Stones and Stars

Stones and Stars Exhibit
Stones and Stars, an exhibit featuring photographs I’ve made at the Alabama Hills and Joshua Tree NP will open Memorial Day Holiday Weekend at the Marty Knapp Photo Gallery. There will be an Opening Reception and an Artist Talk. The dates and times will be announced soon. Please watch your email for more details about this upcoming show. The photographs to be exhibited were made over the last twenty years, but the inspiration for these compositions began when I was a child.

Beginnings
My fascination with large stones began as a boy of five years old when my family moved into a house on Old Quarry Road in Guilford, Connecticut. The street was aptly named. The remains of an abandoned granite quarry—massive slabs of stone– were scattered near my childhood home.  Early on, I had developed an affection for stones. I spent countless hours clambering around the giant granite slabs and the cliffs of the nearby abandoned quarry.

My small back yard ended abruptly at two mammoth boulders which reminded me of a giant terrapin. My sister and I called this rock formation, Turtle Rock. I climbed to the top of these stones where I found a vein of quartz crystal. With my father’s hammer I chipped off pieces of the brilliant quartz, and called these treasures my “silver.”

A wooded hill rose above Turtle Rock. A short hike brought us to a clearing where another massive stone lay flat among the wild blueberry plants. It was warm in the sun and we and our neighborhood friends met there to sit and play upon it. We called this gathering place Table Rock. I remember well the warmth of these large stones and the happiness I felt when I was near and on them.

Megalithic Sites


Years later, as a young photographer I took an interest in megalithic sites and read about the mysteries surrounding these places. Places like Stonehenge and Avebury fueled my imagination. As I began photographing the landscape I wondered about some of the large stones I discovered in my wanderings. Could some of these sites be more than mere geological accidents, perhaps overlooked megalithic sites? In particular, I wondered if some of these local stones were set by humans to mark the seasons, the position of celestial spheres.

I heard stories about the rocks near the Nicasio lake, supposedly early native sacred sites. A stone circle up on the Bolinas Ridge, and a mysterious wall crossing Pierce Point also were rumored to have ancient origins. I visited all these stone sites and wondered about their genesis as I photographed them.

My friend, photographer Jan Watson, noticed my fascination with local stones and suggested I try photographing in the Alabama Hills near Lone Pine, California. The Alabama Hills, BLM land east of the rugged Sierra, is a rock lover’s paradise.
The boulder-strewn landscape promised dramatic vistas of the precipitous eastern Sierra range.

First view of the Alabama Hills
On a cold moonless November night in 2000, my friend Tom Morse drove us into the Alabama Hills. It was my first time there and it was so dark, I had no idea what awaited me with first light of morning. We set up the motorhome and settled in for the night. The next morning as sunlight spilled into the landscape, I hurriedly bundled up, grabbed my tripod and view camera and ventured out into the landscape. Just a few yards from the RV, I made my first photograph there: First Morning, Alabama Hills. This was the first of many visits and compositions I made in this landscape during the next two decades.









Joshua Tree NP
Alternating with my trips to the Alabama Hills were my visits to Joshua Tree NP. It’s a huge park with a varied landscape with some fascinating rock outcroppings interspersed among the Joshua trees and other yuccas. 
At first I was drawn to the various vignettes of rocks and flora which formed natural rock gardens. Then, I took closer looks at the iconic rocks themselves, which harken to my childhood fascination with granite in Connecticut.

Stones and Stars
In 2017 and 2018 I began to photograph the night sky and the brilliant stars that shine above us. It felt natural to include the stones of the Alabama Hills and Joshua Tree in the foregrounds of these astro photographs. While composing under the sparkling vault of the sky, I thought of the rich history of stones and stars and how they are intimately connected. I know that the ancient megalithic sites like Stonehenge served as astronomical observatories and seasonal calendars. The relation of stones and stars has provided both meaning and wonder to us for thousands of years.

 

Making Photographs: Milky Way Reflects at Lake Nicasio

This is the story of photographing the stars reflecting on the waters of Lake Nicasio.
Having seen a few magical photographs of the Milky Way reflecting on waters, I dreamt of making one of my own on the still waters at Lake Nicasio. Three essential conditions would be required: a moonless night, great atmospheric clarity, and most importantly, no wind–not even the slightest breeze. This was not to be an easy find, but finally, on the evening of October 20, 2016, the stars did align for me.

So it was, on this very still, clear and moonless night, I drove out to Nicasio to see if I could make my dream come true. I was kinda nervous as I parked the car in a pull-out across from the lake.  I was aware that visits to the lake’s shore at night were forbidden by ordinance. I had heard of a recent misadventure that happened to some friends who were photographing the rising moon at the lake. They were brusquely shooed away from their peaceful efforts by an armed fish and game warden. Fortunately, no fines were levied. So, I was wary as I looked both ways before crossing the road. I stealthily crouched down and slipped between the bushes to get to the water’s edge. I knew I was breaking the ordinance, but since I would cause no harm with my peaceful pursuit I felt justified. I kept low and walked the perimeter until I found just the right place.

The water on the lake mirrored the stars. Not a breath of wind, and the sky above and to the horizon were clear as a bell. For a moment, I paused to take it all in. I felt the power of the scene. What immense, unfathomable beauty I witnessed! Then, I set up my tripod for the 15-second exposures needed to record the stars, Milky Way, and their reflections.

Each time I made an exposure, I cupped my hands to block the light emanating from the back of the camera. On this dark, moonless night my screen would look like a beacon and betray my presence there. After about a dozen exposures, I packed my camera away and began the short trek back to roadside. All had gone well, without incident. As I walked back toward the car I felt confident that I had gotten the photograph that I had dreamed of.

Milky Way Reflections at Lake Nicasio also appears in my book, Sky Walks.
Visit my website to order either prints or the book.

 

 

 

 

 

McClures Beach: A Photographer’s Ode

Ever since I first saw the raw, primal beauty of McClures Beach I’ve returned countless times with my camera. I’m never disappointed. Sometimes I’ve been fortunate to have captured the raw, relentless power of the Pacific Ocean. At other times I recorded scenes of peaceful timelessness there. For more than thirty years I have photographed the varying moods of my favorite Point Reyes beach.

When I first stepped down from the steep trail that leads to the beach, my eye was drawn to the iconic rocky point several hundred yards to the south. These rocks distinguish the main beach at McClures. I walk toward the point every time I visit there. because I know what lies beyond that rocky dark wall. Ebb Tide, above, was photographed in February, 2003. The Point is seen in the distance.

My first visit to McClures Beach was during the aftermath of a winter storm in 1974. Taken there by a friend, she revealed to me the narrow passageway through the point that leads from the main beach to the “Hidden Beach.”  Two magnificent sea stacks are seen from a steep and narrow crescent beach. I have entitled the cleft in the rocky point The Gateway, shown below. 

The Gateway, McClures Beach – September, 1989

The wind during that first visit to the Hidden Beach was furious, visceral–memorable, as I watched waves crashing, exploding against the rocks. No photos on that day, but what I saw was etched indelibly in my memory. I returned several times over the years when the wind howled, to make photographs that celebrate the power of the sea there. Following are a couple of photographs that capture the awesome force of the sea in the aftermath of winter storms.

Winter Surf, McClures Beach – March, 1991

After the Storm, McClures Beach – February, 1994

I went to the hidden beach through the Gateway at other, more peaceful times.  The photograph, Monolith, graces the jacket cover of my book, Point Reyes 20 Years. It was made during a winter afternoon when a minus tide made it possible to walk behind the squarish sea stack.

Monolith, McClures Beach – January, 1992

Another time, on a calm, clear night in October 2016, I went to the hidden beach to photograph the Milky Way. The following two photographs show the results. The first one shows the two sea stacks with our galaxy overhead. The second image was made before I departed through the rocky point back to the main beach. The multitude of stars seen that night, combined with the peacefulness of the beach was unforgettable.

Monolith, Elephant Rock and Milky Way – October 2016

 

Galaxy at McClures Point: 10/19/2016

There were times that my photo visits to the hidden beach at McClures seemed to be futile due to poor light or weather conditions. During those times I have learned to be patient. In September of 1995 Jean and I walked down to the second beach where the sea stacks are. The light was fading and the view wasn’t particularly photogenic. After pacing around for a while I told Jean I was through and thanked her for her patience. After we passed through the gateway and were about 50 yards beyond the point, I turned back for one last look at where we came from. What a gift, the light from the setting sun burnished the wet sands in front of the rocky point. September Sunset, McClures Beach!

September Sunset, McClures Beach September 1995

Another time after a seemingly uneventful visit to my favorite beach, I was surprised again. I had packed up my camera and was nearly off the beach when I turned for one last look from the uphill trail. Then and there, I saw the last rays of the sun turn the creek into a silver ribbon of light.  Winter Creek reminds me to always pause and look again before leaving a location.

Winter Creek, McClures Beach – February 2003