Ghosts of September

With the senescence of autumn, the landscape takes on a loneliness; a barrenness, despite the skeletal remains of plants and trees dotting the hillsides; a sense of melancholy.  The lush, noisy days of summer are gone.  A quiet settles over the land.  On frosty mornings, the solitude is almost palpable.  

My latest series of sepia-toned portraits in the landscape reflect that sorrow, that isolation, and the loss of something both rare and fine.

November's Child

The Distance From Me to You

The Leaning Tree

If Only

In the Changing Light 

I Remember

The formal gowns in these photos relate a sense of being all dressed up with nowhere to go or of the party being over, a sense of something that was but no longer exists.  The black shawl speaks of protection against the elements.  The gowns contrast in texture and context with the rustic backdrop, whether it be the fluffy heads of dead goldenrods and asters in the meadow or the log siding of my house.

Seasons change, time marches onward, people come and go from our lives.  Birthdays come (mine is next week); we grow older.  These photographs honor those inevitable changes and our ability to not only withstand them, but to persevere with grace and one's sense of self intact.

Happy November.  Happy dio de los muertos.

Until next time...



In the part of the world where I live, we are in the midst of that golden season, when fields are emblazoned with panicles of various goldenrods (solidago ssp.), whose loose flower scapes billow on the breeze, and native sun flowers (helianthus giganteum), whose flower heads actually track the sun the sun as it traverses the sky.  Even on the cloudiest of days, there is a luminescence to the landscape, a softness, with the intensity of summer light gradually subsiding, as the wheel of the year turns slowly toward autumn.


'Neath Darkening Skies

Fields of Gold

At Summer's End

Gold doesn't just glitter. When nature wields her paintbrush, the entire landscape is aglow, radiating warmth, healing, and peaceful energy.  

Until next time...


Black Umbrella

Black umbrellas have long been a favorite theme of mine in both paintings and photography.  The first time I saw the painting Paris Street; Rainy Day by Gustave Caillebotte I was mesmerized.  There is something about the way the light kisses the umbrellas in that painting that captivates me.  

I have always had an affinity for umbrellas anyway.  They embody the romance of a rainy day and seem to be among the most feminine of utilitarian objects, with their sensuous lines; fabric stretched tightly over sheltering ribs, like a corset; the perfect curve of the wooden handle, the elongated tip at the top pulling it all together.

This series of photographs pays homage to the umbrella, to its flirtation with the morning light, and the mystery created beneath its protective arms.

Lady with Black Umbrella I

Lady with Black Umbrella II

Lady with Black Umbrella III

Lady with Black Umbrella IV

The lake in which I am standing in these photographs further adds to the mystery, the whimsy, and the painterly quality of these images.  And the umbrella brings a new element to my Ladies of the Lake Series.  To me, this seems the perfect marriage of light and shadow, of depth and atmosphere, of the practical and the improbable.

Until next time...


Ladies of the Lake-- Part II

The second installment of my Ladies of the Lake Series depicts women in the same four dress colors, but this time, their heads are visible.  In these images, part of the story is told in the Ladies' hairstyles and facial expressions, in addition to the color of the dresses.  The mood of the photograph and the nature of each photographic subject changes depending on whether the hair is long and loose or neatly pinned, whether she is looking down or off to the side.  Unencumbered hair has a naturalness, a sensuality to it.  Upturned hair has a polish and an elegance to it.  Flowers remain a predominant theme in these images.  

As always, morning light adds magic to the scene, similar to sprinkling everything with pixie dust.  The lake changes every time I venture out, even though I am out there at the same time for each shoot.  The light has a huge impact on the color tone of the lake.  Cool, overcast mornings produce a mist that rises in thin plumes and murky blue-grey water.  Clearer mornings result in water that appears very green.  

Lady in White I

Lady in Pink VII

Lady in Grey III

Lady in Black I

When out in the water, I feel myself becoming a part of the lake itself.  At those moments, it is not just something that envelops me, but I take on its liquidity, its luminescence, allowing them to soak into my being, as I stand submerged, completely still, waiting for the shutter to click. The herons at the shoreline, the occasional jumping fish, the flock of geese overhead all seem to accept my presence there as the most natural thing.   And so, each morning at dawn, she calls to me, this lake, luring me from the comfort of my bed to venture out into her green waters and become one with her, if only for a little while.  Though sleep still tugs as me, though my dreams remain unfinished, I happily oblige.

By the way, if you wish to see an enlarged version of each image, simply click on it, and it will open in a lightbox.

Until next time...


Rainy Day Images

Rain fell softly, early that morning.  Mist spilled across the bluff top, rising from the fertile valley below, enveloping the tree canopy in a cloak of wonder.  The ancient bluffs barely took notice.  How many rain showers had they seen during the eons of their existence, gently wearing away their grey sandstone, layer after layer, a geological shedding of the skin? They stood stoically by as the drizzle fell, immune to its magic.  I, on the other hand, rejoiced.  

There is a certain enchantment in the air which I only feel during times of rain.  Perhaps it is the charge of electricity in the air that accompanies a lightening storm, when atmospheric nitrogen becomes available to plants, nourishing them with every flash of light .  Perhaps it is the way that rain is the great sustainer of life as we know it.  After a rain, everything is renewed.  Or perhaps it is the way the light is softer, lacking harsh pockets of sun and shadow that accompany the sunniest of days.  I feel a greater connection to both the rhythms of nature and to my inner world during a rain shower.  Some rainy days are an invitation to stay indoors, to indulge my contemplative side.  Other rainy days beckon me to come out to play.  This particular day was one of those.  





Leaning In


Until next time...



Seeing Double

This morning, after a rather fit-ful night's sleep, I awoke with a burning to create some new images that represent communion with the soul or over-self.  This series consists of composites that were created in the camera, not during post-processing.  It tells the story of encountering, making contact, and ultimately embracing the spirit-self.  

Even in the throes of fatigue, inspiration can strike.  Every time I heed its call, I feel more deeply in touch with those deeper parts of myself, as if the process unfolding in this new photo series is actually occurring on another level within my being.  Art mimics life, and life mimics art.

Until next time...