Rolling Straight at Sunrise #3

The little building with the funny chimney lies just below the barns and house of Straight Farmstead. I thought, "a pump house!" Of course the chimney's wrong, and why a window. Inside, a feeding trough instead of pipes and pumps. I've since been told it was for pigs, not that anyone I've met can remember pigs here, and only a small section of the barn's "L" is outfitted with animal stalls.

I've had a nasty time getting a print I like, and its probably not going to wow anyone. If the top or bottom of the image are clipped on your screen, the effect is totally lost, but for me this image more than any other I've taken at Straight Farm touches the essence of the place. I like the linty, minty, early morning, first-of-spring hills and how they cradle the pighouse. Most of all, I like the painterly light in pighouse and hills, and the simplicity of the geometries. Ah, spring!

Rolling Straight at Sunrise #2

The field below the barn gets a bit wet at the bottom, but I'm told it is a good haying field. That's the place to shoot the barns at sunrise, I think, but so far my trips there have been in mid afternoon, and the grass is beginning to get long and ticks are about. In the late afternoon the lower area belongs to the turkeys. I wish I could get close enough to photograph their dandy dance. Perhaps I need to get down there before they do and hide out in my turkey suit.

This photo is not what usually attracts me, but I was pleased at how it all came together.

Rolling Straight at Sunrise #1

In the last posting I described the rolling hills astride which Straight Farm spreads. As the moods of spring begin to cast spells across the hills, I find myself each day more in awe of the peacefulness and grandeur of this spot. Perhaps it's also the infinity of photo possibilities that exist here. The previous photo was shot at sunset, this one at sunrise; the farmstead is situated well for both my Lauds and Nocturns.

Of course, no photo can capture the song and acrobatics of the swallows that for the next month will live and raise their families in the barns. I've watched them swoop through narrow, dark passages at jet fighter speeds, sometimes within inches of my nose. It is no wonder that farmers used to cut holes in the sides of the barns to let them nest and lead their busy, insect-eating lives. Their song celebrates any farmstead they inhabit.

Sprung

Straight Farm is anything but straight. It is another of the farms in the Hollow. Unlike the farm I've called, "The Hollow Farm," Straight farm is perched astride rolling hills beneath the western slopes that define that side of the Hollow. From various angles the hills appear to swallow up the farmstead. These galloping hills run north-south so that from the barns one may look south down to rolling pasture lands and distant mountains or north up to more pasture lands and the neat rows of trees that frequently divide adjacent fields. To the east lie the flatter sections of the the Hollow and several other farms.

About half of my recent evening shoots have been at this delightfully still farmstead. The 3 "Composition with Diagonals" images were taken here. The barns look much more decayed than they actually are. The fields are hayed regularly and the barns store the hay for lambs and cows raised up the road.

Last night, the tiny leaf bundles that have given the hillsides their delicate texture sprang open and all was suddenly transformed. This is the event I've been waiting for and the reason for this picture.

The Evanescent & the Enduring

Old farms are marked by their silos. Even small farms often had several of these. In New England's cold winters they kept livestock happy until the grazing season returned. Often the silos remain standing long after the barns themselves have disappeared, and even when barns and silos are gone, the distinctive foundations of the silos tell the vanished history of the land.

The unusual red silo at Bunnell Farm (seen in some of the other photos I've posted) is set unusually far, perhaps 12 or 15 feet, from the main barns. I have no idea why this was done, but it necessitated an intriguing, narrow passageway with windows on both sides that enabled earlier generations of Bunnells to get the silage from silo to barn & cows without suffering winter winds. After composing a variety of shots through this passageway I went into the barns to take other shots. On emerging from the barns I was struck by the white, fluffy clouds at that moment reflecting from the windows of the idle passageway.

Incidentally, for those who have been wondering, Bunnell rhymes with Funnel.

The Bunnell Windows Book

If there is a book in me, and that is hardly to suggest there is anyone interest reading, looking at, or thumbing the pages of the book that is or isn't in me, this might be the cover. The title of the book might be, "The Bunnell Windows." The window images in the book need not be all Bunnell windows, nor were the Bunnell windows my first windows. It's just that at Bunnell Farm the riot of windows made me realize how varied & expressive windows can be - made me the window nut I am. This group catching morning sun crows like a rooster.

Then again, perhaps such books, like family farms and roosters are obsolete.

The Back Cover

I'm not certain this image is interesting enough in itself to merit posting, but I kind of like that it is the other side of the rooster crow image.

Is a rooster crow anything like a churkendoose?

Composition with Diagonals #3

How convenient that someone stored an old plow with great wooden wheels right inside the barn where its silhouette could catch my lens! Perhaps it should trouble me that many of the elements of this composition are the same as in the previous posting, but in my home, I'll happily hang them side-by-side. Unfortunately, when we open our next Camera's Eye exhibition in late May, I will have to choose just one from these last three. Choosing is so hard. Perhaps someone will offer guidance.

Composition with Diagonals #1

"Composition with Diagonals #2" or "Grampa's Teeth"

Several people have commented on the light in the May 1st photo. It was changing even as I snapped the picture, and I confess to being pleased by the results. However, I've spent much of this evening struggling with the importance of such prettiness as I try to decide between two very different interpretations of the same image.

Interpretation #1 has murky shadows and burnt out highlights, it's jagged and chalky. For me, it has a bit of anguish about it. Interpretation #2 moderates the extremes, details are revealed in the shadows and reclaimed from the burnout. Is interpretation #2 a bit more forgiving of age's frailty?

The Hollow

It is the most mannerly of farmsteads because it grew where the hollow flattens out in good, dry land. The barns are also in relatively good repair. The large barns were once cow barns, and I'm told it was for a time a horse farm. Because it lies at the bottom of the of The Hollow, I call it, "The Hollow Farm," but it is hollow in another sense too. Nothing happens here. The barn doors are shut, the barns are still except for the birds, vivacious inhabitants.

I haven't been inside the barns and can't say much about their age. I was invited to climb up into the loft of "the wood shed," a barn structure used currently as a garage. It appears to be quite old, and local history tells that the farmhouse was burned twice during The Revolution. This is prime farmland that has been lived on for a long time.

Processing an Image

The process required to bring a single image to completion is often lengthy. After a good day's shoot, often between 200 and 400 images, I look forward to reviewing the catch. That may take a full evening. Until I can see them on my computer monitor, I'm not sure what I have. Even then, my mind may not be made up, but if I'm lucky one or two images will jump out as keepers. Sometimes these need little more than tweaking, scrubbing the inevitable spots, the result of gunk that is always attracted to the ccd of my camera, a bit of sharpening, an adjustment of levels or a balancing of highlights and shadows. However, some images need time to settle in, for me to make up my mind, and often images take much work in Photoshop before they look the way I want.

This photo was taken at Kallstrom Farm during our one big blizzard this winter. At that time I was preoccupied with another image from the set. That shot has already appeared on the blog. I wasn't sure how I felt about this dark dance. When I finally went back and decided to finish it there was much to be done. Balancing tones to bring out the storm was tricky and of prime importance. The screen image was not quite the same as the printed image, and each printing gets a new letter designation. There was also a white rain gutter that glared in the gloom and had to be removed. By the time I had a print I liked, I was on version "c." Last week I gave a print to Brent Kallstrom, and he wisely wondered if the large stake in the center of the image might be removed. Rather than remove it, I have lowered it; I like the pattern of the wire fence that keeps us from entering the image, but I'd missed how distracting the stake supporting it was. It has been significantly lowered. Not counting the time spent shooting and identifying the image, there is at least 3 or 4 hours of process time in this, and the storm has long been history.

Images from new farms recently shot have been in process for several weeks. I will have to shoot more at each site and process some of those before I know which are ready for "Today's" and the blog. While I ponder those and wait for more good sky or sunshine or moody fog to make the landscape photogenic is a good time to finish up and publish images that have grown on me with time. This image is now ready.

Your comments posted here or sent via email are always welcome, whether words of encouragement or suggestions for improvement..

First Leafing

Thursday, Friday, and Saturday the New England Regional Genealogy Conference took place in Hartford. Jane and I were supposed to be there throughout, but after seeing little of interest on Saturday's, long program except the banquet speaker for which we had already (unfortunately) paid unrefundable cash, we skipped out.

No banquet speaker could compare with the evening I spent in Kent Hollow. A post storm sky proved not quite as good as I'd hoped, but here and there tentative leafings spattered accents in the contours of hills, and I pretended to be Monet. Does the impulse to shoot, "things" make us miss such images? Quiet fireworks! Shots like this were everywhere, and it feels very good to be home. Thanks, Frances, for taking care of the imaginary cat and the very real pigs, and especially thanks to Melissa, Jane and Jonathan for their help in delivering the computer workshops at NERG. Your support meant everything.

Dance Macabre

This image didn't come in the normal hunt for compositions. Instead of my searching for it, it grabbed me after I thought I was done for the day. I'd made my way through the muck at the bottom field of Rabbit Hill; I'd stopped at the cows and snapped a few token images of cow dinner. As I left the cows and turned to climb the last hill between the farm buildings, this shot was just there. I'd passed that spot many times, but I had never seen it quite as I saw it then. I took one shot and then considered a bit. Then I adjusted the camera to level the windows, shifted position to get them less hidden, and shot again. The second shot was properly balanced, more polite, a result of my conscious judgement, but it was the unruly first child that won my love. I've learned to heed such signals, though in this case, others may be wondering why.

Back at my computer, I needed to bring this strange photo to fruition. At first, I got the processing wrong, warmed the colors, lightened the shadows. Again, my conscious mind was trying to make the shot polite, do what one is supposed to do. At first I printed the wrong shot by accident, but even after printing it is this dark, homely child that has won my love. Perhaps it's a child only a parent could love.

The Three Sisters of Rabbit Hill

Yesterday evening I finally got access to the field directly below Tanner's Rabbit Hill Farm. Up until now it has been too wet and messy, and I have been peeking around bushes and between clumps of trees from one field over, looking for the best clear shots of the angles I want. It's still messy, and now the insects are just appearing, newly hatched mosquitos and the clouds of Mayflies that announce the less pleasant parts of spring. This field is below the farmstead; it is where all the runoff from the cows winter pen drains, but it is a new angle on old friends, and nothing could have kept me out on such a gorgeous evening..

Frances commented on yesterday's post, "For you it always seems to be the music of intersecting geometric forms. For me, it is always the unstated questions, the secrets: What might be going on in the fastness of those barns? Where is the access road to that courtyard in the center that will lead me to them? The focal point is on that inaccessible place, that intriguing space, and the people are stilled in time." What a terrific comment to set me thinking. In fact, an essential part of my attraction to New England farmsteads is the mystery of time and mortality. I'm not sure I've taken a photo that says it better than today's post. Sadly, the eldest sister is already stooped, twisted, and arthirtic. Still, the loft window still joins in song.

Can you find two of these barn's in yesterday's photo?

Rabbit Hill Redux

Like many children, I was fascinated by castles and fortresses and imagined, drew, and built with blocks my dreams of walls and towers surmounted by walls and towers. It is that piling on that keeps drawing me back to some of my favorite farmsteads. The Tanner Farm at the top of Rabbit Hill is one of the best. Sadly, many of these old farms are like agéd grandparents whose remaining days must be treasured. The double barn in the center of this farm could fall in any moderate wind storm. Mrs. Tanner told me yesterday that they had an estimate on the cost of repair a few years back: $750,000.

After our days of storm, wind and flat gray clouds, yesterday the sun returned full force and I was glad to find all of the barns still standing. I'd been waiting for just such a moment to get back. One of my favorite shots from the winter was marred by some blurring, a result of the strong breeze that kept my tripod in slight motion. Such problems become great when shooting at 500mm. I got the shot I wanted and many others as well. This shot, actually, a composite of two, was not planned. Artie will be glad to see people (I think).

Since last year Luke Tanner has passed management of the farm to his grandson who does all the chores together with his wife. Below, they feed the cows and reflect on the day's work. I've watched them do this every evening I've been there, and was glad to catch this shot which I will give them. Working dairy farms are disappearing. In spite of the condition of some of the barns and the difficulty of the site. Luke's grandchildren have chosen to stay and make their stand here.

Bunnell Geometries II

Look at the previous post. A few steps to the right produces this surprising variation. Initially, I considered this image as an alternative to yesterday's post. For a week or two both of these prints have been sitting out among my new photos. This week I added both in adjacent windows in the portfolio of copies I keep. I think they might easily be hung next to each other as a pair. However, I'd be interested in the thoughts of others.

Bunnell Geometries

Try as I might, it's tough to keep the picture pasted flat to the page; it keeps wanting to jump up and dance. I must have 40 variants of this shot. Every slight movement changes the tempo; move enough and its a new picture entirely. Also, the window reflects sky at certain times of day, and it is clear that the panes are set oddly. Here it is at its most abstract, just a series of radiating triangles in shades of red and gray? I'm hoping for a vigorous spring to inspire the vine in the background. Perhaps this is only a draft of a photo yet to be taken.

Can't seem to get away from shooting windows.

Scherzo Disjunct

On the walls of the Bunnell's parlor hung several large aerial photos of the farm. The earliest of these showed the intersection in front of the property, lined with elms. That aerial photo was taken about 1950.

Syncopation

Windows, walls, and roof planes, everywhere intersecting in rich counterpoint - that, for me, is the fun and maybe the essence of Bunnell Farmstead.

Bunnell Firewood

Yesterday's photo is more typical of the images I have been making at Bunnell Farm. However, as mentioned, I spent a portion of yesterday shooting Bud Bunnell and his neighbor turning a dead tree into firewood. Bud is the one on the tractor. He is 84 and the 5th generation of Bunnells to work the farm. It is 110 acres which Bud's GGGrandfather bought in 1860. Bud and his wife raised 10 children here. and they are happy to be retired. Evidently. the job description for retirment for Bud includes cutting trees into firewood. His son and grandson still work on the farm, though there are now horses instead of cows. While, so far, atypical of the pictures I've made, it is a great introduction to the overall richness and variety of forms throughout the farmstead.

Today Jane and i brought Bud a large framed print of another image from the tree sawing series and two other large prints. While we were there I learned all about the history of the barns and a bit about how they have changed. Bud said there were once 18 farms in the immediate vicinity of his. The good news is, Bunnell Farm is now protected acreage that will never be developed. The roof line of the large barn in the picture is the bad news. When barns develop such kinks, they are very difficult and expensive to preserve. As i mentioned yesterday, Bud's son Rick is hoping to take the barn down and rebuild it. In any case, Bud is happy to let me share his picture with you.

Bunnell Farm

No, it's not Cape Cod. I need a bit of distance before making hard decision with those. However, back in CT, I have found another farmer to welcome my camera. The boy I met at first was the seventh generation to work the farm. I have since met his father and grandfather. Today I shot pictures of his grandfather running the tractor and sawing trees. The geometries and rhythms of these barns are very complex. Best of all, lots of windows.

Carnicke Farm II

At the photo club I attend occasionally they would complain, "What's the subject." I'm not sure that's a relevant question. We're off to the Cape tomorrow. this was a difficult photo to take as I was trying to control the white horizontals and verticals. Move slightly left right, forward or backward and the composition changed drastically. I'm not sure it's entirely successful, but I've decided to live wiht it a bit and see how I feel in a month. Comments appreciated.

Carnicke Farm I - Reverie

Old snow is worse than no snow. Today the clouds moved out and the sky was deep blue, but everywhere I turned the melted remains of snow made shooting difficult. Even where the snow was white and not melted, the high contrast made photography difficult. I went trespassing on the Carnicke Farm. Jeannie can you tell me where this was shot? It's not heavily processed.

Carnicke Farm is for sale, and I was glad to see they had put a new coat of paint on the house. That suggests they may not tear it down. The project I've been working on for NERG has reached a milestone, so I had no guilt about being out all day. In spite of the snow I shot over 300 images and got home at 6:30, just before Jane got back from grandchild sitting.

Summer

This photo keeps returning to my attention. It was the result of some photo processing I was experimenting with a year ago or more. As my daughter and I have been passing thoughts on highly processed images, I thought it might make an interesting Today's, especially since it seems we are about to get a few more inches of snow. In any case, I liked this experiment enough to keep it around. Each time it pops in view I like it more.

Kallstrom Farm through Blizzard

Life knows few pleasures that surpass standing in a pasture in the middle of a blizzard. I'm particularly pleased that the driving snow and sleet cast its texture across this image. I'm eager to see how it reads on a print. Shortly after snapping this, all of the snow slid off the roof left of center exposing the new green tin roof. I'm glad I caught this first. What a glorious farmstead this is!

Swallow

Today's Today's is a print from last summer that I just reworked for a monthly photo contast I enter.

Kallstrom Geometries

Yesterday I discovered a new farmstead to photograph, and today I discovered that the owners were both former students of mine and that they manage several more farms in Kent Hollow. I spent 3 hours shooting there this morning and have an open invitation to shoot there and at the other farms they manage any time. Brent Kallstrom was my student in fiction writing during his only year in my school, but he told me he's been writing in a daily diary ever since.

Recomposing Rabbit Hill

Back at Rabbit Hill on Thursday and in a new spot, more distant from the barns, the geometries become more complex and the barnyard begins to unfold. So many photos taken yet so many ways yet to explore to compose the planes. Barely any icicles, though my toes did not unfreeze until after dinner.

Sadly, the wind was such that it was hard to steady my long lens. I will definitely want to try this shot again when the sunset is clear and wind is gone.

Thanks to all those who have reported continuing bounces in my eshtooter mail account.

Queens Quest #5

There is no accounting for the changes produced by time.

Queens Quest #4

Mt. Hebron Cemetery is part of a vast belt of cemeteries in Queens that were opened in the latter half of the 19th century when burials in Manhattan were banned. At the time, they were in, "the country." Since then they have been enveloped by the expanding city. In the case of Mt. Hebron, the remians of the 1964 New York City World's Fair makes an especially surprising juxtaposition.

Queens Quest #3

I'll ignore associations evoked by the image below. Photographically, concentration is everything; time pressures often cause loss of mental focus. Also, it's not always easy to fully evaluate a highly detailed image when viewing through the tiny view finder. When I shot this I was cold and had wandered far from my shooting companion. Had my concentration been all I would like, the sphere on the left would not have been clipped. In any case, for me, the pattern of those spheres is essential to the effect of this image. I look forward to trying again on a future visit.

Queens Quest #2

Yesterday, friend Richard Wanderman introduced me to Zion Cemetery in Queens, a remarkable place. We spent the day divided between Zion and Mt. Hebron Cemeteries and shots from Mt. Hebron will follow in the future. However, had I known how much I would like the juxtaposition of the shot below, I would have tried many more. The key to the success is the detail visible in the large structure which hugs Mt. Zion's edge. The slopes of the landscape offer many option, and I'm looking forward to opportunities to improve on first results. In the meantime, this was too surprising to hold back.

Queens Quest #1

Pass through this gate and enter a world apart, a quiet world in the midst of the noise and bustle of New York City. From almost any position in the great belt of cemeteries that stretches through the center of Queens and one will find surprises. Welcome to Zion Cemetery.

Angevine Farm

Angevine sits in an unusually broad, flat area. The buildings suggest it may have been a poultry farm once, but it is now known primarily for pumpkins and Christmas trees. It is not especially photogenic, but when I came down off of Rabbit Hill in the last snow storm it was spectacular. I didn't dare to leave footprints in order to remove the big stick, and as I thought about removing it digitally later, I decided it filled a space that would appear to empty. Comments appreciated.

A Winter Garden

I'm not certain I noticed the window when I took this. For me it makes the image work. Of course, it is the tree which gives it power. I was advised to crop the gray concrete block. Not a chance.

Moonrise 2

As I was shooting the moon (so to speak) the hole in the silo suddenly came serendipitously into view, a new, crisp graphic element. To me it's still a shot about that silo and an excuse to shoot at the dramatic angle.

Moonrise 1

CONFESSION: It took me until adulthood to learn that the night on which moonrise and sunset most closely coincide is also the date of the full moon. Yeah, makes sense when you think about it. I will always be a city boy, I fear.

Tanner Farm

Tanner Farm is very much a working dairy farm. One of the things I love about old farms is the way farm buildings and housing cluster. For me, the American flag waving on the farmhouse makes this work.

Idle

Skies are again very clear. Melissa, Aiden, and I went out shooting this morning. However, Today's Photo was shot on Monday just as the snow was ending.

Addendum, May 26, 2007: I learned today that the tool in this image is a tedder. It was pulled by a horse and large wires rotated, reaching under the hay to lift it and aerate it.

Weathering Triangles

What should a photo be - a representation of a particular barn at a particular time or something more universal, an arrangement of colors, shapes, and textures with a more abstract expressive purpose? This is the other photo from Saturday - a companion to the barn interior and something of a photographic breakthrough for me in attempting to reach beyond photography as documentation.

More snow today and more shooting. I'm coming to a new appreciation of the difficulty of editing snow and fog images. This image, on the other hand, was open to a wide range of editing choices.

My intention had been to send another photo from Saturday's shoot, but today was so special, something absolutely current was required. I was out before seven while it was still snowing and shot for 5 or 6 hours. The problem was choosing just one.

Trying to Peg the Photo Geometries

Today was zero humidity - crystal clear, and I took more shots that please me than I have taken in a few weeks. In spite of the glorious blue sky and light, today's shot was taken into the roof of one of the barn's on Rabbit Hill.

Experiment in White & Gray

For the past few weeks I have been photographing icicles and ice. All the images that have pleased me most have also been flawed in some ways. On the way home from the post office today as the snow/sleat/rain began again with the promise of refreshing the landscape with new white, a fog rolled in. I reached the top of Rabbit Hill for this photo almost too late, but stood in the muck to take a dozen shots of this farm. I could barely see what I was photographing and backed my effort with a variety of exposures. I've never before tried shooting into such thick fog and the resulting image needed much work to adjust tones (and remove the marks left by dirt on the camera's image sensor (the plague of digital photography). For the moment, I'm pleased, but I wish I had moved a bit right to separate the truck more from the barns. I'm not sure what I'll think tomorrow, but the opportunity has already passed. Any tips or criticism will be much appreciated.

Dandelion's Revenge

This photo from last June was taken just before leaving New Brunswick, Canada, after a week-long photo workshop with Andre Gallant and Freeman Patterson. I passed by this field on my first day in New Brunswick 7 days earlier. Then the field was all yellow. I took numerous shots, but I like this one for the bit of mid-ground dialogue between left and right. I'm not sure why, but the house peeping over the treetops makes me giggle. It has hung in my dining room for a few weeks, and I have also come to enjoy the soft focus of the hillside in the far background. At the camera club they complained about both house and background soft focus. They said I should have tilted the camera down and just taken dandilions. Well, I did that too, and I chose this instead.

Barn Cat

Last night we got our second snow of the year. It was just a bit more than a dusting, but there was a shot I wanted at a barn in Cornwall, so I was up early to catch my shot before footprints and wind spoiled it. While I trespassed on the snow-covered lawn in front of the barn, a woman stopped her car. Before I could apologize for trespassing, she asked if I wanted her to wait before she left car tracks in the long driveway to the door of the barn and spoiled my image. Trespassers have no right to expect such consideration.

As it turns out, she is the, "milkmaid." The farm is owned by New Yorkers, and she takes care of the cows. After shooting outside, I knocked on the barn door and introduced myself further. She gave me permission to explore the barn and take all the pictures I wanted. This cat never budged from her perch. She looked at me for a few moments and then turned to look back out the window. I took the photo both ways and haven't decided yet whether I like her better looking at the camera or with her facing away and enjoying the view from her spot of warmth.

I don't know what the object on the right is, but I loke the way it catches the light and balances out the picture.

Dry Bones

My daughter commented, appropriately, that she found this one more disturbing than the last.

Missed Opportunities

I have been meaning to stop and photograph this barn for almost a year. From route 4 it was towering, almost gothic in its force. I was too late. When I passed it last week, the roof had caved in, and the two turret-like vents were somewhere inside, swallowed by the beast. Even in its current state, it is not without merit, but when I finally got there today, the long shot I had imagined was no longer possible.

Never put off to tomorrow...

Journey to the Underworld

I thought this was a good follow up to the previous photo past the "No Trespass" and down the garden path. If I took photos in the city more often, there might be more like this.

The apparition of these faces in a crowd.
Petals on a wet, black bough.

In fact, it was taken while descending into the Prague Metro.

To the Garden of Delights

This photo was taken a few years back. It never quite worked, but today with a bit of deft cropping, I think I got the background space to read properly so that one is encouraged to make the journey down the garden path. I've also tried this photo in monochrome, and I like it both ways, but right now it's so good to have all that color.