frozen – Journeys of a Hybrid

It’s been a very full year for me. I mean that in every sense of the word full – full of new experiences, full of hope, full of achievements – but also full of my share of rejections and disappointments. I’ve shared a lot of these experiences through this blog.

There have been times I haven’t written in a while because I didn’t feel like I’ve had anything worthwhile to say. And there have been times when I did write but I probably shouldn’t have because it wasn’t worth reading. I always told myself that when I didn’t feel like writing in my blog, that I just wouldn’t do it. So if there are long periods of time when I haven’t posted a new entry – it’s because for whatever reason, the desire may not be there. I have always appreciated the comments and feedback.

Here are the top 5 posts as far as number of hits:

My DSLR Kit for a Three-Month Road Trip

Gearing Up With HD DSLR’s

Standing on a 10-Foot Frozen Wave

Putting Together a DSLR Video Kit – and Why

Cultural Context and Photography

As you can see, the blogs about DSLR (for video) gear is where the interest was. But I’d have to say that out of those 5 posts, “Standing on a 10 Foot Frozen Wave” was my favorite. For me, it’s all about the story. And as Orson Welles once said “If you want a happy ending, it depends on where you stop the story”.

Happy New Year everyone.

Yesterday I stood on top of a 10 foot frozen wave looking out over the vast icy seascape of Lake Superior. I was shooting footage of this endless field of frozen waves as the setting sun turned them every shade of blue, purple and orange. It was quiet – incredibly quiet – no car or airplane noise, no voices, and no sound of splashing water, not even the sound of a bird. The audiometers on my camera barely registered a blip and yet there was audio. Even dead silence has a sound.

I’ve been on the Upper Peninsula in the far northern reaches of Michigan, shooting footage for a family biography that I’m working on. I had recorded interviews with my mother’s siblings this past summer while attending a family reunion and I had been planning on returning to capture some winter footage to illustrate the stories they told during the interviews. My mother, her siblings and her parents grew up in northern Michigan during the Depression, farming, lumbering, and fishing – pretty much doing whatever they could to survive. Times were hard and living in such a remote, harsh climate didn’t make it any easier. Everyone did what he or she had to do.

While I’ve been in the UP, I’ve met a lot of people who are doing all types of things to survive during this lousy economy. Most I’ve met have several part time jobs. A couple of times I stopped to eat at a restaurant, there would be one woman tending the bar, waiting on tables and cooking the food. Because of it’s geographic location and its sparse population, the Upper Peninsula is kind of like a frontier and the people who live here, have the spirit to go with it.

As I stood on the top of this frozen wave in absolute silence I contemplated resiliency of the human spirit in the context of my own world. Certainly my business has changed – due to technology and the lousy economy. Because of technology, I am able to do more things than I could ten years ago. Because of the poor economy, I’ve had to do more things. Most other photographers I have talked to this past year have diversified their businesses – some shooting weddings, some shooting video and some working in other retail markets. I suppose we’re all just doing what we can to get through these changing times.

So I looked out over the endless view of frozen waves and into the orange glow of the setting sun. For an instant I became fearful of where I was when I looked behind me and saw a deep crevice that I could easily fall into if I lost my footing. But then I looked ahead to the orange glow on the horizon and I felt hope and with that a sense of security because I knew where I came from and I have the heart and spirit to survive.