New Work: Fort McClary (Kittery, ME)

Fort McClary (Kittery, ME) dates from the late 1700s and was built to protect the approaches to the Piscataqua River.  It  was named for a Revolutionary War soldier from New Hampshire who died at the Battle of Bunker Hill.  </p><p>

The fort was garrisoned during five wars - the Revolutionary War, War of 1812, Civil War, Spanish-American War, and World War I.  </p><p>

My husband Darren is fascinated by these kinds of sites, but they leave me cold because of their violent past. It seems odd to me to have them open as tourist attractions, even considering their historical importance.  While it's easy to find beauty in its natural setting, I challenged myself to find aspects of the fort that intrigued me enough to photograph them. Ultimately, architectural lines, texture and light won out during this late afternoon/early evening shoot:</p><p>

New Work: Lily

I've been wanting to experiment with very grainy, sensuous forms for quite a while now. This year's Easter lily was a very patient model.

The first few pix stared out pretty rigid and minimalist. For example:

Then I played around with some more overly sensual images and tapped my inner O'Keeffe:

(with a tad of Beavis and Butthead thrown in for good measure):

Finally, I tried to go "post-Georgia" to create something more abstract. While I think these are interesting from a composition standpoint, the soft focus might have created too much tension with the tight cropping:

All in all, certainly nothing gallery-worthy (but still a fun way to spend an hour or so...)

New Photos: Killington

Thanks to the gracious Taylor and Red for having my husband Darren and me as overnight guests. Here are a few images I shot while there.... nary a white-covered mountain or ski bunny in sight....

Can't resist shooting flowers:

Fresh fruit with breakfast:

Detail of post-n-beam construction:

The mud made for a fascinating monochromatic image:

Inside of large metal bowl looked like an abstract painting:

This little guy was checking out the grape leaves, too:

And finally, the uncooked rice that may have saved my telephoto lens from certain doom after it fell into the frog pond:

New York: Kittery, ME

Possibly an offering to the God of Shopping?

Outside Kittery Trading Post, Kittery, ME, one of the few stores where you'll hear over the store intercom: "Shooting Sports Department Associate, Dial 911." (A bit of hyperbole: the extension was actually "511".)

New Work: Nubble Light, Revisited

(and for those of you who like their lighthouse location photos more traditional:)

New Work: More Flowers

Yes, flowers again. I am still enamoured with Prescott Park (Portsmouth, NH), even though I had absolutely zero motivation to shoot today. Here are a few of my favorite shots:

Art as an Expression of Hope

This past year, I participated as an artist volunteer in “the Art of Recovery,” a collaboration between the NH Art Association and the Seacoast Mental Health Center (Portsmouth, NH.) Over several months, I met with “K” and shared our love for photography… and life.

Check out my blog archives (see right) for other entries about the project.

What I didn’t tell anyone at the time was that only a few weeks after I agreed to participate in the program, I had just been diagnosed with DCIS, an early form of breast cancer. So while it may have looked on the outside as if I was somehow “helping” K heal and providing her hope for persevering over her medical condition, she was unknowingly doing the same for me.

Few of us take the time to appreciate fully the synergy between art, healing, and hope. Doctors generally understand the connection: that’s why they practice “Medical Arts.” Others of us feel that some magical potion is simmering below the surface, although we may not how to put into words. For example, we often make ourselves feel better by immersing ourselves in the arts. We enjoy works of art that others have made: we watch a movie, read poetry, listen to music, or visit a museum. Or we do something creative ourselves: whether it’s planting a tree, cooking, or woodworking. We may not always be in awe of the communicative and healing powers of artistic expression, but we sense that it somehow “makes us feel better” and helps us put one foot in front of another for even just one more day. Oftentimes, that is enough.

A month or so, I attended a fundraising event for the Art of Recovery, where the patient participants auctioned off some of the masterpieces they created during their collaborations with Art Association members. K, accompanied by her mother and sister, beamed with pride as attendees complimented her on her work. She deserved it: she's a natural talent. She may not have fully conquered her condition yet. But that night, I had the honor of watching her spirit soar to the evening sky and waltz with the stars. Moreover, the voodoo spell that DCIS cast on my own life was temporarily broken, too.

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The following is a collage I made last weekend at a retreat for cancer survivors (both patients and their loved ones/caregivers):

Each time I look at it, I'm hypnotized by its ugliness: it makes me feel like I'm staring down "the C beast" and refusing to give in to fear. Physician, heal thyself.....