more April beauty

post #28
      Just back from two nights at the Pine Mountain Settlement School in Harlan County, driving several hours each way over some curvy roads with redbuds in bloom, dogwoods starting, and numerous scars on the mountainsides.   The city of Harlan was hit by a damaging thunderstorm Saturday afternoon, but we just had a short period of rain.  

My favorite location there, sitting on a short foot bridge -- the sound of water, so many wildflowers

Since several of you liked the photos last week from our woods, I decided for this post to share some wildflower and forest photos from "southern Kentucky."   Enjoy!

the forest canopy in that stream area

       This photo is imperfect, but I am showing it because it goes with the next image, taken 24 hours later.  I was stunned to see so much change.  And awed.  I took the second photo to make a record of the violet's growth and to show more of the location, near the stream.  These are, I believe, sweet yellow violets. 

      This location is behind the chapel at the Settlement School.  I have never seen such a variety of flowers out at the same time here.  However, it may happen every year or it could be that the damp cool weather has kept more kinds of flowers going and increased their overlap time.  Anyone have an insight on this?  
     The next two flowers I'm showing were located in this more open area. 

Bishop's cap, a.k.a. miterwort?

woodland phlox?

     This will be a blog in progress.  I've now looked up the names of these two flowers (Monday a.m.) because last night I also wanted to watch Upstairs, Downstairs on our public television station, KET!  I will post this as is for now -- corrections welcomed -- with thanks to wonders in this world, including a special April baby whenever she decides to arrive.

spring in my Kentucky woods

post #27
        A year ago I spent an afternoon in the April woods.  I had intended simply to take a walk  -- no tripod, the time of day not being optimum for photographing.  Yet, even without the wonderful even light of early morning or at dusk, when usually the winds are minimal, I had what I call a very good day. It helped that, by chance, there wasn't a lot of wind that day AND there was a lot to see.  I got away with some fine moments.  
      I never knew about the way the wind increases along with the rising sun until I became a photographer.  Watch the wind some early morning when, of course, there isn't a storm in progress. 

bluets, a.k.a. Quaker Ladies

wood-betony

rattlesnake-plantain, 1 of 2 photos

the seeds, which rattle....

fiddleheads

along the stream, mostly violets

       In this last photo I tried an experiment, focusing from above on the plane that had the three blossoms, to bring attention to them.  I am not sure it works as well as I hoped it would.  These are, I believe, sweet white violets. 

          Note: We went to these same places this afternoon, and I took photos again, but this time, unexpectedly, my card acted up and I can't access the images!!  I already intended to return there in a few days, in hopes the trout lilies will be blooming by then and maybe some early trillium, so I will try again -- after the heavy rain expected tomorrow night and Tuesday.  I love the marvel that is spring in eastern Kentucky.

repeating a legacy

post #26
      All year every year I drive past these steps on the way to town, waiting for the daffodils to come up in March.  The photos I print of this place are titled "legacy."  People from out our way all know the photo's location though some are too young to remember the sturdy old house that used to sit on the top of the hill.

      It is one of the places I can't help photographing all over again.  Most years, in fact.  But why!  Do I keep hoping for a better photo?  Or is just a thrill that spring has really come, once again?  I know I think about the constant changes taking place in the country  --  where we may think nothing happens.  I try to see the legacy part of the story.   

      I took the photos last Monday, on a cloudy morning.  Today I'm sharing those shadows of the past and the gift someone gave us years ago by planting those daffodils.

 

      If anyone wants to weigh in on which view speaks the loudest the him or her, if at all, please feel free to do so.  1, 2, 3 or 4.  I would be interested!  Then here is one last photo that I took this afternoon from the kitchen window while I intended to be working on this blog....Hard to believe it snowed here last night!

mourning dove on the maple tree

A Sideway Views review

post #25

     I started this blog five months ago and have managed a weekly post ever since, almost always on a Sunday night.  What can I say.  The writing part has been more fun and more work than I expected.  I had in mind a photography blog, to share what goes into creating a photo, without much personal info, not even my full name -- so it is not a promotional effort.  However, the photos reflect my life and concerns.  Therefore I am not exactly anonymous either.

    And I haven't sent out a general blog announcement yet, even to far flung friends and extended family!  But I think I can get that done this week.  I am shamelessly using today's blog as a note-to-self to get over inadequacy issues and just do it.  In any case, there are some things to review about blogs, for new readers and old readers alike, most of which I have learned during the past four months.

incense for sale

irrigating, while laughing at having their photo taken

1. I do realize there are many blogs these days.   Keeps me humble.  Very humble.
2. If I am posting, you'll know I am alive, even if you don't hear from me in the usual manner!  I dream about writing and sending out notes like Virginia Woolf did, several every day, but, sadly, that's just not going to happen.
3.  Some folks have told me they couldn't figure out how to leave a comment.  Here's the scoop: click on what is usually "0 comments" at the end of the post. Then, at the end of the "box", choose anonymous!  (This is not "a comment" on who you really are...)  I have my blog set to review comments before I post them, which means I can respond to just you if that is what seems appropriate, IF I have your email address, that is.  I don't receive an email address with the comment, so if you need a response, please help me out.  In any case, your comment won't get posted until I have read it first in the email Google then sends me.
4. I continue to recommend Google Reader if anyone is following more than a few blogs.  It takes one click to see if there are any new posts on blogs you've listed -- with no need to check each blog individually.  There are probably other such blogging shortcuts out there but I make no claim to understand the whole big picture.
5. It's easy to link anything cyber to the blog.  When words appear in a different color, then clicking on them can bring up a link.  Hmmm, I wonder if bloggers ever mess with their readers by putting something totally random as the link.  So far I haven't done that.  But it could be done.

Ha Long Bay

         Enough already.  What are these photos, you say?  Well, they were taken in Vietnam, where I traveled one wonderful time, in 2004.  In view of the terrible destruction in Japan from the tsunami, I thought some sea photos would be a reminder of our shared world.  What hurts one of us hurts us all.

fishing nets

new meaning of "shooting in RAW"

post #24

      I've just returned from a 48 hour 45th reunion!  The occasion was a first for this gathering of community action workers from the sixties known collectively as the Appalachian Volunteers, or AVs.  I had been a VISTA (Volunteer in Service to America) assigned to the AVs.  Friday afternoon fifty or so of us picked up where we left off so long ago.  It was fun, exhilarating, and fascinating. We explored our lives, deeds and the issues then and since then, with some I sure don't remember doing thats thrown in. We met in conjunction with the annual Appalachian Studies Conference held this year (2011) at Eastern Kentucky University in Richmond, KY.

Loyal Jones spoke Friday at the reception honoring Appalachian legend Homer Ledford.  Of course Loyal is also a legend!  This photo had its challenges -- the sculpture behind him being a major one.  But with some timing luck and by shifting my location, I am very happy with the result.

         
          The main thing I ended up photographing were the people at the workshops I wanted to attend myself.  So the following photos show others like me who worked in Appalachia in the late sixties, plus Appalachian scholars and young people working now on important issues like mountaintop removal mining, clean energy, and the devastation caused by Oxycontin and other addictions.
      I took these photos while sitting in those workshops listening.  Being able to record what I see in addition to what I hear makes me feel an increased connection to what I am learning.  It didn't hurt that the light was great!  And no one else was there to do it like I could do it.  (This is sounding perilously like "I couldn't help myself.")
     So what do I mean by "shooting in RAW"?   Well, raw may be primarily a digital term but, during this weekend, just being part of this reunion brought my emotions close to the surface.  I don't think I could have done these particular images without loving our shared bond. It's appropriate, perhaps, that shooting raw means having access to all the levels and information a photo provides.

waiting and waiting to ask a question in the workshop about Oxycontin

 

Sarah, articulate and passionate young activist, daughter of an AV

Dave Walls, former executive director of the AVs, scholar and professor

Mike Kline, troubadour, former AV staff, living our history through its music 

Bill and Claudia, former AVs in West Virginia, now working in DC

     Note: what ended up rising from the weekend's energy was a commitment for older activists to support the younger ones, and for younger ones to reach out to older ones.  Every one of us is needed.   And we need each other.

making art from looking around

blog #23

          Two university teacher/photographers, who actually know how to explain what they do, and I did a workshop yesterday for 26 folks, part of the Osher Lifelong Learning Institute (OLLI).  It was a treat for me to be surrounded all day by so many others who also love photography.  Of course I have spent the waking hours since then thinking of all the things I COULD have said or SHOULD have said, despite the fact that since we didn't have enough time as it was, whatever I left out was a gift! 

     The photo that I thought of to explain my post-workshop ideas is from last March.  It shows an overnight change in what is usually a fairly standard field, one with ordinary cows,  grass growing or being eaten, and with birds flying over, from one side of it to the other....

       I have lived nearby for 36 years but that was the first time I had ever seen such a design in that place.  I've tried here to capture the amazing work my neighbor had accomplished.  I also thought about those circles.  I get it that our lives and these circles are like a hanging spiral sculpture.  As we try to figure out the truths of our own lives, we often come to the same place, but at a different level, adding the insights from before to newer insights.  So how many times do I have to go around and around until I finally, if ever, reach clearness on something?  Am not trying to answer that one here.  Just want to note that my art also follows this circular model.  I may use familiar visual material, but the light changes, seasons change, the context changes, and I change.  What I bring to my work as I grow helps my photos, even more than any new camera or printer might do.
      In hopes some of the workshop participants will read this blog entry, I'm choosing one thing from my list of what I wished to have said, and it is this: when I showed you my photos, when I spoke about what I see in my own photos, and when I did my PowerPoint about composition, I'm just talking about personal vision, elusive as that may be.  In a more collaborative situation, without each of us set up to sit in front of a computer, we could better share what works for each of us, you responding to my stuff, me responding to yours as part of the practice, practice, practice any art takes as we each travel our circles toward a clearer inner vision.

This second photo gives an overview of that field's location.

       Maybe you even like this view better, which is cool.  As for me -- now that I am cast as a pundit -- I am simply presenting what works for me.  Getting closer.  Making art by seeing manure or whatever else.  Trusting the process.

a skill set on the way to sausage - and I'm not talking about the Oscars

post #22

      The month Obama was elected, my neighbor, Phillip, alerted me, per my request, that he and his family would be killing one of their hogs.  Fine by him if I wanted to take some photos.  I was eager to record the event, which doesn't happen all that often any more, though Phillip kills more than one hog every year, sharing the meat with members of his family who in turn help out.

      The main thing to remember is that the chosen doing-the-deed day was bitterly cold, good for the meat but finger freezing cold for me and for my camera battery.  That's why I only made it through the skinning and hanging parts.  Maybe by November 2011 I will have warmed up enough to be able to record the next and longer part of the process.

getting ready to start

leading the hogs with the feed bucket

cousins, checking the kill

      

preparing for hanging

cutting off the skin

Phillip working with his son

weighing the skin, newly removed -- 50 pounds!

      

      I also want to give the link HERE for a lively and passionate opinion piece, again about mountaintop removal mining, written this time by writer George Ella Lyon and  printed in Wednesday's Lexington Herald-Leader.  It's a very good read!   Bravo, my friend, and thank you.

too many cameras? never enough bodies?

post #21    
       A week ago I wrote here that I would post both Frankfort photos AND hog killing photos this week.  What was I thinking!  I guess it's just what I would have liked to do.  But, instead, here are a few of my mountaintop removal mining NOT rally photos.  I promise hog next week.   

The day was WINDY and CHILLY.  Thankfully no ice was on the ground this year.

These young stream savers share their hopes for our future in such a caring and creative way. Thanks!

2/2009

2/14/2011

         Last week I posted a photo of flags on the capitol building, from 2009, and this year I noticed the flags were blowing in a different direction....   Unfortunately, this fact doesn't seem to match the sentiment in the legislature, where the stream saver bill (HB 239) once again won't even be discussed in its committee, per decision of the chair, and Governor Beshear has not had an open dialogue with his many citizens who don't think coal should be ruling the state.   Since when is dialogue on important issues considered a burden instead of a hallmark of democracy??  Commentary on the issue will continue.  (See author Silas House's opinion piece in today's NY Times.)
     This last photo is my favorite from Monday's march and rally.  Great smile, great sign.  If anyone knows who this young man is, please put the info in the comments (where anyone can use Anonymous as the place to make a comment) so that I can send him a copy of the photo.  Thanks!  Ann

      Note: It was hard not to feel superfluous during the march last Monday.  That is, superfluous as a photographer.  I'm proud that my body was there, but am not so sure about my camera.  Doesn't everyone have one?  Yet I can't help myself.  Taking photos is the best way I have to experience any event.  Declare it to be dependence or call it commitment, at least I share this plight/joy with other photographers.  In any case, like the quote by Minor White that my friend John has on his emails, "I'm always mentally photographing everything as practice."

citizen action and hog killing

blog #20
      The persistence this week of thousands of Egyptians has brought enormous social change there without bombs or guns.  This weekend, here in Kentucky, persistence happened as well.  Fourteen generous fellow Kentuckians have taken their long-term outrage at the continued free rein given to mountaintop removal mining by our governor directly to his doorstep.  As I write, they are spending the weekend camped out in his office in Frankfort.  Two of the things they are asking for would seem to be easy: a civil dialogue and for him to come to eastern Kentucky and actually look around at the physical toll in this region.  Thank you, thank you, Wendell Berry and cohorts.  Listen up, Governor Beshear!
      My photo of a MTR site is in my blogpost #8.

      Many, many of us from all around Kentucky had already been planning to go to Frankfort tomorrow for the annual I LOVE MOUNTAINS day, hosted by the Kentuckians for the Commonwealth.  I suspect even more folks will now be turning out.  Even the weather is inviting.  Why is it so hard for legislators to acknowledge the connection between unsafe water and health care costs?  Or accept that we who hate seeing the mountain tops disappear forever can see that mining jobs are disappearing as well by this practice?   Neither is desirable.   A most informative web site about MTR is at ILOVEMOUNTAINS.org.

from Cumberland Gap State Park

concerned citizens, 2008, I Love Mountains gathering, Frankfort

Black Mountain, Harlan County, 1999, coveted over and over again by coal interests

 capitol building, Frankfort, Kentucky

      I did my presentations Friday in two university classes and learned a lot, which is what I like to do.  It was enjoyable and went well, but I was taken by surprise by a few things, such as the students' lack of knowledge about flora and fauna, about the wider world, and by their restrained curiosity.  It was helpful for me to get out and have a chance to present my work to them and see what they might be responding to or not.  
      I found out just before the class that they had studied the hog killing photos by Shelby Lee Adams.  I happened to have included just a few images from my neighbor Phillip's annual hog killing, so I offered to make available my entire pig portfolio for them.  I will share some of my images here, next week, as well as some photos from tomorrow in Frankfort.

     Please note:  Ever since starting this blog I have wanted to say something about Facebook .  The simple truth is that for many months I have not responded to the many friends requests, for which I apologize, but I have not been able to get past my privacy concerns.  I have my toe in the pond and visit from the edge, but I don't feel comfortable swimming across.  I know, Facebook seems to have been wonderful for Egypt, but just consider me scarred and wary after intrusions in the '60s and '70s into the personal life of my family.

some favorites

blog #19
     This week I am preparing a power point format with my photos to show during Friday's stint as a visiting artist during a class at our local university.  My approach to taking photos of my neighbors can then be compared to other artists, such as Shelby Lee Adams, whose portraits from eastern Kentucky are stark, posed, and unique.  No one else does it like he does.  No question, he is truly skilled with his camera.  I know that he's an artist whose strong connection to his subjects is part of what makes his art work, even though it is hard to look at those images when we who live here have to deal so often away from here with being misrepresented.  Art vs politics.

      Anyway, as I review which photos to use on Friday, here are some to share now.

tobacco rows

mule team, their last summer of cultivating tobacco, 2009

  















 
   
       Usually if I take a photo it is because of the way the light is -- or because a way of life is disappearing.  Or I am with neighbors and am interested in what is happening there.  
     

Appalachian spring

       

storm coming on Mauk Ridge

feathers and threads -- which are matching!

    And then there is the trusty black walnut tree on the south side of our home, which shares  so many facets of itself over the course of each year.

really black walnuts

    I will never be from here, but I am fortunate to live in a place I love and that I continue to learn about, often through doing this photography.   Ann