Chasing Ice

© 2007, Joan Z. Rough. August 15, 2007, off the coast of Greenland.

It’s November. Halloween is over. Americans spent eighty billion dollars on candy and costumes this Halloween. When it comes to money, what we have spent on the current election is unspeakable. Christmas carols will soon be echoing throughout every mall in every state of the union. The big push will be on to get the biggest and bestest gifts to put under the tree, so that we all can have more things that we want but don’t really need.

There are millions of our fellow citizens still without power, water and food after the visitation of Hurricane/Super Storm Sandy.  Many of them have lost everything and are homeless.  On Tuesday, we will all trek to the polls to vote (I sure hope YOU do), making decisions that will affect how life will unfold during the next four years and beyond.  The big decision we make together as a nation will have consequences one way or another for all of us.  We all need to rethink what we value most.

I will be seventy years old this month.  I am not as concerned about my own welfare as I am for the children of this world and this beautiful blue orb we call home.  I have grandchildren ages nine and twelve, as well as a step-granddaughter who is twenty-four.  I think about how they will fare in the upside-down, topsy-turvy world they will be inheriting from US.  Yes, from you and me.

What will it take for them to reach their seventies as easily as I have? Will our nation be continuously at war, trying to keep peace around the world, while we ignore our own citizens? Today we argue about the issues we have with the economy, unemployment and health care. What about our infrastructure?  There is much of New York City that will need to be rebuilt in order for it to survive the New Normal that Mother Nature has in store.  There are bridges all over our nation that need rebuilding. Our ancient power-grid will not last forever.  Almost every aspect of life will need to change if we are to continue living here on this planet without destroying it and ourselves.

I could write pages filled with the things we need to do in order to keep us all safe and comfortable as we move into an uncertain future.  I could climb on a wooden crate on a street corner and yell and scream about the alarming rate at which glaciers in the far north are melting and that water levels around the world are already rising.  Would you listen if I told you we are running out of fresh water?  That the air we breathe is full of toxins that will eventually bring death and suffering to all of us?

Most of us don’t like to think about those questions. Who wants to consider painful scenarios in which there seems to be little hope. Some say we have no problems. They believe that we can live just as we are. If certain plants or animals become extinct, they won’t notice or care. But fifty-eight percent of us agree that we do have some major problems.  The rest deny that anything is changing and if it is, it certainly isn’t being caused by human activity.

Every November, Charlottesville hosts the Virginia Film Festival.  This is it’s 25th season.  Yesterday, I had the privilege of seeing, Chasing Ice, a film that will be released to the general public in the near future. I urge all of you to see it, the creation of world-renowned photographer, James Balog. In 2007, he founded the Extreme Ice Survey (EIS), a photographic project in which the rate of ice melt is being visually recorded in Greenland, Iceland, Alaska and Montana. Using the art of photography and the known science around global warming, he presents moving, visual proof that the glaciers are melting at a rate so fast, that it is almost unimaginable.

The stunning beauty of this film will take your breath away, as well as raise questions that all of us must consider. Through recognizing the tragedy that we are all participating in, and speaking about it openly, I believe we will find ways to adapt our behaviors in a changing world.

On Winning And Losing

Peony #10, © Joan Z. Rough

Truth is best served by recognizing a viewpoint as only a viewpoint, and refraining from taking that extra step of regarding it as true to the exclusion of all other views.  In other words, all views–even correct views–are best held gently, rather than grasped firmly.  

Andrew Olendzki, Blinded by Views

I first picked up a camera in the early eighties.  Afraid of anything technical, I often asked my  husband to take photos for me. Not interested in people photos or huge, magnificent landscapes, I was drawn to the small miracles that nature had to offer in the shape of a lily or a rose.  After being told how easy it would be for me to learn how to use a camera, I took a few workshops and was hooked.

I had a background in painting and was slowly growing weary of the weaving, spinning and natural dying I’d been involved in for years.  I became fascinated by microscopic views of everything, from the powdery wings of a dead butterfly to the patterns found in rock formations.  But most of all I was drawn to flowers.  The closer I could get, the more abstract my photos became. Encouraged by family, friends and other artists, I put together a body of work. To see what would happen, I entered ten of my images into the Virginia Commission for the Arts 1989 Prize for the Visual Arts, in the category of photography.

Day lily #20, © Joan Z. Rough

In the meantime, I had recently moved to Charlottesville in 1985, which has always been a mecca for artists of every ilk, from writers, to painters, and theatre people.  In this town there is a festival for almost every genre of art.  In November we have the Virginia Film Festival, in March there is the Festival of the Book, and in May, the folks who put together the LOOK3 Festival of the Photograph, hang the work of photographers from all over the country in local galleries and outdoors, in the trees on the Downtown Mall.

As a newbie in town I went about trying to become a part of the art community.  I am an introvert and it was difficult. Afraid of my own shadow, I’d grit my teeth and go to various gatherings to meet other artists and to see what was happening. I was shy and when I opened my mouth to speak, the words often spilled out in a garble of nonsense that even I couldn’t understand.  I felt that my work was unworthy and that I had little to offer the community. Rather than push myself forward I kept myself in the shadows, being grateful for any bit of encouragement.

One evening at a gallery opening, I met an elderly man known locally for his close-up photography of insects and plants.  We started talking and he invited Bill and I to his home to see his work.  I brought some of my own images along to see if he could give me some feedback. He and his wife were friendly enough, serving us a bold red wine and a few nibbles.  They lived in a lovely home tucked into the woods and I felt that I had finally made a friend.  He showed us his Cibachrome prints, all beautiful. There was a shot of a honeybee gathering pollen, close-ups of a variety of beetles and images of flowers. All were perfect specimen shots, ideal for a coffee-table book about the garden or as illustrations in a guide to insects.  He also proudly showed us his massive collection of romance novels that he had written under a pen name.

When he asked to see my work, I brought out a dozen or so glossy cibachromes of my flower studies, so very close-up that you might not realize they were flowers. Similar in perspective to Georgia O’keeffe’s paintings, some viewers described them as resembling water colors.  There were blurry areas and sharply focused lines of the edge of a flower petal or the inner landscape of a daylily surrounded by a pool of pure, sensual color. The first words out of his mouth were, “These are not photographs. They are an abomination.”

As I remember, the conversation went down hill from there and quickly downing the remains of my wine we made a hasty exit.  Although I was somewhat used to rejections of my work as a weaver and fiber artist, I had never had anyone make a comment about my work before in that tone or in those words.  All of the people who had critiqued my visual work in the past had given me constructive suggestions and ideas on how to make my work better.  This man brought to mind my father who would often berate me for not following directions or listening to how things are to be done. This was the first time I had ever been trashed by a stranger. I was devastated, in tears and ready to roll a huge boulder to the entrance of my cave where I would hide and never come out into the light of day again.

Iris #24, © Joan Z. Rough

It took me a while to lick my oozing wound and to bring about some healing. But a few weeks later, a letter arrived from the Virginia Commission for the Arts, saying that I had been given an Honorary Mention for the 1989 Virginia Prize for Photography, by Edward Sherman, of the well-known Benin Gallery, in New York City.

Everything changed.  I went on to become a member at the McGuffey Art Center, here in Charlottesville and those photos, along with other bodies of my work,  went on to be shown individually and in one-person exhibitions in museums and galleries across the country.  And it wasn’t too many months before the phone rang, and the wife of the old guy who had trashed my work, asked me for my advise on getting her husband’s work to the attention of people outside of the community.

Despite occasionally feeling unworthy of being an artist and a writer, I’ve worked hard at not letting the views of others take me down. They are only opinions after all and if I let that happen, I would lose my very being. It’s been a hard lesson, but one of the most crucial if I am to do the work my heart brings to me.

How do you handle criticism and the views of others?  Have you ever been in a similar situation?

My Week On Retreat

Iphone camera with wide-angle lens.

What was it that I said last Monday?  Something about a retreat?  Well, in some ways it has been like that and in other ways it hasn’t.

It’s been a busy few days, that’s for sure.  There hasn’t been any lolling around.  I’ve been busy every minute.  At the moment I’m sick.  When Bill went off to New York he took his blasted cold with him.  I thought I was safe.  Hah!!  I took care of myself, took Chinese herbs, got plenty of sleep and ate healthy foods.  I was feeling great until yesterday morning when I woke up with a head that felt like it was filled with concrete.  My nose dripped like a faucet that hasn’t been properly shut off and I have not one scrap of energy.

I didn’t go to yoga. But with an ice storm on its way, I did hurry to the grocery to stock up the pantry.  I bought fruit, deli quinoa salad, greens.  Two small almond cookies went home with me. But I turned my back on the dark chocolate and those almond croissants I adore. I’m suffering now.

Iphone camera with telephoto. Don't like what's happened in the corners. Something to figure out.

Besides doing some writing, I’ve mostly been going through one of the boxes of old journals I’ve kept.  It’s been interesting and is helping me to get life events in order for my memoir writing.  Many of my entries are boring lists of what I was doing from day-to-day.  But there is meaty material as well. I’m so glad I didn’t burn those ratty looking notebooks. I threatened I do just that during the last move.  But Lisa, my daughter, came to their rescue, saying, “Don’t you dare.”  So their lives were spared.

Iphone camera with macro lens.

Just last week I discovered a range of inexpensive lenses made for the Iphone camera. (I think they’ll fit most cell phones.) They came yesterday and this morning I’ve had fun, trying them all out.  There is a macro/wide-angle lens, a fish-eye and a telephoto lens as well.  The instructions say to place the small, magnetic metal ring (provided) around the lens on the phone.  It has an adhesive on one side that is supposed to keep it stuck to the phone. But it didn’t stick to the glass the Iphone is made of and came off with the lens I was using every time I wanted to change it.  So I stuck it on the phone case instead and that did the trick.  You simply place the lens on the ring and it is held in place by the magnet. What fun!!

I have been head-over-heals in love with my Iphone camera.  It is amazingly as good as the fancy Mamiya I used for my work in fine art photography.  The only problem is stability and when you get to be my age and have a bit of a tremor, it’s a problem.  But with practice I’m hoping that will improve.  I’m very excited since I still love to do some photography but am well past wanting to lug around a tripod and a bag filled with heavy, expensive lenses. I can tuck these cute, tiny things in a pocket or my purse and be prepared to capture an interesting moment that I might want to use on this blog.

Iphone camera with fish-eye lens.

All in all this has been a great mini-retreat.  I’ve enjoyed everything but being sick. And a few days after Bill left, I remembered that I had to do his chores as well as my own.  I’d forgotten to clean out the litter pans and with three cats choosing to use the same pan, even when there is one for each one of them, it gets problematic if you forget.

Another problem is that there are only a given number of hours in each day.  I must have dreamed that when you are on retreat you get a few extra hours each day.

More Macro work.