Art Archives - Page 2 of 3 - Thoughts on the Art of Fine Art Photography

We take pictures of what we see….and what sees us.

picture of an old apple tree in the Allegheny NF of NY State — “Recital” — An example of a photographic subject that saw me as much as I saw it.

Chances are, you take pictures. And before you take a picture, you have to make a mental decision of what to take a picture of? Often, a photographic subject sees us as much as we see it.

There’s a quote that’s always stuck with me, and I wish I could remember who said it first, but it goes something like this:

“I don’t take pictures of what I see, I take pictures of what sees me.”

That statement really resonates with me. My favorite photographs often contain some subject that caught my attention and held me captive for several moments. Subjects sometime seem to see me as intently as I see them.

A good example of this is the old wild apple tree in “Recital,” which I found in a clearing in the Allegheny Mountains of New York.

I first noticed it while driving on a small road last Autumn. And just like when you first see a person at an event who looks interesting and find them looking back at you, this simple gesture invites further conversation, doesn’t it?

It doesn’t always happen this way. There are some people at that same event who are oblivious to my presence: So they become oblivious to me. It’s a natural behavior; it’s no fun talking with someone who turns their back on you.

It works the same way when I’m out taking pictures.

The truth is, this tree wasn’t that pretty when I first saw her. The sun was high in the sky and washed out everything in the clearing where she lived. But her character was hard to miss even in such harsh light, and she was definitely staring at me. I promised her I’d come back when she was feeling better, and we could have a longer conversation. (She agreed, of course).

To make a long story short, over the course of 3 days I drove by her clearing several times at different parts of the day, trying to find a time when she was better suited to have her picture taken. It finally happened on the final evening of my trip, when the setting sun made her shine as if she were the only important being in the clearing, and I enjoyed what appeared to be her unique way of dancing in the spotlight!

Has this happened to you? Do you sometimes get the feeling that a photographic subject seems to be as interested in you as you are in them?

That’s what it means by “…taking pictures of things that see me.” Even if it’s a tree. And there’s no better way to remember the encounter than by taking a picture!

That’s what I love about photography!

Until next time,
J.

Art, Expressive photography

Seeing things that aren’t there…until you look

Example of photographic seeing — Assimilation by J Riley Stewart

To appreciate today’s featured image, you have to STOP AND LOOK at it for a moment. You want to engage a bit in photographic seeing. Once again quietly: stop. and look.

I don’t mean to be yelling at you. Really. But I did want to get your attention, because the story I want to tell you today demands some creative thought on your part.

At this time of year, with the holidays fast approaching, we’re all going 100 miles per hour. And we need to just stop for brief periods to catch our breath. Or we risk missing something important.

The picture isn’t important. The things our kids say and do everyday: those are important. The holiday wishes we get from friends: again, important. The quiet planning by those busily preparing holiday meals: Important. Important. Important!

And my contribution to your busy-ness right before the holidays is merely this: an opportunity to stop for a moment and think about something …..else. A pleasant diversion, if you will.

Photographs are merely diversions, are they not?

But they can be very powerful diversions. In fact, photographs can permanently change the way you think and feel about things, if you let them. But to give them that chance, we need to stop and look at them for a few moments. To buck the tendency to scroll rapidly past countless images in our Facebook and Instagram feeds.

The famous 20th Century American photographer Minor White said:

“One should not only photograph things for what they are, but for what else they are.”

I try to do that, in my own way, when creating images. Admittedly, I often/usually fail. It’s not easy to communicate what else something is.

In “Assimilation,” we see a quaint white church in the forest. That’s what it is, isn’t it? It’s got a steeple with a spire on top and a bell in the belltower. It must be a church.

But what else is it?

It’s up to each of us to answer that, assuming we want to.. And it’s okay that we all have different answers. Some of us will say “..it’s a place of worship (enter all the souls who have made it so over the years),” Some will say it’s a relic of our history, representing the culture and the times from whence it sprang. And still others may say, “…it’s just a drafty old building.”

To me, and what caught my attention when walking about the Mission Baptist Church site in Cades Cove, TN, was the way the church became a part of the forest surrounding it, if only for a few moments. During those moments, the setting sun was casting shadows of the trees across the church’s facade, and It became inseparable from the forest. In those moments, the trees became the church and the church became the trees.

I thought “assimilation” an apt description for “what else” this little church had become, and this moment became something I wanted to remember. “Click.”

What else is this little church to you? I’d love to hear about it!

Until next week,

Clicking the image of “Assimilation” will take you to its place in the gallery, where you can explore the details and, I hope, give you a moment to escape all the holiday busy-ness in your life, even if only for a brief, quiet few moments.

Art, Expressive photography, nostalgic photography

Small Town Virginia Project

My Small Town Virginia project is an ongoing attempt to depict the charm of villages and towns near where I live, before it disappears completely. I’m just beginning, and I will continue to visit and photograph in these towns and create these images for as long as my interest in the project continues.

Some months back, I revisited a series of photographs that I took while living in Europe back in the 1980s. From a personal point of view, I found myself reliving those moments, and the nostalgia was a very pleasant experience. However, I also noticed how different the places were then compared to more recent photographs (by others) of those same places. Time moves on, and it doesn’t always make things around us better, does it?

Where I live in Virginia, we have many small towns that began as crossroads during the 18th and19th centuries and went through cycles of growth and decay during the 20th Century. My small town of Leesburg, Virginia has mostly kept its early 20th Century small town charm. But I don’t have to drive far to see towns that have completely lost their charm to the advances of ‘progress.’

Even in Leesburg, progress is inevitable. Parking garages now sit where old mom and pop business used to be. Nostalgic old neon signs replaced with the typical glitz and glitter of modern times. Old incandescent street lamps torn out and replaced with 50 foot halogens. The list goes on and on.

How’s your small town doing? Have you seen such changes where you live? I bet you have.

Lately, I’ve been on a crusade, and I wanted to share it with you.

Small Town Virginia isn’t about doing a travelogue. I’m not interested in documenting historical artifacts and architecture. Nor am I trying to criticize the effects of modernization and progress. Instead, I’m trying to create images that recall the time when things were simpler in our small towns; quieter times, community times.

I’ll be changing the images in the portfolio over time. Some of those here now will disappear and others will appear. The best way to see where I am in the project is to follow along. Leave me a comment on the Small Town Virginia page and let me know if you have favorites or to just make your mark of interest.

An enduring value of photography is that it freezes moments that our brains want to dismiss in mere fractions of a second. Through photographs, we can relive those moments, enjoy the nostalgia of the experience, and then repeat whenever we want.

And that’s what I love about photography!

Until next time,
J.

Did you enjoy this article? Feel free to share with someone you think might also enjoy it, and invite them to subscribe to “Under the Darkcloth.” And please leave me a comment or ask a question by commenting below. Clicking the image of “Early Morning at the Tally Ho” will take you to its place in the gallery, where you can explore the details and see how it might give you just the right place to go when you need a bit of nostalgia and make a quieter time for yourself.

Art, Expressive photography

Looking for the positives in the aftermath- beauty in devastation

Aftermath by J. Riley Stewart an example of beauty in devastation — “Aftermath” by J. Riley Stewart

Aftermath is an interesting word. When we think of aftermath, we normally think about the immediate bad consequences of something terrible that happens to us. But we can, instead, think farther down the road and consider something more positive, more hopeful. There can be beauty in devastation, given enough time.

As I write you this week, Hurricane Florence sits less than 24 hours off the Carolina coast. By the time you get this, you’ll know how serious it could be for you and your family.

Our weather forecasters have thoroughly warned everyone from Virginia to Georgia about the potential catastrophe that could hit us: high winds, torrential and persistent rainfalls, and widespread loss of power for days. We’re all on edge, understandably.

Of course, the hurricane is on my mind this week. Sometimes, the only way I can get through the angst and worry, and the threats at times like this, is to focus on the aftermath.

“Man can live about forty days without food, about three days without water, about eight minutes without air, but only for one second without hope.” Charles Darwin

When I happened upon the scene depicted in “Aftermath,” all I saw was the profound beauty in the devastation. There was only peace in the downed trees resting in the quiet surf. I knew the story of how this scene came to be, of course. Moments that had wreaked havoc to the coastal forest right behind me. But I also knew that without the past devastation, I would not have experienced the peace and beauty I saw before me. I was on the positive side of the aftermath.

Stay safe and stay hopeful, friends. Whether you are in the midst of the hurricane, or the forest fires, or drought, or bitter heat (or cold). Remember it’s all temporary.

I hope you never have to suffer.
I hope in your suffering, you never lose hope.
I hope you can clearly foresee the positive side of the aftermath no matter how hidden it might be right now.

PS. Clicking the image of “Aftermath” will take you to its place in the gallery. There you can explore the details and see how it might give you just the right place to go when you need a bit of wonder amid the devastation.

Did you enjoy this edition of Friday Foto? Feel free to share this email with someone you think might also enjoy it, and invite them to subscribe to “Under the Darkcloth.” And please leave me a comment or ask a question by replying to this email.

Art, behavior, Expressive photography, Nature photography, philosophy

Why do we love pictures of iconic subjects?

picture of Old Rag during a passing rain storm — Passing Storm, Old Rag Mountain

I’ve been thinking this week about my recent trip to Shenandoah National Park, when I couldn’t resist taking a picture of one of most recognizable icons of the Park, Old Rag Mountain. I wondered why it is that we can’t resist taking and making pictures of iconic subjects.

Old Rag Mountain is certainly iconic to anyone from northern Virginia who has visited the Park. It appears from several turnouts along Skyline Drive, and it also appears prominently from the roads down in the valley in Madison County, Virginia. Unlike many of the peaks that sit in this part of the Blue Ridge, Old Rag is a solitary old thing, making it easy to identify. Kinda like the big dipper. For many of us northern Virginians, the profile of Old Rag symbolizes all that is beautiful about Shenandoah NP.

The 3300 foot summit of Old Rag is known as a great hiking destination. If you live in northern Virginia, you may have made this hike at some point; millions of people have. For many Virginians, the hike up Old Rag is an annual pilgrimage. It’s a popular hike for young couples who, apparently, are testing the mettle of each other. Those who make it to the top together, I guess, get to take their relationship to the next level. Apparently. And people have even asked to be buried on Old Rag, according to a good friend of mine.

Because of our feelings for Old Rag Mountain, you’ll find lots of pictures of her on the internet.

Natural icons like Old Rag rarely excite me as a landscape photographer. I have only a few iconic subjects in my portfolio, like Purple Mountains Majesty (Grand Teton NP) and Yellowstone Drama(Yellowstone NP).

By definition, taking a picture of an iconic subject means that you’re not the first to do so. In fact, the more iconic the subject is, the more it’s had its picture taken. Who hasn’t seen the hundreds of variations of Ansel Adams’s picture of the Snake River? It’s an iconic scene. But today any picture from the same vantage point is also common, cliche, and even boring at this point. But still, if you’ve ever been to this vista over the Snake River valley and didn’t take a picture of it, well, you’re the exception to the rule 🙂

Driving up and down Skyline Drive on my many trips to Shenandoah NP, I’ve probably passed Old Rag Mountain hundreds of times. Until my most recent trip, never have I stopped to take her picture. I didn’t feel I had anything new to say about her. I don’t want to be boring.

On my most recent trip, I witnessed a rare face to iconic Old Rag, and I knew I had to share it with you. I found this moment to be quietly dramatic, with heavy foreboding clouds and rain storm, and with the forest all wet and dark, but through it all, Old Rag catching the proverbial silver lining.

Pictures of icons like Old Rag Mountain are important to us. They remind us of important experiences and make us nostalgic about those moments. And the fact that a mere image can do that for us is nothing short of amazing. And that’s what I love about photography!

Before leaving, I wanted to ask if you’ve seen the trailer to my new book “At Water’s Edge?” If you’re interested in helping me support the children under the care of the Marland Children’s Home in Ponca City, OK, you can order the book directly from Blurb. Thank you in advance!

Until next time,
J.

PS. Clicking the image of “Passing Storm, Old Rag Mountain” will take you to its place in the gallery, where you can explore the details and see how it might give you just the right place to go when you need a bit of quiet drama.

Art, behavior, Expressive photography, Nature photography

Are we just a bunch of sun-worshippers?

I’ve been thinking this week about how something so common in our lives–sunset– always compels our attention, and why that is.

I just returned from a short visit to Shenandoah National Park. I’m lucky to live within an hour’s drive of the Park, or as I like to say the Park is “within 15 degrees cooler” from where I live. And during August, that 15 degrees can make a world of difference.

One evening I happened to be at the Skyland Lodge just before sunset, and something happened that made me ask myself: “Why do we (humans) do that?”

Skyland Lodge has a large picture window facing west, and just outside the window is a narrow deck running the entire length of the window. As the sun began to set, minute by minute, people calmly migrated from inside to outside, each person quietly finding a spot to stand along the deck to watch the sun set.

I wonder, is it just the mere beauty of a sunrise or sunset that attracts our attention, or is there something more to it? Why is it we might experience hundreds of such moments in our lives, and, still, the excitement for one more is just too great to ignore? I’m convinced there must be a “sunset” gene in our DNA that programs us to seek and witness as many as we possibly can during our lifetime. And in the iPhone era, being a witness to a sunset requires we also take a picture of it.

I have to admit something. When I’m out taking pictures, sunrises and sunsets are way, way down on my list of priorities. In fact, I tell myself to purposefully ignore chasing such moments. I tell myself that there are far more interesting subjects to capture than just another pretty sunrise or sunset. I tell myself that the interweb is chocked full of sunrises and sunsets, and I don’t need to contribute further to the clutter.

I tell myself these things, but when it comes right down to it, and when I find myself standing before an exciting sunrise or sunset, I have no other choice than to set up my camera and get ready to capture the most beautiful moment I have ever seen. Again, I think it must be something in my genes making me do this.

Sometimes, I’ll even consume several sheets of film on a single sunrise or sunset. Sometimes, I’ll return to the same spot on different days, or capture the same “moment” in both color and B&W. I just can’t help feeling that I must remember what I’m about to witness, and therefore take its picture.

Are you this way as well? Do you chase those moments as the sun rises or sets? I wouldn’t be a bit surprised– because I know you’re human !

I’m sharing one of my recent sunset photos with you today. Clicking the image of “The Rapture” will take you to its place in the gallery, where you can explore the details and see how it might give you just the right place to go when you need to satisfy a compelling need to witness a sunset.

In the meantime, if you want to connect with me on Instagram just click the Instagram button in the footer of this email and follow along. I’ll do the same for you. I’m doing my best to post a photo-of-the-day, and having a lot of fun seeing what my instagrammers are up to.

Art, behavior, Nature photography, philosophy

Escaping the noise of summer: Do you have a “quiet space?”

Do you have a “quiet space?” It’s fascinating how an artful image can become that place.

We’re having quite a strange summer here in northern Virginia. I made a resolution to get out more this summer and experience nature, but early July was blazing hot and muggy, which kept me close to the AC. Then a tropical weather pattern decided to sit over the top of us, giving us almost daily rain storms. It’s been here ever since. I’m actually enjoying it though. And it hasn’t kept me from getting out.

If you live in an area where the weather is intolerable this summer, I hope you’re doing okay, and remember that it’s only temporary. Winter is just around the corner.

There’s few things I enjoy more than heading to the Appalachians during the summer. In early July, my son and I went camping in the Bolar Mountain Recreation Area, way down in southern Virginia on the border with West Virginia. We both needed a break from the daily hubbub. And even though I had my camera gear with me, this trip wasn’t about making photographs as much as it was about enjoying our time together camping, canoeing, and enjoying the peace and quiet.

Along the road to the campground was a turnout overlooking the lake and the surrounding mountains. “Quiet Evening on Lake Moomaw” is the only photograph I took during our trip, and it was taken from this turnout. We spent many hours parked on the turnout, usually just reading, watching the sky, and talking quietly between ourselves (there was never anyone else on the turnout with us). It was a great spot to really get to know the lake and see its many faces.

Spending a lot of time in one spot is the only way to really know a place. I don’t sit still often enough. Usually I’m more anxious to capture a photograph and run off quickly to get the next one. Afraid I’m going to miss something I guess, or maybe it’s just in my nature to be a ‘spring butt.’

But, as I said, capturing photographs wasn’t my mission on this trip, so I didn’t feel compelled to chase the light. In fact, I didn’t feel compelled to chase anything.

So it was that we spent hours up on that turnout overlooking the beautiful lake and mountains. During the day, power boats and jet skis were a constant threat to the senses. But something both I and my son noticed was, after sun down, this place became profoundly quiet. Not just human-quiet, but nature-quiet as well. Not a bird tweet or a bug chirp. Nothing but quiet; for hours. Both of us living in urban Virginia, we found the quiet to be almost surreal. And peaceful.

It was this profound quiet that I wanted to remember from our trip to Lake Moomaw, and that I wanted to share with you in “Quiet Evening on Lake Moomaw.”

I hope you enjoy your August, wherever you live, and I hope you have a place to go when you need some peace and quiet.

Do you have a “quiet space?” Art can often become that place. A quiet scene in your own living room, a “place” to lose yourself in and escape all the noise and stress, if only for a moment, can make all the difference.

Until next time, best regards,
J.

Art, art appreciation, Expressive photography, techniques

About chiaroscuro- clarity with mystery

example of expressing chiaroscuro in photography — Foot of the Fall

When done well, artfully expressing chiaroscuro gives the eyes lots to see in both the brightest parts of the image as well as in the darkest. The sense of depth can be profoundly interesting in such images. I like to say “Light without shadows is nothing, because shadows are where the secrets hide.” I enjoy getting lost in the shadows. Do you?

Now, let’s talk about chiaroscuro.

You might want to know first that Wiki says about chiaroscuro “..in art, is the use of strong contrasts between light and dark, usually bold contrasts affecting a whole composition.” The images below are classical chiaroscuro.
Chiaroscuro is an old fashion style of art, dating from the 1700s masters of portrait, still life, and genre painters like Caravaggio and Rembrandt. But it’s popularity has never gone away. Thomas Cole, Thomas Moran, and Albert Bierstadt, painters from the Hudson Valley School (1800s) extended the chiaroscuro style to landscapes. There are many contemporary painters and photographers who continue to make images in the chiaroscuro style, including me.

The only reason I’m even talking about chiaroscuro is because I absolutely love this style of imagery, and I think you probably do too since you’re reading this newsletter. After all, the strong use of shadows and light is a consistent feature in my own photographs, as in “Foot of the Fall” above.

In my implementation of chiaroscuro, I like to follow what I see in the old masters’ paintings. There’s always lots of delicate highlights, which are made more compelling by lots of delicate, revealing shadows. Note I didn’t say featureless whites and sooty, blank blacks. To me, featuring huge paper white spaces or pure black spaces is the farthest thing from true chiaroscuro.

When done well in photography, chiaroscuro should almost seem like the highlights are dancing with the shadows. One moves into the space of the other without stepping on toes or losing the natural rhythm. Neither is dominant; they are in perfect balance. And very difficult to achieve, even when I find natural compositions that might lend themselves to this treatment.

But I’ll keep looking for those that do.

Do you like this style of imagery? Do your eyes lock to one end of the light range over the other (highlights or shadows)? Or do they flick back and forth in search of secrets?

Until next time,

Jim

Picture of J. Riley Stewart Did you enjoy this edition of Friday Foto? Feel free to share this article with someone you think might also enjoy it, and invite them to subscribe to “Under the Darkcloth.” And please leave me a comment or ask a question by replying to this email.

Art, art appreciation, philosophy

Do you have fun with images?

My only point this week is that it’s not mandatory to accept images as being serious. When we see images, how we see them is entirely up to us. And sometimes, seeing them as humorous just makes them better.

In my role as an artist, I spend a lot of time looking at images and reading what artists and art promoters say about them. Maybe you do too. In fact, I hope you do.

So much of what I read from visual artists and art pundits suggests the seriousness of art. Descriptions like “sublime,” “contemplative,” “evocative,” “thoughtful,” and “emotional” frequent the narratives about art. And I agree, art is often all these things.

Maybe it’s just me, but these descriptions are just way too serious. Excepting obviously comedic and whimsical images, it’s rare that some expert characterizes art as “fun” or “funny.”

I like to have fun when I’m out photographing nature. I don’t mean having a beer with my camera or dancing in the woods with my tripod. I mean I like finding subjects that are funny to me.

Yes, sometimes even nature’s characters can be funny. But it usually requires me to impose on those subjects some strange, quirky human behavior; to personify the subject.

Back in October I wrote you about a completely different topic, but its featured image also was a natural personification. That time the subject was an old apple tree performing a dance recital in a clearing. This week’s featured image “Groupies” is another example.

I’ve always found the concept of celebrity-hysteria to be seriously quirky. I remember as a young kid when the Beatles took the US by storm. “Why are those kids bawling / screaming / jumping /fainting during the song?” Do you remember that? I found the whole thing well…..hysterical.

That memory hit me as I stood in front of this unusual arrangement of tree, boulders, and woodlands. The afternoon lighting seemed to bring all the important elements together in a single story: “Groupies, every celebrity has them.” I laughed to myself, and took its picture.

The whole process of personification in my art-making is fun. I often see humanly behaviors when in nature, and it’s so strong that it actually compels me to take a photograph.

Interacting with art, both making it and seeing it, can be fun. Art needn’t always be so serious and steeped in deep philosophical significance. In fact, if a piece of art makes you smile every time you walk by it because it strikes you as funny, that may be the most important outcome there is in life. At least during those brief moments!

Until next time,
J.

PS. Clicking the image of “Groupies” will take you to its place in the gallery, where you can explore the details and see if it amuses you too.

Picture of J. Riley Stewart

Art, Expressive photography, Nature photography, philosophy

Why are we so drawn to trees?

Today’s featured image comes from my new compilation called “Simplicity of Woodlands.”

I love walking in the woods. Do you? Over the years, I bet I’ve hiked through woods more miles than any other type of terrain. Walking up and down mountains doesn’t thrill me. Walking down a city street….too many distractions. And pastures even grow old after several hundred steps.

But woodlands? They never get boring. Each tree has its own character, the smaller bushes, ferns, and grasses growing on the forest floor seem to change with every step I take. And there’s always the rocks and streams and animals and…. well, you get the picture (no pun intended).

As a photographer, though, finding simple woodlands compositions that I like to feature in my work can be very difficult. There’s just far too much CHAOS in the woods. Oftentimes, it really is hard to see the trees through the forest.

But every now and then something within the chaos catches my eye, and I just stop and relax for awhile until I am able to see its best face, at a particular moment.

It may be a quaint scene of an old log cabin harbored amidst the trees. Or a woodlands path taking me from a small bright clearing into the shadows of a dense canopy of the forest. Or perhaps an interesting tree sitting along the banks of a stream or lake or at the edge of a clearing. And sometimes it’s a glorious old oak tree stealing the show with its full autumn colors!

Even if you’re not the woodsy type, the human attraction to trees and woodlands is strong. Over thousands of years humans have developed a type of kinsmanship with trees. They shelter us. They hide us from danger. They feed us. They shade us when it’s hot. They even reward us with their beauty when we’re lucky enough to see it.

I’ve compiled my favorite woodlands scenes in my online gallery. Go Here, or just google “J Riley Stewart woodlands.” I hope you enjoy it.

Until next time, and I hope you’re loving the autumn season as much as I am.

PS. Clicking the image of “Oak Among Pines” will take you to its place in the gallery, where you can explore the details and see how it might give you just the right place to go when you need to rekindle your human desire for trees.

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