Awe

I listen to public radio in the car, and as a result I often hear only parts of stories, which can be incredibly frustrating.  It happened the other day; I heard a section of a story talking about how the emotion of "awe" hadn't ever really been studied and discussed before, while other emotions - love, hate, fear, anger, etc - were commonly studied and understood.  Unfortunately, I have no idea what show I was listening to, so I can't find it again to listen to a complete podcast.  But anyhow, it got me thinking about what makes me feel awe, and how different individuals respond with awe to different things, and the relationship between awe and creativity.

For example, some people feel awe when they see amazing structures, like magnificent churches, iconic buildings.  My husband is an architect, so buildings are more meaningful to him than me. I like seeing fabulous structures, whether buildings, or bridges, or monuments, and am very impressed, but I do not feel awe.

The natural world is the thing that does it for me, without a doubt.  I am, for example, awestruck by crystalline snow falling at night, by a glorious sunset over the lake, by ocean waves, breaching whales, and expanses of sand, by witnessing a great blue heron up close, by the flutter of dragonflies, and by listening to the haunting calls of loons at dusk.  About a dozen years ago, my family traveled to Alaska and for 10 days I was repeatedly overcome with awe at the majestic landscape.  The picture below was taken when my son and I took a helicopter ride over the Denali wilderness.

And of course, I am in awe every time I sit in my kayak, still, in the middle of a quiet lake.  I often just put down my paddle for a few moments and breathe in the magic, watching a leaf or feather float across the water, listen to the call of a bird, hear the splash of a fish or turtle.  Here's a video sample for you. 

 And still samples, too. 

 As artists and art educators, viewing great art can inspire awe.  There's a Rembrandt in my little local art museum, and frankly, when I visit, I don't much care if I see anything else in that museum as long as I see that Rembrandt.  I can be awestruck by paintings by Matisse, or Vuillard (as in the painting directly below), or Kandinsky, or a glass structure by Chihuly, or by a unique contemporary piece, such as Michael Oatman's "all utopia's fell" at Mass MoCA (as seen in the second photo below), but what grabs you might be totally different than me.

I'm always amazed, for example, when visiting MoMA, to see the museum-goers with their jaws dropped, standing in front of van Gogh's Starry Night, in total awe.  Starry Night doesn't do it for me.  It's a small painting, not my favorite van Gogh, and frankly it has become trite.  I can skip it completely.  What is it that makes use each react so differently from each other to different things?  Why, for example, am I blown away by hot air balloons overhead, sounding like dragon breath each time they flame their burners? 

I have always been particularly awestruck by the glorious colors of autumn leaves, and by the glow of autumn light shining through the trees.  I have tried, over the past few days, several times, to capture that golden glow.  Each time, I have looked at my photos in total frustration, because the magical quality of the sunlight just isn't the same as what I witnessed.  If I did a painting of the autumn leaves and sunlight, I don't think I'd be any more successful. 

What inspires awe in you?  It doesn't have to be visual; it can be a piece of music, something beautifully written, such as a poem or story, or perhaps the liturgy from a religious service.  I know that, for example, listening to the jewel-toned voice of the female cantor (singer) at the recent Jewish High Holy Day services at my temple, and some of the beautiful writings in the new prayer book we used, moved me deeply.  How can you tap into the raw emotion of awe in your students?  Is awe something that happens naturally on its own, or can we somehow nurture it in our students? How can we tap into that reverential feeling of awe and use it in our artwork and in our teaching?  I'd love your thoughts!

Meanwhile, I'll leave you with a couple of images of my lake at night.  The first photo below is an error that really intrigues me.   The final image was an exposure of a couple of minutes, taken well after dark. 

Images from a summer

In a few days, my students will be back for the fall session of DragonWing Arts, and I'll be back sharing art projects with you all, but I thought in the meantime I'd show you a few summer photos, since photography is a big part of my summer creativity.  Above, a great blue heron is playing peek-a-boo! Below, a luscious sunset over the lake, as viewed from our dock.

We are incredibly lucky to have a "camp" (that's the Adirondack name for a cabin or cottage or summer residence by a lake, or for some other recreation) on lovely little Loon Lake (one of several Loon Lakes in NY, but anyhow...), so any chance I get, I'm either in my kayak, or relaxing on the dock, or tromping through the woods. This summer my kayaking has brought me close to this great blue heron on a couple of occasions.  I just sat quietly and watched him. 

 That thing you see hanging in the center of my kayak below?  It's a waterproof box, for my camera, a spare battery, and a phone for emergencies.  Of course, since I obviously took the picture, you probably have realized that my camera was not in the box.  

 I'm not sure what this interesting aquatic plant is!

 Drip drop splish splash. 

 Morning fog

 Lunch!!

 I hope you've enjoyed a little of my summer joy! 

4th of July Fireworks Fun!

It's been a while since I took some time to take a break from art education stuff and just share my latest photos with you.  So I figured I'd do it today, with fireworks photos!  On the 4th of July, I tend to avoid big crowded fireworks shows, and favor sitting on our dock by our sweet little lake, where inevitably someone nearby or across the lake will be setting off some fireworks, as in the pic above.

In the past couple of years, our son and his friends gather at our "camp" for the 4th of July holiday, and, being mature young adults of between 26 and 28 years old, they think setting off fireworks is a wonderful thing.  My son, being a photo nut like his mom, sets up a tripod and takes pics while his friends all light the Roman candles and other fireworks. But these are not his photos; they are mine.  The photo above is a single 15 second exposure, with a lot of camera movement.

I got my tripod set up, set my Nikon on bulb, put a new battery in my remote, and took some dusk and sunset pics while waiting to see what would be occurring on the lake.  Some kayakers paddled by in the waning sunlight.

My son, seeing the rosy sunset glow, used his phone to take some photos since his camera was ready and adjusted for fireworks.

I played with sparklers on the dock and used my remote to make some ghost pics of myself, while waiting for actual fireworks.

 The boys started using their fireworks on the end of the dock.

Just south of us, someone put on a beautiful fireworks show readily visible from my seat on the back of the dock.  I think this pic below looks like dandelion fluff.

But it got crowded on the back of the dock, and as it got darker, I began to worry that my tripod would get knocked over and my Nikon would end up in the lake.  So I took the camera off the tripod, and put it around my neck, and stepped back off the dock.

 I moved my camera freely during open exposures, zoomed in and out, and just had fun taking shots with no idea how they'd look.  I was pretty pleased with how much fun these images turned out!

 Here's a ghost tree and a spinal column!

 This one below looks to me like a profile of a long-necked woman with green eyes, pink ears, and white hair piled on her head.  Can you see it?

 Hopefully, the precautions that were used mean that there won't be any burn marks on our new dock.  My husband and son spent several days building it, just last week! Here they are, admiring their work.

 While they worked on building the dock, I kayaked to my favorite marsh and ended up taking these pictures of dragonflies. 

And finally, while my husband put the finishing touches on the dock, I tried out my brand-new French easel and some oil paints in anticipation of the week-long plein air painting workshop I will be taking in just another week.  I haven't ever painted plein air before, and I hadn't used oil paints in 30 years, so I expect it to be quite an adventure!

 Goodnight, all!  Thanks for visiting!