This past Saturday, I rose early and began driving to the Leelanau Peninsula in time to get there before dawn. The weather forecast called for several hours of fog and I saw lots of it on my drive. But as I got to the peninsula, the fog seemed always to be one step ahead of me. I caught up with it at Bass Lake, but when I stepped out of my car, I was swarmed with hundreds of mosquitos. I had bug spray, but I felt outgunned. So I retreated to my car and continued my drive north. In the end, I caught up with the tail end of the fog at Port Oneida and Sunset Shores.
I made a number of images. They are pretty good, but none of them stands on its own. Nor do they tell a story when viewed together. But each of them could be a piece of a puzzle in a future story. So I have processed and cataloged them hoping that I can use them in some future posts. I decided, though, to share them here, with a brief explanation of why they caught my eye.
The beach at Sunset Shores was still engulfed in fog when I arrived. I have photographed here for a couple of years. Unlike other beaches I have visited in the park, the beach at Sunset Shores has some erratic stones that add interest. I have photographed the beach in different seasons and at different times of the day and night. These images add to a collection of photographs that may sometime become a study.
When I returned to my car, this tree stood out to me. The hints of magenta and yellow in the tree’s smooth bark were such a contrast to the deep, rich greens in the forest. How I would ever use this photo is not clear to me, but the contrast between this tree and the others in the forest compelled me to photograph it.
The barn on the Dechow Farm is known to anyone who drives though Port Oneida on M-22. There’s nothing really special about this barn itself. But, the way the low-lying clouds shrouded the hill behind the barn got me to pull off the road and take a photo.
Fog rose behind the trees in the field across the road from the Dechow Barn. The sun was breaking into the field from the east. The scene was serene, but by the time I set up my tripod and leveled my camera, the magic beams of light began to be snuffed out by the clouds. The light would have been the star of the photo had it lingered. Instead, the star of the photo is the feeling of calm as the fog softens the view.
I have taken many photos of the outbuildings on the Carsten Burfiend farm, but never from this angle. The fog totally obscured the hill in the distance. The image by itself has a hard time standing on its own, but it may contribute to some future story.
The farms at Port Oneida no longer operate. They were acquired by the National Park Service over 50 years ago. The buildings now stand witness to a past community that eked out a hard living farming the sandy soil. The buildings are not, however, the only witnesses. If you look closely, you can find other signs of the past. Among those signs are fence posts that still stand, though the fences themselves are long gone.
Recently, we took a cruise on the Rhine, which stopped in Kinderdijk, Netherlands. Kinderdijk is home to 19 windmills that were built in 1738 and 1740. The windmills were built to keep water out of a low lying tract of land used for farming. The windmills are maintained in working order, but two electric pumping stations perform their function today. The windmills and the area around them are protected under Dutch law and were designated a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1997.
Suzanne Fritz-Hanson, who co-hosts the Everyday Photography Every Daypodcast with photographer Michael Rubin, coined the phrase “get the cliché out of the way” to suggest how photographers should deal with the urge to take the obvious photo that everybody snaps. Who can resist taking a photo of Tunnel View in Yosemite Valley or a sunset over Lake Michigan? And why shouldn’t you take your own photo of the iconic scene, even if it is a cliché? Once the cliché is in the bag, you can move on to shooting popular subjects from unusual points of view and creating original images.
I recently returned from spending a week with my family at my frequent haunt, Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore. The focus of the week was spending time with my son and his family, but I did get out in the early morning and on a couple of evenings to take some photographs. In the limited time I had, I fell back on the clichés, photographing things I have seen countless times before. My excuse is that I was working with a new camera, learning how to use all the new features. And besides, it was fun. So here’s a mishmash of photos from the trip.
What could be more cliché at Sleeping Bear than a photo of the iconic barns on the D.H. Day farm? I was there on two foggy mornings and couldn’t resist.
This tree that stands in Narada Lake may not be an iconic image, but it is one I frequently photograph, hoping to find the right light and right angle to make a compelling image. I rarely succeed. But this sunrise with bands of clouds made the scene worth taking.
On another foggy morning, I headed to North Bar Lake. The fog had mostly lifted but the reflection of the trees and the dune in the water and the curvature of the cloudbank drew my attention.
The fog lingered on the south end of North Bar Lake. There, I noticed a pair of Sandhill Cranes walking along the beach and approached them cautiously to get this photograph.
If you search for “Teichner” on this website, you’ll see that I have photographed the cedar trees at the Teichner Preserve several times in the last six years. Perhaps the site is becoming cliché for me, but I am drawn to the location and keep looking for new perspectives on the scene. (If you are looking at this on a computer rather than a phone, click a photo to seen an enlarged image.)
Another site I return to often is the Basch farmstead in the Port Oneida Rural Historic District. The simplicity of the house and the granary continue to draw my eye. The light on this evening reminded me of the light in some of Edward Hopper’s paintings.
One evening when the conditions seemed right, I headed to the beach at Port Oneida to photograph that mother of all clichés, a sunset over Lake Michigan. When I pulled into the parking area, I was captivated by the dappled light on the trees.
On the shore, I waited and waited for the ball of the sun to appear. It never did. Others who were on the beach with me impatiently left, but I waited around to see how the setting sun would light up the clouds. Taking a long exposure, I captured a beautiful, soft glow as the sun slipped below the horizon – a photo I would consider more than a cliché .
As I write this on the tenth day of November, fall has entered its final stages. The trees are done showing off, no longer flashing their brightly colored leaves. Their branches are now mostly exposed, revealing the superstructure of the forest. I traveled to northern Michigan this past week to spend a couple of days exploring the woods, looking for smaller, more intimate scenes that seem to become more evident when the trees stop showing off.
Most of the ferns in the forest were brown and withered. But, at Misty Acres in the Borwell Preserve in Benzie County, I found this bulblet fern that had found sanctuary in the bark of a tree.
At the Houdek Dunes Natural Area in Leelanau County, my eye was attracted to the yellow plant and the green pine tree seemingly enjoying their time in the sun.
I came across these tiny fungi that had latched onto a birch tree. I believe they are called orange mycena.
The Teichner Preserve in Leelanau County is a small preserve on the shores of Lime Lake. There is a short trail that leads from the road to the lake and a spot I call the “Gathering Place.” There, the cedar trees are in a struggle to avoid succumbing to waves that erode the shoreline. Their roots intermingle as if they are holding onto each other for dear life.
I stopped at the Howard & Mary Dunn Edwards Nature Sanctuary in Grand Traverse County specifically to get photos of the larch trees. Larch trees are the only coniferous trees that lose their needles each year. Before doing so, they turn a vibrant yellow.
Along the pathway, I paused to take photos of the brightly colored leaves and needles that were still hanging on.
Here’s a couple of other things that caught my eye along the trail.
At Sunset Shore beach in the Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore, I took time to enjoy the setting sun as a stiff wind blew on shore. In the woods above the beach, I came upon this cedar that grew up around some boulders. All in all, a wonderful couple of days in nature.
I returned to Hall Lake this morning in the Yankee Springs Recreation Area. I had been there last week when I took this photo of the roots of a white pine tree.
Returning this morning I was treated to fog on the lake, which added some added interest to the photos.
On Saturday, I was in a woodlands photographing a decaying tree to use as background texture in a blend someday. I awoke yesterday morning with the thought of one of my favorite trees and went out early to take a photo. Here’s the result of the blend.
At the end of each year I look back at the images I have taken and select several to highlight in a year-end post. This year I have selected 15 photos to share and discuss. Whether these images are my “best” or not, I am not sure. But, they are all images that gave me a sense of achievement in expressing my vision.
Winter Scenes
I will start with four images I took in the winter. Winter is my favorite time to do photography. I love being outside in the winter. I find the cold and the snow to be invigorating. Snow can be a landscape photographer’s friend helping to reduce the chaos that so often typifies a scene in nature, especially in a woodland. I have photographed this sumac several times over the years, but found it difficult to get it to stand out from the trees behind it. I made this photograph in a snow storm, which helped to reduce the chaos in the scene, creating separation between the twists and turns of the sumac and the forest in the background.
I first came across this lone tree in a farmer’s field in the fall of 2021. I described it then as one of my “U-Turn” photos – a scene that caught my eye as I was driving by and caused me to do a u-turn. It happened again this past winter. I drove by this tree while it was snowing and again did a 180 and pulled off by the side of the road. A lone tree is a frequent subject for landscape photographers. It can evoke a range of emotions, such as isolation, tenacity, or independence. Having captured a photo in the fall and winter, I will have to return to this spot in the spring and summer to document it in all four seasons.
Walking along Shalda Creek where it enters Good Harbor Bay in the Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore, I saw these stones frozen in ice. As I photographed them, a haiku came to mind:
Stones encased in ice
Imprisoned by winter’s cold
The beach in February
A good photograph has something in common with a haiku. A haiku expresses its meaning in three spare lines – no wasted words or syllables. In a photograph, everything has to contribute – no extraneous things to distract from the subject.
On my frequent drives to the Leelanau Peninsula, I pass the Weldon Township Cemetery in a clearing cut from the forest. I have stopped several times to try and capture the emotion of the scene without success. But, the winter’s snow helped to emphasize the simplicity of this hallowed place and to convey a sense of repose and honor.
My Swan Vigil
In March, I went for a walk along Reeds Lake in East Grand Rapids, Michigan, and came across a swan sitting on a nest. I continued to visit the nest for two and a half months, hoping to be able to document the hatching of the swan’s nine eggs. The eggs never hatched, but I was able to put together a blog piece on my vigil. Here is the link. The male swan (the cob) was very protective of the nest. In this first photograph, the swan is taking off to confront another pair of swans a couple hundred yards away – apparently too close for the cob.
In the area of the swans’ nest there were many nesting geese. The cob policed the area to let the geese know their place in the order of things. Photographing birds was a challenge for me. I take photos of landscapes with my camera on a tripod, often with a long exposure time. I have the luxury of time to frame a shot and try different apertures and focal lengths. But birds don’t wait for you. You have to react and hope that you snap the photo at the decisive moment. I learned to observe and anticipate.
Iceland
In September, my wife and I visited Iceland. We concentrated our journey in Reykjavík, on the Snæfellsnes Peninsula, and along the southern coast. Iceland is an amazingly beautiful country. Berserkjahraun, seen below, is a vast lava field on the Snæfellsnes Peninsula that formed 4,000 years ago. The lava field is covered with moss and lichen and offers a stunning view with mountains in the background.
I had never photographed the northern lights before. I got the opportunity when we rented a cottage on the southern coast, near Kirkjubæjarklaustur. We watched for nearly four hours as the aurora filled the night sky. The naked eye saw only the greenish colors, which danced in the sky. But, a longer exposure – nine seconds or so – captured the magenta.
On the southeast coast of Iceland is Jökulsárlón, a glacial lagoon dotted with icebergs that break off a glacier and make their way to the sea. My eye was attracted to the layers of tones in this scene.
Iceland has over 10,000 waterfalls. Probably the four most visited falls are Öxarárfoss at Þingvellir, Gullfoss on the Golden Circle, and Seljalandsfoss and Skógafoss along the south coast of the country. All have large parking areas to accommodate the tourists who flock to the sites. We ventured off the main highway to a less visited waterfall, Gluggafoss, also known as Merkjárfoss, where we had the site almost to ourselves (other than the one woman in a bright red coat who kept walking into my photo while talking on her cellphone). Gluggafoss falls in two stages and has a total height of 171 feet. The lower falls are captured in the photo below.
Black and White
I continue to try to develop my eye for processing photos in black and white. Gluggafoss rendered well as a black and white photo, with a broad range of tones.
Back home in Michigan, I look for scenes that I think will be effective in black and white. Processing in black and white reduces a scene to its essence. It relies on structure and form, light and shadow to carry the photograph’s meaning. The great Magnum photographer Elliott Erwitt, who died in November, said of black and white photography, “Color is descriptive. Black and white is interpretive.”
I am attracted to the roots of trees, so I was excited when I came upon these cedar trees along the shore of Lake Michigan. Waves had eroded the shore exposing the lateral roots and tap root that have supported the trees for tens of years. Another period of high water and waves will likely mean the end for these trees.
I was recently studying the work of Wynn Bullock and came across his solarizations. Solarization is a technique in analog photography perfected by Man Ray. When developing film in the dark room, Man Ray would briefly flick on the lights which would invert some of the tones in the finished photograph. In my digital darkroom, I attempted to emulate this process by adjusting the tone curve in Lightroom, lifting the deep blacks while maintaining the midtones and highlights. I found it difficult to emulate solarization effectively, but I did like the effect my method had on this image of the cedar roots.
A Gift
Sometimes an image is simply a gift. I parked in a parking lot in Glen Haven, Michigan, hoping to take some long exposure photographs of waves coming ashore in Sleeping Bear Bay. As my luck would have it, the bay was virtually still that day. When I walked back to my car, the sun had just crested a row of trees to the east lighting up these empty milkweed pods. Simple and beautiful. The experience brought to mind another quote by Elliott Erwitt: “To me, photography is an art of observation. It’s about finding something interesting in an ordinary place. . . I’ve found it has little to do with things you see and everything to do with the way you see them.”
Thank You
If you have gotten to this point, thank you. Over the course of the past year, I have become less and less interested in posting photos to social media sites like Instagram, where people breeze by the photos, swiping left or right, giving little time to each image. So I appreciate your giving me the gift of your time to look at and consider the photos in this post.
Here are links to my my year-end review of images in 2019, 2020, 2021, and 2022.
I visited Silver Lake Sand Dunes State Park yesterday anticipating the graceful dunes I had seen on previous visits. (See “The Sand Dunes at Silver Lake State Park.”) But, instead, the sinuous dunes I had anticipated looked more like sedimentary rock that had been disturbed by some incredible force.
The dunes freeze in the winter, so only a fine layer of grains of sand at the surface are free to blow with the wind. I suspect that the formations I saw were caused by the expansion and contraction of the ice crystals in the sand as our crazy temperatures have swung wildly this winter. Having anticipated smooth dunes, I needed to shift gears. I decided to go in close and photograph the formations left by the ice and the wind.
Photos from my previous visits to Silver Lake can be found here:
Cross country skiers and snowmobilers must be very disappointed this winter. The snow brought by the Christmas week blizzard disappeared almost as fast as it arrived. But this past Friday, just a couple hours north of our home, my wife and I found a winter wonderland. The snow was not deep, but the trees were flocked with snow. It was so beautiful, I returned on Saturday to see if I could capture the scene in some photos.
I left Grand Rapids early and arrived at Rosie’s Country Cafe in Thompsonville for breakfast and to await the sunrise. When the sun came up, I was disappointed. While some snow remained on the trees, it was nothing like the day before. Nonetheless, I continued on my way to the Betsie River Pathway. The Pathway has about ten miles of trails. I chose to hike the 2.7 mile West Loop, which passes through a meadow and forest reaching the Betsie River to the west. While it was nothing like I had hoped for, I found a few areas where the snow still clung to the grasses.
Still, there was much to see and enjoy on the hike. The footpath through the forest was carpeted with leaves.
Along the footpath, I took time to explore an ice-covered pond filled with colorful leaves.
After my hike, I headed north on County Road 677 to explore a campground I had found on the map. About two miles up the road, I came upon the snow globe we had seen the day before!
Along County Road 677 is the Weldon Township Cemetery. The cemetery always catches my attention, with its simple white crosses decorated with artificial flowers and American flags. I have stopped before, without success, to try to capture the feeling of reverence I get whenever I pass it. This time, I think I got it.
It’s that time of year again, time to look back at over the past 12 months. The year 2022 offered me some wonderful opportunities to share my work. In addition, we had the opportunity to travel abroad, in the course of which I was reminded of a valuable lesson. Here are some thoughts on the past year and several of my favorite photos taken in the last 12 months.
SHOWING MY WORK
The Glen Arbor Art Center exhibited six of my photos in its lobby gallery at the start of the year. The show, titled Woodland Studies, was my first opportunity of its kind, for which I am extremely grateful to the Art Center and to the Art Center’s Gallery Manager, Sarah Bearup-Neal. Sarah guided me through the process of curating the exhibit and getting it ready to show. Sarah and I recorded a video conversation about the photos in the exhibit, which you can find here. The online version of the exhibit is no longer on the Art Center’s website, but you can view it here.
The Art Center provided me with two other opportunities to display my photos. The following photo was displayed as part of the annual “Members Create” exhibit in April and May. The exhibit is a non-juried show open to members of the Art Center.
Silver Lake Sand Dune, Mears, Michigan
The Art Center also invited me to submit photos to the “Small Works Holiday Exhibition,” where artists display small, original art work for sale for $150 or less. I displayed eight photographs, three of which were taken in 2022.
“Golden Pond”“Lily Pads on Ice”“Lone Tree in Fall”“Morning Light”“Morning Reflection”“Only That Day Dawns to which We Are Awake”“Point Betsie Light”“Winter Wonderland Montage”
In addition to displaying work at the Glen Arbor Art Center, I entered a photo in the Ray and Nancy Loeschner Annual Art Competition at the Frederik Meijer Gardens & Sculpture Park. I had not heard of the competition before September of this year, but the timing was fortuitous. Some dear friends of mine married at the end of August. Their registry included an 11×14 frame, which we purchased and gave to them along with a note offering to fill the frame with one of my photos. They chose a photo I had taken of Aria, a wonderful sculpture by Alexander Liberman, which was acquired by the Gardens in 1999. The more I worked with the photo to make a beautiful print, the more I came to love it. I was excited to have the opportunity to enter it in the competition and was gratified to learn recently that is has been selected as a finalist. The final judging will occur in January 2023.
Alexander Liberman’s “Aria”
TRAVEL
My wife and I traveled to Jerusalem and Paris in early June. Of course, I took my camera and I took plenty of snapshots. The snapshots will help us remember the experience, but the photography was not the focus of the trip. I do, however, want to share one photo with you. We toured Sainte-Chapelle on the Île de la Cité in Paris. Sainte-Chapelle was the royal chapel in the palace of the King of France. The chapel was consecrated in the year 1248. The upper chapel has 15 stained glass windows, each 15 meters tall, that include 1,113 scenes from the Old and New Testament. In a crowded chapel filled with tourists there was neither time nor room to take a studied photo, but I was pleased to get this photo, which will serve as a reminder of the most beautiful room I think I have ever seen.
Sainte-Chapelle, Paris, France
MY FAVORITE PHOTOS OF 2022
At the end of the year, I like to look through my photos and select a group of images that are my favorite photos from the past 12 months. Here’s what I came up with for 2022.
The first photo is a close up of Honey Creek in winter time. We don’t have waterfalls or big significant rapids in southwest lower Michigan. But, by focusing close on an ice formation in the creek, a small scene becomes filled with action and drama.
I enjoy being in the forest in winter. I find the stillness, the quiet, peacefulness, and even the challenge of staying warm to be reinvigorating.
I took this next photo in the Silver Lake Sand Dunes in Mears, Michigan. The shifting sands reveal the stumps of trees, such as this one, that were swallowed up by the dunes years ago. The early morning light shining on this stump accentuated the grain in the wood and the embedded grains of sand.
Coming upon the following scene was a pleasant surprise. I was on a trail that passed through a pine forest. The pine trees were so thick and the canopy so dense that little else could grow in the area. I didn’t expect to see anything of interest to photograph along the trail. But a brief break in the clouds created patches of sunlight on the forest floor that brought depth and dimensionality to what otherwise was a monotony of tree trunks.
Michigan is not at its photogenic best in early spring, when the snow has melted and brown is the dominant color. So I bought a dozen tulips and used them as my subject everyday for a couple of weeks. When they were fresh, the tulips exuded their typical elegance. But I found that it there was beauty to be found even as the tulips wilted.
I am attracted to gaps in the forest canopy created by the death of a tree. The gaps permit the sunlight to break through to the forest floor – a patch of hope in the darkness.
We visited Acadia National Park in mid-September. Peak fall color was still a month away, but as we hiked along the Jesup Path, we came upon this scene. It is a bit chaotic, but I thought the alignment of the birch trunks and the splashes of color brought an order to the chaos and made for an appealing photo.
I have shot this scene on Bass Lake in the Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore many times. (I included a photo of this point of land in my Woodland Studies exhibit.) But on this morning, I was fortunate to be able to shoot the scene in a dense fog, creating a softer, more soothing image.
A key to success in my photography is being aware. These last two photos are of things I might of missed had I not slowed down to take in my surroundings. I found this maple leaf beautifully highlighted by ice crystals when I took a walk on the morning of our first hard frost.
This was another happy find as I explored the shoreline of a local lake on a recent foggy morning.
Here are links to my favorite images of 2019, 2020, and 2021.
AN IMPORTANT LESSON
I learned an important lesson while in Paris. Everywhere we went in Paris, my camera went with me. I made a lot of snapshots. When we entered the Musée de l’Orangerie, I saw a sign showing a camera with a red circle and slash through it – no photography. So I checked my camera and began viewing the museum’s wonderful collection of Impressionist and Post-Impressionist Art. In the galleries, though, I noticed so many people taking photos with cameras and cell phones. The guards did not seem concerned, so I went back to look at the sign again and read the small print: “No flash photography.” I could have retrieved my camera, but chose not to. Without a camera, I explored the galleries with my wife, comparing thoughts about the paintings. I was able to see the art not only through my eyes but also through hers, which enriched my experience immensely.
In the museum that day, I learned in important lesson: sometimes the camera can get in the way of the experience. It’s a lesson I need to remember whenever I go off on a photo shot. I think if I focus on the experience first, my photographs will improve. But even if they don’t, I will find more meaning in those experiences and be a better person for it.
