Creek, fallen tree, fog, Catskill Mountains.

Now that summer is over and autumn color is nearly gone, we begin to transition to the quiet bare tree days before winter comes. Although I love all of our seasons here in the northeast, I particularly like this short inter-seasonal period when nature slows down and starts to rest. Despite some unusual weather including hurricanes, I can feel a peaceful change coming over the landscape. I wrote about this in my last post Birch grove, Kaaterskill Clove. This is the time of brown earth, evergreens, and silver blue skies. A special gift nature also brings is fog. I made the accompanying photograph Creek, fallen tree, fog on December 18, 2012 in the forest behind my studio. It was late in the afternoon when fog rolled in so thick that I couldn’t resist being out in it. I loaded up my 8×10 camera and stepped into the woods. The fog also acts like a blanket helping deaden sound. There was no traffic noise, no wind. Not even a bird chirping. I made several pictures in a deep white pine forest before I came to the creek. The perfect spot to photograph revealed itself instantly. The winding creek flows past this beautiful remnant of a once huge pine now quietly returning to the earth. Just beyond, the forest opens out to a marsh and what feels like infinity. The entire time I was out there I never heard a sound. I look forward now to the rest of November and December for days like these. They are truly a gift.     www.thomasteich.com 

A cold and blustery day with a beautiful surprise in the Catskill Mountains.

 

This scene was photographed directly below a sheer cliff high on the northwestern wall of the Kaaterskill Clove. A major canyon (or clove in Dutch parlance), the clove has been a scource of dramatic inspiration for artists since Thomas Cole. On this chilly winter day my plan was to hike to the cliff-top crownin the high Clove wall, for a pre-winter panoramic view of the clo e and Hudson valley below. I especially enjoy the dry, bare-tree days between autumn leaves and early snow. 


It is a somber and elemental time when the earth is laid bare before us. Skeletal tree structures, exposed cliffs and dark silver skies, the earth laying down to rest. I chose to get to the top by the most difficult but most scenic route. Years before, climbing these same cliffs, I had discovered a faint path leading to this spot from the main trail below, a challenging short cut. The climb to this point is extremely steep and difficult, made worse by scrambling over the broken rock scree ejected from the cliffs above. I was quite warm due to the exertion necessary to ferry my 8x10 camera to this spot. I stopped to rest and drink water at the base of the cliff before attempting to climb further. Sitting on a small boulder, I looked out at the valley and beheld a wonderful, unexpected scene. The southern wall of the clove, the valley below and the distant silvery Hudson River, all framed through a magnificent weather-tortured grove of wild birch trees! A scene worthy of Cole or Durand or any of the 19th century Hudson River School artists. I quickly abandoned my plans for the cliff above and went to work on this image: a perfect window on the Catskills. Once my camera was in place, as usual, the wind spirit noticed me. Nature is always motionless until the moment of exposure. Then everything changes. Gusts of freezing wind now shook me and bent the trees at regular intervals.

Using large-format cameras generally requires long exposures, even in bright daylight. This cool, diffused silver light was no exception. I spent the afternoon never leaving this spot; exposing only two sheets of film over 3 hours. Finally, hoping for the best, but willing to accept defeat, I packed and left for home, driven down into the valley by cold and hunger. But the resulting image worked for me;

the cold dark recesses of the clove, the birch trees like lightning bolts emanating from the ground, and that somber winter sky all expressed perfectly what I felt on that beautiful cold day.