Living "In Between Times"

This past week has been good for photography because we are in a meterological struggle between winter and spring.  While the calendar says that winter officially holds claim to the season, spring's coup is quietly pressing toward center stage.  The photo selected for this week is not about the seasons nor is it about the steadfast passing of the seasons or about the special times we all observe within each season.  The thoughts stirred by this week's photo rise from the transition itself i.e. those in between times. 

 

During biblical days, wise old King Solomon proclaimed, "For everything there is a season, and a time for every activity under the heavens", referring to a predetermined or natural progression of events within life.  In the musical, Fiddler on the Roof,  Tevye and Golde sing "Sunrise, Sunset" a song in which they reminisce about the swiftly passing of the years as one season following another.  The lyrics are similiar to that familar expression we all use when we exclaim with wonder, "Where have all the years gone?"  We mark events by the days and seasons as though they are mile posts guiding our journey through life, and in doing so, we assign them importance -- but what about all the in between times where most of our living takes place?  

For me, the above photo partially answers that question.  
 

I took this photo at Nygren Wetlands mid week while visiting hoping to find open water and new bird visitors.  Instead, I found ice and some open patches of water that reflected the sky and the surrounding treeline.  Opaque sheets of ice were still covering the greater portion of the water's surface concealing the beautiful water reflections and delaying the return of birds which I hoped to photograph. The sharper edged mid winter ice was transitioning into a smoother edged pearlized version blending in with the scattered open patches of water as if they came to an agreement that they are one in the same.  The open patches spoke to me of patience, and about finding beauty in the present while sustaining hope for things to come.  They encouraged me not to lose the capacity to see the beauty and appreciate the mystery that comes with living wthin the in between times.  

Coming here today wasn't the waste of time that others, like me, initially thought.  As always, the visit provided me with a time to slow down mentally, to listen, and to stand alone in the solitary presence of nature and feel humbled to be a part of its changing ways.  The truth in living may be that life isn't about the "special times" we have learned to anticipate, recall and mark yearly on our calendars.  In reality, the in between times may be the time where our real living takes place. The in between times could be the place that molds us by providing us the foundation to create, experience, and interpret life's special times and celebrations making them seem more joyful and fufilling whenever they come our way.

There I Fixed It #5

I am sharing two photos that were taken at Ernie's Midtown Pub this  past Tuesday. They will be the final photos in this series, There I Fixed It.  I  am eager to return to using zoom lenses and sharing color photos. Maybe, it is fitting that both photos for this week contain reflections because I am trying to review what I have learned during this brief experiment.  

Nikon 35mm

This first photo is of Ernie's bar with the liquor bottles reflecting in the mirror.  The bar mirror reveals part of the decor within the pub which consists of framed posters and vintage black and white photos of the city.  The pub is housed in two adjacent older buildings which still retain their old walk in display windows providing lots of natural light.  

The second photo is a photo of a framed poster hanging near one of those windows.  It caught my attention because it provides an example of what I have learned during this series. This photo has a funky liquified effect caused by the glass protecting this poster.  What you don't see is the actual poster beneath that glass.  What you do see is the outdoor street scene reflected on the protective glass covering that poster.  From the direction I photographed the poster, the outdoor street scene was the dominant image but two steps to the left and the street scene vanished revealing only the poster.

 

My black and white only experience reminded me of how I crave color in photographs.  To produce the images I wanted,  I felt limited by predetermining whether an image will be color or black and white.  That decision is best left to the photographer only after confronting their image.  I used to think that all good black and white images must contain true black areas and some true white areas hosted by many shades of gray blending with the white and black extremes.  Last week's photograph of a pasture scene in the middle of a blizzard had no true black or white areas.  All the tones were within the grey range because blizzards, fog, smoke, etc. tend to limit our range of vision and really make everything within them tonally similar.

I learned that shooting with only a fixed lens was confining.  It was awkward to see potential photos missed due to immediacy and access issues.  Those scene within the larger scene shots were missed because it took time to move my body to a different location.  I missed being able to easily feature a given focal point within a scene. On a positive note, using only a fixed lens reminded me of how lazy a photographer I can be.  By not being more inclined to move to a different perspective to gain an even better perspective, I risk missing opportunities to see something unique.  That particular piece of learning resonated with me by reminding me of how I need to re-adjust my perspective mentally to help me better understand others who may hold different viewpoints on matters not relating to photography.

Sooner or later we all will feel stuck in a photographic rut.  We look for something more than what we currently do or see around us.  My name for the series, There I Fixed It,  had a hint of sarcasm in it because I didn't expect that this experiment with my photographic routine would lead me to a dramatic aha revelation into my photography but it brought me to reconsider some attitudes and photographic routines.  As I exit my black and white period, I feel like joining Paul Simon singing the chorus of "Kodachrome".    But the photographer in me is not quite ready to sing that "everything looks worse in black and white".

There I Fixed It #4

Winter Pasture Scene - captured with 35mm lens processed with NIK software

This week's photo was taken one week ago today during a fast moving snowstorm which dumped 6 inches of snow on the area. What made this storm different was the volume of snow coming down and the unusual mix of large and smaller snowflakes.  During the short time it took me to get out of the car and shoot the photo, the snow rapidly blanketed my hat, coat and camera.  There is something about a storm that makes a person reconsider their place in the universe and during this short time outdoors, I realized my place was back in a warm, dry car.

When I returned home and looked at the photos, I was reminded of the muted landscape shapes and the lack of color and contrast throughout the scene. What the camera couldn't capture was the the silence of the scene and that unique charge of excitement in the air that seemed in total opposition to the peace that was so encompassing even in the midst of those oppressive weather conditions.  

 

 

 There I Fixed It #3

This week's photo came to me like a blast from the past!  While sorting some photographic equipment that I have not used for some time, I came across a negative sleeve of 120 film.  My curiousity got the best of me so I took the negatives to my friend and print maker, Bob, at Image N That Photo Processing. He scanned the negatives for me and I discovered that most of the photos where taken of an old shed, likely owned by a hoarder/ collector.  

The images on the roll showed a variety of vintage advertising memorabilia acquired by this hoarder over a long period of time.  Most of it looked like it came from local businesses that had disappeared many years ago. Perhaps he collected theses pieces to preserve his memories of these special places now long forgotten within his community.

As I studied these images which were taken about six to eight years ago, I recalled that I had just purchased a  Rollicord Twin Lens Reflex Camera at an estate sale and I was likely checking out that old camera.  Looking back, it was probably fitting that the first subjects photographed by this old camera were peers from the same decade as the camera itself.  Maybe it was fate that allowed this old camera to preserve some artifacts from a society that no longer exists -- an act not unlike the hoarder.

This is the one of the six photos that caught my eye.  Since the scan had produced a digital negative, I chose to process them with an old version of NIK software using a Panatomic X Film simulation.  From the other negatives, I could see that I was struggling with the way the camera reverses images in its waist level viewfinder.  It's a wonder that I got five recognizable images from that roll of twelve frames.  Today it is so much easier and cheaper to produce a decent photo.  Knowing that fact makes me stand in awe of photographers like Vivian Maier and Robert Capa who composed and shot so many frames so quickly and precisely the first time.

While Jim Croce poetically sang of keeping time in a bottle, this hoarder decided to keep it stored outdoors around his shed.  I guess we all have our unique ways of trying to hold on to the past. However, I liked the way that nature patiently and persistently intervened over the years covering the vintage pieces with vines and sapplings while the grandfather clock continued to rest against the shed for its support.  Life presses onward, and as Tolstoy wrote, " Two of the most powerful warriors are patience and time."      

 

There I Fixed It #2 

This is the second photo in my black and white set kicking off the year.  Today is a frigid, very blustery January day.  As I was taking the photo, the wind pushed hard against my body causing me to brace my stance.  I chose the corrigated steel storage silos with their distinct texture to contrast with the smooth edges of the blowing snow drifting across the landscape.  There is a starkness in the landscape at this time of year where everything slips into a deep sleep.

Hold fast to dreams for when dreams go life is a barren field frozen with snow.      Langston Hughes

 

 There,  I Fixed It!  

I needed to step away from my blog for a family emergency for a couple weeks. During that time, I took no photographs and I really missed not being able to do that. I didn't realize how much a habit photography has become in my life. Mentally, photography provides me with the time to sort out the clutter in my mind so I can find the things I need.

Illinois winters are gray, cold, and confining. I suppose that is why I chose to shake things up photographically by shooting only black and white and using only a fixed lens for several weeks. Hence, comes my title for this photo series, "There, I Fixed It"!

I am making this change to help me see my photos differently. I usually choose to use a telephoto lens because access is one key ingredient for taking interesting photos. Telephoto lenses help me gain an access advantage, in most circumstances, when I do not know what will capture my interest. By forcing myself to use fixed lenses I have to re-adjust the way I compose my photos.

This week's photo is my first photo taken in 2025. I shot it with a 35mm 1.8 lens using my ride around Nikon d5100. In post, I converted it to black and white . Since I knew my final image would be black and white, I adjusted my settings to get the black and white image that would work for me. The light was coming over his shoulder but not really lighting his face well. Fortunately, he was sitting at a nearby table so I was able to adjust exposure to near what I wanted in the print. I choose to take this photo because this fellow looked like he lived a hard life and was enjoying a hot cup of coffee on a minus degree gloomy winter's day. The cell phone in his hand told me that although he was alone, he was still connected with others at some level. On a gray, chilling, Illinois morning that is a warming thought.

Tryin to Get the Feeling Again

Just before Christmas, I was invited to sit in on a pre- concert sound check for Peter Mayer.  The photo featured in this week's blog was one of several taken during that session. Since 1988, Peter was the lead guitarist for Jimmy Buffet and the Coral Reefers Band.  He is a talented singer and phenomenal guitarist. Peter continues to write music and tour with his own band performing at many national venues.

As I watched him prepare for that evening's concert, my mind wandered to what life on the road must be after so many years.  I thought about all the microphones and tangles of wires and speakers that were anything but glamous. I watched as sound techs held conversations among themselves and with other musicians as the practice proceeded.  Mostly, I thought about what kind of mental discipline it takes to perform those familiar songs as if they were being performed for the very first time. However, from within all this present chaos, a polished performance will emerge in just a few short hours.

Attending this sound check got me thinking about photography in a way that Peter Mayer may feel as he prepares for a concert.  Behind each beautifully finished print, stands a period of repeated distractions, failures, and moments of self doubt prompting us to wonder if we can ever get the feeling again.