POTD: The Geography of Survival #11

POTD: The Geography of Survival #11The Geography of Survival #11 Bozeman, Montana 2013

I’m finally finding some time to get back to some photos from last year that I neglected, and also to this series of images which hasn’t seen much action in a while either. If you can’t remember the genesis of this series title, you can read about it in the first two posts here and here.  Quite frankly, I’d forgotten myself (which is a good thing in a way). I’m happy to report that after a year and a half, the scars I got that inspired the title were were well worth it.]]>

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POTD: It Was Better Then

POTD: It Was Better ThenIt Was Better Then Bozeman, Montana 2013

The other day I went for a walk right after yet another of our many recent spring snowfalls. It was still, calm and quiet and the fresh snow on the trees was actually quite lovely. I told my wife when I got home how pretty it was but also said it was hard to truly appreciate it given it’s freakin’ April for crying out loud and I’m so over winter for the year. Given the arid location where we live I’d be a fool to complain about precipitation, but this time of year give it to me in the form of rain instead of the white stuff please. I actually took today’s photo back in December when the winter was still young and everyone was expecting, even anticipating the snow to pile up. That made this scene much easier to appreciate visually. Timing it seems really is everything.]]>

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POTD: Famous Figures

POTD: Famous FiguresFamous Figures Bozeman, Montana 2014

Among my father’s letters to his mother in WWII, I also found these two letters to him from Harry Truman and General Omar Bradley. These are two major figures from the history of that era that I have of course been exposed to over and over in school, movies and books. But seeing their signatures (even though they are just stamped) on the letters to my father made it all seem somehow much more real and less just a story in a way that all that other exposure did not. These letters to my father remind me of a story from my own past. (Warning: long, pointless and somewhat political rant below.) I have my own certificate from a Washington figure in regard to my “service” to the country during a time of conflict. At some point during the first administration of G.W. Bush, Congress decided that the cold war was indeed over and that they needed to recognize those who had “fought” in it in some capacity. Although the idea is admirable in theory I suppose, it’s a pretty tricky task to identify those who actually served in that conflict. After all, the “cold” modifier on the word war is evidence that the confrontation involved much more than physical battle. Not wanting to leave anyone out, or maybe just to make it easy on themselves, the powers that be decided that they would just give a certificate of appreciation to any federal employee from post WWII up to that time, regardless of the branch of government they worked for. The only stipulation they made was that you had actually ask to receive one. By virtue of my four years working for the Indian Health Service back before the Berlin Wall came down, I qualified. That didn’t make sense to me since the closest I got to dealing with the Russians is working with some of the Eskimos and Aleuts that Russian names by virtue of the Russians presence there way back when. Or maybe they figured because I lived in Anchorage not far from Sarah Palin’s place up the Knik Arm I could see Russia from my house. (I could in fact see a long way out toward the Aleutians from my cabin up on a mountainside south of town, but to be honest I don’t think I could really see much beyond the outline of the volcano Mt. Redoubt, which is still safely in American hands.) I thought the whole concept of rewarding the likes of me quite silly, which of course made requesting my certificate a necessity. I submitted my name and my evidence of “service” (an old paystub I found in my desk), and a few months later I received my certificate dutifully stamped with the name of the current Secretary of Defense and architect of a not-so-cold war in Iraq, Donald “Rummy” Rumsfeld. Like I said I thought the whole thing was a joke, and one that was insulting to my many friends and the other military veterans who had served in Korea, Viet Nam and the other not-so-cold parts of our tiff with the Communists during those years. Rummy himself may have felt somewhat the same about the absurdity of all this, as the certificate I received contained some nice words and his signature but no image of any government department seal or any other decoration. It was almost as if they printed out a draft of what was to go on some more official looking paper and then decided, heck, this is good enough let’s just send them out like this. I probably still have my certificate, but it’s way down at the bottom of my pile of notable keepsakes and attaboys—certainly way below that nice Christmas card I got from the Obama’s one year. At least it had the first family’s photo on it.]]>

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POTD: Letters Home

POTD: Letters HomeLetters Home Bozeman, Montana 2014

Letters from my father, who was in the Navy during WWII, sent home to his mother in 1943. These particular letters, postmarked New York and New Jersey, were likely sent just prior to his deployment to Brazil where he served as a radio/radar technician on blimps that flew out over the Atlantic looking for German submarines. I believe I read the subs would cross over from somewhere in Africa to Brazil because that was the shortest distance across the Atlantic.  ]]>

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POTD: Still the Same

POTD: Still the SameStill the Same Headwaters State Park 2014

By virtue of being in a flood plain which rendered development impractical (and now illegal) this land at the headwaters of the Missouri River is still basically the same (minus the encroachment in the lower left of the photo) as it was back in 1805 when Lewis and Clark first visited it.]]>

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POTD: Mono-Mondrian #4

POTD: Mono-Mondrian #4Mono-Mondrian #4 Headwaters State Park, Montana 2014

The silence in regard to my musings about the artistic meaning and significance of these image is defining! 🙂 So I’ll just shut up, which is o.k. because I’ve run out of things to say about it anyway (at least for now). I will say that this more close-up and less busy image is one of my own personal favorites from the series.]]>

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POTD: Mono-Mondrian #3

POTD: Mono-Mondrian #3Mono-Mondrian #3 Headwaters State Park, Montana 2014

 Early on in the development or evolution of his abstract painting style Mondrian had this to say about the significance of his work:

I construct lines and color combinations on a flat surface, in order to express general beauty with the utmost awareness. Nature (or, that which I see) inspires me, puts me, as with any painter, in an emotional state so that an urge comes about to make something, but I want to come as close as possible to the truth and abstract everything from that, until I reach the foundation (still just an external foundation!) of things…

I believe it is possible that, through horizontal and vertical lines constructed with awareness, but not with calculation, led by high intuition, and brought to harmony and rhythm, these basic forms of beauty, supplemented if necessary by other direct lines or curves, can become a work of art, as strong as it is true.

In my simple mind I don’t understand the thought process that would lead someone to find truth in an abstract painting, or a representational painting either for that matter. That skepticism aside, the issue begs the question as to whether, to the same or similar extent as in an abstract painting, is there some expression of some truth to be found in an abstract photograph as well? I have not had time to read it yet, but maybe there’s some hint of an answer to be found here, or perhaps there would be if more than one page was accessible on the link.]]>

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POTD: Mono-Mondrian #2

POTD: Mono-Mondrian #2Mono-Mondrian #2 Headwaters State Park, Montana 2014

To the artistically unsophisticated (a descriptor that fits me more than some people might think–or maybe it’s obvious to everyone), the paintings of Piet Mondrian are hard to appreciate. While I certainly find them puzzlingly interesting from an intellectual standpoint, I at best waffle in regard to their value when assessed from a purely visual art appreciation point of view. I purposely don’t evaluate art visually in terms of some measure of “beauty,” but do figure a piece of art ought to move me in some emotional sense–however ill-defined–before I label it a success on that dimension. Modrian’s paintings generally don’t move me visually. But here’s what has me perplexed. I like these photos of peeling paint I’m referring to as Mono-Mondrians. (If it’s not obvious, I use that name because I see a structural similarity between the geometric patterns of the paint in these images and those defined by the line grids in Mondrian’s paintings.) Furthermore, I see interesting differences across the various images in this series, i.e., it is not redundant to show quite similar yet varied arrangements of the paint patches. It has not escaped my notice that the redundant yet different versions of these photos parallels the redundant yet different grid paintings produced by Mondrian. So, if I definitely see some visual merit in these variations on paint patches, i.e., they somehow appeal to me emotionally, why am I not able to get a similar degree of emotional response from Mondrian’s famous paintings. Beats me–I’m obviously not artistically sophisticated enough to figure that out!      ]]>

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