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This series is personal.
I have always had a camera in hand, but it wasn’t until Vermont Institute of Contemporary Arts closed, (the gallery I managed in VT) that I really took a deep dive into photography. Ten years of playing with the camera’s buttons and dials has led me to this moment.
I have always had a camera in hand, but it wasn’t until Vermont Institute of Contemporary Arts closed, (the gallery I managed in VT) that I really took a deep dive into photography. Ten years of playing with the camera’s buttons and dials has led me to this moment.
Wild Abandonment is a series that not only speaks to me but is part of me. What you see is power and vulnerability. A curious pairing from a curious girl.
In this raw moment,
when there is nothing left to do,
when thinking is tabled,
when words are futile,
I find myself.
In this raw moment,
when there is nothing left to do,
when thinking is tabled,
when words are futile,
I find myself.
Live in color,
Abby
Abby
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Comfort is a death sentence to discovery.
That memorable moment doesn’t come knocking on my door, walk over to the couch, where I am sprawled out and say, here ya go, here’s your special moment of the day.
I have to pick my sorry butt up and make my way out into the sometimes harsh world to discover that moment. It takes effort, anything worthwhile takes effort.
In our fast paced, fast food culture comfort seems to be what people strive for. The second an uncomfortable feeling arises, we medicate in some form or another and numb the annoying sensation dis-ease. Some have become so accustomed to live in this protective bubble, desensitized to possibilities, desensitized to life.
This was my “aha” moment the morning of my 71st birthday.
That memorable moment doesn’t come knocking on my door, walk over to the couch, where I am sprawled out and say, here ya go, here’s your special moment of the day.
I have to pick my sorry butt up and make my way out into the sometimes harsh world to discover that moment. It takes effort, anything worthwhile takes effort.
In our fast paced, fast food culture comfort seems to be what people strive for. The second an uncomfortable feeling arises, we medicate in some form or another and numb the annoying sensation dis-ease. Some have become so accustomed to live in this protective bubble, desensitized to possibilities, desensitized to life.
This was my “aha” moment the morning of my 71st birthday.
I got this crazy idea to be at a local lake for sunrise on that morning. The alarm went off at 5 am. I was so warm and comfy under the covers. It seemed to be complete madness to hoist myself up and out into cool, dark morning air, but I did.
Arriving at the lake, with only seconds to spare, I checked my magic hour app, 1 minutes and 37 seconds and counting to the golden hour.
Arriving at the lake, with only seconds to spare, I checked my magic hour app, 1 minutes and 37 seconds and counting to the golden hour.
I perched myself at the edge of the pond, there I met two dear friends. Solitude and Silence, gateways to the divine. I put down my camera to take this dynamic duo magic. My breath deepened and paused at the end of each exhale. Within each pause, I welcomed Presence.
The mist, hovered over the pond preforming a slow and elegant dance, two steps forward, two steps back. Color began to wake. Then there was this lone loon. It’s haunting and solitary call sent chills up my spine. There was an underlining tone of melancholy in its impassioned wail. I wondered what it cried for? What do any of us cry for?
The mist, hovered over the pond preforming a slow and elegant dance, two steps forward, two steps back. Color began to wake. Then there was this lone loon. It’s haunting and solitary call sent chills up my spine. There was an underlining tone of melancholy in its impassioned wail. I wondered what it cried for? What do any of us cry for?
Several minutes passed, there my camera sat. I wasn’t quite ready to leave this divine moment.
There I stood on my 71st birthday, far from alone. I was with Solitary, Silence, Presence and the loon. A perfect birthday party.
There I stood on my 71st birthday, far from alone. I was with Solitary, Silence, Presence and the loon. A perfect birthday party.
Alternatively, I could have just rolled over and gone back to sleep.
Live in color,
Abby
Live in color,
Abby
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With reverence I knelt, then laid my body down against the damp, moist earth.
They seemed shy, huddled against an ancient rock, sprouting from summer’s detritus. How shy could they possibly be being a shade of saffron orange? Even nature has its conundrums.
With a respectful nod, I asked the mushrooms if they would like a family portrait. With giddy excitement the matriarch said, “I’ve been waiting for you to ask, Yes please, we would love a portrait.” As she gathered her children at her feet, there she proudly stood, with her husband behind her, supporting her as he’s always done in the past.
I looked up from my viewfinder and said to her, “What an elegant family you have.”
With that, they all turned a more radiant orange.
Ah, the blush of acknowledgment.
Live in color,
Abby
They seemed shy, huddled against an ancient rock, sprouting from summer’s detritus. How shy could they possibly be being a shade of saffron orange? Even nature has its conundrums.
With a respectful nod, I asked the mushrooms if they would like a family portrait. With giddy excitement the matriarch said, “I’ve been waiting for you to ask, Yes please, we would love a portrait.” As she gathered her children at her feet, there she proudly stood, with her husband behind her, supporting her as he’s always done in the past.
I looked up from my viewfinder and said to her, “What an elegant family you have.”
With that, they all turned a more radiant orange.
Ah, the blush of acknowledgment.
Live in color,
Abby
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Recently, I stepped away from not only social media, but also my camera. The camera decision was a hard one. I needed to take my own advice and find a quiet space to breathe.
Sounding like an old lady (hey, wait I am one), I no longer recognize the world I inhabit. A grew up in a world where values, ethics and morals were paramount. Today’s environment seems to be a free-for-all.
I asked myself, as a photographer, how can I navigate these troubling times and remain sane. It seems now more than ever we all need a quiet, space to breathe. A place where there is no noise or narrative. A place where you may rest for a few minutes, soften and be grateful you are alive!
Just remember, you have been created by the universe. Against all odds, random atoms, molecules and various elements, all converged to create you, a human being*. An autonomous, mobile being that can see, hear, smell and communicate for a finite amount of time, then POOF — you are gone. How extraordinary!
How you choose to spend your limited time is entirely up to you, but I know how I will be spending my time. I will continue to walk in nature, cherish my family, value my close relationships, be respectful to all and hold my standards high. Most of all, knowing my place — a mere grain of sand on the expansive beach, we call life.
So, once again, you will find me in nature making images. Not trivial pretty images, but images of beauty, gratitude and reverence for life and the all important secret sauce, space. Oh, how déclassé, and uncontroversial you say, however, like it or not, the healing powers of nature is the medicine we all desperately need right now.
I will not be posting images with the same frequency as in the past. My new mantra: fervor over abundance.
To nature.
Sounding like an old lady (hey, wait I am one), I no longer recognize the world I inhabit. A grew up in a world where values, ethics and morals were paramount. Today’s environment seems to be a free-for-all.
I asked myself, as a photographer, how can I navigate these troubling times and remain sane. It seems now more than ever we all need a quiet, space to breathe. A place where there is no noise or narrative. A place where you may rest for a few minutes, soften and be grateful you are alive!
Just remember, you have been created by the universe. Against all odds, random atoms, molecules and various elements, all converged to create you, a human being*. An autonomous, mobile being that can see, hear, smell and communicate for a finite amount of time, then POOF — you are gone. How extraordinary!
How you choose to spend your limited time is entirely up to you, but I know how I will be spending my time. I will continue to walk in nature, cherish my family, value my close relationships, be respectful to all and hold my standards high. Most of all, knowing my place — a mere grain of sand on the expansive beach, we call life.
So, once again, you will find me in nature making images. Not trivial pretty images, but images of beauty, gratitude and reverence for life and the all important secret sauce, space. Oh, how déclassé, and uncontroversial you say, however, like it or not, the healing powers of nature is the medicine we all desperately need right now.
I will not be posting images with the same frequency as in the past. My new mantra: fervor over abundance.
To nature.
Live in color,
Abby
*I apologize to the medical community for grossly over-simplifying our existence, but you get the point.
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Once upon a time there was a little Sapling that graced the winter forest. He so enjoyed looking down into the valley to watch the frenzied bustle of Christmas.
He saw decorations being hung, strands of lights draped on towering trees, with music and the scent of freshly baked cookies wafting through the air.
However, Sapling preferred to celebrate the season in the stillness of the forest.
He never understood what all the fuss was down in the valley. He knew where he sat was perfect and needed no further ornaments. Crystal snowflakes that fell from the sky were all the ornaments he needed. He had no need for additional music for Wind provided an intoxicating melody as it rustled the fallen leaves. He had no need for the sweet scent of cookies for the Pine trees provided an earthy, wild fragrance.
He continued to watch the people in the valley scurry at a frantic pace, while he sat quietly in the glistening snow, as Leaf stopped by to give him a holiday hug.
In the stillness of the forest, Sapling celebrated the holiday season the only way Sapling knew how — simply.
Live in color,
Abby
He saw decorations being hung, strands of lights draped on towering trees, with music and the scent of freshly baked cookies wafting through the air.
However, Sapling preferred to celebrate the season in the stillness of the forest.
He never understood what all the fuss was down in the valley. He knew where he sat was perfect and needed no further ornaments. Crystal snowflakes that fell from the sky were all the ornaments he needed. He had no need for additional music for Wind provided an intoxicating melody as it rustled the fallen leaves. He had no need for the sweet scent of cookies for the Pine trees provided an earthy, wild fragrance.
He continued to watch the people in the valley scurry at a frantic pace, while he sat quietly in the glistening snow, as Leaf stopped by to give him a holiday hug.
In the stillness of the forest, Sapling celebrated the holiday season the only way Sapling knew how — simply.
Live in color,
Abby
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I was knee deep in cuttings.
It’s no small task to cut back several perennial beds in the fall, but cut back I did. Until, I noticed the movement of something. It seems I had disturbed a caterpillar, interrupting her burrowing in the leaves. I sensed her annoyance.
Putting down my rake,
I said, “I am so sorry for being a nuisance. Is there any way I can make it up to you.”
“Well” the caterpillar said,
“I watch you everyday with your camera, taking pictures of everything. What about making a photo of me?”
I responded, “A glamour shot?”
Her eyes lit up and off we went to my makeshift studio. (a mirror placed in front of a dining room window. Very high tech.)
It’s as if she had done this before. Somewhere in a past life she must have stood in front of Bruce Webers camera. I’m sure of it.
She gracefully moved from pageant pose, hip-tilt, to the ever popular, hair whip. She was definitely a pro.
It’s no small task to cut back several perennial beds in the fall, but cut back I did. Until, I noticed the movement of something. It seems I had disturbed a caterpillar, interrupting her burrowing in the leaves. I sensed her annoyance.
Putting down my rake,
I said, “I am so sorry for being a nuisance. Is there any way I can make it up to you.”
“Well” the caterpillar said,
“I watch you everyday with your camera, taking pictures of everything. What about making a photo of me?”
I responded, “A glamour shot?”
Her eyes lit up and off we went to my makeshift studio. (a mirror placed in front of a dining room window. Very high tech.)
It’s as if she had done this before. Somewhere in a past life she must have stood in front of Bruce Webers camera. I’m sure of it.
She gracefully moved from pageant pose, hip-tilt, to the ever popular, hair whip. She was definitely a pro.
Before I brought her back out to the garden,
I asked, “What species are you?”
She wasn’t the usual wooly caterpillar I was familiar with.
Obviously exhausted from her photo shoot, she went quiet. I did further investigation and found her name: Fuzzy Blonde Caterpillar (Really).
Gently placing her back in the now cleaned garden bed,
I said, “You know, we have more in common than you think. I’ve been called much worse than fuzzy.”
‘Sleep tight, sweet Fuzzy Blonde Caterpillar.”
I asked, “What species are you?”
She wasn’t the usual wooly caterpillar I was familiar with.
Obviously exhausted from her photo shoot, she went quiet. I did further investigation and found her name: Fuzzy Blonde Caterpillar (Really).
Gently placing her back in the now cleaned garden bed,
I said, “You know, we have more in common than you think. I’ve been called much worse than fuzzy.”
‘Sleep tight, sweet Fuzzy Blonde Caterpillar.”
Live in color,
Abby
Abby
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Everything is in flux: a perennial state of becoming.
Has the rush of life made me so impatient that I am missing the intermediate stages?
I watch every new bulbous curve.
I watch the softness of flesh bursting with life.
I watch the elegant sweep of form.
I am your witness.
Take your time, dear flower. Unfurl yourself in your own sweet time. I am in no rush.
I watch the softness of flesh bursting with life.
I watch the elegant sweep of form.
I am your witness.
Take your time, dear flower. Unfurl yourself in your own sweet time. I am in no rush.
Beauty lies in the unfolding.
Live in color,
Abby
Abby
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The morning stillness was interrupted by a shrill geschrei*.
“I won’t be a pappus! I am a water lily.” Cried Pappus*
As he drifted quietly across the pond, he thought how much he enjoyed everything about this place. He liked the sun warming him, he liked the refreshing feel of the water and he liked the protection of the shoreline which comforted him, so he decided to stay.
As Cloud passed overhead, he asked Pappus, “What is this nonsense I hear? You don’t want to be a Pappus? That’s impossible! That is who you are.”
“No!” Pappus said in a very indignant tone. “I am a beautiful water lily and you can’t tell me anything different.”
“Oh sweet Pappus,” as Cloud continues, “You are very much a Pappus, just as I am very much a cloud, and Sky is sky and the Grasshopper is grasshopper. That’s just how life is.”
“Well I’m changing the rules. From now on, please call me Water Lily.” Said Pappus.
Cloud now became concerned and said, “Dear one, we all have come to this strange and remarkable place with a unique job. A job which is imperative to keep the natural order of things humming. It is an honor to have such a job.”
“I don’t care! I’m not listening to you.” As Pappus turned away.
Cloud continued in a firm, yet gentle tone, “I think you are just fearful to become whom you are meant to be. Fear not, dear one, for Nature has a bigger plan for you. You have the most important job of all: to carry your seed, by the lift of wind to places exciting and new. You will rest only when you are ready to take root, so your species can continue to flourish.
And what about all the human children that look to launch their wishes with a puff of breath? Those innocent wishes would never take flight because of your refusal to do what you were born to do.
Make friends with Fear. Ask him why has he come. Give him space. Allow him to be, then miraculously Fear will morph into something else: confidence to become whom you are meant to be. If we all do our jobs, the results will be wondrous.
See how blue Sky is?
See how Water flows with ease?
See Crow glide effortlessly across the sky?
They are all doing their jobs.”
Pappus listened very intently and said, “Yes, I am scared. The sky is so big and vast and I am so small. What will happen to me?”
“Trust, dear one, trust the rhythm of nature and you will become miraculous.” said Cloud.
Pappus lifted itself towards the sky, and was heard repeating, “I trust, I trust,” as Breeze picked him up and carried him off to places exciting and new.
“I won’t be a pappus! I am a water lily.” Cried Pappus*
As he drifted quietly across the pond, he thought how much he enjoyed everything about this place. He liked the sun warming him, he liked the refreshing feel of the water and he liked the protection of the shoreline which comforted him, so he decided to stay.
As Cloud passed overhead, he asked Pappus, “What is this nonsense I hear? You don’t want to be a Pappus? That’s impossible! That is who you are.”
“No!” Pappus said in a very indignant tone. “I am a beautiful water lily and you can’t tell me anything different.”
“Oh sweet Pappus,” as Cloud continues, “You are very much a Pappus, just as I am very much a cloud, and Sky is sky and the Grasshopper is grasshopper. That’s just how life is.”
“Well I’m changing the rules. From now on, please call me Water Lily.” Said Pappus.
Cloud now became concerned and said, “Dear one, we all have come to this strange and remarkable place with a unique job. A job which is imperative to keep the natural order of things humming. It is an honor to have such a job.”
“I don’t care! I’m not listening to you.” As Pappus turned away.
Cloud continued in a firm, yet gentle tone, “I think you are just fearful to become whom you are meant to be. Fear not, dear one, for Nature has a bigger plan for you. You have the most important job of all: to carry your seed, by the lift of wind to places exciting and new. You will rest only when you are ready to take root, so your species can continue to flourish.
And what about all the human children that look to launch their wishes with a puff of breath? Those innocent wishes would never take flight because of your refusal to do what you were born to do.
Make friends with Fear. Ask him why has he come. Give him space. Allow him to be, then miraculously Fear will morph into something else: confidence to become whom you are meant to be. If we all do our jobs, the results will be wondrous.
See how blue Sky is?
See how Water flows with ease?
See Crow glide effortlessly across the sky?
They are all doing their jobs.”
Pappus listened very intently and said, “Yes, I am scared. The sky is so big and vast and I am so small. What will happen to me?”
“Trust, dear one, trust the rhythm of nature and you will become miraculous.” said Cloud.
Pappus lifted itself towards the sky, and was heard repeating, “I trust, I trust,” as Breeze picked him up and carried him off to places exciting and new.
Live in color,
Abby
Abby
* A colorful Yiddish word describing a yell, shout or uproar
* The feathery bristles of the dandelion puff ball which functions as a parachute enabling the seed to be carried by the wind.
* The feathery bristles of the dandelion puff ball which functions as a parachute enabling the seed to be carried by the wind.
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Bubbles: Spring’s breath of life.
Before the tender buds, before the heralded arrival of the robins, even before the last snowdrift thaws, spring is most visible on the banks of a mountain pond.
The fringe of the pond is the first to recognize the change of seasons. Magically, the ice begins to percolate with life. This brisk early spring morning, I have a front row seat to Winter’s loosing grip.
Before the tender buds, before the heralded arrival of the robins, even before the last snowdrift thaws, spring is most visible on the banks of a mountain pond.
The fringe of the pond is the first to recognize the change of seasons. Magically, the ice begins to percolate with life. This brisk early spring morning, I have a front row seat to Winter’s loosing grip.
How effortless it seems, this subtle shift of seasons. But, is it truly effortless? Or, is it simply grace that allows the pond’s frozen stillness to slowly, elegantly, perk with renewed aliveness.
I imagine the fish in the depths of the pond, gathered in schools, sensing this change of seasons, as they collectively fill their gills, blowing a waft of air to the still frozen surface. Their gentle nudge, saying, “it’s time to wake.”
I often think of Mary Oliver when I’m in nature, especially on a morning like this. What wisdom would she find in this moment? Oh, to sit by this awakening pond with Mary. How engaged and enthusiastic she would be. Yet, I am sure, if she were by my side, she would turn to me to simply say,
“Pay attention and be in awe.”
Pay attention and be in awe.
“Pay attention and be in awe.”
Pay attention and be in awe.
Live in color,
Abby
Abby
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I know very little. I think I am so clever, but actually most of the time I’m just fooling myself.
There is an undeniably mysterious thread that weaves its way through life. Unless I am willing to recognize and accept this mystery, I am in denial.
Case in point: this amaryllis blossom. At first glance it is a showy assemblage of petals, pistils and filaments, all in the peak of their cycle. Upon closer examination, it’s a complete mystery.
There is an undeniably mysterious thread that weaves its way through life. Unless I am willing to recognize and accept this mystery, I am in denial.
Case in point: this amaryllis blossom. At first glance it is a showy assemblage of petals, pistils and filaments, all in the peak of their cycle. Upon closer examination, it’s a complete mystery.
Recently, I find more comfort dwelling in the mysterious. I want to discover something new, to see something that I have not seen before. I want to look at form and shadow as leading players not just supporting characters. I want to pierce the membrane of certainty, looking beyond what is, beyond the material to the transcendent.
That is where I find comfort.
So sit back and enjoy this mystery with me…
So sit back and enjoy this mystery with me…
And be astonished.
Live in color,
Abby
Live in color,
Abby
Postscript, A special thank you to Mary for my Christmas present, this amaryllis, which I received early December. The directions promised a blooming amaryllis by Christmas. Christmas came and went and nothing. I checked in with the bulb everyday asking what it needed, but no response. Early February I was thinking it was time to pitch the dud bulb. Then one gray day a sprout appeared. Two weeks later, the plant is in full bloom.
The moral of the story, patience has its rewards.
The moral of the story, patience has its rewards.