The Moon and the Lighthouse, Again

Two weeks ago I finally managed to catch the full moon setting behind the Sanibel Lighthouse. The lighthouse and the moon has been an ongoing project.  It seems I've blogged about it incessantly:   August, 2011;  October, 2011;  January, 2012;  June, 2013 .  

I went out yesterday morning to catch the crescent moon rising above the lighthouse.  The moon would rise about an hour before the sun.  There is a place I could position myself to get the crescent almost directly behind the lighthouse from about a mile and a quarter away.  It was raining when I awoke.  The radar showed a narrow band of rain, but I hoped that it might move on by the time the moon would rise, so I headed out.  It rained.  I sat in the car.  It rained.  Eventually I convinced myself that the sun must be up by now. The sky was gray and gloomy and opaque and it rained all morning long. So half of my quest has been satisfied - the full moon.  The project continues, to catch the crescent.  At the rate I'm going it could keep me intermittently occupied for years to come

© 2014 Buck Ward                           The Photographist                              www.buckward.net

Caloosahatchee Manuscripts

This neoclassical revival building in downtown Fort Myers began life as a United States post office in 1933.  In the 1960s it was converted to a federal courthouse.  When the federal judiciary left, they turned off the power and locked the doors.  The roof leaked. Eventually the neglected deteriorated building became the Sydney & Berne Davis Art Center and a years-long renovation/restoration began.  

In 2001 Florida Power & Light commissioned sculptor Jim Sanborn to create the two bronze cylinders, known as the Caloosahatchee Manuscripts.  The western cylinder lists the Latin binomials of some of the plants Thomas Edison collected locally in his search for a local source of latex, for the making of rubber.  The eastern cylinder recounts, in Native American text, a story from Seminole, Creek, and Miccosukee history.

As an artist, I have qualms about photographing the work of other artists to claim as my own, but as a documentarian I can hardly help myself.  This light sculpture is so compelling I find myself returning to it again and again. 

The earliest of these photographs I made about four years ago.  I had the help of enthusiastic passersby to keep drivers from parking their cars on the street front while I waited for darkness to show the lights.  The most recent was yesterday, in a predawn fog.

© 2014 Buck Ward                           The Photographist                              www.buckward.net

Merry Christmas

I haven't been very diligent in posting to this blog lately.  It's due to procrastination, which is my best thing, and also due to not having any new photographs worth showing to anyone.  I hope the latter will change in the new year.  I'll work on the procrastination when I get around to it.

 Merry Christmas Everybody!


© 2013 Buck Ward                           The Photographist                              www.buckward.net

Announcing an Exhibition

Art Walk is the first Friday evening of each month in downtown Fort Myers (now promoted as The River District).  The streets and sidewalks are filled with winers and diners and art oglers.   Arts for ACT is one the the best galleries in The River District.  Beginning January 3, 2014, the first Friday in January, and continuing until February 3, Arts for ACT will be featuring an exhibition of my photographs.  

Thomas A Edison Church

The exhibition will consist of 23 black and white photographs, mostly of downtown Fort Myers.  Some of these photographs have been seen here in the postings of this blog over the past couple of years.  Rather than repost them here, I'll just post links:

November 12, 2013 - First Street, Model A

July 31, 2013 - Centennial Park, High Point
September 17, 2012 - 1619 Jackson Street
May 21, 2012 - Ford's Garage
March 25, 2012 - Fort Myers Beach Pier, Raised Wing Gull
August 11, 2011 - High Point Joe's

In addition to these there are sixteen others, large and in person. 

If you live near Fort Myers, I hope to see you at Art Walk in January.  

© 2013 Buck Ward                           The Photographist                              www.buckward.net

A Change of Mind

I blogged about the morning I made this photograph a year ago.   I expressed the opinion that I usually preferred fog pictures to be in color rather than black and white.  Well, I changed my mind in regard to this one, at least.  Historic downtown Fort Myers is marketed by city fathers and their pitchmen as The River District.  I will have an exhibition there in January of black and white photographs featuring The River District.  (I'll announce the exhibition in a later blog.)

So, in rummaging through my archives for black and white River District pictures, I came across this one.  Although I initially said I like the way the warm glow of the streetlights gave this the look of a monochrome sepia-toned image, I have since seen it on various monitors and it usually looks too yellow, or too orange, or, ugh, too green.  I came not to like it very much and so decided to convert it.  My custom printer and my framer both commented favorably on it, and it has grown on me, too.  So I take it all back.  I renege.  Well, not really.  I did originally say that fog pictures in color were my usual preference.  So, this is the exception.  Who knows, maybe I should change my mind about my usual preference.  

© 2013 Buck Ward                            The Photographist                           www.buckward.net

Proof of Concept

Something I've learned about photographing is that when you see a picture, you should get it then. If you put it off, it may not be there when you go to get it later. Other people change things without consulting you. So, when I saw this picture, I stopped and photographed it. Conditions weren't ideal, but I wanted to get it then, while I was there, just in case. There is a bridge behind me that casts its big shadow across most of my foreground. I also had a problem with casting my own shadow and the shadow of the camera on the tripod into the lower corner of the frame. I could have stayed and waited for the shadows to shift out of the way as the sun rose higher in the sky, but I had other places to be. The hazy sky and wan clouds weren't particularly to my liking either, but maybe it would look alright, I had hoped.   On the whole, the picture isn't satisfactory to me.
 

A week later, we had a great storm in the night. I knew that puddle would be there in the morning to give me a reflection and I could wait an hour or two later for the shadows to move out of the way. When I got there, I was glad to see that there was no public activity going on that would have added people and clutter to my scene.  Workers had just mowed the grass and were cleaning up with those obnoxious blowers with the motors on the workers' backs. My sidewalk was covered with grass clippings. They were all in my puddle, too. One of the workers came and blew most of the grass clippings away from the walk, except for a few and a cigarette butt and a bottle cap, which I picked up. He didn't blow the clippings out of the puddle.

The picture of the second attempt is better than the first, although still not good enough. I prefer the higher positioning of the camera that better defines the curve of the railing and shows the water of the river and the horizon and the mooring piles.  In the first picture the piles look like something plopped on top of the hand rail.  Also with the shifted camera position, the lamp near the left edge of the frame is separated from the palm - a small detail, but I prefer it.  But then, they had trimmed the palms. I like the look of the untrimmed palms in the first picture better, the way the fronds kind of frame the roof of the building.  Maybe it was the palm fronds that had made me choose the lower camera position in the first picture, to keep the fronds from overlapping the building.  I can't remember for sure.   My wish for a better sky was granted, but now maybe it was too much. I would have liked more well defined billowy clouds with more distinct patches of clear sky. The grass clippings in the puddle aren't as deleterious as I had thought they would be, but there was a fresh breeze blowing and that is what mussed my nice reflection.

So, this is my method and my madness. I am an iterative photographer, trying again and again until I get what I want, or settle for what I've got, or give up. The next time we have a storm in the night or in the morning, the puddle will cover the walk (unless they fix the drainage) and I will try again.  Will conditions be more favorable?  Maybe not.  Will I ever get the photograph I see in my mind's eye?  Unlikely, but I do have proof of concept.

© 2013 Buck Ward                           The Photographist                              www.buckward.net

Like a Box of Chocolates

On my way to the beach I saw lightning in the predawn darkness. It gave me ambitious photographic thoughts. But by the time I arrived, the lightning excitement was over, with only a few distant flashes in the clouds out over the Gulf. 

The thunder had quieted, but the clouds promised me they would be magnificent. When the sun lights them up, I mused, there will be great drama.  But as the morning grew lighter, the thunderheads drifted away and began to dissipate, without a glance over their shoulders to me and my expectations.

When the sun cleared the horizon behind me, it painted the sky with golden light for a few brief moments. And then, as the glorious glow faded, a rainbow gradually arched across the sky.

Forrest Gump reminded us that you never know what you're going to get.

© 2013 Buck Ward                        The Photographist                              www.buckward.net

The Supermoon is Made of Rain

Last Saturday, the supermoon would rise about 10 minutes before the sun went down. Lately folks have been calling the full moon at perigee the supermoon, because it is at its closest approach to Earth.  But really, it looks just like any other full moon.  My ephemeris (TPE) told me that from the causeway, the moon would rise near the lighthouse, so out I went.  I chose a location I’ve chosen before.  When I arrived, well before moonrise, there were great clouds on the horizon, thunderstorms out over the Gulf.  I expected not to be able to see the moon through the clouds, but one never knows; and clouds and storms often make for dramatic photographs.  I went ahead undaunted.  As I walked along the low-tide beach at the base of the seawall, I had to duck under the lines of folks who were fishing from up on the seawall. I set up my tripod on the little sandbar under the bridge. I could see the pillars of rain under the distant clouds. The sun over my shoulder still brightly lit the buildings on Fort Myers Beach, three or four miles across San Carlos Bay. There was a big storm out there, moving our way. The rain slowly marched across the land and the water. Distant lightning was followed a few seconds later by the rumble of thunder. Fishermen began collecting their gear and migrating back to where their cars and trucks were parked, back on the causeway. Now the buildings on the beach didn't shine in sunlight and they became indistinct as they were shrouded by rain. The breeze freshened and Fort Myers Beach could no longer be seen. The rain moved across the water and approached the lighthouse headland from the Gulf. Small boats scurried for shelter, leaving their bright sunlit wakes in front of the advancing dark wall of rain. 

The wind picked up. The edge of the rain was coming close. “Looks like it’s about time to run for the car,” I said to the guy fishing from the bridge support, as I lifted my tripod and closed its legs. "We’re staying put,” he shrugged. Just then, rain spattered my face. “Looks like I am, too,” I said. I clambered up onto the concrete base of bridge support number 27. The wind was really blowing now. A couple who had been fishing from the seawall moved their folding chairs way back to the far side under the bridge. Even under the bridge, I was getting wet from the blowing rain. I took off my photo vest and tucked it under the little cubby in the center of the bridge support and collapsed the tripod and put it there too. The lighthouse had vanished in the downpour. The sun, still visible above the horizon as a dull fuzzy yellow ball, was extinguished as the mass of falling water moved toward it. The two guys fishing from the support scrambled to get their paraphernalia. They planted it in the cubby with my camera gear. The wind was becoming a gale. I sought shelter in the lee of the bridge support and sat on the concrete base with my back against the support. The two fishermen joined me, squatting. The stinging needles of rain were moving horizontally. We heard a shriek and turned to see the couple on the seawall trying to keep their chairs and stuff from blowing away. They were drenched and losing the battle of the flying chairs. We hunkered in our tiny sheltered space, still getting wet from the spray flying around the concrete corners. The wind screamed. Thoughts of tornado twisted through my head

The peak of the storm passed and the wind eased a bit down from it's heart-thumping chaos. I tried to check the radar image on my iPhone to see if I could figure out how much longer we'd be trapped. The younger of the two anglers pulled out his phone too. He showed me a picture he had taken of the storm as it approached. “What a great picture!” I exclaimed, “Better than anything I got.” We got to talking. There's camaraderie among refugees. The younger, Jake, showed me on his phone some of his drawings and paintings. He's really good. His older brother, Chris, is visiting from Kansas and plays in a band called Slow Burn. We passed the time as the storm calmed. The crazy wind regained its sanity and the rain began falling downwards again instead of sideways and eventually it stopped. It had just been a scattered thunder shower, as the TV weathermen call them. “Oh no!”, Jake cried. "Everything's wet.” Our gear was soaked, sitting in half an inch of water. My vest is water resistant, so most everything was okay, and the cigarettes Jake had stowed in his shoe were dry, so no harm done. We could still see rainstorms off in the distance in the deepening dusk. I gathered up my stuff to go to the car. Jake and Chris stayed. Chris hoped to catch a shark, a bucket list thing. I wished them luck.
 

I never did see the supermoon. When I got home, the streets were dry. It hadn't rained at all.

© 2013 Buck Ward                        The Photographist                              www.buckward.net