Category Archives: Photography

The Heron’s Bad Hair Day

Natural scenes from an unnaturally long winter

The test of winter, both for my spirits and my camera, is the paucity of light. Broadly speaking it’s not just the pervasive gloaming and mid-afternoon sunsets, but the all-too-sudden blanching of the terrain—how suddenly October blue and gold bleeds away to the dun of November, then freezes, melts, and freezes again for three months on end. Throw in the added darkness of the Covid quarantine and, well, you can have quite a bummer on your hands.

One antidote (aside from winter poetry, which is of no use to the camera) is the fleeting miracle of alpenglow with its dazzling spectrum from neon plum to electric tangerine. Another is winter birds and especially the exquisitely-dressed diving ducks: the Goldeneyes, Buffleheads, and Mergansers that are more prevalent in the colder months. I’ll leave it to the biologists to explain why they stay. It’s enough for me to learn how to improve my chances of bringing them into focus, to move gently through the thorny brush, and be willing to laugh and learn from the quotient of failure. All the while counting the days until spring arrives.

It is hard to improve upon the sleek beauty of mergansers, and the regal wardrobe of Great Blue Herons, but by early December I was looking forward to my near daily visits with a bachelor Barrow’s Goldeneye, whom I nicknamed Gordy, just for fun.

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Dreams of the Blue Dragonfly

At a scabland pond within range of my bicycle a wet spring gives rise to a bumper crop of woolly mullein, a very tall, large-leaved plant that culminates in a single, thick spire with a smattering of small, yellow flowers. Bordering the cattails and interspersed among tall grass and fireweed, a platoon of mullein adds to a natural blind I can use to photograph birds that perch in the surrounding trees.

The birds are here for the bugs and, increasingly, so am I. Of course, I’m here to take photographs and, to some extent, briefly escape the menace of dystopian politics and a literal pandemic. If I get eaten it will likely be slowly, and far away from the camouflage of the mullein.

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Waterworks 2020

Owing to a freakishly wet late spring, it was only near the very end of June that the Spokane River became safe enough to take on. I don’t swim with a life jacket or a wetsuit. But I do swim with a camera, a fuchsia cap– to alert boarders and kayakers and rafters– plus earplugs and goggles of course, so I can see what I’m getting myself into.

The least that can be said for the results is they are thirty medicinal images for the grayer days ahead, that will help keep seasonal affective disorder at bay. The cobbles and boulders radiating in these photographs are dominantly the rocks delivered by the catastrophic ice age floods of the late Pleistocene that brought in splendid pieces of Montana, Idaho, and British Columbia. Among my favorites are Cosmos, The Brightness of Being, and Whence it Came, the latter of which frames the opening for this on-line gallery.

Part of the experiment this summer was to attempt photographs that capture the elements in the surrounding environment–the water, the rocks, the sky, and the riparian landscape. You’ll see the results of that in photos like All in, Dances in Orange, and even Crawfish Cinema, where the figures on the wave screen are from the light entering from the sky, trees and buff hillside in the distance.

Parenthood was inspired by one of my daughter’s poems which begins with a line about my teaching her to swim. The location of the photo has added meaning for me because it’s near where I spread my allotment of my father’s ashes two years ago. So, yes, there’s a lot going on there beneath the surface.

It bears repeating that all this work, and previous efforts from the river, come with my deep appreciation for all of those who’ve worked and continue to work to restore and protect this precious resource in our midst. Special thanks this year to the late Mike Taylor, a venerable engineer and community leader who was heading up the city’s wastewater treatment improvements at the time of his passing. I was honored to count him among my friends.

Each of these photos is available on metal starting at $1 per square inch, (e.g. $256 for a 16×16 print ready for wall mounting) with a 30% discount on additional prints through December 1, 2020. For sale inquiries, please call (509) 838-4580, or email me at tjccamas@comcast.net.

Praise

A quiet theme in my “Beautiful Wounds” photography and book project, coming in 2020, is the deep joy and convalescence we can find in nature, simply by allowing ourselves to bear witness. This dozen of recent favorites is the photographic version of a small box of chocolates.