Vertical dimensions and shapes provide seminal perspectives. The Bay of Fundy is such a place to feel them. It claims to have the highest tidal range on the planet, on average rising and falling 56 feet [17 meters], twice a day.
While the tides run relatively constant, the power of moving water creates an impermanence to the landscape. The land changes albeit slowly. And of course, we physically change too, though on a timeline far shorter than these “monuments.” These amazing structures will outlast me, which is to say they’ll still deliver an enduring perspective to others who might be standing on the very spots when I took these photos.
In winter, afternoon light can be very strong, very intense. From 13:00 to 15:30, I chase light and though I love winter, there are just some days when I sense a foolhardy notion to get outside. However, on those days, the sensible part of me says to chase the light indoors.
Summer vacation is a staple for one’s own sense of stability. In most cases, one or two days I’m doing work—either by choice or a directive from someone who signs the checks—even though it’s work I try to avoid from usurping vacation days. At the C-level of management, there’s always a part of your vacation that is, indeed, a “working vacation.”
Anyway, I make the effort to still my mind and settle the angst of all that is life. It’s not always related to work as there are things in life that can be much more demanding of time, energy and other resources.
I posted an article on my LinkedIn page, “A Short Guide to Finding Quiet,” and this post is related to that article. However, what I’m sharing here is far more personal. There are places that are quiet and then there are really quiet places, the kind you savor and want to bottle for another day.
Living in New England means you’re never far from the ocean. I like that. The sea air has therapeutic properties, but when coupled with with the kind of quiet that only Nature can produce, well, then the properties take on added qualities, qualities that make you breathe deeper, think slower if not kinder and move about in less harried fashion.
The sounds of a breeze cutting across tall sea grass, the distant cry of a gull, the “wooshing” sound of water rolling onto the beach, the rthymic slapping of a wake against the side of a boat. All are folded into “sea air.”
If your summer vacation isn’t near the ocean, then I’m sure there are quiet places that are unique to wherever you’re headed. You can make them your own too.
“We have to start teaching ourselves not to be afraid.” William Faulkner
Here’s to those who dream,
Foolish as that might seem.
Here’s to the hearts that ache,
Here’s to the mess that we make.
Justin Hurwitz and Benj Pasek
It is the night
My body’s weak
I’m on the run
No time to sleep
I’ve got to ride
Ride like the wind
To be free again.
Some call it a creative block. With credit to Franz Kafka, I feel a lot like a chrysalis because there’s something in me dying to get out, to be expressed and heard. How many times have we sat [or stood] at our work stations wondering how-in-$%@!!-name can we get something done. Where are the words, the concepts, the visual elements that when properly assembled, delivers the key message? The message can be one of benefit, of productivity, of prophylaxis, or of exclusivity. You get the idea.
Of course, all of this is figurative, but I would say that the photo of the tunnel suggests that I can see a “way out,” but I’m a bit unsure of how to get there. I’m inside the chrysalis, evolving, developing a collection of ideas, hoping to create something altogether different if not unique.
Of late I’ve been using an “obsolete” system and getting some incredible results. To wit:
- Hasselblad 553 ELX
- Zeiss Sonnar 150mm f/4.0 CF
- Imacon Ixpress V16 digital back
- Imacon Image Bank [tethered hard drive to back]
This photo is an enlargement of the top left-hand corner. I was checking for focus and didn’t realize the scale of magnification I was using in post production. I was astounded to say the least. [click on photos to enlarge] Can you read what’s written on the Jersey barrier? Can you see the name of the front loader on the left? Notice the pile of stones to the right of the frame…