Melting in the Cold

In 1935, photographer Alfred Stieglitz did a series of photographs of clouds of which New York Times art critic Andy Grundberg said:

The Equivalents "remain photography's most radical demonstration of faith in the existence of a reality behind and beyond that offered by the world of appearances. They are intended to function evocatively, like music, and they express a desire to leave behind the physical world, a desire symbolized by the virtual absence of horizon and scale clues within the frame. Emotion resides solely in form, they assert, not in the specifics of time and place."

This winter of cold has me wrapped up in many layers of clothing, bundled up in body, causing my mind to melt, it seems, by virtue of forced hibernation. Ritually, I climb into my wonderful bed at night and snuggle deeply under the down comforter. Last week, I was reading Just Kids, by Patti Smith. Glancing up from the page completely absorbed in the energy of her recounting her relationship with Robert Mapplethorpe, my eyes were drawn into the folds and undulations surrounding me; my mind soft and quiet. The inspiration of Patti's words about their passion and process of making art propelled me out of bed, into the cold of the room and into my studio to get a camera. With winter chill in my bones, the spread of the white cotton cloth covered down became like an abstract tundra to explore. In the midst of looking through the lens, the edges of common reality melted, leaving me with the thought that Stieglitz might have felt as I did while he photographed his clouds.

Equivalent #1

Equivalent #2

Equivalent #3

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Equivalent #7

Photographs © Ellen Giamportone All rights reserved.

A Play of Consciousness

Photographs © Ellen Giamportone All rights reserved.

 It was a lighter version of the winter storms that hit here in Chapel Hill, bringing a day of slick roads and overcast sky. Staying in the house, eating and reading and messing with photos on my hard drive was glorious; but when the sun came out the following day,  I decided to take a walk up the hill through a nearby neighborhood, a wooded upscale development....without my camera.  The idea was to just get out with no agenda other than getting some exercise.

It was about 4pm and the light was beginning to become more yellow, the sky lush blue. Suddenly, a large buzzard passed by low in the sky catching an air current. As he floated by above the trees, sunlight struck the underside of his tilting wing, creating a breathtaking sight.  A few moments later another of his kind joined his sky dance,  circling above now glistening tree tops, leaving me to marvel at my good fortune of timing.  As this performance of converging elements in that particular time and place commenced,  my state of awareness heightened. Looking around my surroundings once more, seeing the angle of the light becoming more intense, the remaining ice patches throwing off sparkles like a disco ball,  a fullness of quiet  joy overtook me.

I made the decision to return home for my camera, well knowing the "moments" I'd experienced were already gone. The question in my mind arose:  Would there be anything better or even equal in its place to happen or "be" for bothering to capture into my camera?  It was already complete. Done. Finished.  Curious to see what would happen, I returned home for the camera and headed back out, feeling much less energized,  no apparent flow going on, with the intention of seeing if I could create, or  embraceing the present,  see how it might hold something worth exploring or noting in the lens.

The landscape had changed as if I had come back for act two with the lighting script now calling for different angles and filters for this stage play.  I retraced my path, walking slowly, then picked up speed,  figuring at least I'd get some aerobic exercise, if nothing else. The sun was lowering in the sky moving quickly toward the horizon intermittingly obscured by the surrounding forest.  My attention was drawn to a group of trees, the distant trunks, glowing. Shot a few frames....Nice....then picked up my pace, figuring that was it for the day.

Heading back down the hill toward home in the middle of the empty street,  a sliver of golden light began to appear crossing at the edge of sidewalk into the strip of grass, strewn with dead winter leaves between it and the curb.

It was here that the curtain rose on the third act of this wonderful play.



 Photographs © Ellen Giamportone All rights reserved.







 black and white photography, photo sketching,

Snow Brings With It Drifting Thoughts

Wearing a polar fleece black vest over a hoody sweatshirt that's worn over a sweater inside the house isn't my idea of comfortable living. It's not supposed to be so cold in the piedmont area of North Carolina, but here we are, and awaiting another snow storm; this one supposedly bringing ice along with the white fluffy. We'll see; it's already 3 hours late for it's 12 noon expected arrival. Schools were closed last night for today's attendance. I'm sure the kid's were ecstatic for the day off today. Which is not to say it won't arrive, it just never ceases to amaze me just how weather updates are exaggerated, if not predicted, by a goldfish in a bowl.

Have you noticed how weather forecasters know absolutely nothing for certain but provide fear drama fodder for the mind of those with a propensity to be obsessed with what's gonna be happening outside? The word "boondoggle" which I learned from an old Pennsylvania Dutch guy years ago comes to mind. These weather folks are constantly grasping at any information,  to keep their job;  pick up their paychecks. Maybe they get kick-back from the supermarket Milk, Bread and Junkfood lobbyists.

Even my ranting about this is buying into it....see?

Anyway, it did snow big time a few weeks ago, and upon waking to the out of window beauty of a new snow still blanketing the trees before any breeze came to blow it off, I  donned my left over snow boots from that dreadful winter living in NH 11 years ago, grabbed fingerless gloves,  a few cameras and headed out.  It was a quiet, spectacular hour or so; a walking, wide awake meditation.

I hope you enjoy what I experienced that morning of Dec. 26, 2010.



Photographs © Ellen Giamportone All rights reserved.