I went to Capitol Square in the hopes that I would discover
something that juxtaposed a manicured, controlled garden with some sort of
honest, un-tempered and raw character of nature. I discovered something not
entirely different from expectations.
Following my original plan to capture something raw I left
early, around 6:40am, in order to capture daybreak at the Capitol. When I got
there, it was entirely deserted, and the sky was a delicate shade of lavender.
Photography was difficult, not only because little light meant long exposures
were necessary, but much the light was very flat as it was only rolling over
from the east.
For my overall experience, this issue was necessary. This exploration allowed
me to develop, more than my sense of contrast and similarity of manicured and raw
nature (which is present in the photographs here), is some understanding of
night and day.
Not yet broken.
Broken, also, excellent lens flare.
Certainly, I've seen sunrises and sunsets in the past; but never
before had I understood the difference between the time preceding and
succeeding dawn. Dawn and daybreak are truly liberating and grand. They are
powerful and in many ways revolutionary.
I would like to tell you that watching dawn shatter this way
is something subtle and delicate, but it is not. It is one of the boldest
things I've ever seen, experienced. The "golden hour" that I went
questing for in order to uncover nature's more honest character
turned out to
be an honest embodiment nature in itself. For those of you who do not know what
the "golden hour" is: it is the approximate first last hour of
sunlight a day. I chose the first hour since I figured it would be quieter and
more isolated. A big part of what looked at however did not simply revolve
around the golden hour.
Rosa Parks Statute fading into treees.
As seen in some these photographs, sculptures around the
Capitol building share an aesthetic: dark metal or stone on light bases with a
typical memorial style throughout. They fit well and match, but can be viewed
from certain angles in which the nature and these man-made sculptures, which I
would not consider Earth art, interact in a way it is fascinating. Particularly
in the statute with the man mounted, it is as though the tree seems to respond
to the statue, or perhaps just the way I shot it.
Mounted Statue with Tree.
Returning to the golden hour, the best understanding of this
experience and of night and day dawn and daybreak can be observed in the two
photographs of the three trunked tree. The first, dark, slightly out of focus
and shaking due to the long exposure is contrasted with the second, a literal
explosion of light.
Falcon. Check out on the full resolution album
the sunlight in his underside.
The last necessary comment of my travelogue regards the importance of sound. There were, admittedly, cars and various man-made processes occurring during my exploration, but with a want of people and tourists, a lack of business and commerce occurring, I was able to notice things that I would not have been able to previously. Below is a short clip looking at the mounted statue aforementioned, and listening to birds sound nearby bird sounds. This video led me to realize that nearby was a falcon. Although is difficult to photograph, he serves as an apt metaphor for my experience. By going and looking for one style of thing, the expectations may not be wholly met; however, in remaining awake and alive, conscious of the world, one might just find something for which getting up at 6 AM is worth.
This blog was created for my purposes in Earth Art, and will hopefully extend beyond this length of our 5 week course. I'm looking at themes which push the discrete boundaries on what is earth art; using elementalism in a broader sense to interact with nature.
In this sense, I have chosen my header image. This Barnett Newman Obelisk, part of a studio series of works, is not intrinsically earth art. It is stylized and controlled. As a steel sculpture it will not decay in a traditional sense. These obelisks change the landscape, and interact naturally with only precipitation. As the obelisks age and experience rainfall, the drops form patterns and streaks on the works. It is then the process and time of being presented which transforms these into earth art. Were they in a gallery or private collection, they would simply be sculpture.
An idea expressed in much of earth art is the examination of origins. Through reverting to original forms there is a certain unity created. I am interested in taking this one step further. To quote the profundity of Sagan, "We are all star stuff." A route of earth art yet unexplored may be chaos. More on this later.
Following my original plan to capture something raw I left
early, around 6:40am, in order to capture daybreak at the Capitol. When I got
there, it was entirely deserted, and the sky was a delicate shade of lavender.
Photography was difficult, not only because little light meant long exposures
were necessary, but much the light was very flat as it was only rolling over
from the east. 
For my overall experience, this issue was necessary. This exploration allowed
me to develop, more than my sense of contrast and similarity of manicured and raw
nature (which is present in the photographs here), is some understanding of
night and day. 
I would like to tell you that watching dawn shatter this way
is something subtle and delicate, but it is not. It is one of the boldest
things I've ever seen, experienced. The "golden hour" that I went
questing for in order to uncover nature's more honest character
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