DRAWING LIFE by fred hatt

2010/07/29

Fires of Brushwood

Filed under: Photography: Elemental Forces — Tags: , , , , — fred @ 14:49

Cone of Fire, 2004, photo by Fred Hatt

I’ve just returned from a week of teaching and body painting at SummerFest, the new festival of the creative spirit at the Brushwood Folklore Center in Sherman, New York.  For many years, Brushwood has hosted Sirius Rising, Starwood (now moved to Wisteria in Ohio), and other festivals, and it’s become fertile ground for a community of artists and musicians, pagans and faeries, free spirits and freedom seekers.  I’ve been going out there since 1999, and it is one of my essential places.  I’ve previously posted some of my body art from Brushwood here, here, here and here.

The night life at Brushwood revolves around fires.  Every night there are several small fires with drum circles, didgeridoos, trance music, rituals or dancing.  The final night of every festival features a huge bonfire like the one pictured at the top of this post.  The fire shown below was the scene of quiet drumming with complex middle eastern rhythms.

Drummers' Fire, 2010, photo by Fred Hatt

I can go into a quiet reverie watching the slinky, dashing movement of flames.  Fire is a difficult subject for photography, as its essence is in its movement.  A long exposure blurs the flame into smooth streaks of light.  A short exposure captures some of the remarkable fleeting shapes that appear in the flames, but often makes the fire seem smaller than it appears to the eye.

Curtain of Fire, 2010, photo by Fred Hatt

Even the small campfires at Brushwood are meticulously constructed and tended with quiet vigilance by Brushwood’s legendary guild of fire tenders.  Young men and women learn the craft and safety techniques from elders with years of experience, and graduated apprentices proudly sport the emblem of their status, red suspenders worn hanging down.

Architecture of Fire, 2010, photo by Fred Hatt

The way the wood is stacked and structured channels and focuses the energy being released from the wood.  The fluid forms of flame cling to, lick over, and leap from the wood that feeds them.

Energy Released, 2009, photo by Fred Hatt

Licking Flames, 2009, photo by Fred Hatt

Sometimes the shapes of the flames spark my imagination with pictures of dancing figures, faces, leaping horses, diving raptors and crashing waves.

Dancing Flame, 2009, photo by Fred Hatt

Feminine Flame, 2009, photo by Fred Hatt

Here a man decorated in a leopard pattern by body painter Vann Godfrey draws dancing energy from the flames in the drum circle enclosure called the Roundhouse.

Leopard Man, 2001, photo by Fred Hatt

During a festival week, while nightly fires burn in the roundhouse for all-night drumming and dancing, a large bonfire stack is constructed in an open field.  Here you can see the roundhouse in the background, and the bonfire stack in the foreground.

Roundhouse and Bonfire Stack, 2004, photo by Fred Hatt

Ignition, 2004, photo by Fred Hatt

This is the bonfire from the Starwood Festival of 2004, one of the biggest fires I ever saw at Brushwood, as it is first ignited.

Growing Fire, 2004, photo by Fred Hatt

Sometimes the bonfires also contain fireworks.

Gold and Diamonds, 2004, photo by Fred Hatt

Pyrotechnic Tower, 2004, photo by Fred Hatt

The final night bonfires bring together the whole Brushwood community in a mass celebration.

Summerfest Bonfire, 2010, photo by Fred Hatt

Bonfire Revelers, 2004, photo by Fred Hatt

Fire Watchers, 2010, photo by Fred Hatt

Below, a friend’s fiery red hair is illuminated by the flames as she watches the bonfire.

Firetress, 2002, photo by Fred Hatt

People dance or run in a circle around the towering conflagration.

Bonfire Dance, 2004, photo by Fred Hatt

Runners, 2010, photo by Fred Hatt

Golden Frolic, 2001, photo by Fred Hatt

The really big fires show different patterns compared to the small fires.  The densely packed red-hot embers have blue flames dancing over their surface.

Blue Embers, 2004, photo by Fred Hatt

The sheer concentration of uprushing energy produces a whirlwind of flame.  If it’s raining, you won’t get rained on if you stay near the fire, as it blows the raindrops back up into the sky.

God of Fire, 2004, photo by Fred Hatt

Above the fire, glowing particles swirl and sometimes surge upward in fountains of light.

Flying Embers, 2010, photo by Fred Hatt

The final set of pictures in this post were taken at this year’s SummerFest bonfire.  All are fast camera exposures to capture the momentary shapes seen in the inferno, and exposed darkly enough to show the variations of brightness in the fire.

Engulfed, 2010, photo by Fred Hatt

Torrent, 2010, photo by Fred Hatt

Silhouette, 2010, photo by Fred Hatt

Curly Horn, 2010, photo by Fred Hatt

Dancers with Lights, 2010, photo by Fred Hatt

Fire Dance, 2010, photo by Fred Hatt

This incredible uprushing of fiery energy on Saturday evening was followed, on Sunday morning, by an incredible downrushing of lake-effect rain that caused flash flooding in all the low-lying areas of the camp – a perfect elemental balancing act!

2010/07/10

Burchfield’s Force Fields

Autumnal Fantasy, 1916-1944, by Charles E. Burchfield

Charles E. Burchfield’s landscape paintings swarm with spirits.  His wild and hairy visions of the alive world are currently on view at the Whitney Museum of American Art, in an exhibit titled Heat Waves in a Swamp.  I knew a little of Burchfield before, mostly through reproductions, but seeing this show, brilliantly curated by sculptor Robert Gober, was like discovering a cache of glittering gems hidden in an old tree stump.

Burchfield grew up in Salem, Ohio and lived most of his life in Gardenville, a rural suburb of Buffalo, New York.  His talent was recognized at a fairly early age, but he had no interest in living in a big city or being part of a movement or scene.  He painted to please himself, and sold paintings to support his wife and five kids.  His life story and his words reveal him as an unassuming and unpretentious man, but so thoroughly an artist that he couldn’t stop thinking as an artist for a moment.  One room of the Whitney show is filled with hundreds of abstract biomorphic doodles that he made while talking on the phone or playing card games with his wife.  Besides doodling he also kept journals throughout his life.  A particular pleasure of the exhibit is that nearly every painting is accompanied by Burchfield’s own eloquent description or reminiscence of its creation.

Charles E. Burchfield painting in his studio in Gardenville, N.Y., 1966, photo by William Doran, Burchfield Penney Art Center

While he did oil paintings and some mixed media, the bulk of Burchfield’s work is done in the medium of “dry brush” watercolor and gouache.  Traditional watercolor technique involves using thin washes of color on absorbent wet paper, and often tries for luminous, saturated colors and a loose, spontaneous style.  Burchfield’s technique is quite different, heavily worked by watercolorist standards, and his colors are often subtle and earthy.  His work achieves a feeling of light not by a light touch, but by a fiery intensity of movement.

His work divides neatly into three periods: the first begins in his breakthrough year of 1917, when he was in his mid-20’s.  He devised a system of visual motifs that embodied different moods and energies, called “conventions for abstract thoughts“.  These forms remind me of the “thought forms” described by Theosophists Annie Besant and C. W. Leadbeater in a 1901 book as shapes of thoughts visualized through clairvoyant synesthesia, though I do not know whether Burchfield was influenced by Theosophical ideas.  In painting from nature Burchfield saw manifestations of these abstractions, and his paintings of this period seem to depict organic forms through drawn lines whose movement expresses their underlying forces.  Those forces sometimes seem dark, ominous, prickly, overwhelming, or explosive, but always beautiful.  The chaos that is there is fertile and creative.

The Insect Chorus, 1917, by Charles E. Burchfield

Burchfield’s description of the image above reads, “It is late Sunday afternoon in August.  A child stands alone in the garden listening to the metallic sounds of insects.  They are all his world, so, to his mind, all things become saturated with their presence – Crickets lurk in the depths of the grass, the shadows of the trees conceal fantastic creatures, and the boy looks with fear at the black interior of the arbor, not knowing what terrible thing might be there.”

In his middle period Burchfield turned to a kind of American regionalism or social realism, often depicting industrial scenes or working-class settings.  The paintings of this period have a great sense of light and space.  The example below has a deep perspective reminiscent of Breughel, with a whole town visible in the far distance.

End of the Day, 1938, by Charles E. Burchfield

Burchfield’s description:  “At the end of a day of hard labor the workmen plod wearily uphill in the eerie twilight of winter, and it seems to the superficial eye that they have little to come home to in those stark, unpainted houses, but, like the houses, they persist and will not give in; and so they attain a rugged dignity that compels our admiration.”

Sun and Rocks, 1918-1950, by Charles E. Burchfield

Burchfield’s late period begins in 1943, when he was fifty.  He had spent decades developing his craft, but felt that his work was “rather prosaic” compared with his youthful, magical approach.  He went back to early works that were not quite successful, but that had the seeds of great ideas he now had the maturity to accomplish.  He attached extra paper around these early paintings, extending them into bold compositions in monumental scale.  The late period expansions were as much as five or six times larger than the early paintings that form their cores.

While many of the middle-period works in the show are oil paintings on loan from major museums, all the late work is watercolor on paper, which can’t be kept on permanent display due to watercolor’s vulnerability to fading, and most of them are from the collection of the Burchfield Penney Art Center in Buffalo, where the artist’s personal archives reside.  I assume this means most of this late work was not sold in Burchfield’s lifetime.  Perhaps in his later years he had achieved enough recognition, his children were grown, and he felt the freedom to paint for himself, for the sheer joy he clearly felt in it.

The Four Seasons, 1949-1960, by Charles E. Burchfield

Though Burchfield was a protestant, his late work expresses a pure pagan spirituality, in which clouds and rain, trees and insects, are living beings in a web of sacred life.  In one painting, the space between trees, through which the bright distant landscape is seen, becomes a golden dancing figure.  Another seems to show, as curator Robert Gober says, “the point of view of a man lying in a field of dandelions on a sleepless night”.  The late works are overwhelming in their size, their magical light and space, and their thorny, buzzing detail.  The reproductions here don’t even begin to do them justice.

Heat Waves in a Swamp:  The Paintings of Charles Burchfield is curated by Robert Gober.  It was first exhibited at the Hammer Museum in Los Angeles and at the Burchfield Penney Art Center in Buffalo, before moving to the Whitney Museum of American Art in New York City, where it will remain on view until October 17, 2010.

All illustrations for this post were found on the web.  Clicking on the pictures links to their source pages, which are great places to find more images and information on Burchfield and Heat Waves in a Swamp.

2010/05/24

November Thursday Night

November, my video collaboration with dancer/choreographer Jung Woong Kim, is on the program at the Frameworks Dance Film Series this Thursday night at 7:00 p.m. at Dance New Amsterdam.  Click here for all the details.

2010/05/21

Depth Perception

New Leaves, 2010, stereo photo by Fred Hatt

The image above may appear a mild abstraction on a natural scene, some curling leaves fringed in red and blue.  But put on a pair of old-fashioned 3-D glasses, with a red filter over the left eye and a cyan filter over the right eye, and a window opens up in your monitor, offering a view down upon a sensuous early spring plant, reaching towards you from a vivid texture of dirt and twigs.

Last year’s post, Shapes of Things, featured stereoscopic photographs I took seventeen years ago, in 1993.  This year I’ve been taking new ones, now using the Canon G11 that I usually carry with me as I move about the city going to jobs and visiting friends.  To take a 3D or stereo photograph, I just take one shot, then move the camera a few inches to the right and take another.  I use free software called Stereo Photo Maker to align them and to convert them to various viewing formats.  For these samples on the blog, I’ve chosen to use the “gray anaglyph” format, for viewing with traditional anaglyphic 3D glasses.  If you don’t have a pair, you can get one for free at this site.  Ask for Red/Cyan Anaglyph 3D Glasses.

Snow Tree, 2010, stereo photo by Fred Hatt

Here, a snow-covered winter tree spreads elegantly in front of an apartment building, while below a bare tree adds its complexity to an otherwise geometrical landscape.  The branching patterns of trees resemble the neurons in the brain, as well as the patterns formed by electrical discharges such as lightning.  Although they form much more slowly, trees express the same motion of formation as these examples of instant impulse.

Treeburst, 2010, stereo photo by Fred Hatt

Old trees can express as much character in their trunks as in their branches or leaves.  This one’s had  the initials of generations carved into it.

Elder Tree, 2010, stereo photo by Fred Hatt

Below is an early, tripartite stage of something that might one day fuse into something as majestically bumpy as the one above.

Trunk Trio, 2010, stereo photo by Fred Hatt

Here’s an old tree that has been hollowed by rot into a sort of vertical canoe form.

Tree Shell, 2010, stereo photo by Fred Hatt

Rolling hills and trees reaching and leaning in all directions create a dynamic spatial environment that makes the experience of walking through woods invigorating in any season.

Downhill, 2010, stereo photo by Fred Hatt

Garden, 2010, stereo photo by Fred Hatt

Here you can see the form of a hedge in early spring.  Last year’s leaves are broad and flat, dark and shiny.  Newer leaves, lighter and much smaller, sprout in clusters from among the old leaves.

Sprouting Hedge, 2010, stereo photo by Fred Hatt

We’ll turn now to the shapes of man-made things, letting this shop window with potted plants behind a neon sign serve as a segue.

Qi Gong Tui-Na, 2010, photo by Fred Hatt

Shop windows are a natural subject for stereo photography, since we look through them into enclosed places where objects have been composed in spatial arrangement.

Pastry Shop, 2010, stereo photo by Fred Hatt

Lamp Store, 2010, stereo photo by Fred Hatt

The window below has been decorated with a huge transparent photographic image, which we look through to see a dress on display within the open space of the store.

Calvin Klein Store, 2010, stereo photo by Fred Hatt

This antique store has arranged a family of wooden manikins on a leather upholstered bench.

Manikins, 2010, stereo photo by Fred Hatt

Instead of looking through a glass window, we can look through a steel mesh gate to see the receding space of a narrow passageway.

Passageway, 2010, stereo photo by Fred Hatt

This chain-link fence slides on a track to let trucks in and out of a loading dock.  The framework of the gate produces a beautiful geometric shadow.

Rolling Gate, 2010, stereo photo by Fred Hatt

This frame was put up to support multiple billboards.  It’s now being a bit under-utilized.

Sign Frame, 2010, stereo photo by Fred Hatt

Here, a huge, mottled block supports a cast-iron bannister for a set of brownstone steps adorned with a ratty carpet.

Stoop Steps, 2010, stereo photo by Fred Hatt

A construction shovel is another rough form on a residential street.

Shovel, 2010, stereo photo by Fred Hatt

The rough form below reminded me of an aging roué with a young mistress.

Beauty and the Beast, 2010, stereo photo by Fred Hatt

I find that looking at 3D photographs makes me more aware of three dimensional form and texture, and the topological complexity of the landscape, aspects of the world we may often overlook.

2009/12/23

Snow in the City

Snowy Skyy, 2001, photo by Fred Hatt

Last weekend the Eastern U.S. had its first major snowfall of the season, immediately preceding the Winter Solstice.  Around this time of year our culture ritually celebrates the White Christmas and the Winter Wonderland, Jack Frost and Frosty the Snowman, calling up nostalgic images of horse-drawn sleigh rides and cozy houses among rolling hills of pure white.  The reality of snow in the city is more conflicted, both soft and harsh, beauty that rapidly becomes ugliness.  In honor of the season, here are some photos from my collection, images of great New York City snowfalls of the past decade.

Streetlamps illuminate the beautiful movement of swirling snow.  Because of its lightness, snow shows the complexity of whorls and eddies in the flowing air:

Streetlamp Flurry, 2003, photo by Fred Hatt

Snow at Ground Zero, 2005, photo by Fred Hatt

The first dusting adds a cool glamor to the gritty street:

Powdered Bus Lane, 2003, photo by Fred Hatt

Snow Traffic, 2001, photo by Fred Hatt

Nothing imparts mystery to our mundane environment of walls and ads like a white veil:

Snow-Masked, 2003, photo by Fred Hatt

I Love You, 2006, photo by Fred Hatt

Even when the snow is really coming down, the city is always full of rush and bustle:

Spring Snow, 2003, photo by Fred Hatt

Colors on White, 2003, photo by Fred Hatt

If it gets heavy enough, the car traffic stops and major streets become walkways, as in these pictures taken while walking down the middle of Broadway during the blizzard of 2003:

Posing in Blizzard, 2003, photo by Fred Hatt

Snowy Broadway, 2003, photo by Fred Hatt

In the photo immediately above you can see the fog-like effect, with objects in the distance fading to white.  As night falls, beams of light cut and color the swirls and piles:

Snow in Headlights, 2005, photo by Fred Hatt

Blizzard Outside Deli, 2005, photo by Fred Hatt

Snowy Sidewalk, 2005, photo by Fred Hatt

Snow Shadows, 2003, photo by Fred Hatt

Snowscape, 2005, photo by Fred Hatt

Snow’s crumbly clumps cling to windows:

Snowy Windshield, 2005, photo by Fred Hatt

Snow on Skylight, 2003, photo by Fred Hatt

Like grains of sand in an oyster, parked cars are coated with smoothness until they become great white round mounds:

Buried Cars, 2006, photo by Fred Hatt

Snowdrift Car, 2006, photo by Fred Hatt

Other objects are transformed, like this concrete cherub (a popular decoration in my Italian neighborhood):

Snowcapped Cherub, 2005, photo by Fred Hatt

In the heaviest blizzards, like the one we had in 2003, snowfall penetrates even the subway system, drifting down the stairs and through the vents in the sidewalk:

Subway Stairs, 2003, photo by Fred Hatt

Subway Drift, 2003, photo by Fred Hatt

The snow seems to capture particles of diesel exhaust and other things floating in the air, and as it melts off peoples’ shoes the subway tiles get coated with an oily grunge:

Snow Pile in Subway, 2003, photo by Fred Hatt

Snowplows clearing the streets pile the snow up into huge mountains, packing in parked cars and creating pedestrian barriers that have to be scaled:

Wall of Snow, 2003, photo by Fred Hatt

Storm drains are clogged and gutters and crosswalks become lakes of dirty slush:

Slush Pallet, 2003, photo by Fred Hatt

Within a day, New York City snow is gray and filthy.  Hardened chunks remain even as shoveling, plowing and relentless traffic clear the routes:

Dirty Snow, 2007, photo by Fred Hatt

The high piled-up mounds can last for weeks, even through warm weather, becoming nastier day by day.  I’m sure this is what our lungs look like from breathing urban air:

Filthy Snow, 2003, photo by Fred Hatt

As the ice retreats, the salt and other residues leave sedimentary markings on the sidewalk:

Snow Residue, 2008, photo by Fred Hatt

And when the sun comes out, melting snow rains down from the buildings and construction sheds, glittering like gems in the sunlight:

Snowmelt, 2003, photo by Fred Hatt

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