reflections
This time of year it is tempting to get lost in foliage display...but the low October light brings a painterly light to the waterfront that is not to be missed. Moody looking clouds create the kind of skies that inspired William Turner.
Giant cranes that lift working ferries out of the water create reflections reminiscent of Bruce Gray's abstracts.
When I go into the studios of my painter friends, my eye always goes to those buckets, coffee cans and bins filled with paintbrushes. I love the many sizes, shapes and colors – the spatters of color on the handles hinting at the magic these brushes have been part of.
As a photographer, my "paintbrushes" are not nearly so sleek, seductive or varied. My tools are a black box of glass and plastic, a carbon fiber tripod that my serious photographer friends laugh at and call “cute” because it is so small, and a virtual paintbox, AKA my MacBook. But in the last few days of autumn’s glory I have been foraging in my yard collecting branches of vermillion colored Japanese maples, golden amber giant hosta leaves, miscanthus stocks and more. They are the paintbrushes for my winter portfolio project – a study of form and reflections in Destruction Brook.
Paintbrushes gathered from my garden .
Sitting alongside the brook I look a bit like a crazy woman as I make little rock weights and attach fishing line to my garden trove of branches. But it allows me to attempt to secure my leaves and branches in the middle of standing ripples or where the light is best without the current making off with them. For all the attempts that don't work, there are still a few moments of magic that make it worthwhile. Here is a sneak peek of what is to come.
The surface of the water at dawn and dusk is a never ending palette of mystery and delight.
All of that Maine coast beauty doesn't keep the lost history and sad dignity of broken down sheds and tired-roofs from calling to me.
This is the geometry of early spring. Sharp vertical tree trunk reflections, unfettered by the leaves still curled in their buds provide a sharp contrast to the lily pads round green forms. Or perhaps it is the first contingent of alien invaders in Giverny....
In the golden hours of a sunny Saturday in late April, our Boston Public Garden is once again, a place of spring glory, filled with families of every shape and color, tourists, and locals. Last week's chaos is a memory tucked away in the golden light of budding willows.