Confessions of a closet birder

I guess you’re a birder if you keep a list. A birder is the official name for a bird watcher. Like any hobby, it can be taken to the extreme. I’m definitely on the casual end. For instance, I have made no attempt to count seagulls, or gulls as I was gently schooled by Marie at BAYarts.  I think Marie keeps a list, too.

Marie did me a kindness a few weeks ago. We were chatting on the front porch of BAYarts after I had taught my Thursday class when she asked me if I had ever seen a Barred Owl. I told her I had not. “Well, there’s one right there,” she said, pointing to an oval hole about 30 feet up in a tree about 40 yards away.

Sure enough, a fledgling was sitting right in the opening. And all I had was my iPhone. So I tracked it Friday and Saturday with some better equipment and photographed it on two occasions as it waited for it’s mother to return from shopping. I never saw the mother, and I never saw the fledgling sit up in the opening again like the first night. By Sunday the nest was vacated.

But I had a solid photo, which my daughter absolutely loved because of that Harry Potter thing, I guess. And she’s 21 now. So that was nice.

When I was a kid, whenever we saw a swarm of birds flying in an aerial ballet, we called it a “wedding.” As in, “that’s my wedding.” I don’t know the origin, I don’t know why. But I know now that their performance is called a murmuration, but only if they were Starlings.

If they were Larks, for instance, it would be an Exhaltation, for Pheasants, a Nide and for Goldfinches, a Charm. Some collective nouns for birds in flight are not so kind. Like a Murder of Crows, Pandemonium of Parrots and an Unkindness of Ravens. As a Browns fan I can relate to that.

Over the last few weeks I’ve been following the progress at a Robin’s nest in my backyard. She built her nest in the most photo-opportunistic location possible, at the corner of a patio structure, surrounded by vines.

I have been posting photos on Instagram (as pixellarry) from the start, the first one showing three blue eggs in the nest, of which one bird remains. But on Sunday I set up a 300mm f4.5 lens with a 1.4 extender and settled in. Within 10 minutes I had my photo.

I already had a Robin on my bird list, but the Barred Owl was a nice addition. Oh, and I also saw a White-Crowned Sparrow.

Happy Birthday to my Dad. He would have been 89 today.

A lensless day

The film is back. After a 10-month hiatus from by pinhole camera, I finally had a look at what I photographed on April 29, the annual Worldwide Pinhole Photography Day.

In the end, I decided to enter the one shown above, a close pick over the one shown below. You can only enter one. And there are no prizes.

I like both of them but they project very different thoughts. The top image follows one of the basic tenets of composition, the line. Specifically, converging diagonal lines. It forces you eye to the center, in this case, the Cleveland skyline. Alternating black and medium gray areas create triangles. It's very direct and simple, a lot like my previous work.

The alternative image, at left (click to view larger) is full of tension, full of crossing lines and angles with a curve thrown in. The skyline is barely visible. It shows at least three bridges, a trademark of the Flats. It's gritty, but to me it's more Cleveland.

I would appreciate your comments. And to see more pinhole photos, go to the gallery for the 2012 Worldwide Pinhole Day.

Back in the saddle again?

It's been almost year since I took my last pinhole photo. And almost that long since I photographed a reconstruction. I'm not sure why it's been that long, but the distractions of last summer certainly were a part, I'm sure.

In the meantime I've been blazing away with my iPhone, posting most of my images to Instagram. It's too bad they were gobbled up by Facebook and it's been interesting watching the "serious" photographers that use the site search for an alternative. But I digress.

Sunday was Worldwide Pinhole Photography Day. I have participated each of the last five years. And to keep the streak going, I forced my self to head out Sunday a.m. to downtown Cleveland to see what I could see. I ended up making nine exposures at several locations. The film is at the lab and will report back when it's done.

It was relaxing and nothing seemed forced. I ended up trying some compositions that were a little more complex than my usual scenes. We'll see.

So while we wait for the film to be processed, here's a reconstruction I made with my iPhone, something I have not tried before. Not thrilled about the results, but it's good to get back on the horse.

Apple by apple

Back on November 1, 2011, I entered a somewhat maudlin report relating to a photograph I had made near an old train station in Salamanca, N.Y. (photo above).

When I took it, I thought it had promise, but wasn’t sure what the final result would be. So I toned it up nice in Pshop and posted it.

A few weeks ago I took another look at it and saw a different image. I saw potential. And I saw a lot of Pshop work. So I thought about it. Cropped it a little closer and then went to work. First I desaturated the image, so the leaves took on  a nice dead color. Then I went back in to put color back in the apples. Apple by apple.

I was using an old Pshop technique to lasso each apple so I could revive them. Proud of my work, I showed it to a 16-year old high school junior who is working with us. I asked her, knowing she had Pshop experience (self-taught), “how would you have done it?” as a teaching moment for her.

She told me how she would do it and it was an amazingly simpler method that provided more accuracy. I knew it, had used it, but it had never entered my mind. I had always used the lasso tool.

I slapped my forehead and uttered the famous Homer Simpson line, “D’oh.”

Humbled, and with a renewed effort, I restored color to the apples, then carefully finished by desaturating any color (other than B&W) from the tree branches. I then added a very light Dry Brush filter to it. Final result below.

I printed it (about 13 x 20 inches) and had it framed real nice, and entered it in the local arts centers annual juried contest (along with another photo). It was accepted, the other, an iPhone photo was not. I think size mattered.

The show opening is Friday night. I’ll try to lurk in the area of my print and overhear what folks are saying. Will report later.
 

The desaturated season

A Dogs DecisionI do not care for the type of winter the northern United States has to offer. Perhaps it's because I lived in the southern states for so many years. As a child, I lived in the land of the Lake Effect in Western New York. I A Winter Walkthought 200 inches of snow a year was normal. I never learned to ski. I could only wobble across the ice on skates. Cold, snow, sleet, ice and slush are not my friend.

But I can endure them, and I do, so I can go on walks this time of year. I’m not a power walker, usually just a bit faster than a stroll. That way I can observe and watch and wonder.

The best part of winter is that fresh snow transforms the landscape, converting the world to grayscale.  TurnaroundThat is something I am comfortable with, having photographed nearly exclusively in black and white the first 20 years of my career. When out in the snow I imagine my camera is using Tri-X or Plus-X instead of pixels.

Patterns emerge, curves are more defined, and contrast rules the landscape. And, you can see what has gone before you. Footsteps are a winter thing (sand and mud excluded). What Is Composition?And it surprises me I don't see more photographers out and about.

So I look for the symmetry, the contrast, the curve and the footstep.

Note: All photos taken with an iPhone 4.