February 20, 2024
An early morning text from my wife woke me. Although I had the day off, I struggled with wanting to sleep in and having a list of things to do. The day began with coffee and writing. Lately, I’ve been writing at the dining room table to get a reprieve from my overused office. The dining room sports two large windows with a vista of the deck and backyard, which frame a white bird feeder suspended from a wooden pergola. Today, the birds were enthusiastic.
While writing, I occasionally peered out the window to think. When I did, I observed several bird species feeding. On most days, the gentle looking tufted titmouse and speedy chickadees dominated the feeder. This morning, several wrens, cardinals, finches, and warblers were also present. While I didn’t consider myself a birder, I appreciated their presence and photographed them often.
I wrote on the computer for about three hours. After, I was ready to unplug and get out of the house. I visited a shed in my backyard that houses my worm bins used to raise red earthworms for vermicomposting and fishing bait. While the bins sat outside in a shaded area in the warmer months, the shed kept the worms warm and active during winter. I pulled out two dozen worms, threw them into a container, and headed to the Buckhorn Reservoir to fish.
When I arrived at the reservoir, two boaters were dropping their vessels into the water from the ramp. There was no one else within sight, except for an occasional car that would enter and leave the parking lot. I gathered my fishing equipment and made my way to the end of the westernmost pier.
It was a sunny day, and the skies were blue with horizontal streaks of delicate cirrus clouds. The blue and white sky reflected off the water, making for an exceptional view. To my right, I watched two seagulls dip into the water, hunting for food. It was a quiet day. Despite the frigid wind, I removed my cap to fish with the sun on my face.
The sun shone directly in front of me. This created sparkles on the water as bright as the sparklers they sell at fireworks stands. I stared out at the horizon, watching the white lights dance in tiny random explosions. The effect was hypnotizing.
After an hour, I sat down on a small chair, leaving my baited lines in the water, hoping the bait’s scent drifted in the underwater currents, attracting fish to the area. The gusty wind was at my back, creating tiny waves that moved from the shore toward the middle of the lake. The reservoir looked like an ocean moving in reverse.
I noticed three types of waves created by the changing winds. There were large, slow, undulating waves. Then, there were smaller, faster moving waves created on the lake’s surface by the wind. Upon closer observation, I noticed that the small waves were composed of mini ripples in the water. These micro ripples moved fast and where they joined, combined to make the crest of a bigger wave, and where they separated, they became the space between the crests. I was watching chaos, random movements that formed patterns as the system grew in scale.
The fishing was slow, but the time on the lake was just what I needed. I made plans for my day, forgetting that I had an evening event to attend. When I remembered the appointment, I felt rushed and a little disappointed that I had to reshuffle my schedule. Time on the water cured this feeling, and I left the reservoir relaxed, reminded by nature that the rushing only happens inside of our heads. And when it does, it triggers emotions that make the pressure feel real. But it was all an illusion. Fishing slowed everything down, transforming my mind from a wavy surf to calmer waters.
When I arrived home, I returned the unused worms to their bins, washed up, and made an early dinner. Then, I showered and got ready to attend my first Wilson Camera Club meeting. I missed last month’s meeting when I caught a cold for the first time in several years, probably from a bug my wife brought home from the clinic.
The meeting was larger than I expected. Everyone brought their cameras, and I found it interesting to see how everyone’s kit differed. Some people had tiny bags while others had huge backpacks filled with every piece of equipment they owned. I smiled when I saw one man set his backpack on the floor, carefully tucking the straps. That guy knew, probably from experience, how untucked straps become foot snares for passersby.
The meeting featured a guest speaker from Raleigh who presented well. He had experience and he was polished. I appreciated his expertise mixed with a sense of humility. He didn’t give off any superficial airs, and he was passionate about something he had been doing for several decades. I liked him.
His presentation left me with several takeaways. First, a confirmation of what makes a photograph impactful and how several technical and abstract elements come together to create interesting visual experiences. He spoke about creating pictures that would hold a person’s attention for over ten seconds, because there was an underlying story the photograph was telling. This interaction between the photographer and viewer was an important element of striking photos.
He stressed always carrying a camera, even if it was a smartphone, and taking pictures of anything interesting. He showed several photographs of abstract views of common subjects that most people wouldn’t detect, like the inside of a dumpster. A photographer should learn to recognize what is interesting. This confirmed something I think about often. Before you can take an impressive picture, you must learn to notice a great subject.
He also stressed finding your own way. To not worry about conformity and to realize that being different meant your style would set you apart from the competition. He talked about how judges rated pictures in competitions and emphasized that conforming to the rules often weakens art. Bravo.
The meeting was enjoyable, and I looked forward to attending the next one in March. I really didn’t know what this club would offer, but I left the meeting with a renewed desire to take more photos more often. I enjoyed meeting so many local people who had a passion for photography. In my handwritten journal, I scribbled something a few weeks ago. It read, “Deepen your art”. I feel more clarity about how to do that and why I should jump headfirst into this ever deepening waterless pool.