La Luna!

When I was little, my parents traveled to Holland to visit their parents...my grandparents.  Part of their trip included sidetrips through Europe while I stayed with my grandparents.  Apparently I was homesick for them and my grandfather took me outside at one point.  I happen to see the moon, and cried out "La Luna, La Luna!"  My grandparents didn't know Spanish and wondered what I was saying at first...of course they figured it out, and seeing Luna apparently gave me comfort.  It was a familiar sight for me back home in Maracaibo and I suppose I've always had a soft spot for Luna.

Today was a "Super Full Moon", when the moon's orbit brings it to the closest point to the Earth.  What we see then is a full moon that is 30% brighter and 14% bigger than a normal full moon. 

These images were taken from Rocky Butte, one of the many hills scattered throughout Portland...and I wasn't alone!  There were hundreds of others, many with tripods and cameras like me, and then those simply enjoying the view (and yes there were a few who also howled to the moon). 

It was cloudy all day and the chances of clearing skies seemed more remote as the sun went down, but then the skies suddenly began to clear and Luna rose in all her majesty from a sea of retreating clouds, to shine her brightest for the year. 

To Drive out Tyranny

"De Tyranny Verdryven"

So read the letters on the cross attached to a ribbon of red, white and blue vertical strips, abutted by a wide strip of orange and bordered by black.  On the bottom of the cross, below the torch, are the years 1940 and 1945...the years of occupation of Holland by the German Army.  It reads "To drive out tyranny".

This is the Resistance Memorial Medal, awarded to those who participated in the resistance against occupying forces in Dutch territories during World War II.  It was presented to my father in 1980, on the 35th anniversary of the Liberation of Holland.  It surfaced today, when my mother and I were rummaging through his desk.  I remember when he received it, and was proud of him (as I have been thoughout my life) at that time. 

Ironically, I never saw him wear it.   Not that he wasn't proud of what he did...far from it!  The stories he told me of those years were rife with the adventures one would associate with wartime, such as sneaking into railyards under the cover of darkness, opening up the gearboxes of locomotives and filling them with sand.  The trains would later grind to a halt...and become sitting ducks for Allied aircraft, or other resistance fighters who would open the cars and release prisoners on their way to the German camps.

This he did in secret, while working his job as an engineer with a large construction company. One day, on his way to work he was met by other resistance members.  He was told he could not go to his office...the Gestapo were waiting for him.  He couldn't go home either.  The Gestapo were there too, having discovered the radio he had hidden and used to receive messages.  With the clothes on his back, he was spirited away to the French border where French resistance fighters took him further south to the Canadian Army coming from Normandy.  He joined with the Canadians as they later liberated southern Holland.  That's also when he would meet the young woman who would become my mother.

My father passed on almost 13 years ago, and this year would be the 100th anniversary of his birthday.  I think of him often, and wonder about those years.  I also wonder if I would've had the courage to do the things he did, in the name of freedom...to drive out tyranny.  I'd like to think I would.

Thank you, Dad.


(For a related writing about my father, see: http://musingsbypaul.blogspot.com/2008/10/moment-at-edge-of-eternity.html)

Through the Lens...as it used to be.

All of you know I love photography.  Nothing is more relaxing to me than to wander, or hike, or even drive to out-of-the-way places with my camera and at least a couple of lenses in tow.  What you may not know is that I also like to collect vintage cameras.  It started some years ago, while perusing an antique store that I met my first acquisition.  Perhaps this is that first hit that led me to what some would consider a serious addiction.  Judging by the number of old cameras that now inhabit my room, various shelves elsewhere in the house...and even my office, one could legitimately say intervention may be in order. 

This is what started it all.  A Conley Junior folding camera, ca 1917.  It is one of the earliest roll film cameras.  The leather cover over the case is pretty beat up and the bellows has a lot of pinholes, so it's not well-suited to take any photos now.  I found it in an antique store near the Oregon coast.  (Conley Camera Company was founded in 1899 in Spring Valley, Minnesota, and the plant later moved to Rochester, MN.  Conley supplied cameras to the Sears Roebuck Co for many years during this era.)

This is one of my favorites, a Pony Premo No. 6 by the Eastman Kodak Company, between 1903 and 1906.  Also a folding/bellows-type of camera, this model uses 4-inch by 5-inch plates attached to the back of the camera.  Instead of a roll of film, the image seen through the lens is exposed on a dry plate coated with chemicals.  The plates are later taken to the studio for developing and fixing.  The Premo shown here has a magazine holding six plates.  It is also constructed mainly of wood with leather covering.  You can see the polished finish on the top of the front hinged plate, on which the bellows ride.

Another of my favorites,  the Auto Graflex Junior, made by the Folmer & Schwing Division of Eastman Kodak (Folmer & Schwing was founded in 1887 and was owned by Kodak from 1905 to 1926).  The Auto Graflex Junior was introduced in 1914.  This is one of the early versions of a reflex camera, with which one looks down and through the lens from the top via a mirror that flips up to expose the film when the shutter release is pressed.  It also features a focal plane shutter.  The film is a plate-type with a cartridge that clips on the back.  The lens retracts and the leather hood on top folds up and closes into a compact box about 8 inches in all directions.

This is an Ansco Speedex 4.5 Special folding camera, made by Agfa/Ansco in the early to mid 1950's.  Ansco is the merger of Anthony & Scovill in 1901.  Both companies predate Kodak by almost 40 years and are among the oldest photographic names in North America.  Agfa of Germany bought Ansco in 1920.  This camera was manufactured in Germany.  It's a medium format camera that produces larger negatives than the standard 35 mm film cameras.  (Larger negative size is comparable to modern digital cameras with higher pixel counts).  This camera has a roll of film in it, that's waiting for a good day to shoot.

Why the fascination with older cameras?  I think it's a reminder of when photography was more an art form that also involved science.  One had to know the principles of light and exposure, and an understanding of the relationship between aperture, shutter speeds and film speed was necessary...things that modern cameras with their computerized settings take care of for us.  The intricate mechanisms that control how fast the shutter opens, or how the film is developed, all without any electrical controls of any type are engineering marvels of its day.  They seem crude by modern standards, especially when I set my Nikon next to them.  Yet it could be argued that the images taken with those cameras tell of our history, our world, and the lives of those around us.  Photography documented much of the people...and the horrors of the Civil War, and later images by the likes of Dorothea Lange left us with stark images of the Great Depression.  

Today's images are so easy to obtain and so plentiful, they almost become cheap and routine.  Just look at an Ansel Adams photo and see the grandeur of nature.  Those images were few and far between, and it took a lot of hard work to capture them.  These old cameras help to remind me of those efforts and the artists behind them.

(I was tempted to seek out and copy some of those images onto this blog, but I don't want to run afoul of any copyright issues.  Instead I will add a couple of links for your perusal:
http://www.archives.gov/research/ansel-adams/
https://www.google.com/search?q=dorothea+lange&hl=en&rlz=1T4ADRA_enUS439US439&prmd=imvnsob&tbm=isch&tbo=u&source=univ&sa=X&ei=mCCDT7ScB4Oq2QXxtrzoBg&ved=0CEQQsAQ&biw=1280&bih=897)

Thin Places - A Trip to Portland's Japanese Garden

In today's Oregonian Travel section is an article about "Thin Places"...places where the separation between the wordly and the spiritual is thinner than we normally feel, and where we can experience a closer contact with the Eternal.  Most of us have had them, whether in a church, a special place in the wilderness, or even in the midst of a city.  It is often a time when we feel slightly disoriented and our normal routine seems off.  We may feel a disconnection from the world around us and a nudge from the spiritual.  It is in these moments we can be transformed...or not. 

These occurrences are usually serendipitous, and happen when we least expect them. Other times we go into a space or place without expectations, and feel a strange peace. Such was one today, as I visited Portland's Japanese Gardens, near Washington Park. 

Water...or the sound of water, can be very soothing.  Whether it's the reflective pool or the cascading falls, one can sit next to water and feel the calm. 

The design of a wall, with the repetitive pattern provided by the tiles on top bring a visual calm when broken by the softness of a bamboo branch.

The Sand and Stone Garden, with it's placed stones and raked sand and rocks give a quiet feel through the beauty of a "blank space", offering a place for contemplation.

 Beauty is in even the most sublime of things, such as a moss-draped tree that hides a hole.

Patterns, whether random or repetitive leads the eye...and the mind, on a contemplative journey.

The quiet strains of a bamboo flute adds to the meditative air of the gardens.  One can almost breath in the presence of the spiritual when the soft traditional music blends with the surrounding lush plantings.

The first blossoms ...the gift of renewal each Spring when what has been dormant through the cold winter awakens with new life.  The sap can practically be seen running through the branches, feeding the buds.

For more on the article about thin places, see the link:
http://travel.nytimes.com/2012/03/11/travel/thin-places-where-we-are-jolted-out-of-old-ways-of-seeing-the-world.html?pagewanted=all

For more on the Japanese Garden, see: http://japanesegarden.com/

Body by Fisher

Body by Fisher.  Anyone who grew up in the 60's and 70's around autombiles will recognize that name as synonymous for style and quality.  One would see this symbol, usually on the doorsill as one steps into a General Motors car...you couldn't miss it.  I had a 60's era Pontiac for a while, and my dad had a Chevrolet Impala and later an Oldsmobile.  All had a "Body by Fisher". 

In my recent ramblings around Detroit the evidence of past automotive glory are unmistakable...and sometimes the emphasis of past glory is more on the past than the present.  Such it is with the Fisher Body Plant, located not far from downtown Detroit.

My first view of the plant was from the freeway.  Thankfully traffic was slow enough I could grab a few shots as I waited for traffic to move.  The textures in the image are amazing...the broken windows, exposed red brick, peeling concrete punctuated by colorful graffiti.  I was able to get closer in later images.

The Fisher Body Plant was originally built by General Motors in 1919 with the help of reknowned industrial architect Albert Kahn, shortly after GM bought the operations from the Fisher Brothers.  An interesting feature is the all-concrete construction used in the building, which was different than the Ford Piquette plant built just a few blocks away that still used wooden floors in the structure (and which become a fire hazard when oil and grease seeped into the wood).   Architect Kahn also extensively used large windows to make the assembly areas well lit with natural light.  The plant supplied all the body panels for General Motors vehicles until 1984 when it was shut down.  It has remained empty ever since.

The Fisher Body Plant is just one of many such buildings in this area sitting empty and derelict, often separated from each other by expanses of overgrown parking lots or empty fields.  The lack of human presence gave it an eerie post-apocolyptic feel. 

A glimpse inside offered a peek into what was once a bustling enterprise, and one can easily imagine the fenders, trunk lids, doors and quarter-panels set on pallets ready for shipment to the assembly plant. Now, the silence is often broken by the flutter of pigeons or the caw of nearby crows...or possibly a broken bottle tossed by a squatter.

One of my primary interests is the effect of decay on a building's structure after so many decades of neglect and exposure to the elements.  Here one can see the exposed steel reinforcing on the underside of the second floor slab, where the concrete cover has fallen away.

Seeing the window blinds hanging cattawampus behind broken window panes and underscored by the urban scrawl beneath it only accentuates the sense of abandonment. 

Much has been written and documented about the decline of the American automobile industry, and one could certainly argue that older plants such as this one have been replaced with newer and more efficient ones scattered throughout the country, leading to a recent resurgence of this industry.  Yet seeing the old buildings, once thriving and bustling but now derelict, is perhaps analagous to us as a country...or perhaps us as individuals? 

Are we willing to sit back and let ourselves do the same?

Grafitti...or Art? Corktown, Detroit, USA

On a recent trip to Detroit, Michigan, I had an opportunity to visit some areas that most tourists don't get to see.  My insatiable curiosity tends to take me off the beaten path and I have the occasion to see art in it's more primal form.  Some areas of Detroit are...how shall I delicately say this?  I won't mince words, but some areas are blighted.  Ironically, those same areas give rise to an urban art form that at the least expresses frustration and despair, and yet often presents a defiant hope in a colorful palette on an otherwise dreary canvas. 

It is easy for us to dismiss such as mere gangland scribblings or the  rantings of frustrated residents.  Yet in the context of urban decay often brought about by economic downturns or the mismanagement of municipalities, it can also be a ray of hope or an exhortation to do the right thing...or perhaps even to praise the good things of a community.  At the very least, it can provide a measure of brightness and color on an otherwise neglected wall of an abandoned building.

"The Dream is Now"

These are seen in an alleyway in the Corktown neighborhood of Detroit.  This area was originally founded in 1834...one of Detroit's oldest neighborhoods.  Now it is given over to abandoned buildings, empty lots...and possibly among the best urban art I have seen.

No...it's not all pretty.  Despite the color and artistry there are also the ubiquitous gang tags amidst the detritus of urban decay

As the sign says, this area dates back to 1834.  To put it into a historical context, this was a community before Lincoln became president and before the start of the Civil War...and before Oregon became a state.  The skyline of downtown Detroit can be seen in the background.

This is the Michigan Central Station, built in 1913 and designed by the same architectural firm who designed Grand Central Station in New York City, also in 1913.  During its heyday the station had an immense waiting hall, shops and restaurants, and an 18-story office/hotel tower.  The advent of the automobile led to the demise of the bus and interurban service, and rail travel decline eventually led to this grand old building being abandoned in 1988.  It has sat empty ever since.  This shot is taken from the same spot as many of the grafitti images above.

Yet despite such reminders of bygone times and present decay, hope still springs forth.  Colorful expressions remind us that people have not given up.  Such is urban art.

For more on my visits to Detroit, see my other blog entries: http://musingsbypaul.blogspot.com/2011/11/detroita-harbinger-of-things-to-come.html

http://musingsbypaul.blogspot.com/2011/11/gentler-side-of-motor-city.html

Favorite Images of 2011

This is a new tradition, where I present my favorite images of each year.  As I noted last year when I started this, the criteria for this category are simply: it has to be a nice image from a technical perspective.  It also needs to be reflective of this past year and perhaps associated with an event or one of my trips...it needs to tell a story.  In some cases I've added a link to the blog article if you want to read more about the story behind a particular image.

Enjoy!

This is a Great Blue Heron, with a minnow in it's beak.  I took this while driving through the Ridgefield National Wildlife Reserve just north of Portland, in Washington.  It was taken from the car window (because one must stay in one's vehicle while driving through the Reserve) and took almost a half-hour of patiently waiting for just the right moment.  My mother was with me and she was so thrilled to see something as beautiful so close. 

In March I went to Northeastern Washington for a construction project.  After my meetings I had some time to kill before my plane left so I poked around Spokane.  I happened upon an Episcopal Cathedral that overlooked the city and I went inside.  This was taken from the lectern, into the Nave. http://musingsbypaul.blogspot.com/2011/03/off-beaten-path-part-2-sacred-and.html

The Dalles, Oregon, approximately 90 minutes east of Portland and reminiscent of a bygone era when rail was the primary means of travel over long distances.  Now the freeway is barely 50 yards away and this waystation is no longer used.   Taken in April, during a Sunday getaway.

Late summer, in the garden.  We let a couple of artichokes "bloom" (which we had never seen before) into this beautiful shade of blue.  Apparently the bees really liked it as well, and it wasn't unusual to see three or four buried among the petals...or whatever they're called.

During the summer I made several trips to Elko, Nevada for some work at the Goldstrike mine, the largest operating open pit gold mine in North America.  Prior to coming onto the site I had to take several days of classes about mine safety.  When one sees the size of the equipment at the mine, one quickly understands why.  This is me in front of one of the ore trucks...and it isn't even the largest they have at this mine!   http://musingsbypaul.blogspot.com/2011/08/theres-gold-in-them-thar-hills.html

In September I was in Chicago, Illinois for a conference and classes.  I took some extra time to explore and came across this fountain and the little girl playing in the water.  I was captivated by the pure joy in her face, and the image of the water cascading over her arms gave me the impression of an angel.  It reminded me how important it is to never lose touch with the child within us. 

I encountered this abandoned farmhouse near Highway 395, south of The Dalles in central Oregon, on one of my many little junkets off the beaten path.  This was taken in October, and reminded me of a haunted house one would find on Halloween.

The Oregon Coast and Cannon Beach, taken from Ecola State Park in November...testimony that often our best weather is in the late Fall.  

Meet Lilith, the daughter of our neighbors.  This was taken during a Halloween event at our local Farmers Market.   

The delicate dance of a butterfly on a flower.  This was taken at a butterfly exhibit at the Detroit Zoo, in Michigan.  I'd heard much about this and made it one of my stopping points during a business trip there.  It was difficult selecting a representative photo, after chasing any of a dozen species in the exhibit.  It was also a glimpse of beauty that I needed after seeing urban blight.  Here's more: http://musingsbypaul.blogspot.com/2011/11/gentler-side-of-motor-city.html and http://musingsbypaul.blogspot.com/2011/11/detroita-harbinger-of-things-to-come.html

I love New York!  We visited it twice in 2011, and this last time in December David and Miranda were living in the Lower East Side.  This is nearby their place, looking down a typical street.  In the background is the new World Trade Center tower under construction.  Seeing it so close gives one a feeling of what it must've been like on September 11, 2001. 

I have an affinity for birds and I thought it fitting to begin and end this entry with a bird photo.  This was in Central Park, NYC, also in December.  We were so engrossed with the gray and the black squirrels that this little fellow almost went unnoticed had it not been for the bright red color against the gray starkness of the bare trees.  This is a Northern Cardinal, and yes there is a crest on his (her?) head.

By the way, all of these images are untouched except for some minor cropping. 

I also wish for each of you a happy and prosperous 2012, filled with love, laughter, and good health.