“Still Point”

Posted on Jan, Tue, 2020 in Gallery Image, Landscapes, Musings from Still Point, Uncategorized

“Still Point”  16″x24″   Collector’s Edition of 10     C.G. Baker, 2020     

Is there anyone who hasn’t tired of the myriad reed and grass photos, most composed in early morning mist or afternoon fog? As a child, over 60 years ago, I recall a black and white photo from “Life” magazine featuring reeds reflecting on a smooth lake. With my mother’s hand-me-down camera I wasted lots of film and her patience trying to replicate that image in a neighbor’s pond. Amateurish would be a very generous description of those photos. Ever since, I’ve shied away from the reed pictures that have seduced infinite photographers and generated infinite images. The few I’ve attempted have been unoriginal at best.

With that preamble I succumbed to temptation this afternoon when I spotted this array of marsh grass at the far end of Schweitzer’s marsh. Today’s fog diffused the light making for ideal conditions to capture the subtlety of color. It also provided the unlikely possibility of finding something new in a hackneyed subject. A small, single reed in the foreground adds dimension and lends perspective. This image draws my attention for some reason – the geometry possibly but as much the color transitions from reflections on the surface.

See what you think. It may be nothing more than the addled effects of the years on me.

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“Like to the blackbird at break of day arising”

Posted on Dec, Tue, 2019 in Gallery Image, Landscapes, Musings from Still Point, Musings from Still Point

“Like to the blackbird at break of day arising … “

The title, inspired and only slightly corrupted, was appropriated from a line in Shakespeare’s 29th sonnet. This is a companion to the April marsh image I posted three days ago. The sun, still diffused by early mist, was only about twenty minutes above the horizon. Returning from its winter migration, a redwing blackbird posed atop an pin oak remnant.

A subtle reminder we have only three months to go.

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“Untitled”

Posted on Oct, Thu, 2018 in Black & White, Gallery Image, Landscapes, Musings from Still Point

“Untitled”

“Untitled II”

My preoccupation with geese traces to childhood and the scarcity of what now has become abundant. This is the second in a series. Note, the gander trails the female always protecting his territory.

What works (I think) about this image is the context (marsh grass in the foreground) and the center focused composition.

 

 

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“September Meadow”

Posted on Oct, Sun, 2017 in Gallery Image, Landscapes, Musings from Still Point

“September Meadow”

Late September and early October in northeast Ohio are warm in hue … landscapes changing subtly each day.  Summer’s decedents, some lost in shadow, others flame. Field grasses disappearing in the moment; ironweed, goldenrod slowly burning until extinguished.

Seed-heads across Squire Valleevue Farm stand in relief against a background of goldenrod, asters and late meadow grasses, many verdant until a frost.

I do not know what grass or weeds these may be but I see them here every year before their seeds scatter on autumn winds.

Autumn brings to mind the last stanza of Robert Frost’s poem “Reluctance”

“Ah, when to the heart of man
   Was it ever less than a treason
To go with the drift of things,
   To yield with a grace to reason,
And bow and accept the end
   Of a love or a season?”
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“Rails into Autumn”

Posted on Oct, Sat, 2017 in Gallery Image, Landscapes, Musings from Still Point, Uncategorized

“Rails into Autumn”

This is the scene I’ve walked into for sixty years. An arching pin oak or two have passed since my childhood but new ones rise. What has never changed are the rails, rails that take me into each season, ones that orient me through snow, morning fog, autumn hues and a lifetime of magenta mornings and afternoon shadows.

 

 

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Fog Across the Dunes

Posted on Feb, Mon, 2017 in Gallery Image, Landscapes, Musings from Still Point, Past Exhibits

Fog Across The Dunes

6:30 a.m., May 28, fog had settled into the dunes north of the small town of Pentwater, Michigan. It was a phenomenon unlike any I had seen in the forty-seven years I had walked these eastern shores of Lake Michigan. Occasionally, fog banks would descend obscuring the contours of the landscape but this time fog clung to the division between each dune, exposing only the tops of white pine and sporadic clumps of tag alder. As remarkably, three quarters of the scene and subsequent image were sky, tinged with subtle, almost imperceptible hues of color as the fog spreads its fingers across the dunes down to the beach. 

It brings the quality of “impermanence” to mind – a key dimension of the Japanese art of Wabi Sabi. Within minutes the long fingers had receded, replaced somewhat ironically by the forest; its own beauty transient and ineluctably transformed as day ascended.

This is one of the images from my 2011 exhibit at the Butler Institute of Art. It has been a popular limited edition print over the last eight years but this is the first occasion I’ve printed it as a large canvas (40″x60″). We have it on view for one more week (thru Sat. Feb. 25) at the gallery.

Pentwater, Michigan, May 28, 2008 C. Geoffrey Baker

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