Sunday, November 17, 2019

some of my best

post #468
            Last week I posted only two photos, but they were ones I found by chance. I didn't remember ever posting them before.  This discovery reminded me that I have been wanting to seek out some of my photos that really spoke to me as stand-alones, apart from their place in some larger story or topic. 
          My plan is to start sharing some of these back stories. Each photo has at least one, sometimes more. Usually I remember where I was, what else was going on, and why I might have made the photo. If I can do the short write-ups with some semblance of skill, then perhaps it will be of general interest to others who make photos or to folks who are curious about such things.  My blog is mainly about Appalachia and photography, so I feel this effort is a good fit. 


        This first photo was made near the Kentucky/Tennessee border, in Cumberland Gap State Park.  I was in the area because of an article I was researching about the writer James Still's first sweetheart. It was a lovely day, and when along the north/south main road I spotted a sign to the state park visitors' center, I up and decided to take that right turn and go where it took me. This view is about 2/3 of the way up. I was able to squeeze my car in and park nearby. I was amazed. I loved the evocative view; I imagined those settlers from the east, those civil war troops crossing the river, and the tourists like me who took time to stop. I made one of my note cards with this image as a way of reminding us that such places do exist.


         The next photo is one I had to work to get. For poet George Ella Lyon's Counting on the Woods, I needed two birds together.  Her words to illustrate with a photo were "two birds, daybreak's words." Simple words that convey so much. My problem had been that most birds don't like to hang out together unless maybe they are waiting for a turn at a bird feeder.  Instead, these two mourning doves kindly and calmly rested there while I took this photo from behind an old sheet hanging like a closed curtain, with a slot for putting my camera through, looking out my bedroom window, using a tripod.  Birds had finally communicated to me how to work with them. It happened with other bird photos in the book as well. (note: the photo started as a slide. Later I scanned the slide and made a digital version. I didn't know how to do Photoshop then, but I used Velvia 50 ISO film for most of the photos in the book. I still don't use Photoshop very much.)



         The next three photos are from an altogether different photo experience, but I blame it on my curiosity.  I had heard that there was one remaining Kentucky owned fire tower that was open to the public. After thinking about going to find it, for at least a year, I still couldn't round up anyone to go with me, so I went by myself. It's almost a two hour drive from where I live. I didn't know about the steep walk up the mountain to reach the fire tower, with just the random sign along the way. I wonder if I had assumed there'd be a road to the top! Not! 
         It's pretty old forest on the way, so of course lovely and interesting.  I figured I would be returning the way I came, so pretty soon I shed my tripod along the side of the path -- a clue if I disappeared. I certainly wasn't worried about theft. If anyone wanted to carry it down the mountain, I'd say thank you.
       I believe I wanted to find out if there were views of mountaintop removal sites from the fire tower. It was early spring so the configuration of the mountains was visible through the bare tree limbs. I did finally reach the top -- and the tower. The next logical and obvious thing to do was to climb the three or four stories of the tower. Things looked pretty solid, and I choose to remember that the metal steps had rails. About halfway up it finally dawned on me that if I fell off, absolutely no one would realize it. There I'd be, closer to heaven, but a worry to friends and family. But I wasn't about to do all that climbing and not go all the way. 
        I did discover on those stairs that I could make my very basic cell phone work, so I tried it out. I didn't see any raw MTR sites, but definitely cleared areas. I have to admit I loved taking photos of the tower from within the tower.  I didn't lose track of time, believe it or not, because I knew I would be locked into the ranger station if I didn't get back to my car in time.  
        It's fun to share that experience. I'm not giving the name of where I was because I don't want to risk getting anyone in trouble. Probably, in any case, it is no longer possible to do what I did. I'm very grateful to have been there.







    This last photo for today is totally wonderful to think about and, IMHO, to look at. I had stopped in the barn yard of some nearby neighbors who had given me permission to stop whenever I wanted to. They had a lot of different poultry here and there. I had to have set up my tripod, just to keep from carrying it around.  I made some photos in the barn, and I was impressed by the size of the tire on a parked tractor. As I have stated before in this blog, it is very hard to get a good photo of a rooster or a hen. They twitch and turn and move their heads continuously. This rooster, however, was, I later learned, a real show off. He liked to stand, survey the scene and look important. Thanks to his vanity, I was able to get a sharp photo of him. He started out as a slide, and I have a huge print of him in the display area of my home gallery.  I title this moment as "Big wheel".  Donnie Rose, whose rooster it was, says the little guy lost many tail feathers from standing around. And he lost his life pretty soon after this photo, to a hungry hawk.  What's the saying, 'pride goeth before a fall'? 




        I dedicate this first page of photos + stories to my dear friend and photo mentor John Flavell, who was so patient with me during my early years as a photographer. He made it possible for me to learn a lot of things I didn't even know I really needed to know.  He's such a pro. And fearless. And kind.   Thank you, thank you.
 

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