I’ve been meaning to write a new post for a while but have just been too busy with work/life as well as preparing prints for an upcoming photography exhibition - more information about that at the bottom of this post.
Finally, I found the time to put my thoughts about this in writing today (it’s rainy in Catskill!) and also decided it can be less precious, it’s just a blog post! So here goes:
Working for a while on making my series “Shipping Lane” I became accustomed to setting up my camera on a tripod fairly quickly - getting ready for a long exposure shot while a ship or a barge is passing in front of me. I do that in various locations around the Hudson Valley and the tripod/camera position is important because I want to come back to the same spot and make images that will be aligned with previous ones. This is somewhat related to my fascination with Mark Klett’s re-photography project as well as work done by master image-maker Simon Norfolk in his project “Time-Taken”.
I have the tripod height, camera lens being used (including how much a lens is shifted up, etc.) memorized - and often documented with my iPhone - in a couple of those locations. Of course a place is never the same1: each ship passing is uniquely painted and its colors shimmer differently, the river looks different in the various light conditions depending on the time of day and one of the bigger elements of the images, the trees, look different depending on the season. I know that and I look forward to photographing the “same” image while observing the “difference”.
However, earlier this year, one morning I rushed to the city of Hudson to capture a photo of a ship. The light was perfect, I didn’t have to work that day so I brought two cameras with me, one to make still images and another to record a video of the same scene *possibly for a whole other project...). Setting the cameras side by side I barely looked at what’s in front of me, I was too busy making sure the exposure is correct on both cameras, their angle is similar enough to match the field of view all the while making sure I don't miss the approaching large ship. I noticed that the picnic table moved from its previous spot but hey it's an active park and some people decided to move it.
As the ship approached, I was ready. One camera was set to record a video ahead of the ship’s movement and while it was “rolling”, I moved carefully between the two tripods, my eyes reviewing the scene through the second camera and my finger on the wired shutter release. I was ready to capture one or two good still images, yet something looked different. I realized that a whole tree that previously stood proud was down, its trunk parallel with the ground touching the water with its top branches. It was quite shocking. After the ship passed and the photos were made (and the video stopped), I examined the scene a bit closer. There was now an empty space in the middle of the waterfront, not due to the fallen tree on the side, but from another missing tree. I walked over and looked closer. Sure enough a tree that was proudly standing, appearing in the middle of my previous photos was now gone, with only a stump left as evidence, and a fallen brother to its side.
I have a feeling that most of us usually take the landscape around us for granted. Yes the weather changes how it look, but the land and adult trees look more or less the same over a period of many years. Yet here I was photographing the same scene over just a couple of years and this spot will never look the same. For whatever reason - be it climate change or just a more rainy/windy season - those trees are gone and whatever rhythm they played in my photographic composition is changed, forever. I find that part of the process - documenting the landscape - going back to the same spot and recording the changes, observing the micro and macro of life, fascinating.
Below is the photograph I made in 2022 with four trees in the scene.
And here is the image I made recently, with the significant changes described above.
To demonstrate the changes and how the two images can play off each other, showing the passage of time, I made a short video layering the two still photographs on a timeline and slowly transitioning between them. Play it or scrub the timeline to see the changes yourself.
This is what happens when we observe and record our surroundings. Isn’t it fascinating? Are you returning to the same post to record an image and observe what remained the same and what has changed? Or maybe you write about it or just acknowledge it in your heart?
Photographs from this series, Shipping Lane, have been selected by Klompching Gallery in Brooklyn, NY for an exhibition this fall. I was very excited to hear that I was one of twenty photographers selected for FRESH 2023 from an international call for artists and even more delighted when I was told my work plus four more photographers will be exhibited in the space.
FRESH 2023 is now up at Klompching Gallery until October 21st, 2023. The artist’s reception is happening this coming weekend - Saturday 23rd from 2PM - 5PM. Klompching Gallery is located at 89 Water St, Brooklyn, NY. I hope you can see the exhibit while it’s up, or perhaps even come to the artist’s reception if you are nearby.
Thanks for reading.
Alon
“No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it's not the same river and he's not the same man.” ― Heraclitus
While I knew from separate images the tree was down, seeing the two images together was very different. An extended moment.
These look great. Looking forward to seeing more in the future.