Note: Rather than wax philosophical on photography, I decided to showcase a collection of recent images from this summer. After all, I’m a better photographer than a writer. Or at least I hope I am.
As many of you know, I live along the shore of the St. Lawrence River in a region known as the Thousand Islands. It is an area dominated by water, an archipelago of over 1,800 islands varying in size from square feet to square miles. It is not surprising that most photography here is focused on the river, be it from land, water, or air. And yet, most of my photography this summer explored the woodlands, meadows, and wetlands that comprise the interior of the islands. It seems odd in an area dominated by water and sky. Why is that, I’ve wondered. After all, I’m a Scorpio, which I’ve read is a water sign, whatever that means. I’ve never given much credence to astrology.
Over the years I’ve noticed my attention has turned more toward the island interiors. One reason is that it’s a subject matter that has largely been overlooked by photographers. The obvious beauty of the area is in the views looking out over the river. It is an area famous for stunning sunrises and sunsets. But it goes deeper than that. When I explore the woodlands I am immersed in the scene. It surrounds me. I feel as if I am part of it. Conversely, when standing on the shore, I feel as if I am on the outside looking in. Or out, as the case may be. I am on the edge rather than inside. I feel separated from what I am photographing, an outside observer almost. As such, I find the photographic opportunities to be limited along the shore, whereas in the woods there is an endless variety of scenes to explore.
There are often two distinct ecosystems found on the islands depending on geology, location, and island size. The drier, upriver ends of the larger islands are characterized by white pine, oak, hemlock, and my favorite, pitch pine, all underlain by ancient Precambrian rock. The less dry areas consist almost entirely of stands of maple, hickory, and red cedar, among other hardwoods. The transition between the two ecosystems is often sudden, depending on the geology. Sprinkled among the woodlands are meadows of wild grasses and occasional wetlands. Here, light from the open meadows illuminates the edge of the woods, creating a delicious transition from light to shadow. The wild grasses, bending under their weight, resemble waves on the open water. It is a unique and fascinating blend that inspires me to explore deeper.
I confess that much of what follows is not my best work. That’s how it is with art. Most art is mediocre, regardless of its creator. However, it’s the learnings from the medicare work that are in service of the few pieces that soar.
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