Today, February 28, 2013, history is being made. The Roman Catholic Church is without a Pope. Holy Father, Pope Benedict XVI, resigned his post. The photo today is of a concrete sculpture at St. Andrew's Abbey, a Benedictine community, in Valyermo, CA. Black & white conveys the intense nature of the sculpture and the proverb of a rich man, a camel, the eye of a needle and entrance into heaven. After a brief, but steep hike, the visitor will find himself atop a mesa which overlooks the stark beauty of the Antelope Valley, and the cemetery for the Benedictine Oblate and monks. Although retired, Pope Benedict is still with us. One can't help but consider his time as Pope, and the humility of his resignation, and then visit the Abbey, witness the simple lives of the monks and put life into perspective.
Taken by my wife, Ann, with a point & shoot Canon, our faithful dog Molly was so content the day this was shot. A St. Bernard/Collie mix, Molly was never one to shy away from adventure. What is it about dogs and open windows? Is it the utopia of scent passing through their nostrils? Or, perhaps it is the wild dog genetic trait of their ancestors rising up from deep within, with imagination and dreams of past lives? Molly lived a life full of frolicking, chasing birds, rabbits and even our 2 children, when they were youngsters. She took many, many road trips to marvelous destinations. On this day, as we cruised 89A in Arizona, Molly allowed the crisp breeze to fly through her mane, and we are left to wonder about the mystery. We miss you!
Long gone are these stepping stones, now covered by heavy winter snows. Once again, black & white can enhance a photograph, where color might skew depth and drama. Taken just a few months ago, Old Man Winter has since arrived in Steamboat, and Mad Creek is hidden under several feet of white stuff. Once spring run off begins, these rocks will create underwater moguls for a powerful, cascading river. By summer, the rocks will once again become visible, and make for excellent stepping stones to cross the creek, or to sit upon and gaze at the trout.
Big, doe eyed, brown eyes that can see the intentions of your heart. Meet Monkey. A youngster from the Colorado Greyhound Adoption group, Monkey was saved by a friend of ours, Peter. A maze of brindled fur, this handsome dog has the demeanor of a saint, the soul of an angel, and enough body mass that when he leans into a human friend (a greyhound habit = "leaning"), you might just find yourself looking for something to hold on to. While this photograph may not be one of my "professionals", it is one of my favorites.
Innocence. An unwilling participant or an activist, herself - this youngster was spotted in an Occupy Protest last winter, at the Capital Building in Denver - a mere 20 degrees, with snow on the ground. While color is a viable way to display emotion, black and white brought this photograph to life. Perhaps this young lady will become the new generation of rebels, or find a path in corporate America. It's hard to say. I found the small cookie in one hand, and a guitar in the other to be very compelling; a display of childhood innocence.
Taken last fall, this metrolink stop provided interesting lines and dimension. The photograph could easily be converted to black & white, which I prefer for city scapes and architecture. However, the Dry Creek Road metrolink stop, at the "Tech Center" during sunrise was simply beyond anything other than color. The far off Rocky Mountains can be seen, as well as the interstate and even our hotel. The azure blues, fuchsia pinks, steely greys and iris purples light up the early morning skies. Apparently, mother nature and man can become intertwined from time to time, as is easily depicted in this photograph.
"Don't it always seem to go
That you don't know what you've got
Till it's gone
They paved paradise
And put up a parking lot..." Joni Mitchell
Many a song is penned in regards to wheels. They are part of our life, and have been around forever. In the country of YAP, stone wheels were once used as a monetary/status symbol. The wheel was used, in it's earlier forms for Fred & Wilma Flinstone as well. Getting from point A to B, the wheel has served us well. These steel wheels, once part of the Union Pacific saw the vast expansion of the great southwest, and also in delivering passengers from Arizona to all points east. As a pioneer, the wheel helped forge the great expansion of the United States. This antique rail yard in Flagstaff, AZ allows us to admire and dream about the gallant purpose of train wheels and their mighty force.
Brilliant blooms allow the weary wintered person hope that spring is just around the corner. This bloom was proudly displaying it's bounty on July 4, 2012 in Flagstaff, AZ. A bright and cheery yellow offers imaginations of a golden sun, dripping warmth from its intricately designed pedals. As a winter sky opens the gates of snow, this bold yellow creates a day dream of spring.
Tonight's blog entry will be different from all the others. This photograph was taken in The Sanctuary, in Steamboat Springs. However, tonight, after the horrific events of today, with yet another police officer being killed, this time from San Bernadino County, California, I look at this picture and offer it as a homage of sorts. There is a gap between the solemn, steel statues. To me, this depicts a loss or a mourning of the law enforcement family. Whenever a law enforcement officer is killed in the line of duty, that death leaves a hole in the department. These men and women, these brave deputies and officers leave their homes, their families, their loved ones at the start of each shift. They do a job never knowing whether or not that kiss on the cheek for their wife, husband or child might possibly be the last. They ask nothing from us; the people they protect and serve. The VERY LEAST we can do for them is to honor their sacrifices with a simple and heartfelt "Thank You".
Ann C. G. McArthur
Black and white photographs provoke the imagination. Living in snow country, the "white" comes easily. The "black" was actually a reddish-brown rung of a staircase, that also would have added depth to this photo. However, the black and white brought more to this picture, in my opinion. Many, many skiers in this area pray for virgin snow; "first tracks" as they are referred to around here. And here's a shocker, people actually pay to ski the trees, and cut the first tracks on Mt. Werner, just be able to waft, almost effortlessly down a quiet mountain, after a heavy dumping of phat powder. I speculate the skier experiences an emotional passion, perhaps, that of soaring through white, billowy clouds. My skiing days long behind me; actually they never were in front of me either, the possibility to catch a set of stairs, unblemished by any living creature, gave me the thrill I yearned for that day.
First snows of the season provide the opportunity to peregrinate the small trails deep within Routt County. Early snows, tend to be more dense due to temperature, and easily disrupt the fall colored leaves. With a blink of the eye, brightly colored leaves fall towards the ground. On this enterprise, the weight of the freshly fallen snow couldn't dislodge this stalwart sentry from its seasoned post. The contrasts are subtle and the shapes more obscene; snowflakes, tree, twig all have a linear element to them, yet the leaf is gentle and well rounded. Perhaps that is the reasoning behind its' tenacity?
100 years ago, homesteading in this area with little more than scrub oak, red rocks, the Green and Yampa Rivers running close by, took bravery and guts. Born in England, Jack Chew, a devout member of the LDS, moved his family to this desolate spot, deep in Echo Canyon. His son Rial Chew also raised his family in this canyon. Eventually the house and surrounding outbuildings were deeded to Dinosaur National Monument. Although in slight disrepair from the elements and vagabonds, it is easy to wander the remnants of one family's dream for a better life and imagine long, frigid Colorado/Utah winters, endless miles of snow, frigid temperatures; or hot summers, deep canyon winds that sings songs of solitude. Some might easily consider this arduous, but for the Chew family and their descendants, this place whispered "home".
Dog. Spelled backwards - GOD. Coincidence? Almost completely blind due to glaucoma and cataracts, Lady Byrd, our red Mini-Pin, knows her name. She makes for an excellent model for me when I am working on black and white, shades, hues and light. It's as though she realizes that for a moment of her busy day, a treat is sure to follow.
Once named Storm Peak, Mt. Werner located in Steamboat Springs, CO is still home to the famous "Champagne Powder", and having produced the most Olympic Athletes. This week, the City of Steamboat will celebrate their 100th birthday of Winter Carnival. For those who wish to grab a piece of true western cowboy life, with a panache of rip roaring ski time fun, a trip to downtown Lincoln Avenue will offer skiers being dragged by horses, the high school band playing instruments while shuffling along on skis, a lighted man skiing down Howelsen Hill at night, the ring of fire, where temporarily insane ski patrollers race down the ski jumping hill through fire and even a few brave souls who ride their bikes down the ski hill. It's 5days of rip roaring fun and events that includes the entire town, tourists and "locals" alike. So, come on down to Steamboat Springs and play a part in the oldest winter carnival west of the mighty Mississippi.
On a brisk, windy afternoon, late in January 2010, my son and I had the opportunity to explore parts of Los Angeles. My wife and I had time to visit, and our son decided to take me to locations where shooting photographs might be ample. Rich in diversity and culture, Los Angeles isn't a tourist experience but rather an exploration of all walks of life. On this particular day, we drove to Baldwin Hills, not far from La Cienega Blvd. The vistas from the Baldwin Hills Scenic Park vouchsafe the photographer time to observe, calculate the light, and perhaps select a subject, and be part of a never-to-be-forgotten moment in the camera lens. Such was the case for this woman, braving the brisk weather. Her fiery, orange hued head scarf stands out in this photo, and in retrospect, was reason that I shot the photo.
Horseshoe Bend, located off U.S. Route 89, near Page, Arizona invokes me to contemplate the powers of Mother Nature. The sandstone and years of the elements have created both masculine and feminine appearances to the Horseshoe. Strength and solemn are the sandstone, in its' masculinity, and the grace and female compassion are the Colorado River. Both joined in harmony create yet another marvel that is the southwest, filled with the years of magic and wonderment.
Taken with a Canon point and shoot 2 years ago, I enjoy this picture. It was Mother's Day weekend, and our son, a master culinary genius, dragged us to the heart of the barrio in search of some dive that excelled in the art of burritos. Most great chefs seem to just know the best dives. The cafe was closed, but we took the opportunity to wander the mean streets of Los Angeles' poorer neighborhood. My wife, a native of Los Angeles admitted to never being in this neck of the woods. We stumbled upon a voodoo/Santaria store, and once inside, my wife looked towards the ceiling, saw the pelt of a dog, turned on her heel, and out the door she went. My guess was that she was irked by the fact that it was Mother's Day, and our way of honoring her was to show her the other side of a dime. I suppose she had something else in mind.
Pretty bolts all in a row. This steel bolt, consolidated with a beam, wood and frame make for a bridge. The bridge can then transport people from point A to B. Each piece relies upon the strength of the other. One weak link can spell disaster. Any set of circumstances can circumvent the entire structure. What hard work goes into the bridge can be all for not, if the materials are substandard. This analogy is universal to life's purpose. A layman might not give pause at the integrity of one bolt; however ask a steelworker in a steel mill in Pennsylvania about this one bolt, and they will stand with princely pride at their work.
Demure in appearance, this solitary stalk of dried wheat perseveres through the cold winter. Tranquil and placid, the stalk of wheat gently tremors, evidence of a slight winter breeze. On this particular Saturday, I found myself wandering near the Chuck Lewis State Wildlife Area, RCR 14, Steamboat Springs, Co. Perhaps it was fated that I would find this little piece of nature, and the lessons it taught; Poetic perseverance is rich.
100 years ago, homesteading in this area with little more than scrub oak, red rocks, the Green and Yampa Rivers running close by, took bravery and guts. Born in England, Jack Chew, a devout member of the LDS, moved his family to this desolate spot, deep in Echo Canyon. His son Rial Chew also raised his family in this canyon. Eventually the house and surrounding outbuildings were deeded to Dinosaur National Monument. Although in slight disrepair from the elements and vagabonds, it is easy to wander the remnants of one family's dream for a better life and imagine long, frigid Colorado/Utah winters, endless miles of snow, frigid temperatures; or hot summers, deep canyon winds that sings songs of solitude. Some might easily consider this arduous, but for the Chew family and their descendants, this place whispered "home".
