Seeing 2010 (#14)

In this entry, a pair of images for your consideration -- from two eras of my photographic sojourns.

The first is a scene from the beaches near Cambria, a canvas illustrating considerable contractions with respect to motion: the form would appear to be plunging downwards, yet its wake suggests otherwise. This tension is magnified by the intuitive sense that the body rests passively (if momentarily) on a surface . . . yet the cord jutting in from the bottom seems to be forcefully fixing the subject in place, providing an additional source of energy. I particularly like the shadow's evocation of a snail's silhouette . . .

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The second photograph was taken shortly after sunrise on a bitter cold, extraordinarily windy morning, c. November 26, 1989, from a (closed!) State campground near Lone Pine; this submission is another from my transparencies archive.

Taken during a personal Vision Quest I had embarked upon (destination: the Saline and Death valleys, the Grand Canyon, and then on to Tucson, Arizona), I had been awakened from my hypothermic restless sleep by vicious winds gusting against my truck's camper shell. The night before I'd cooked up a quick pot of spaghetti and hurriedly ate it while watching the stars being just as quickly consumed by an approaching mass of storm clouds. When I sought shelter in my truck's bed and sleeping bag I had not yet seen the spectacular nature of this segment of the eastern Sierras due to the darkness.

Thus when I (reluctantly) emerged into the freezing dawn I was utterly stunned by the stark needle-like peaks and the snow being blown off the summits; against all instinct (as an Arizonan I'm not keen on cold) I grabbed my camera gear, somehow managed to climb on top of my vehicle to afford the best unobstructed view possible, and spent an unknown amount of time fighting to keep from being blown off whilst taking many images of one of the most beautiful sights I'd ever seen.

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Untitled, #4600

(c)2010 James W. Murray, all rights reserved.

(click image for larger version)

Details: September 5, 2009; Canon 20D; f/9 @ 1/100 sec; -2/3 EV; ISO 100; 55mm.

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Mount Whitney Portal, November, 1989

(c)2010 James W. Murray, all rights reserved.

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Seeing 2010 (#13)

For your consideration: an entry from the Christmas Mannequins series.

This piece offers yet another insight as to how marketers may have come to view their clientele: half-brained and prone to fuzzy thinking. I find it surreal that the modern notion of chic entails utterly featureless figures only superficially mimicking the beauty of the human form. Then again, this may be just a store window's homage to a slice of cubism.

Belated update: a viewer of this entry replied with a single word comment, which would have made a deliciously succinct title: Lobotomy.

Fuzz Head with Green, #5809

(c)2010 James W. Murray, all rights reserved.

(click image for larger version)

Details: December 22, 2009; Canon 20D; f/11 @ 1/10 sec; -2/3 EV; ISO 400; 55mm.

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Seeing 2010 (#12)

This evening I drove up to San Francisco to meet a friend, Gary, for dinner. Since it has rained nearly continuously locally for the past three days -- and more is forecast throughout this night and into tomorrow -- I chose to leave my camera at home.

Big mistake: despite driving through moderate downfall for much of the way, the city itself was sparkling clear with air as clean and crisp as it only can be after a multi-day scrubbing.

In lieu of new material, then, this submission is drawn again from my prior milieu of transparencies. This image was taken in Lake County on a winter's eve, at dusk, circa 1998. Beyond the well-structured geometry, the composition holds a sense of tension, even subtle danger: the branches seem to claw and reach for the trails above, as if to prey upon the unwitting cargo borne by the safely passed aircraft . . . jets which may have also barely avoided a quite different hazard.

Transits

(c)2010 James W. Murray, all rights reserved.

(click image for larger version)

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Seeing 2010 (#11)

For your consideration, another image derived from my archive of color transparencies - a body of work spanning roughly 1977 - 2002. This image, taken circa 1986, is one of those relatively few from the distant past which I still vividly recall taking.

Once upon a time I lived with Mike, a good friend and fellow hiking enthusiast. Between 1985 and 1989 Mike and I hiked Yosemite at least six times annually (the Tuolomne Meadows region in the summer, the Valley Floor in the winter). A ritual of those halcyon summer excursions was to descend from the High Country and spend the last few hours of Sunday afternoon taking in the sights of the Yosemite Valley floor, before exiting the park for the long, weary drive home.

On one such visit we discovered the Ansel Adams gallery; Mike was supportive and encouraging of my photographic pursuits and so patiently indulged the ample time I took touring this visual feast. When we finally emerged from the shop the sun was down (so far as the valley was concerned), it was nearly dark, and as I looked up this spectacular sight took my breath away. Knowing the lighting conditions were changing extremely rapidly, I dashed for our vehicle, grabbed my camera (a Nikon F2), and managed to take this single shot -- the last on the roll of film. It would not matter had I more: this incandescent orange faded so quickly that it would've been gone by the time I managed to reload.

The vast range of color contrast made taking this image challenging and a bit of a guess: I barely had time to fix the lens and shutter settings in order to properly expose the granite monolith. I knew the rest of the scene would be rendered in silhouette. Even with the sun shining on Half Dome's face the lighting was poor; I had to steady myself as best as I could, standing in the middle of the parking lot in order to get a clear view; this image was taken at either 1/30 or 1/15 sec, at the widest aperture possible (f/1.4?). Consequently, the full-size view reveals a bit of softness due to subtle camera motion. Still, the sceme was gorgeous and perhaps a slight bit of softness can be forgiven.

Half Dome Sunset

(c)2010 James W. Murray, all rights reserved.

(click image for larger version)

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Seeing 2010 (#10)

For your consideration: a return to the Drive-by Shootings theme.

This construction was taken during the drive back from a daylong visit to Spirit Rock with my close friend Brad. His generous offer to be the chauffeur for our journey allowed me, as passenger, to take forty-one shots over the course of about an hour. I promised him I'd use one of the resulting photographs in my next post, so that he'd have the pleasure of an "I was there" moment. (My idea, not his!)

This thematic experimentation is bringing me a tremendous amount of pleasure, as each image is by definition both utterly unique and unreproducible -- perfect examples of dualities of apparently frozen singularities in time coexistent with the implication of Impermanence. The resulting tableaux project potent displays of motion, yet are themselves static: a subtle inversion of the reality at hand.

The consequent abstractions lend themselves to almost limitless interpretations. For me this particular composition recalls the playful and mystical writings on quantum physics discussed in a book I read many years ago.

Dancing Wu Li Masters, #6061

(c)2010 James W. Murray, all rights reserved.

(click image for larger version)

Details: January 16, 2010; Canon 20D; f/8 @ 5 secs; -2/3 EV; ISO 100; 52mm.

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Seeing 2010 (#9)

This submission is one I've been eager to post for several years . . .

The setting depicted is that of the Tucson Mountains, as seen from the Saguaro National Park (East).

As I wrote in my prior entry, my wife's deep generosity has afforded me the luxury of a slide scanner; this entry is the result of (finally!) producing a digital version of a transparency which is one of my all time favorite personal images.

Taken circa 1982, it is remarkable that I still retain the clear memory of shooting this scene, in the company of my dear friends Jonathan and Debra Altman and my cousin Jim McGill. One slightly unusual aspect of the event was the location: the Saguaro National Park is actually two sites (East and West), separated by 30 miles, and while as a group we made innumerable visits to the West district (which is on the back side of the mountains in this image) trekking through the East park was a relatively rare event.

Although I lack specific exposure data, of these details I am confident: the camera was a Minolta XE-7, a joy to use; the lens was a Rokkor-X 135mm f/2.8, and the film was Kodak Ecktachrome.

This transparency was #9 of one hundred twenty-one which I displayed (projected) during the first ever formal exhibition of my work, a show I titled Transparent Thoughts and which was graciously hosted by Paul and Maria Suni in their home in Los Gatos, California, on December 31, 1996. I've waited a long time for the opportune moment to share this vision with a much larger audience . . .

Octotillo Sun

(c)2010 James W. Murray, all rights reserved.

(click image for larger version)

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Seeing 2010 (#8)

A scene from the archives . . .

Prior to 1994 I had traveled relatively little -- I'd only been east of Arizona once, an interminably long summer vacation in Texas in 1972, and the extent of my other excursions were confined to the Pacific coast States and Hawaii.

This myopic geographical exposure changed when I joined a software company and began globe trotting as a database designer. Between 1994 and 2001 I was sent on several lengthy visits to various western European nations (including living in England for a time), took a six-week excursion through a slew of Asian Pacific rim countries from Singapore to South Korea, and set foot in about half of the States.

These were tremendously personally enriching experiences. They also took place during the closing years of the traditional film era. During those days the vast of majority of my photographic work was in the realm of color slide film. Consequently I toted my heavy but wonderfully rugged Nikon F2 and an array of lenses with me on most business trips, and was able to amass a modest body of imagery on transparencies. (My first love is black-and-white photography. After graduation from college in 1984 I rarely had access to a darkroom, however, and I find appalling even the thought of having someone else process and print from my negatives, thus I turned towards color work as a means to keep my "photographic eye" active. )

A couple of years ago my dearest Julianna gave me, for my birthday, a dedicated slide scanner. As she has also been incalculably helpful and encouraging of my transition from traditional film to the digital medium I've not devoted as much time as perhaps I ought producing images from my transparencies.

Here, for your esteemed consideration, is one. Since film does not provide the luxury of digital EXIF data, nor did I but very rarely keep exposure logs when shooting film, I cannot provide information as to date, lens, emulsion (certainly either Kodak Ektachrome or Fuji Velvia) or exposure settings. Of course, such arcane specifications should be but remotely relevant to the purpose of an image . . .

Untitled, c. 1997

(c)2010 James W. Murray, all rights reserved.

(click image for larger version)

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Seeing 2010 (#7)

It was on the stormy side today, in that slate gray, amorphous, blustery and wet style characteristic of what passes for winter in northern California.

Thus this offering: a rather more interesting display of the majesty possessed by some species of clouds . . . gauzy giants such as these habitually dominate the summer skies in my beloved southern Arizona; this image captures a rare local appearance, near San Juan Bautista. I remain endlessly fascinated by the power and perpetually changing beauty created in these towering structures comprised of millions of indistinct water droplets. An example of a whole which profoundly exceeds the aggregate of its constituent parts.

Clouds, St. Francis Retreat Center, #8437

(c)2010 James W. Murray, all rights reserved.

(click image for larger version)

Details: September 23, 2007; Canon 20D; f/13 @ 1/500 sec; ±0 EV; ISO 200; 85mm.

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Seeing 2010 (#6)

For your consideration: a scene depicting life's determination to persist in the face of seemingly inescapable obstacles.

This image was taken in the late afternoon sunlight; it was extremely breezy which caused this thin stalk to be nearly continuously whipped to and fro. These unpredictable and frantic movements, accentuated by my near-macro approach, mandated an extremely fast shutter speed in order to freeze my subject in place.

A beautiful irony is on display here: the steel is strong, solid, inflexible and implacable in its duty as the demarcation of a barrier . . . yet nonetheless proves to be no match for the force of a flimsy organic wisp. Of course a question goes begging: what possessed the plant to force its way between the post and wire in the first place? Hardly the path of least resistance. Perhaps a better title for this simple study should be Stubbornness.

The Fencing Match, #5827

(c)2010 James W. Murray, all rights reserved.

(click image for larger version)

Details: June 2, 2007; Canon 20D; f/9 @ 1/800 sec; -2/3 EV; ISO 800; 64mm.

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Seeing 2010 (#5)

This entry: dualities.

For quite a long time I've held a rather cynical view of the frenetic consumerism which has so utterly removed the magical spirit from the Holidays of my youth: jousting for parking spaces, quid pro quo driven gifting, Muzak flavored carols and Santa decorations appearing before Halloween (!!!) all push back the tender notion of spiritual reverence and Good Will Towards Men to the realm of dim nostalgia.

As I wrote in a prior entry, virtually none of the surreal store front mannequins on parade in the local shopping malls conveyed anything remotely evocative of Joyeux Noël, but rather served only to reinforce the notion that a detached, Kafkaesque ennui is our modern collective condition.

Hence, the first tableau is another from a series of mannequin images I took during the recent Christmas season. Here the duality is ironic: inanimate objects sharing a secret communqué . . . and with a suggestion of vacant disinterest at that.

The second submission is offered as a humorous antidote to the first; this photograph's raison d'être is the delightfully surprising shadow which draws a smile across the surface and allows the old, deteriorating truck's door handle to be seen as having considerably more optimism than that held by plastic models.

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Sweet Nothings (Telling Secrets), #5827

(c)2010 James W. Murray, all rights reserved.

(click image for larger version)

Details: December 22, 2009; Canon 20D; f/8 @ 1/60 sec; -1 EV; ISO 400; 52mm.

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Man Handle, #5869

(c)2010 James W. Murray, all rights reserved.

(click image for larger version)

Details: December 25, 2009; Canon 20D; f/11 @ 1/600 sec; -2/3 EV; ISO 100; 55mm.

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Seeing 2010 (#4)

Tonight's submission: perhaps a bit more "mainstream."

A close friend and artistic critic of this blog, regarding the prior post, opined, "Hmmm, [I] ought to find some new material." A semi-kind way of stating, "What were you thinking?" and "That image is not very good."

As we all tend to have attachments to our own creations (especially true for the narcissistic, sensitive artist types such as yours truly) such feedback can sting a bit . . . and true confession, it did. Still, the truth be known, at the time I posted Abstract (Jovian Dreams), #5469 even though I too was dissatisfied with the image and really debated whether or not I should have put it up for viewing. It suffers from over processing, if nothing else. (The subject matter's relevance and capacity to evoke responses will naturally vary for each viewer. Yet, let's face it: when even the artist questions the efficacy and authenticity of his own piece -- as I did -- well, it would've been better to defer. We can all agree it was not my best effort.)

Combined with having trudged through some particularly difficult times in recent days, this last dubious effort left me feeling a bit hesitant and cautious about posting anew. Then I perused a slew of photography magazines recently, and was once again reminded of the vast variety of work considered by others worthy of publication; there was material both amazing and in the "huh?" domain from my perspective.

Thus my confidence in my own vision was buttressed, and despite having the worst day in many months today (featuring, among other things, the experience of having my car vandalized and my beloved tripod and related equipment stolen) . . I'm baaaaaaack.

For your consideration, then, a peaceful scene from the heart of a small valley through which I travel when en route to my parents' home in California's wine country. My wife graciously put up with an interruption of the drive long enough for me to hop out of our vehicle to take a few shots in the rapidly fading and changing light. It was very nearly dark, and had we been just five minutes later to this venue it would've been too late.

(Fear not: abstracts and other oddities will return to future posts soon!)

Pope Valley Dusk, #5842

(c)2010 James W. Murray, all rights reserved.

(click image for larger version)

Details: December 24, 2009; Canon 20D; f/11 @ 1/100 sec; -2/3 EV; ISO 200; 22mm.

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Seeing 2010 (#3)

Tonight's submission is an abstraction derived from a combination of unfamiliar terrain, a singularly unexpected object (a giant amongst peers) and sharply angled lighting which produces not only a highly textured surface but also striking and disproportionally large shadows.

A surprising degree of suggested motion exists here: the large ball's angled and rising shadow implies an ascent in in progress; the sweeping grooves above the parallel chains echo this vector. Below the shadow's march across the image are notches diving towards the bottom, offset by rising cuts and a comma swimming toward the frame's right edge.

And, finally, a mystery: from whence the jagged shadows? The lower line of orbs which sit on the surface? Or from their levitating kin floating above?

Abstract (Jovian Dreams), #5469

(c)2010 James W. Murray, all rights reserved.

(click image for larger version)

Details: October 30, 2009; Canon 20D; f/11 @ 1/200 sec; -2/3 EV; ISO 100; 25mm.

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Seeing 2010 (#2)

Tonight's submission is an follow up to last night's, taken moments later from essentially the same location.

The glow of the last year's last full (and blue) moon hazily illuminates this canvas from ±235,000 miles distant, ironically as a sort of negative silhouette eclipsed by a dormant light standard. Where it not for having been taken at 1:20 a.m., this image might easily be interpreted as a solar eclipse, rather than the pseudo-lunar species presented here.

Note the faint coronal ring, formed by the mist-laden evening atmosphere.

San Rafael, New Year's 2010, (Lunar Luminescence), #5991

(c)2010 James W. Murray, all rights reserved.

(click image for larger version)

Details: January 1, 2010; Canon 20D; f/11 @ 30 secs; -2/3 EV; ISO 100; 18mm.

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Seeing 2010 (#1)

Well, in a trivial manner an auspicious start to the new decade, posting-wise: hustled to prep the image below so as to publish it on New Year's Day . . . seems I just missed the strike of midnight for January 2nd . . . and in my haste an utterly empty entry went out. (Note to blogspot: bad idea to have the default mode for pressing Enter as "Publish Post" rather than "Save As Draft.")

Ah well, here's the first submission of the year nonetheless . . .

After a delightful evening of Thai food followed by enjoying comedian Louis Black with my wife at the Marin Civic Center Auditorium in San Rafael, I wandered around the Civic Center grounds.

The Moon was full (in fact, up until 11:59:59 p. m. on December 31, 2009, it was a Blue Moon) albeit slightly obscured by high, thin clouds. My initial goal was to capture a beautifully-lighted fountain set in the midst of a huge pond, but before I could equip myself with tripod and camera and get out to a workable vantage point the majority of the lights illuminating the various parking lots, sidewalks -- and fountain(s) -- shut off.

Still, beneath of La Lune's ethereal glow there were a few subjects of interest. I had the entire vast compound to myself, so far as I could tell, which made the scene below all the more eerie: it was utterly silent, with the glowing orb high overhead my only companion. These flag-topped structures reminded me both of turrets, and giant sentinels, providing a subtle sense of protection against the isolation and loneliness inherent in the dark expanse I found myself.

This offering is one of the first few photographs I took this New Year's Day (at 1:10 a.m., in this particular case). The scene presented here is quite removed from my normal mental image of Marin as a place of green hills thickly carpeted with foliage, boat docks, art shops and cafés. I rather like this disquieting juxtaposition . . .

San Rafael, New Year's 2010 (Midnight Sentinels), #5984

(c)2010 James W. Murray, all rights reserved.

(click image for larger version)

Details: January 1, 2010; Canon 20D; f/8 @ 30 secs; -2/3 EV; ISO 100; 18mm.

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