DRAWING LIFE by fred hatt

2011/02/03

Finding Beauty in Filthy Snow

Nocturnal Snowscape, 2011, photo by Fred Hatt

It’s been a record-breaking season for snowfall this winter in the Northeastern United States – 56 inches (142 cm) so far in New York.  We’ve had snow every week for the past six weeks, sometimes massive dumpings.  Last week’s epic blizzard mostly spared NYC, but covered more than half of the country – check out a satellite photo, and read accounts of drivers taken by surprise and trapped for hours on Chicago’s Lake Shore Drive, a major highway at the heart of the city.  Snowfall has been heavier than usual across the northern hemisphere, and many warmer areas have experienced heavy rainfall and flash flooding.  Climate scientists tell us the increased cold weather and precipitation in the temperate latitudes is related to the collapse of a “polar vortex” that used to keep frigid air confined to the arctic regions, and this may be related to the melting of arctic sea ice and global climate change.  Of course, a freakishly snowy winter can happen at any time, due to the inherently chaotic nature of weather patterns, but it is also possible that what we are experiencing this winter will become the “new normal”.  If so, we’d better learn to appreciate it!

Of course pristine white snow in the countryside is one of nature’s magnificent spectacles, something nearly everyone finds beautiful.  Snow in the city is a more conflicted phenomenon.  It’s a barrier, a nuisance and a hazard, and it quickly becomes a magnet for all the city’s filth.  But I love observing the forces of nature in an urban setting, and snow is fascinating because it presents so many different forms and changes over a short time span.  Look how it swirls in the golden light of a sodium vapor parking lot lamp.

Snowflake Traces, 2011, photo by Fred Hatt

On a sunny morning after a heavy snowfall, parked cars are gently rolling mounds like dunes of white sand.

Snow Dune Van, 2011, photo by Fred Hatt

The contours of a pink kiddie-ride horse are softened and abstracted like an unfinished marble carving.

White Horse, 2011, photo by Fred Hatt

The bare branches of trees are etched against the background in black and white.

Snowy Branches, 2011, photo by Fred Hatt

It’s a linear feast.

Wires and Branches, 2011, photo by Fred Hatt

On my block in Brooklyn, cars were thoroughly buried, as the city snowplows piled the snow against them from the street side, while the sidewalks were cleaned with a snow blower that plastered the cars from the house side.  New York has good public transportation, so after a big snowfall many people leave their vehicles interred for many days or weeks.

Great Wall of Snow and Cars, 2011, photo by Fred Hatt

Crossing the street may involve clambering over giant mounds of snow or trudging through piles churned up by the plows.

Ahead of the Plow, 2011, photo by Fred Hatt

When some of the snow melts, many crosswalks are reached only by leaping across or wading through ankle-deep lakes of slush.

Slush to Ford, 2011, photo by Fred Hatt

There should be a word for the hybrid of snow and mud that coats the streets after the snowplows make the rounds.

Sloppy Crosswalk, 2011, photo by Fred Hatt

Kids of course love snow.  So do dogs – at least those with long enough legs to keep their bellies out of the mess.  Lots of people are inspired to play and get creative.  This is a giant snow monster, taller than a person, that I saw in Tompkins Square Park.

Tompkins Square Snow Monster, 2011, photo by Fred Hatt

Snow in the city actually makes nighttime photography easier, as long as you can keep the wet stuff off your lens.  The snow reflects all the light that the dark pavement normally absorbs, making even the darker parts of the city as bright as only Times Square would be under normal conditions.

Pour House in Winter, 2011, photo by Fred Hatt

Street lights coming from behind a mound of snow highlight the rocky texture of its edge.

Plowed In, 2011, photo by Fred Hatt

Bicycles frame the colors of the multiple light sources in circles and triangles.

Bike Rack in Snow, 2011, photo by Fred Hatt

The shadow this buried bike casts on the show is tinted green by the light of a nearby neon sign.

Buried Bike, 2011, photo by Fred Hatt

The whiteness of snow magically intensifies the effects of colored shadows and of lights of different hues falling from different directions.

Shadows on Snow, 2011, photo by Fred Hatt

Ice and the damp crystallized sheen that covers the streets reflect the colors of green and red traffic signals, against the snow illuminated by amber street lighting.

Traffic Signals Reflected on Cobblestones, 2011, photo by Fred Hatt

This pile of snow is filthy and jagged, and it’s blocking passage to the street and taking up a parking spot.  But look how it catches the colored lights around it.  It’s a glittering gem!

Neon Snow Pile, 2011, photo by Fred Hatt

When rain follows snow, the snow is covered by a glistening icy crust.

Icy Crust, 2011, photo by Fred Hatt

When there’s been a really big blizzard, certain dirty mounds survive long after most of the snow is gone.  With a core of solid ice, condensed and insulated by an outer coating of diesel scum and general street dust, these icebergs can last well into the early spring.

Tip of the Iceberg, 2011, photo by Fred Hatt

All of the photos in this post were taken in January or February of 2011.  I did a post about urban snow last year too – check it out.

2011/01/05

12 Months

Filed under: Photography: The Seasons — Tags: , , , , , — fred @ 00:50

Slick Sidewalks, January, 2010, photo by Fred Hatt

Here we take a look back at 2010 in the landscape of New York City, with one photo from each month.  I often keep a camera with me as I walk around the city, and photograph scenes and patterns and effects of the light that catch my eye, like the rainy reflections above, or the illusion of a face in a mound of plowed snow, below.

God of Dirty Snow, February, 2010, photo by Fred Hatt

Road Plate, March, 2010, photo by Fred Hatt

Metallic gray is warmed by the brown of rust or the pink of spring blossoms.

Petaled Accord, April, 2010, photo by Fred Hatt

Deepwater Demon, May, 2010, photo by Fred Hatt

Sunset Shorts, June, 2010, photo by Fred Hatt

The Summer is about relaxing outdoors.  Streetlights through leaves make an urban park at night an impressionist fantasy.

Bryant Park at Night, July, 2010, photo by Fred Hatt

Signals, August, 2010, photo by Fred Hatt

The chaos of signs, patterns and colors embodies the energy of the city.

Sign Painter, September, 2010, photo by Fred Hatt

Shadowscreen, October, 2010, photo by Fred Hatt

Autumn in New York is a long, lingering season of mild weather and gentle brightness.

S Curve, November, 2010, photo by Fred Hatt

Wall Sheen, December, 2010, photo by Fred Hatt

All of these pictures were made with a Canon G11, casual shots of scenes glimpsed as I made my quotidian peregrinations of jobs and errands in Manhattan, Brooklyn and Queens.  I have selected one photo out of all those made in each month of 2010.  Happy 2011!

2010/12/19

Dawn After the Longest Night

The Winter, 1563, by Giuseppe Arcimboldo

 

The year’s longest night falls around December 21st in the Northern hemisphere, and the return of the Sun symbolizes rebirth or renewal in cultures around the world.  Italian Renaissance painter Arcimboldo, who anthropomorphized the seasons and elements as grotesque heads composed of bits of flora and fauna, here reveals the face of Winter in gnarly roots and gray bark, with hair of ivy and lips of fungus, but includes a lemon, surely a sign of the sun.  This shows the promise of returning light and life, of which our understanding of the nature of cycles gives us faith.  In the famous “yin/yang”, the Asian emblem of cyclic nature, the yin contains a little seed of yang, and vice versa, telling us that all dualities are cyclic and each extreme contains the potential of its own reversal.The Winter Solstice is the scientific name for the moment of the Earth’s maximum axial tilt away from the Sun.  On Earth we experience it as the shortest daylight and longest night, and the Sun’s lowest path across the sky, the effect the more extreme the farther one is from the equator.  This photograph combines 43 exposures over the course of a day to show the low southern arc of the Winter Solstice sun looking over the Tyrrhenian Sea, the Mediterranean area between the Italian peninsula and the islands of Corsica and Sardinia.  (Of course the Southern Hemisphere’s Winter Solstice is the Northern Hemisphere’s Summer Solstice, and vice versa.) 

Tyrrhenian Sea and Solstice Sky, 2005, photo by Danilo Pivato

 

The cycles of the heavenly bodies were among the first natural phenomena to be understood with scientific precision.  Artifacts like the Mayan Calendar or the Antikythera Mechanism show that these celestial cycles engaged the most sophisticated minds of ancient times.  While theories of the function of Stonehenge and other megalithic monuments as astronomical observatories are disputed by scholars, new evidence shows that prehistoric peoples conducted ritual sacrifices at these sites around the time of the Winter Solstice. 

Stonehenge Winter Solstice, photographer unknown

 

Walking a Labyrinth is another ancient ritual that has seen revival in our time.  In walking meditation, the convolutions of the labyrinth provide a physical experience of cycles, of gradual penetration to the depths and re-emergence.  Below is a labyrinth made out of candles, which are themselves symbols of the survival of light through the darkness, set up for a contemporary Winter Solstice festival

Labyrinth of Light, Secret Lantern Society Winter Solstice Lantern Festival, Vancouver, photographer unknown

 

The most popular holiday of classical Rome was the Saturnalia, a seven-day period around the Winter Solstice when king of the gods Jupiter ceded his throne to Saturn, god of harvest.  It was a time for the reversal of social roles, when servants played at bossing the masters and feasting and revelry replaced work.  We still keep a bit of this spirit alive in Saturn’s day, Saturday, the day to play. 

Saturnus, 1592, by Polidoro Caldara da Caravaggio

 

In a work of satirist Lucian of Samosata, Saturn says, “Mine is a limited monarchy, you see. To begin with, it only lasts a week; that over, I am a private person, just a man in the street. Secondly, during my week the serious is barred; no business allowed. Drinking and being drunk, noise and games and dice, appointing of kings and feasting of slaves, singing naked, clapping of tremulous hands, an occasional ducking of corked faces in icy water,–such are the functions over which I preside. But the great things, wealth and gold and such, Zeus [Jupiter] distributes as he will.”  (source of quote) 

In the fourth century, when Christianity became the official religion of the Roman Empire, authorities knew it was hopeless to stop people celebrating Saturnalia, so they simply changed the name of the holiday – to Christmas

Saturnalia, 1909, by Ernesto Biondi, Jardín Botánico de la Ciudad de Buenos Aires, photo by Daniel Smiriglio

 

In the Christian era, the central image of the coming of light into the darkness became the Holy Nativity, or birth of Jesus, God made flesh, in a stable for livestock.  Thousands of paintings depict the scene. Giotto’s fresco of the event is stark and simple. 

Nativity, 1304-06, by Giotto di Bondone, Cappella Scrovegni, Padua

 

Botticelli’s visionary manger scene combines celestial beauty with apocalyptic elements, a version in which the light is on the surface and something darker emerges only on closer inspection. 

Mystic Nativity, 1500, by Sandro Botticelli

 

By the 17th century, an aesthetic of realism is emerging.  Georges de la Tour, the master of candlelight effects, gives us this intimate grouping around the peaceful sleeping infant. 

Adoration of the Shepherds, 1644, by Georges de la Tour

 

Proto-psychedelic painter Abdul Mati Klarwein painted this 1960’s “Nativity”, a post-nuclear, pop art, new age vision of a birth of new consciousness.  The yin-yang symbol is there, beneath the legs of the central figure.  (Note that the de la Tour painting is roughly right in the middle between the Giotto and the Klarwein on the art history timeline.) 

Nativity, 1961, by Mati Klarwein

 

In contemporary American culture, Christmas is a complex and contested amalgam of Christian, pagan, and commercial elements.  The central figure is no longer the baby Jesus but the jolly old Santa Claus.  Santa Claus is himself derived from multiple cultural traditions, some surprisingly devilish.  The very name “Santa”, of course, is an anagram for the name of the Prince of Darkness.  David Sedaris has written hilariously about European Christmas legends that may be surprising to Americans. 

Our contemporary image of the jolly old elf can be traced back to Clement Clarke Moore‘s “The Night Before Christmas”, and to the illustrations of the great political cartoonist Thomas Nast, originator of the Republican Elephant and Democratic Donkey. 

Santa Claus, 1881, by Thomas Nast, published in Harper's Weekly

 

Another icon of the Winter Solstice holiday season is the New Years Baby, popularized by the great illustrator J. C. Leyendecker in annual Saturday Evening Post covers.  For an image of rebirth, I’ll leave you with this awakening infant from an earlier era, troubled like our own.  May you and the 2011 baby face the coming year with innocence and the power of growth!  Blessed Solstice, Io Saturnalia, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to all! 

New Year's Baby, 1938, by J. C. Leyendecker for the New York Post

 

All illustrations in this post were found on the web.  Clicking on the images links to their source.

2010/11/06

Magic Squares

Filed under: Photography: Framing — Tags: , , , , , — fred @ 01:30

Sunset Construction Shed, 2005, photo by Fred Hatt

A lot of writing about proportions and composition focuses on the golden ratio or phi.  Relationships based on phi appear everywhere you look in natural forms and cycles.  Artists, architects and designers frequently use the golden rectangle based on this ratio, and it’s often considered the most beautiful of all rectangles.  But it could be argued that the square is an even more harmonious quadrangular shape, and its perfect evenness has very special compositional qualities.

The 6 x 6 cm square film format became popular for magazine photography partly because square images could be cropped to either vertical or horizontal rectangles by the editor, but photographers often found that the square frame facilitated particularly bold arrangements of their subject matter.  Designers discovered the special qualities of the square frame in creating sleeves for LP records, leading to some of the most iconic graphic designs of the last century.

Here I share a selection of my images of New York City from the past decade, selected as examples of square compositions.  I don’t have a square format camera, but I find that many of my photographs are improved by cropping, and the square crop is one I frequently consider.  A criterion for choosing images for this post is that I don’t think any of these images would work as well with a vertical or horizontal frame.

The top photo in this post is a perspective through the roughly square corridor of a construction shed.  The setting sun casts long diagonal shadows of the scaffold columns, and those diagonals are countered by the thicker shape of an inclined tree trunk.  The square frame really highlights the contrast of vertical, horizontal, and diagonal lines.  Here’s another example:

Oblique Light, 2006, photo by Fred Hatt

A square crop can break down a unified design into an arrangement of shapes and lines.

Automotive Shapes, 2006, photo by Fred Hatt

A beautiful three dimensional shape, compressed into two dimensions and framed in a square, becomes somehow even more abstractly sensuous.

Steel Helix, 2005, photo by Fred Hatt

This classic bit of architecture (The Enid A. Haupt Conservatory at the New York Botanical Garden in the Bronx) is designed with golden ratio proportions, but a square frame really flatters it:

White Dome, 2004, photo by Fred Hatt

This view from a Brooklyn rooftop shows the special properties of the square picture.  A wide image would be a panorama, focused on the horizon, and a tall image would emphasize the height of the vantage point.  The square equalizes the vertical and the horizontal, and thus shows height and depth in equilibrium.

Brooklyn Crepuscule, 2005, photo by Fred Hatt

In a square frame, what is centered is idealized and what is off center is dynamic.

Heaven and Earth, 2009, photo by Fred Hatt

Straight lines and organic forms complement each other in perfect tension within the square.

Diagonals, 2005, photo by Fred Hatt

Dark and light, rounded and rectangular, perpendicular and angular: Simple polarities of form spring into relief in the balanced space of the square frame.

Urban Sundown, 2006, photo by Fred Hatt

Straight lines make quadrilaterals and triangles within the square, and curved forms break the rigidity.

Street Fair Decorations, 2010, photo by Fred Hatt

The simplest contrasts reveal their full complexity in the square.

Piece of Gold, 2004, photo by Fred Hatt

The perfect regularity and abstraction of the square can be an ideal frame for the fractal chaos of natural forms.  Any other rectangle partakes of a bit of chaos itself, but a square remains rigorously neutral.

Rainy Berries, 2005, photo by Fred Hatt

The square’s geometrical balance can also highlight the gestural quality of a figure or sculpture.

Command, 2006, photo by Fred Hatt

Sculptural Hands, 2005, photo by Fred Hatt

The converging lines of perspective take on a special quality in a square frame, where verticals, horizontals, and  diagonals exist in egalitarian relationship.

Subway Perspective, 2004, photo by Fred Hatt

Fence Growth, 2007, photo by Fred Hatt

Perspective compositions are made even more interesting by the addition of curves or random angles.

Cast Iron, 2005, photo by Fred Hatt

Barriers, 2005, photo by Fred Hatt

The elements of a square picture rest in balanced relation to all their companion elements.

Flushing Meadows Globe, 2004, photo by Fred Hatt

Perfect symmetry is actually heightened by slight elements of asymmetry.   The harmonious square frame magnifies both qualities.

Church Garden, 2005, photo by Fred Hatt

Stone Yard, 2010, photo by Fred Hatt

A square is naturally divided into rectangles and other shapes, a la Mondrian.

Drawer Pull Display, 2006, photo by Fred Hatt

Eighth Avenue, 2004, photo by Fred Hatt

Leaning or angular shapes have a certain natural dynamism based on their contrast with rectilinear forms.  The square composition gives these shapes their full measure of potential energy.

Angular Structure, 2006, photo by Fred Hatt

In a square image, a living element can be a point of active concentration, seen off center in relation to a more abstract, more chaotic space, illustrating the tension inherent in the relation of the living being to the natural world.

Fountain Joy, 2006, photo by Fred Hatt

Snow Mound, 2005, photo by Fred Hatt

Wet Asphalt, 2004, photo by Fred Hatt

Plywood's Red Glare, 2004, photo by Fred Hatt

Expressions of style can be abstracted from their complex personal and cultural manifestations, to be observed in their purely formal aspects.

Mosaic, 2005, , photo by Fred Hatt

Instruments and Shoes, 2004, photo by Fred Hatt

Just as fractal mathematics shows the rational order underlying complexity, the square frame in photography puts the unbalanced world, snarled, tangled and scattered, into a context of perfect equilibrium, illuminating the logic of chaos.

Linear Arrangement in Streetlight, 2007, photo by Fred Hatt

Composition in Gray, 2004, photo by Fred Hatt

Spilt, 2006, photo by Fred Hatt

2010/08/24

The Landscape in Motion

Filed under: Video: Natural Phenomena — Tags: , , — fred @ 07:54

August from Fred Hatt on Vimeo.

Click on the video to watch in HD on Vimeo.

I spent last week visiting my brother in Western Massachusetts.  He lives in a rural area surrounded by forests and wetlands.  I was struck by the sound environment there.  Far from highways and flight paths, it was clean of the technological noises that are constant in my usual urban setting, but it was hardly quiet.  With my eyes closed I could hear the densely woven tapestry of sound surrounding me in omnidirectional space:  crickets and cicadas, birds and bees and frogs, and the constant burbling of a stream, shallow from the late summer drought.

Still from "August", 2010, video by Fred Hatt

I wanted to take a sample of this sound to bring with me to the city.  The only audio recording device I had with me was a small camcorder with a reasonably good microphone, but no tripod.  So I set the camcorder down on various flat rocks and let it run for two or three minutes each in a variety of locations.  In the bright sunlight I could hardly see what kind of images I was recording.

When I had the chance to play back my recordings, I was struck by the images I had captured, almost without thinking of it.  The view of the natural environment was intimate, up close and from ground level, a frog’s eye view.  Every scene was filled with motion, the constant fluctuation of wind, light, water, and life in all its forms.  It was a beautiful portrait of teeming Gaia in late summer, simultaneously harmonious and chaotic, serene and tempestuous.

Still from "August", 2010, video by Fred Hatt

The five minute edit presented here is a landscape picture in sound and motion.  There are no characters, no events, no ideas.  This absolutely minimal way of using video highlights its richness as a medium for capturing the texture and energy of the natural world, a little love letter to Mother Earth in the technology of our time.  Watch it in HD, and with headphones if possible.

For another of my experiments in minimalist video, depicting a different setting and season, see “November”.

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