Author: Scott Shephard

By Scott Shephard

I have been a bit verbose lately. So for those who desire more photos and fewer words, I’ll only say that today I present a pink calla lily which is mostly out of focus. And for more photos from the Como Park Conservatory, where this photo was taken, click here.

Canon 5DIII 1/250s f/3.5 ISO400 100mm

I took more photos of trees while in Maryland last week than anything else, in part because I like  to photograph trees and in part because the trees in Maryland are very different than the trees I see in South Dakota.

In the case of this tree, I photographed it from several angles over two days though this one is a favorite of mine because of the amazing reach of the tree and the deep blue sky.

Canon 5DIII 1/100s f/9.0 ISO100 16mm

My love of art is what eventually lead me to becoming a photographer. A biography about Michelangelo that I read when I was 14 made me want to become a painter. I took oil painting lessons and what I produced was so bad that even my parents wouldn’t display them in our house. Many artists have had to deal with rejection and I guess that builds character. . . Frankly, at that stage in my life, I didn’t know that being good at anything required good coaches/mentors, great patience and thousands of hours of practice.

Later, I picked up a camera and decided that maybe photography was an art I could manage – it demanded a different set of motor skills than a paint brush did. And I continue to practice hard to get better.

So, is the photo in today’s post art? You’ll have to answer that question. I will say that I still love art and when I have the chance to go to one of the world’s best museums – the National Gallery of Art in Washington, DC – I snap it up.

As a candid photographer, I love art museums because watching people interact with art offers many good photo opportunities. I have found that people are so engaged in the art they are looking at that they are oblivious to me and my camera.

In this scene I was actually staging my wife to be in the background but then the man you see walked into the shot. I quietly signaled my wife to step back and captured this statue appearing  to be studying the man, who is lost in a work of art.

Canon 5DIII 1/50s f/2.8 ISO800 35mm

 

I taught Shakespeare’s Macbeth for many years to sophomores in my early days as an English teacher at Watertown Senior High. When i am in or nears woods on evenings like the one pictured here, I can’t help but think of one of Macbeth’s best speeches in the play. As the sun sets on the night he knows his colleague and friend Banquo is to be murdered he says

“Come, seeling night,
Scarf up the tender eye of pitiful day
And with thy bloody and invisible hand
Cancel and tear to pieces that great bond
Which keeps me pale. Light thickens, and the crow
Makes wing to th’ rooky wood.
Good things of day begin to droop and drowse;
Whiles night’s black agents to their preys do rouse.”

I sensed no evil and saw no crows on the beautiful Maryland evening I took this photo. There was just the crunch of leaves, the clicking of the shutter and the sound of very distant traffic on highway 50. It was a great night to be wandering about with a camera and tripod.

(And in case you are wondering about Raitt and Krauss, both sang versions of a song entitled “The Dimming of the Day,” which I think is a kind of sad love song. Lyrically and emotionally it does not fit this photo. But it did give the post its title.”

Canon 5DIII 1/13s f/8.0 ISO250 16mm

Ever since I learned about symbiotic relationships in sophomore biology decades ago, I have been struck by the larger meaning of the concept. I remember learning that parasites live “on” their hosts and sometimes harm or kill them. But organisms like this ivy plant live “with” their hosts and often enhance the lives of both host and guest.

The broader implications about human populations are important considerations. Do we live symbiotically with “mother Earth?” Or are we parasites? Do we live symbiotically with our fellow humans? Or are we parasites? And so on.

Sorry if all of this seems too philosophical today. You could just take this photo at face value: a single focused ivy leaf enjoying early morning sunlight on a beautiful April morning in the Maryland countryside.

Canon 5DIII 1/320s f/2.8 ISO250 100mm

By Scott Shephard

I was “road hunting” on my last morning in the Maryland countryside yesterday. By road hunting I mean that I drive slowly along mostly deserted roads with my camera ready, looking for something worth “shooting.” (In South Dakota, road hunting is a name for one method of hunting pheasants.)

As I turned the car around at a cul de sac, I noticed a dead tree that had been colonized by something that had an interesting texture and color. I put the macro lens on my camera, got out of the car and moved in for a closer look. I took many photos but this is the one I’ll share.

After doing a little research, I’ve learned that this is called “turkey tail” fungus – an apt named for an organism that serves to help in the decay of the dead tree it is attached to. It is slowly eating the tree but it is doing it with great style.

Canon 5DIII 1/60s f/3.5 ISO250 100mm

Here’s the big picture (and yes, that’s our cool silver rental car lurking softly out of focus in the background. But look at the tree, not the car.)

By Scott Shephard

The title of this post was inspired by the famous WWI poem “In Flanders Field” by John McCrae:

“In Flanders Fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.”

There are not crosses nor poppies here and this photo wasn’t taken in Flanders Field. Instead, this a small section of Arlington National Cemetery in Washington, DC. It was overcast and cool when Deb I got there on a late March Sunday morning. But it started raining on our visit and the rain, mixed with a 25 mph gusty winds, made it anything but pleasant to be in this sacred place.

None of that was on my mind when I stopped to take this photo. I had noticed that the bare trees are just starting to show their buds and that the grass is starting to turn green. In a sprawling cemetery filled with so many who died in battle, there is a solemn sadness. But there is also hope. . . .

Canon 5DIII 1/160s f/5.6 ISO800 55mm