Dam Story

Dam Story

The photos I like best have a story to tell, or at least they suggest one to an imaginative mind.  This image has a narrative, part of which actually happened. And part, well, I’m not entirely certain about.  

The Cross River Reservoir in northern Westchester is about 3 miles long and is just one of New York City’s suppliers.  At the West end, there’s a dam, built in 1908, more than 170 feet tall holding back some 10 billion gallons of water.  (History recounts how 50 buildings in the village of Katonah were relocated from here to their current spot by using horse drawn power and rolling logs.) Running along the top of the dam is a pathway almost a quarter mile long that reopened to the public 5 years ago after being closed in the wake of 9-11.  

It’s one of my photographic haunts and on a cold, snowy monochromatic day during one of our recent Nor’easters I found myself there looking for a winter image to post.

I was literally freezing – visibility strongly curtailed by the squalls of sleet and snow. What was I doing out here all by myself in this weather?  But glad I had purchased those wool gloves with no fingertips, enabling me to make fine adjustment settings on the camera and still having some feeling in my hands.  I was feeling a little lightheaded.

So, you can imagine how startled I was when a muffled weak voice behind me asked: “Anything interesting?”  Good thing my camera was firmly mounted on a tripod as I spun around to see my visitor.

My companion appeared to be very old with a grizzled gaunt face and a three day beard below a bemused smile. He was as colorless as the day except for the deepest clear blue eyes which dominated his face in sharp contrast to it, and the scene around us.   I couldn’t imagine what this octogenarian was doing out here.

I stuttered out a few words about looking for shapes and lines and patterns in the scene, not trying to be rude but also not wanting an extended conversation.  He nodded and asked a few more informed questions making it clear this was no idle chatter on his part, and that he was quite well versed in photographic expertise.

He offered that he had left his camera behind because it was too heavy and that his wooden tripod and leather bellows would not hold up well to this weather.

And with that he ambled off down the road in the opposite direction from which he’d come. As he was about to finally disappear into the snowy landscape I snapped this shot.

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What Can We Agree On?

It’s pretty obvious that there’s little we all agree on. In politics, science, religion, news reporting, moral issues, the role of government in our society.  Today, one person’s facts are just an opinion to someone else. 

Well, a little research on google suggests there’s one thing we all like – universally across all cultures and throughout millennia – flowers.

And perhaps one of the most remarkable specimens is the Iris.  The image below was captured at the Presby Iris Garden in Upper Montclair, New Jersey.



Iris comes from the Greek word for rainbow.  Some other colors in the Iris spectrum can be seen here:

OK, flowers smell good and are pretty to look at.  But sometimes the things we most take for granted, and the reasons we accept for their being, hide the real question: in this case why do flowers appeal to us in sight and fragrance and why do they make us happy so universally. 

Maybe it’s just that flowers are perfect and our lives aren’t?  Such speculations tend to generate more opinion than fact, more heat than light, etc.

There’s another intriguing theory that flowers are the harbingers of fruit, as in sustenance and survival. For that idea to resonate one has to accept two other possibilities.   That eons ago in our pre-supermarket hunter-gatherer days, we associated flowers and blossoms with sustaining fruit to come.  And that such ancestral memories, laid down deep in our brainstems, survive today, bubbling up in delight from the unconscious in the presence of blooms and blossoms.

Still another possibility is that flowers remind us of a strong procreative force.  During pollination, there’s a lot of sex going on in the flower world of carpels and stamens.  Birds and the Bees, etc.  Valentine’s Day.  I’ll stop there since my blog is PG rated.

Here’s some floral history.  Flowers have been around for about 130 million years, a long time but not so long in the grand scheme of things.  Scientists believe that in an hour of earth’s geologic existence, flowering plants have only lived in the last 90 seconds.  One geneticist suggests humans have been cultivating flowers for about the last 5000 years, beginning with sparing them as they cleared the land for agriculture. Another plant historian goes back further some 14 thousand years, claiming ancient burial pits in Israel show evidence of stems and flowers.  Egyptians placed them in vases while Greeks and Romans wore them in garlands and wreathes.

Now, specifically about Irises – there are some 300 species of these complex beauties.  And most are specifically designed vis a vis their fertilization structure to avoid self-pollination.  That is, the flower’s apparatus only allows the deposit of new pollen from the carrier insect while entering, and the removal of the host’s pollen when leaving.  Ingenious.

Some Irises have been used to clean up ponds and streams because their roots absorb pollutants but at the same time they can be so invasive as to be banned from this purpose.

There is some controversy about whether or not the Iris or the Lilly (two different flowers) is the source of inspiration for the ubiquitous fleur-de-lis symbol in coats of arms, country and state flags, or even as part of the scouting traditional attire.

Irises have been used in perfume and medicine and most importantly for martini aficionados, in Bombay Sapphire Gin. 

Finally, as most art lovers know Irises were a favorite subject of Vincent Van Gogh, the most famous of which was painted in 1889 just before he died while in an asylum in Saint-Rémy-de-Provence, France. 

I think we can get pretty much total agreement that this is a beautiful work of art.





Moving in Closer: Marcescence and Mother Nature's Modern Art

Unless you’re a botanist you’ve probably never heard of marcescence. Well, it’s a fancy, somewhat unpronounceable word to describe deciduous trees that keep their leaves normally shed in the Fall.  Here’s an example below from a recent walkabout in Pound Ridge Reservation. You might ask yourself, as I did, why this happens – or doesn’t happen. Maybe it’s just the exception that proves the rule: Fall is when leaves fall?  Apparently, no one really knows the reason for marcescence but some experts speculate that keeping dead leaves is a defensive measure to deter hungry deer from a meal of soft twigs and buds.  Who knew trees were so smart?

Speaking of rules, photography teachers suggest that the better image is often had by moving in closer to the subject.  I do agree and must own up to the fact that, sometimes in post image capture processing (sharpening, cropping, etc.), I find that part of the picture I took is more interesting than the original.  Like the one below which moves in closer by cropping, i.e. using software rather than footsteps.  I prefer the second image but it’s debatable which best illustrates the marvel of marcescence.  What do you think?

I also mentioned Modern Art at the outset of this ramble.  What’s the connection? 

A bit indirect but it turns out my marcescent tree was growing next to a stream which, while not strongly coursing, was flowing along nicely and rolling over some semi-submerged rocks.  How about shooting a close-up image here?  Since walking on water is not one of my talents, the answer was a long telephoto lens, 400 mm to be precise.  

The object of moving in with the big lens here was to let Nature attempt some art on her own – modern, abstract art, something nonrepresentational, where no one need ask: “What is this a picture of?”   Mother Nature just wanted to capture some shapes, colors, textures and lines into a composition independent of things in the real world.  I assisted by turning a few camera dials and getting in tight with the telephoto. With apologies to Mr. Pollock, Mother Nature especially liked this result below:

More of her work can be found here: