, return this time in the car... to the park and... the song of the geese....so loud it holds one in place, with no thought to the work at hand.

This one's for you, Mr. H. The same lake background layer as the image two posts below, with the geese isolated and superimposed.

ice dreams

ice dreams in the winter sun with no fear of melting

The ice series started one cold Sunday in December with three photos along the shore of Storm Lake. The cold and wind had created large ice blocks and thrust them up out of the water, in a jumble along the edge of the lake. This image uses layers to show the transparencies of color, and the brightness and darkness of the ice shining in the sun.

Does ice not understand the danger of melting in the sun? Or does it choose to spend itself on the warmth and beauty?

and so it begins

When the sky lights my day...hope colors my dreams


How long do we contemplate simple changes? I contemplate for years, I guess. Then make bold sweeping changes in an instant, it seems, but the contemplation makes the change possible.

This blog is to share my artwork. I need to hear from you, dear reader, if you have comments or suggestions. Any response is helpful, but I'm really hoping for feedback to take what I consider to be my "sappy" artwork and try for something meaningful.