Riverbend and the Loxahachee River

Inquires about my summer weather field work inevitably circles to,

"How can you stand the heat?"

South Florida is a subtropical climate after all. Today, the weather is humid, hot, and steamy. One of those days I am hibernating in my studio writing and arranging a still-life escaping from that oppressive sauna like heat. Although just a few days ago, I canoed the Loxahachee River with Chris Devenport, a fellow naturalist. The morning was much like today, but once I found myself engrossed by the towering Oaks, telling of early residents, Cypress, towering like skyscrapers, and Pond Apple trees, ancient beings. I am always amazed how early Floridians survived without ant spray (or any other bug repellant) or air conditioning. Sometimes my mental displacement is reassuring to my cognitive conscious side that asks if my pursuit as a professional photographer is prudent. That fleeting thought abandons me the further we canoed into the hammock. I felt like a pioneer exploring the unknown, until the stripped tail of a baby alligator caught my eye.

I found myself remembering that artistry takes a lifetime of mastery. In times of not so great creativity, I must be as the little alligator: still, purposeful, and intuitive. When my mind and spirit fuse in this creative zone, the heat and humidity are just gravy.

Labor Day Swamp Walk

Just as many others, I joined walkers in Ochopee to explore the Big Cypress in Clyde Butcher's backyard. Only 1% of the world visits this part of Florida. I have never seen such ancient beings towering with history and words that only few can hear. It was a typical rainy afternoon with passing clouds and thunder rumbling in the background. The walk was short and went by too quickly. I am glad I didn't bring my camera or I would have not moved after the first 15 minutes into the swamp. The water was cold with no waders. I wondered how after seeing so much of Florida's native beauty I could not be caught surprised. I was so very wrong.

Okay, I did bring a disposable point and shoot that is out for processing. I feel strange talking about film, but that is a discussion for another day. I encourage everyone to visit Clyde's gallery and walk the walk.

How do you know when you are on the right path?

Hmmm. Everyone, not only artists, have this question pop up questioning personal direction in life. I am constantly checking with myself and asking the Universe, " Are you sure I should be on this path heading somewhere still unknown?" Small signs of reassurance seem to assure my conscious mind. When I am knee deep in mucky water, oblivious to the bugs, spiders, and humidity, confidence in my path as a nature photographer are solid. I am a rock. What I already know and have yet to discover are immaterial; my half remodeled house is a distant space I forgot about; I am mindfully living, being, and aware of not only the pristine perfection of nature, but also of myself. This must be a version of enlightenment. This also must be what draws us photographers to paths requiring a new vision of sight.

Today, I am seeing only what was once negative space as positive. Challenging my eyes and the perception in my mind. A mini-workout for my brain. Do not forget that artists are always working and creating even if they appear to be still.

With that I will leave you with a quote from Clyde Butcher's biography by Tom Shroder and John Barry, Seeing the Light:

"In the Everglades there is no chaos or imperfection or mess. The entire compass flows together. Everything fits."

No Update, Home Healing

I missed out this week because some shrimp got the better of me. So, my planned update on recent work has turned into insight into the importance of flexibility and regrouping.

I spent time on the computer, but I also stayed in bed resting. We tend not to take the time to heal. I am speaking in general; although, I am sure we can all apply this to our lives. I had time to read some books that gave me new ideas for projects. I found that I still love to read in bed-something I rarely do with a 3 year old ruling the house. Reclaiming parts of ourselves is important for artists who tend to live wearing more hats than most. And we need to feed that piece with a lot of nothingness.

Gloria Stein said something to the effect of, "To be a real genius, you have to do nothing, really nothing."

Go read. Go rest. Go be genius.

Just Write It! (this statement is copyright and trademarked)

One of my all time favorite spaces is in this old kitchen chair.

I have to guess that the chair is almost an antique, which is why I juxtaposed the antique shaker chair on the right side of the frame. This once white stepping chair was in my grandmother's (in Center City, Philadelphia) kitchen next to the window AC unit and fridge. I felt secure in the tight corner next to the bread box, which fascinated me since in Florida the bread was in the fridge.

As I hibernate through this hot summer, I imagine what Florida's pioneers and native residents experienced without the luxury of air conditioning. I am remembering the words of Robert Frost(sorry I just can't help myself) taking the roadless traveled. My journey down the road of a photographer is not less traveled just more about persistence and endurance. I am just not me unless I am holding a camera, clicking, home, and extra $ potential, I am still creating. So to this, I implore everyone to write down your personal history, draw, photograph. Perhaps this act is just like authentic creation because, well, in the psychology of journaling the creator exists in a undefinable space that as a viewer we try to imagine.

Make a journal, find an old sketchbook, use that Barnes-n-Noble giftcard from your birthday last year. Might I also mention that writing, the act of making letters into words on paper, is an essential skill. Find an inspiring pen, pencil, marker..."borrow" one from the doctors office. Find a comfy space and with just paper and an writing instrument you can be making history.

Rita Island, Lake Okeechobee

In the apple blossom trees, I thought I could hear ancient voices telling of Florida's history. I was amazed by the thick clusters of roots all around. That and the numerous spiders. The crazy part of Lake Okeechobee's history is that each of the three islands, on the southern rim, were settled with working communities. Rita Island is the first of the islands that I have seen. Only rows of banana trees bare witness to a passer by; the water levels are a little too high for much to be seen. My two guides told me that in the height of the drought they walked where we had to use an air boat to explore.

Little remains telling the story of Lake Okeechobee and her history. Perhaps, we should do as the Seminole tribe and speak nothing of those past. For now, my choice is to meditate in the tree hammocks trying to figure out how my history and the Lake and my photography all meld together. Maybe I go there to escape, maybe I go in search of some truths or enlightenment; maybe I go for curiosity. I will share the epiphany when revealed to me. Until then, I am busy working on images and creating the story of this part of the Glades.

What we can do to help restore and preserve the Everglades

So, what can we do as everyday folks, visiting or residing? I am a firm believer in the power of cumulative efforts producing positive outcomes. Even if we chose just one thing in our daily lives, we can make a large contribution to preservation of our natural landscape.

Check out this link on common things that we can easily assimilate as part of our daily routines.

https://my.sfwmd.gov/portal/page?_pageid=2814,19613828&_dad=portal&_schema=PORTAL

Keep posted as I travel into the Wilds of Lake Okeechobee...