“If that’s art, I’m a Hottentot”

A quiet stretch, Taughannock Falls SP, NY

My friend (and I sincerely mean that) over at The Landscapist has been keeping me mildly entertained the last couple of days.  First, he offered up a quote  from Ralph Waldo Emerson that I guess is an explanation of sorts for the rather edgy photograph that goes with it.  If you know Mark, you know that he’s just being himself and advertising his particular brand of photography.  Can’t fault him for that.  It’s just the way he views the world.  For Mark, “ugly” is simply part of a well – balanced visual diet.

Soon after that, he posted some more images from his visit to Taughannock.  In this post, he says:

Once I had achieved my Saturday, November 14th objective of picturing Taughannock Falls, I began picturing what really piqued my picturing interest at this location – the narrow strip of land between the trail to the falls with the river/stream that flowed from the falls to the lake and the opposite gorge/chasm wall as a backdrop.

I found it interesting that, while people were picturing up a storm at the falls, nary a camera was in sight or in use along the 3/4 mile trail to and from the falls.

I have to say that I found this highly amusing.  He’s saying – once again – that while the “pretty picture crowd” was busily snapping away up by those iconic waterfalls, he was looking for the “real” stuff, the stuff that everybody else ignores.  Those places where “reality” hides. 

Wrong.  Each time I’ve visited Taughannock, I’ve walked down the path to the falls.  And each and every time there were people making photographs in that area between the path and the stream that Mark is talking about.  In fact, if you wanted to find someone with a “serious” camera and tripod, that would be the place to look.  They might also go to the base of the falls, but most of the people at that location are toting point – and – shoots or just cellphone cameras.  These folks are taking pictures to show that they were there.  That’s all.  They could care less about reality or art.  Now, maybe these were the only people around when Mark visited.  I don’t know.  But believe me, Mark isn’t the only one who thinks that there is potentially good subject matter away from the main attraction. 

Today’s image was taken in the same general area.  I always explore this area, as well as the paths above the main falls.  You can spend a lot of time here.  But to be perfectly honest, I’m not real crazy about any of the images I’ve gotten in this particular spot.  Why?  Because to me they tend to lack energy.  They’re not bad, I guess; they’re just kind of static.  I could have come back an hour later and taken pretty much the same picture.  To be sure, it will look different this winter and much different next spring, but for a fall day, this is pretty typical.  It’s a mediocre photograph.  And so is Mark’s.

So is it ”art”?  For me, no.  And the one above is my own.  I am extremely reluctant to label any of my own work “art” (that’s for someone else to judge),  but I have no problem saying that an image of mine doesn’t qualify.  If there is no energy, then it’s just a two dimensional representation of what was in front of me.

And what, exactly, do I mean by “energy”?  Now that’s a good question.

The quote at the top, by the way, is from Harry S. Truman.  I have no idea what he was referring to…….

Stay on the Path, Please

At the base of Taughannock Falls

I think this is one of the places that I could spend a lifetime exploring.   Or maybe just sitting and watching the falls.  Like the guy sitting on the fallen tree in the lower right (with his dog).  If nothing else, he provides scale for the size of this waterfall.  I thanked him for it, too, and then mentioned that he was sitting in an “off-limits” area.  I don’t think he cared.   Certainly the dog didn’t care – he thought it was a great place to swim.

Photographically, that’s the problem with some of these places.  There are signs all over the place telling you where you can’t go.  And it always seems that those are the exact spots you’d like to be to set up your tripod.  You think that if you could just get up on that ledge up there you’d have the perfect perspective, the perfect angle.  So what if it’s a bit dangerous?  It’s a “bit dangerous” to stand on the edge of the Grand Canyon, but nobody stops you from doing that.  So why do I have to “stay on the path” here? 

I was once wandering around Letchworth SP, close to a short wall (about a foot and a half tall) above the gorge.  The wall itself was roughly 25 feet from the edge.  To get a better angle, I set the tripod on the wall and straddled the wall with my feet.  Before you could say “watch the birdie”, a park ranger appeared out of nowhere and asked me to step back.  Again, if it’s OK for me to stand on the very edge of one of the world’s deepest canyons, why in the hell can’t I stand 25 feet from the edge of the Genesee River gorge?

Well, that’s New York state for you.  Lots of taxes, lots of snow, and lots of silly rules.

The Devil’s Kitchen

Devil's Kitchen, Robert Treman SP, NY

You just have to love the names in places like this.   Lucifer Falls.  Devil’s Kitchen.

You find the same kind of thing, of course, in national parks - 

Towers of the Virgin.  Court of the Patriarchs.  The Temple of Sinawava.  The Great White Throne.  The Altar of Sacrifice.  The Watchman.  All of these from my favorite spot in the universe (so far):  Zion NP.  Other places have their own  interesting iconic labels.  Some names you find used again and again, like “Devil’s Kitchen”.

I’m not sure why this spot was named as it was, but I can guess.  It’s kind of a strange spot in what’s more widely known as Enfield Glen.  While the wall and the bridge are clearly manmade, the rest was done by nature.  And that’s kind of hard to believe when you’re standing there looking at it.  Many of the stone formations in and around the stream have been cut at nearly perfect right angles.  Just beyond the bridge, in fact, the stream makes a left turn that you’d swear was constructed by engineers.  I don’t know if anyone has ever measured it, but it sure looks like a perfect 90 degree turn.  Who knew Mother Nature could be so precise?  Or maybe the devil did it just to make idiots like me scratch my head in wonder.

Who says the guy doesn’t have a sense of humor?

Impressive, but…..

Lucifer Falls, Robert Treman SP, NY

Oscar Wilde, the famous 19th century Irish playwright, once said about Niagara Falls -

“It would be more impressive if it flowed the other way”.

Almost sounds like Mr. Wilde wasn’t terribly impressed with Niagara.  If not, he probably wouldn’t have given Lucifer Falls here a second glance.  Typical European.  Always putting down what we have over here in the colonies. 

Table for One

Waterfall, Stony Brook SP, NY

One of the great things about being out of the rat race – even if it’s not completely voluntary – is that you can choose to eat lunch whenever and wherever you want.  In this case, sitting on a large flat rock in the middle of a stream while listening to the soothing sounds of a waterfall seemed to be a fine idea.  I just left the camera on the tripod, pulled a sandwich from my backpack, and enjoyed the ambiance.  I didn’t even have to leave a tip.

Just Passing Through

Narrowing Stream, Stony Brook SP, NY

Peanut Brittle.  That’s all I can think of.  The rock in these parks looks and acts a lot like the peanut brittle that my mother used to buy (do they still sell it?).  It breaks and sheers just like I remember the candy breaking – usually along straight lines in fairly large chunks. 

Of course with the rock it happens a bit slower.  The flowing water undercuts it and eventually some piece will break off just because of its own weight.  Water and gravity - works every time.  Sometimes you’ll be walking along and you’ll see a chunk of it halfway up a cliff wall or even lying on the edge of the stream bed and swear that it wasn’t there the last time you passed through.  Perpetual erosion.  In a few hundred thousand years, give or take a few, this whole area will probably be flatter than the proverbial pancake.  Or maybe it’ll all be under water.  Who knows.

More to the point, will there be anybody around to photograph it?

Diagonally Inclined

Leaves, Stony Brook SP, NY

Photographically, I’m beginning to think I might be a one-trick pony.  In a way, we probably all are.  Even when the subject matter changes, most of us seem to repeat certain themes.

Like diagonal lines, for example.  In this image, there are diagonals all over the place, both “real” and implied.  Heck, you don’t have to look very hard to find a few triangles.  Based on this, I must not be terribly fond of right angles.

So I did a quick check of some older images.  I don’t know about you, but I use the Lightroom catalog to keep things organized.  Most of the photographs there are ranked with stars – 1 or 2 stars means “not very good”, 3 means “OK”, and 4 or 5 stars means “above average” or “very good”.  In case you’re wondering, I have very few 4’s and 5’s out of about 10,000 images in that database.  Most are 2’s and 3’s.  I am, as they say, my own worst critic.

Anyway, I looked at quite a few photographs ranked 3 or higher.  I was surprised to discover that a very high percentage of these images contained strong diagonal lines.  The only ones having a high rank but no diagonals seemed to feature either unusual light or unusual (for me) subject matter.

So is this “discovery” a good thing?  I don’t know.  Maybe not.  Does it mean that I’ll now be consciously looking for diagonals?  That I’ll purposely avoid compositions that don’t contain them?  Or maybe I’ll do exactly the opposite, just to demonstrate that it’s not the only thing I look for.

Oh, one more thing: my wife and I once visited a house that contained not even a single right angle.  Not one.  Not on the  inside and not on the outside.  As I recall, I loved the place.  Go figure.

Climb the Stairs

Bridge, Stony Brook SP, NY

Much of the infrastructure in New York’s state parks – like this staircase and bridge – was constructed during the depression of the 1930’s.  It was, of course, an effort to create jobs for the unemployed.  Whether it worked or not is still something that is being debated today.

It’s interesting (to me, anyway) that as you walk through places like this today you can see evidence of “fresh” repair work on trails and stairs and bridges.  More than you would have seen in previous years.  I suppose that some of the stimulus money given to the states is finding its way to these kinds of projects.  If that’s the case, I’m glad.  It won’t be a game-changer with respect to getting the economy healthy again, but it can’t hurt either.

It’s also not a bad idea to make some of these trails safer.  In places like Stony Brook, some trails are wet most of the time (those near the water).  They also seem to have this perpetual layer of “slime” on them.  Put a coating of freshly fallen leaves over that, and you have multiple opportunities for slips and falls.  If there also happens to be loose stones or cement underneath, especially on the stairs, it’s even more problematic.  So it’s nice to see some of this repair work being done.  I certainly appreciate it.

Like a Hot Knife Through Soft Butter

Slicing through shale, Stony Brook SP, NY

I have to say that fall is my favorite time of year.  Especially in this part of the world (south of Rochester, that is).  Not only is there abundant color, but most of the state parks are essentially empty.  They’ve even stopped collecting money to get in, at least on weekdays.  So except for a few other old geezers, the place is yours.  You can ever wander well off the trail – as I did here – and position your tripod anywhere you like.  Even in the middle of the stream.  There aren’t any park rangers to scold you for doing something “dangerous”.

Yesterday was warm, cloudy, and still.  A perfect time to visit Stony Brook.  Like Watkins Glen, Stony Brook is all shale.  Layers and layers of soft sediment that the water eats through very quickly (with respect to geologic time).  At this time of year, with all the fallen leaves, the place has a smell that can only be described as “earthy”. 

I can think of no better way to spend a lazy fall afternoon.

Classroom in a Gorge

Dry Gorge, Taughannock SP, NY

There are many ways to learn about the world around us.  Some ways are obviously better than others, like actually being in the evironment that you’re trying to understand (or trying to get others to understand).  If you want students to understand what happened at Gettysburg during the Civil War, what better way than to actually have them stand on Little Round Top or where Pickett’s troops actually lined up for their ill-fated charge?  Ought to work, right?  The only thing that might be more effective is to put real guns in their hands - with live ammunition – and make them actually “live” the experience.  That approach, of course, has some serious drawbacks.

Seriously, I’ve always thought that “hands on” learning was the right way to do it.  So I wasn’t surprised to run into this high school class in Taughannock gorge last week.  Because it’s been fairly dry around here for a couple of months, the gorge below the main falls is almost empty.  You can nearly walk from the mouth of Taughannock Creek (on Cayuga Lake) all the way to the base of Taughannock Falls.  And it’s a hell of an interesting walk.

I was also not terribly surprised that most of these kids weren’t all that interested in the geology around them.  I lingered near the group for a while, trying to hear what was going on.  Unfortunately, most of them seemed to be treating the outing as an opportunity for socializing.  Only a few appeared to be truly interested in what the instructors were telling them.  In all honesty, if I were that age again I’m not sure which group I would have been in.  When you’re that young, there are things going on in your life that are far more important than how this gorge came into existence.  Like interacting with the opposite sex and figuring out how you’re going to get your driver’s license.  You know, important stuff.

Sadly, you usually have to be a lot older to develop an interest in rocks and water.  And it doesn’t hurt if you also happen to be interested in photography.  If you spend a lot of time using a camera, it seems logical that you are also curious about the things you point it at.  Although I suppose there are, in fact, “older” people who wander around these places without wondering about the forces that created them.  People who are simply interested in capturing dramatic images of waterfalls and colorful October foliage.  But I’ve always wondered how they could be so lacking in simple curiosity. 

Take this place, for example.  The first time I ever saw it I realized that it was different from the parks around it.  As I’ve mentioned before, Taughannock Falls is the highest free-falling waterfall in the northeastern U. S.  At 215 feet, it’s about 30 feet taller than Niagara.  There are, in fact, only a few waterfalls east of the Rockies that are taller than this one.

Well, so what?  Why is that unusual?  It’s unusual for this reason:  If you visit any of the other neighboring parks – like Watkins Glen or Robert Treman or Stony Brook or even Letchworth – you’ll find lots of waterfalls, but none like Taughannock Falls.  Most of the falls in these other parks are “stair step” waterfalls.  If you could walk upstream, it would be like walking up a staircase. 

There are no other waterfalls in the area that look like Taughannock.  Taughannock is unique.  There are other waterfalls on Taughannock Creek, but they are not very close to one another, as they are in other nearby parks.  One of the clues as to why this is can be found in this image of the gorge bottom.  You’re looking at limestone formations, which are much harder than the surrounding shale formations.  What makes this relatively small area unique is that the shale formations along this stream are much more homogenous than in other areas.  Over time, Taughannock Creek cut through about 400 feet of this shale, not stopping until it reached the limestone, upon which these students are standing.

And where did all that eroded shale go?  Into Cayuga Lake, of course.  A good chunk of the park - picnic areas, beach, and marina – sits on what is now a broad delta formed by sediment carried downstream by Taughannock Creek.

I’m sure all of this will be on an upcoming exam that the students shown here will have to take.  I hope they were paying attention.  Yeah, right.