Rolling in

A summer thunderstorm rolls in over Green Bay. Taken in Fish Creek, Door county, Wisconsin.

I've been keeping busy (very busy) processing images from several recent shoots, so posts here have been sporadic. Sorry about that. But there is light at the end of the tunnel, so things should pick up here in the near future.

Thanks for hanging out here and following my occasionally excellent adventures. There is lots more to come.

Photograph © 2010 James Jordan.

Flame on!

The fish boil is a Door County tradition that, depending on whom you ask, was either brought to Wisconsin from the "old country" or originated right there on the Door peninsula a century and a half earlier. The premise is simple -- potatoes, onions, salt and chunks of Lake Michigan whitefish are introduced at specific times to a large pot of boiling water over an open fire. The finale is the boilover, when the fire is doused with kerosene, which causes the water to boil over the sides of the pot, which simultaneously removes the accumulated fish oils and douses the fire. Time to eat.



A good boilmaster is equal parts cook, thermodynamics engineer, showman, interpretive guide and pyromaniac. Such a person works the fire pot at Pelletier's Restaurant in Fish Creek, Wisconsin. Seven times a day, seven days a week for 26 weeks of the year, Matt Peterson, a third generation boilmaster, stokes the fire, engages the crowd, times the addition of ingredients to the pot, and poses for pictures. Together, we estimated that Matt's image is snapped about 5,ooo times in a given week, possibly giving him the edge over the goats on the grass roof of Al Johnson's restaurant in Sister Bay. Not a bad way to make a living.

I happened upon the 8:00 p.m. fish boil at Pelletier's, the last of the day. Matt confided to the crowd that the day's finale gets an extra charge -- double the dose of kerosene. (You'll note in the photographs below that everyone is standing well behind the chain fencing -- everyone, that is, except for a certain photographer who had poked his head under the chain to get those shots.)

This was a single-pot finale. During the busier dinner hours, Matt will have two pots going at once. He explained that in a two-pot scenario, the first pot gets a regular dose of fuel while the second gets a double dose. He tried to explain to me the dynamics of the timing and sizes of the charges to ensure proper consistency between the food in the two pots. I wasn't buying it. It was mainly to provide a better show for the patrons, wasn't it?

"Just between you and me, yes," he admitted.

I staked myself out in a corner of the chained-off boil area to wait for the conflagration. Two things I ignored -- the scorch marks on the ground and the singed shrubbery behind me -- should have told me that I was going to be pretty close to the action. I also used a very wide angle lens to frame the shot. It would catch the fireball and crowd reaction nicely, but it would also make objects in the viewfinder closer than they appeared. I set my camera to fire five frames a second, set the focus and exposure to manual so the fireball would not throw either setting off and waited for the blast.







The blast came and I felt warm. Very warm. In the second shot of the sequence above, it appears as if Matt is looking my way to assess the extent of the restaurant's liability at setting a photographer on fire. The third shot of the sequence shows Matt disregarding me in favor of getting out of Dodge himself.

After examining my arms and finding no singed hairs, I met up with my wife, who for some reason doesn't share my love of exploding pots of fish, and headed over to Sunset Park to catch the sunset and its watchers.

Photographs © 2010 James Jordan.

Sunset in the park

Sunset is a spectator sport in Door County, Wisconsin. The harbors, parks and marinas on the western edge of the peninsula begin to fill with people about a half hour or so before sunset. They come to watch, reflect and photograph while the sun dips below the horizon. I come to watch the people watching the sunset.

Fish Creek, Wisconsin is home to the aptly-named Sunset Park, a clearing on the west end of town on the shore of Green Bay. It seems like I always come away with an interesting picture whenever I visit. This time was no exception.

I spotted the couple on the park bench and noted the folks in the distance sitting on a low retaining wall on a short bluff. The picture pretty much composed itself. I liked the shadows cast by the low-angled sunlight. I set myself up about three feet behind the bench and made several exposures to be sure I had all the elements -- sky, sun, bench, foreground -- properly exposed at least once, with plans to assemble the final image later in Photoshop.

Then I left the sunset watchers to finish out their day.

Photograph © 2010 James Jordan.

Aaaaaand ... I'm back!

Spent some time in the northern parts of Wisconsin last week. Started by photographing a family on a Lake Michigan beach and ended with a few days in Door County. Experienced every type of weather Wisconsin can throw at you in July -- fog, heat, humidity, storms, sun, clouds, rain. Great for pictures.

This is the Sturgeon Bay North Pier Lighthouse, which I've photographed many times. This time, it was socked in by pea-soup fog. The lineup of seagulls on the overhead catwalk seemed to imply that air traffic control had imposed a ground stop on all flights around the lighthouse, save for one intrepid gull launching himself into the great unknown.

More pictures and stories to come.

Photograph © 2010 James Jordan.

Balancing Trio

They've got nice rocks in Door County, Wisconsin. I balanced a few whilst waiting to see what a storm over Green Bay would do. At this point, it had stalled and was breaking apart.

It's been a while since I did any rock balancing. Good to see that I still had the touch. The stormy backdrop was nice.

Oh, and the pressure was on for this piece of ephemeral art. A trolley full of tourists had arrived at the location and were watching me work. Got a couple of oohs and ahhs when I got the center formation balanced.

Thankyouverahmuch. I'm here all week.

Photograph © 2010 James Jordan

A millium trilliums ...

... are blooming. A patient plant, trilliums can take up to eight years to go from seed to blossoming plant. Ants disperse the seeds while in search of food and the cycle starts all over again.

With the right combination of moisture, shade and isolation, trilliums can create a beautiful green and white carpet across the woodland floor.

Photograph © 2010 James Jordan.

Buoys and gulls

Saw plenty of both last weekend in Door County, Wisconsin. These two both had a nice blue background.

Photographs © 2010 James Jordan.

Wind-assisted photography

After the storm system plowed through the middle of the U.S. last weekend, the wind kicked up, at least in the northern parts of the Midwest. Seeing that I was in Door County, Wisconsin, and seeing that spring wildflowers had bloomed and seing that I wanted to get some photos of them while I was there, I had no choice other than to try to do so in the stiff breezes that raked the peninsula.



Focusing in close quarters is tough enough when the subject is still. When the subject appears to be riding a breezy bucking bronco, it can be nearly impossible. But for reasons that I'm still trying to figure out, these two photos -- a trillium and tulips -- have a nifty sense of motion about them despite my best efforts to freeze them in place.

Photographs © 2010 James Jordan.

Cana Island twilight

Another day comes to an end in Door County, Wisconsin. Another night settles in. Another lighting of the lighthouse light. Another winter passing, another spring on its way.

Ironically, the sameness of every passing day provides cover for change to creep in. Little by little, imperceptively, patiently, change squeezes in between the seemingly immutable objects and routines that surround us and settles into place.

Life is funny like that.

Photograph © 2010 James Jordan.

Framed

A long time ago, when I was a fledgling graphic designer and commercial illustrator, I landed a gig creating renderings of home designs for a local builder. Looking over the first set of rough drawings, the client said the houses looked good enough, but "you need to find a way to frame the subject to keep the viewer's eye from wandering off the page." We eventually settled on adding strategically placed tree limbs and other landscaping here and there to do the trick.

Taking a long walk on a long pier to get close to the Sturgeon Bay Canal lighthouse, I noticed the meandering overhead catwalk wrapped itself around the edges of the frame in an M.C. Escher-like configuration. Looked good to me. Plus, the Red Rule was calling.

I nestled the lighthouse just right of center -- I often try to imagine diagonal lines crossing the frame from the corners. I'll either place the subject along one of those diagonals, or put them in one of the four "V's" formed by the crossing lines. It's kind of a mashup of the rule of thirds and the golden mean. Weird but it works.

I finished it up with some High-pass post processing, which simultaneously increases and decreases contrast. Weird but it works, too. I'll explain it further sometime when I fully figure it out.

Until then , have a great weekend.

Photograph © 2010 James Jordan.

Going with the floe

While waiting for the sun to set recently in Door County, Wisconsin, I had lots of time to sit and watch the remains of winter's snow and ice slowly fade away. Some of it, like the ice floes above, crept slowly out of the harbor near Sister Bay on their way to the open expanse of Green Bay to eventually become one with the waters there.

The remnants of formerly sizeable ice chunks glimmered in the late afternoon sunlight.



Others played with the sun, returning a thousand points of light.



Here in the Midwest US of A, spring is a battle of the skies. Advancing warm air masses from the south seek supremacy over the cold air of the north -- a civil war that goes back and forth for several weeks until the northern air mass retreats. We've had a taste of spring, but for the next couple of days, the North will again hold this region. But the South will rise again and make a new assault on the occupation forces and will ultimately prevail.

But in the meantime, dang, it's cold.

Photographs © 2010 James Jordan.

Firmaments

This is a worm's eye view of the moonrise -- if you're a worm in a boat on the shore of Lake Michigan, anyway. A nice combination of elements -- the earth, water, sky and the realms beyond.

The technique is pretty simple. Stand on a slippery rock and hold an expensive piece of electronic and optical equipment an inch off the surface of the water. Point it in the general direction of your subject. Click, chimp the image on the LCD and try again until satisfied with the image.

While I'm usually a fan of level horizon lines, this seemed tilted enough to look like it was done on purpose for effect. Yeah, that's it. It had nothing to do with the fact that I was nearly standing on my head and barely able to stay on the rock I was on with all that blood rushing to my head, let alone hold the camera level.

That's the ticket.

Location: Cana Island, Door County, Wisconsin. Photograph © 2010 James Jordan.

The moon moved me so I moved it

Some double exposures of the moon and the goings on around the Sturgeon Bay lighthouse. As I packed up to leave, a couple of gentlemen arrived to do some fishing. I was nearly back to my car when I looked out to see them at work (good work if you can get it) on the pier. I zoomed in on them and got a shot or two, then added the moon in post.



While the telephoto zoom compresses and flattens perspective, I like how the waters on the shore side of the pier are calm while the open water beyond tosses and churns. I also like how one guy chose to anchor his net on the pier. It was pretty windy that night.

Photoshop tip: If you have a good shot of the moon in the semi-dark sky, you can select it with the elliptical selection tool, copy then paste it into another photo. This automatically places the moon on its own layer. It will have the dark ring around it from your selection, but not to worry. Select "Lighten" from the layer options menu. Voila. The moon is now seamlessly blended into the picture. You can then adjust the opacity (which will control the brightness of the moon) to your taste. Flatten the image and save.

Photographs © 2010 James Jordan.

... and the moon came up

The not-quite-full moon rises above the north pier lighthouse in Sturgeon Bay, Wisconsin. This shot was one of those mad scramble type deals that happen to me occasionally. The lighthouse sits at the end of one of two piers that flank the Sturgeon Bay ship canal, which technically turns most of the Door County Wisconsin peninsula into an island. While the two piers are just a hundred yards or so apart, to get from one pier to the other requires mad swimming skills, a boat, or a ten minute drive to the nearest bridge and ten minutes back to the lakeshore.

I started out on the pier that the lighthouse sits on and waited for the moon to rise, hoping that the position would allow for a good juxtaposition of moon and lighthouse. Not being sure of exactly where the moon would appear made it a 50-50 choice. (Note to self: as the sun nears the horizon, shadows will point roughly to the point from which the moon will rise -- not exactly, depending on time of year or your location on the planet, but it gets you in the ballpark.)

As it turned out, I decided that being on the same pier as the lighthouse was a) not a good position from which to get the shot I was after and b) too close to the lighthouse to easily get both it and the moon in focus. Sooooo ... Hop in car. Begin the drive to the opposite pier. Make a wrong turn. Waste time backtracking to locate correct road to other pier. Park car. Grab equipment and begin rapid hike to the pier. Forget some equipment. Decide not to go back for it. Run like crazy up the beach to the pier, stopping to shoot along the way. Finally get to opposite pier. See that the moon is now much higher in the sky than I had originally wanted. Set up for the best shot under the circumstances. Take it. Rest. Relax. Enjoy the evening.

What's that about good judgement being the result of experience and experience being the result of bad judgement?

Similar-but-different tale from a guy who spent three decades as a shooter for Life, Sports Illustrated and National Geographic.

Photograph © 2010 James Jordan.

The sun went down ...

I've been away for a few days. To stand. To watch. To ponder. And grab some pictures of what I saw while standing, watching and pondering.

I specifically made a trip to Door County, Wisconsin to fill a few holes in the selection of photographs that will hang in a gallery there from May to October. The theme is twilight and night scenes around the county.

The scene above is a self portrait taken at the marina in Sister Bay. I had wrapped up shooting the sunset and as an afterthought, decided to plop down the tripod, set the self timer and walk to the end of the pier for a shot.

A few stubborn chunks of ice hang around the harbors, slowly falling victim to the warm winds that blow from the south. Their days are numbered. Buds are budding. Grass is greening. Taps and buckets are attached to sugar maple trees. A season ending, another beginning.



Technical stuff: Graduated neutral density filter used to balance sky and foreground tones, 30cc magenta filter to warm up the sky. Photographs © 2010 James Jordan.

Of ice and rocks

A winter day on the shore of Green Bay at Peninsula State Park in Door County, Wisconsin.

I'm digging into the recent archive for this shot -- gotta get out and do some shooting for myself.

Yesterday was a busy one for photography. I covered an event for the Chamber of Commerce to which I belong. One shot will show up in a local paper. Later I did a portrait session for a health and nutrition counselor for use on her web site and marketing materials.

I've settled into a string of receiving regular monthly royalty payments from Getty Images. It's interesting to see what's selling. Lately, they've been shots of balancing rock stacks. Who would think? Once the ice clears for spring, I'll get out and balance some more. There seems to be a demand for that sort of thing.

Photograph © 2010 James Jordan.

Watching the day fade

At the aptly-named Sunset Park. Door County, Wisconsin.

Photograph © 2010 James Jordan.

Carving his niche

After the disappointing ice sculpture fiasco, I shot some of the morning activity at Fish Creek's Winter Festival. Having sufficiently chilled myself to the bone after spending nearly three hours on the town's frozen harbor photographing kite fliers, ice bowlers, snow golfers and toilet seat tossers, I returned to a pre-determined rendezvous point to meet my wife.

I discovered that a guy with a chainsaw had set himself up in front of our rendezvous point and was busily, loudly and smokily carving away on a stump of wood. The guy was Dave Bartels, a chainsaw artist from Clintonville, Wisconsin who specializes in whimsical woodland creatures. I wasn't sure if Dave came in specially for the Winter Festival or if he regularly does Saturday demonstration carvings at the local retailer that carries his work. No matter. Watching Dave at work more than made up for the lack of quality ice sculptures in town that day.



Dave seemed to know exactly what he wanted to accomplish with the wood, methodically and purposefully circling the stump, roughly forming the animal cut by cut, wood chips and blue smoke billowing all the while. More precise and fine cuts followed. Finishing touches were applied with a blow torch to darken areas of the wood.



While I was photographing Dave from the street and from standing atop a nearby park bench to clear the protective mesh fence that surrounded his work area, several of his sculptures departed the scene while money simultaneously flowed into Dave's pocket.

Good work if you can get it.

When life hands you ice ...

The web site for the Fish Creek Winter Festival promised a load of ice sculptures, which got my heart racing a bit. Door County is an artist community and I imagined that the folks there would be pretty fair hands at turning blocks of ice into spectacular works of art. Cool.

I specifically packed a couple of strobes, gels, and stands anticipating making some nicely lit twilight photos of carved ice in all its glory.

Only reality didn't quite match up with the pictures I had in my head.

I arrived on Friday evening looking for a visual feast of icy artistry. What I got was more like a late night drive through snack. I was only able to locate three ice sculptures that evening -- a chubby boat anchor (or maybe R2D2 on the Atkins diet), an ice cream cone-looking thingy with a club stuck inside and one that my wife thought was one of those tall fountains with a big stone ball in it. I mentioned that it was probably intended to be a martini glass with an olive, since the sculpture was situated in front of a business that sold liquor.



The next morning I discovered a roughly horse-shaped chunk of ice in front of a cafe. I asked the folks standing nearby if they knew whether the artist would come by and finish the piece. I was told that the work on all sculptures was finished and that they had been done by local high school students, most of whom had never previously done any ice sculpting. You don't say ...

Anyway, I made the best of the situation, lit a couple of the sculptures, skipped the fountain/martini because it was located under a streetlight that poured green light all over everything, shot the horse and moved on to bigger and better things.

As they say, when life hands you lemons and ice, make a Slurpee.

Photographs © 2010 James Jordan.

Take that, wind

It's Wisconsin. It's winter. The wind is howling and driving the apparent coldness of the winter air down to single digits, causing one's own digits to cease any sense of touch after a few seconds' exposure. What to do?

Throw something pretty up into that wind and enjoy the sight.



Part of the recent Fish Creek Winter Festival in Door County, Wisconsin involved an event called Kites Over the Bay, a confab of kite afficianados who descended on the frozen harbor in the little village to display a serious dedication to the art and performance of kite flying.

While simultaneously photographing and freezing on the frozen waters of Fish Creek's harbor, I had a brief conversation with Barbara Meyer, who had traveled with her husband from Minnesota for the event (that's Barbara and her hubby at the top of this post with a kite they had built from one of their designs). I learned that many of the kite fliers that day had traveled from several states bordering Wisconsin and that there is an American Kiteflyer's Association.

The KOTB kites ranged from standard to exotic, with more than a few of the inflatable variety. One intrepid flier decorated his spot on the ice with several "schools" of fabricated fish that "swam" upstream against the wind.



All in all, a colorful diversion from the nearby toilet seat tossing, ice bowling and snow golf of the Fish Creek Winter Festival Games.

Photographs © 2010 James Jordan.