Some Security
Ann Arbor, Michigan
Pent Up Water
This pilgrimage to Pentwater, Michigan, is a nearly annual tradition for us. Unlike many Lake Michigan towns on the western side of the state, Pentwater isn’t touristy like cities like South Haven. It’s quieter and smaller here.
We have our usual spots: the fish market, with some of best fish and chips around; the go kart track; the quiet little beach on Lake Michigan; the farmers market; and the Methodist family camp where my wife spent her summers.
This is our Michigan holiday, in a nutshell – along Lake Michigan, enjoying the sunshine and the food and summer before it leaves us again.
Goodbye, Door County
As with any vacation, getting back home feels like you never left. Even with a week and a modest agenda, time flies on holiday.
But we certainly made the best of it. One or two things per day, venturing out and about this peninsula, we felt like we went on enough adventures while still managing three kiddos.
For my photographic eyes, it was plenty. Those red cherries, that blue Great Lake, those violet lavender blossoms, the golden sunsets, and – just like Michigan – plenty of green everywhere we went.
Two out of the three kids would probably never remember this family vacation. For me, it was memorable enough to consider creating a photo book of our summer trip – a reminder of where we went and what we saw. And perhaps a reminder for if and when we consider this place again.
Thanks, Door County. We’re heading back home now.
(Check out part one, “Hello, Wisconsin,” and part two, “On Wisconsin.”)
On Wisconsin
Taking photos is how I get to know a place. With any new home, or job, or vacation destination, my camera becomes a sixth sense – another way to feel the vibes of a location.
To our family, this little corner of Door County, Wisconsin was completely new, yet spiritually familiar. We knew this lake, we knew these trees, we understood this climate. What was different was the little touches of Scandinavian culture (Lutheran Churches everywhere!), and the supper clubs, and fish boils – those little touches of Wisconsin that made us feel we were really somewhere new.
This cabin, too, reminded me so much of my grandparents’ farm house. The slanted room, the crawl spaces, the outdated furniture – it was like stepping back into my own past.
Here on the other side of the Niagara Escarpment, we felt with our eyes and tasted with our sight.
(View part one, “Hello, Wisconsin,” and part three, “Goodbye, Door County.”)
Hello, Wisconsin
We pretty much ended up here by accident.
I knew I wanted to go to Wisconsin, that upper midwest state on the other side of Lake Michigan. My dad stayed at the Wisconsin Dells, in a rustic cabin, and I figured we could do some fun family things while trying to avoid too much of the touristy parts.
But we love Lake Michigan. What if we could spend a whole week in one spot, by the big lake, and keep it quiet?
I did a bit of research, and found Door County – the little peninsula that sticks out into Lake Michigan, north of Green Bay. In essence, it’s a more westerly version of northern Michigan: cherry orchards, lakeside towns, fishing charters, and a bit of that stepping-back-in-time feeling when you visit our Upper Peninsula.
And boy did we step back in time. The cabin we found, near Sturgeon Bay, barely had cell coverage. It was barely updated since the early 1970s. It was perfect.
We had a little beach down by the lake, we could cook a random meal right there at the cabin, and it served as a launching point for plenty of fun family activities.
The light wasn’t bad, either.
(Check out part two, “On Wisconsin,” and part three, “Goodbye, Door County.”)
Lost Time
Look there – the whole month of July, gone.
It’s been a busy month. We had our family vacation (more on that soon), and I did some traveling for work. Along the way, I had big plans for my musicians project, even paying for studio space for the month.
Last night, I had my first subject join me in the space for a portrait session. It took the whole month of July for me to get one musician in the studio. That left 29 other unproductive days.
Finally, after things settled down, I hit a day last week when I got fed up with my lack of progress and jumped back into the project. I sent some emails, confirmed some dates, and boom – photo making.
It’s easy to feel guilty over all that lost time. I’ve beaten myself up all month long, but enough is enough. All it takes is pushing one pebble down the hill, and pretty soon you have an avalanche. For me, the pebble was sending an email invitation to a stranger.
Thanks, OTP
Few things have been constants in my photography hobby. Not cameras, not lenses, not subjects, not styles.
The thing that has remained constant: the On Taking Pictures podcast by Bill Wadman and Jeffery Saddoris.
The duo just wrapped up their last episode, number 325, after putting out six years worth of weekly, hour-plus shows. We, as listeners, tuned in as they discussed the art and craft of photography, the creative method, art culture, and personal struggles. Bill and Jeffery built an audience and a community, and as they did so, On Taking Pictures become a can’t-miss podcast for me each week.
In fact, as I think about my photography practice, I can’t think of a time when I wasn’t listening and learning at the same time. OTP was responsible for one of my first photography projects, and Bill and Jeffery helped me think of projects as larger bodies of work – something that has helped me create my portrait projects, and much more.
Even as my photography practiced has waxed and waned, especially lately, Bill and Jeffery helped me stay in touch with my passion. They reminded me that photography was a worthy hobby, and that some issues – what we view as “good” work, how others see our work, how much of a difference photography can make – may never be resolved. Their point? That lack of resolution was okay. It was normal.
Gear was sometimes a topic, but rarely a subject of their show. Instead, what they focused on was the art stuff: exhibitions, project goals, their Photographers of the Week. Cameras were important, but never as important as the subject.
OTP was a great show – a perfect photography podcast, when so many others have come and gone, or lost my interest. I’ll miss it. The good news is, the shows are archived at 5by5 for future listeners.
And, here’s hoping, for future episodes.
Thanks Bill and Jeffery.
Thank Goodness for Photographers
Often it’s the photographers, underpaid and working for dwindling news agencies, that highlight humanitarian crimes.
When we see kids suffering, we’re motivated to act. Rightfully so.
Thank goodness for photographers.
Being Boring
“Turns out the stuff that makes you happy is mostly everyday and boring.” – Hugh MacLeod
My bio says that I use photography as an excuse for adventure. But lately, being boring is far more attractive to me.
It could be getting older, becoming a parent, priorities shifting, all that. Anymore, I feel like simply photographing what I see, around the house, or on a walk, is plenty satisfying.
I look back at my early landscape photography, and all the abandoned work I did, and I recognize the “adventure” involved in making those pictures. Part of me misses that phase of my photography – the hunger to wake up early on a foggy morning and watch the sunrise, making lovely images all the while.
When I get the chance, I still do that kind of stuff. But I don’t actively seek it out anymore. I’m becoming boring.
I still have my portrait projects, and the kids are always great photo subjects. I work on the occasional family portrait session. It’s just that the adventure stuff has taken a backseat.
That’s the great part about photography as a hobby: I don’t have to feel guilt about settling into a groove.