Twenty-five years ago, Heather & I had the opportunity
to visit Switzerland. We made the most of it.
While there, I pushed a hundred and twenty sheets of 4x5
transparency film through the Linhof and dozens of rolls of 35mm as well, always
keeping the Nikon handy.
This week, just a month or so short of a full quarter
century later, I finally finished working my way through all the scans I
made from that film.
Seems a shame to just let the whole of it slumber on in the
dark because it's 'off topic' here. What does that mean these days anyway, in
our defiantly discursive new world?
Besides, it's about respecting the work. We're taught we must. So here we are.
Born to the mid 20th Century, the thing that struck
me most about the Old World is that it's really, really old. Seems obvious I
know, but we're talking Roman walls.
As in built by actual Romans. That's what some call call 'Biblical times'.
I mean even in 'modern' times, 1677 was smack dab in the middle of King Philip's
War on the dispensable folk who were here
first and four years prior to William Penn receiving from the King a
charter for to create Pennsylvania in his name.
In Chur they built hotels that hosted Kings. And eventually,
us.
Saying the United States of America and everything that's
gone on to mean wasn't even a gleam in the Enlightenment's eye is rank understatement.
As a true blue separation of church and state kinda guy, I
recall being struck that religious iconography was routine on the everyday public square. Previously, I'd seen stuff like this only in werewolf movies and
the like.
Today it wouldn't surprise me in Texas.
In any event, this still strikes me as quite the ways to go,
just to go to church…
A week after returning home, I got my eyes on the giant pile
of finished film. That's when I first felt with justified conviction, I can do this.
Now I'm reminded that despite those peers who scoffed, it really was possible to shoot 4x5 trans in the
field at a success rate of better than 2:1, because I absolutely did.
So take that, incredulous swine of my personally distant past…
And hard as it is now to believe, 35mm film was once a pro
medium.
Hell, National Geographic made its nut from that stuff for
decades on end.
It was only after I learned how much film those guys (they
were mostly guys) burnt through to earn a single placement in the magazine that I
understood why some pro shooters I knew refused to believe me. Seemed axiomatic to them that I couldn't, I'm sure.
Little did they know how hungry the future is and was, even then.
Waste not want not, right?
Speaking of axioms, when the fastest route to the top of the world proves
unpalatable…
…take the train.
I'd hope (but didn't really expect) that today, this view would be much the same:
And to think I used to believe it was only cultures and their construct
that collapsed.
In that same vein, it occurs to me that memorials built to
our honored dead, no matter how noble the human sacrifice at the time, inevitably
end up covered with shit.
All that said, for me the Old World had its charms.
I even got along famously with the natives.
But in the end, it was no place at all like home.
For instance, our tallgrass doesn't also make beer.
Last year I explained why May Day is important to me. You
can read my brief on the day's history here.
This year I thought of just saying I'm cleaning out my closet and taking it easy from there, the Zion triptych was a heavy lift. But
I could make posts like this one through to next year and my photographic
closet would still be full.
Forty plus years of active fieldwork, you end up with all
sorts of stuff. True fact, that.
For instance, I'm still wondering what "Homade"
pizza is, exactly…
So here's a variably pertinent mix of May Day thoughts and images,
there're a whole lot more where these came from.
I'm reminded that after Heather brought the Topcon home from Europe, my first ambition after
I stole it from her was to become a wildlife photographer.
Then history shot me a sideways glance and I've never yet
been able to look away.
That doesn't mean I didn't take the odd wildlife opportunity
when it came…
(Stats are for illustrative purposes only. Your performance may vary.)
When in my teens, I thought/hoped my spirit animal was an
eagle. Who doesn't want to soar, right? As a young adult I believed maybe a wolf, because sometimes I definitely
was.
Now I know it's been a bear all along.
Finishing off the Kingston Plains files confirmed that the
all-time favorite working hours of my life occurred June 10th, 2016 as I furiously
stalked a previously blasted landscape, stunningly revealed as bursting with life.
Thinking back on it, I'm half surprised the Nikon didn't simply burst into flames.
Once upon a time, along the the main drag through Mercer was
a big assed sign next to this fiberglass critter declaring Mercer the "Loon Capital of the World."
Knowing
Wisconsin, invariably we'd snicker.
Giant size fiberglass critters are so WI. You know,
like homade pizza.
Besides, nearly all the loons I've ever seen in real life
were well over the State line in Michigan, where true (if 2nd and 3rd
growth) wilderness resides.
Just sayin'.
My maternal grandfather fought for his adopted America
during WW1. He was at both Verdun and the Argonne. That means he twice survived literal hell on earth, so here I am.
After The Great War ended, they called it "The war to
end all wars."
As is so often the case, they were dead wrong.
Used to be, the world's largest piece of float copper took
pride of place near the entrance of Presque Isle Park, in Marquette.
I captured the clip below on June 2nd 2012, while in the
splendid rotunda of Wisconsin's state capitol building for an art show. I missed the 1st verse,
but if you stick it out you'll see how this individual standing alone for
what's right might just have changed a young girl's life.
At any rate, I bet she's not forgotten…
Of course, that was before then Gov. Walker summarily ended
a long tradition in the People's House and changed the rules so the Capital cops could put a stop
to such nonsense before it began.
How things stand now as regards people's protests is fraught.
And it occurs to me that if you're looking at this on your phone, you'll likely
never spot the flying sheep, amongst all those that sleep.
Lest the present seem too grim, I'll end with a shout out to the indomitable Claire Hintz.
Claire's Elsewhere Farm is far
enough north that it's not really Wisconsin, but rather a Superior world apart.
And should you like a glimpse of what a more locally sustainable
future might look like, including all the hard work and dedication necessary to that
cause, Farmer Claire is up there laboring mightily to help show the rest of us
a better way.
