December

Let's play a word game. I say "December" and you think...

Okay, I don't know what you think but no matter where in the world you live or what your background is a pretty good bet would be it involves some sort of holiday celebration. And somehow it's become a widely accepted notion that a winter wonderland theme goes along nicely with holiday festivities. This can even be seen in parts of the world where, not only is snow unheard of in winter, but where the holidays actually mark the start of Summer. But while it's all well and good to spend a December afternoon at an Aussie beach sporting a Santa hat, here in Canada where the whole wintery theme is a bit more realistic there's a sense that the true holiday spirit can't be felt in earnest until there is a covering of snow on the ground. It's been noted time and again that a good pre-Christmas snowfall, something that should be an impediment to shoppers, are accompanies by a spike in holiday sales figures. Like so many others I've been guilty of worrying over whether it will be a white Christmas.

Why "guilty" though? After all, it's such a heart warming image, the world all covered in a frosty virgin white blanket, the multicoloured glow of holiday lights shining through, the neighbour's kids waving as they pass by, toboggans in tow. I say guilty because it's one more way in which the anticipation of something hoped for can make us overlook the blessings of what is right in front of us. Once the riotous colours of autumn begin fading to a dull brown it seems our thoughts skip ahead in anticipation of the (at least where I live) hopefully snowy holiday season to come. Until it arrives it seems so many of us are just biding time, getting shopping done so we can enjoy the season once it starts in earnest. Autumn may be a single season on the calendar but in these temperate climes there is no mistaking its later days from that time of peak foliage colour that gets so much attention. And two thirds of December, after all, consists of late autumn. That may of course have little to do with when the snow actually begins to fly, but depending on when (or even if) it does, much of December sometimes can feel disappointingly just not sufficiently holidayish enough.

It can be a shame because if you take away the omnipresent and not exactly subtle proclamations of the festive holiday season the month is supposed to be building towards and we might begin to notice December's pre-winter, absent the glitter and the lights, has a character and a soul of its own. It's in the skeletal forms of trees, the low hanging sun, the sombre silence of a still day. And then of course there's the autumn clouds you may have heard me go on about before.

If you're a photographer, letting any season pass without exploring its unique character would be like travelling somewhere new and interesting, somewhere you may never be again, and neglecting to get out your camera. But even when you're not carrying a camera, or if you're not a photographer at all, it's worth while, as a simple act of mindfulness, to take in what this time of year offers us in its own right. This is a time of winding down and of renewal. It can be quiet, reflective, maybe even a bit sombre. With so all of the other in-your-face goings on in December why not welcome the reprieve?

The Cool Colours of Autumn

It's perhaps only a small irony that we connect autumn, a season of cooling, with a palette of such warm colours as the green canopies above transform, taking on colours of flame which, even as they fade leave us with a warm earthy browns. I happen to be particularly fond of warmer tones;  I tend to favour them when making home decor choices, generally prefer my black and white prints to have a somewhat warmer than neutral tone to them and when I load up with colour film as I am wont to do each fall I imagine filling them with images dominated by warm earthy tones.

Often they are, but I'm often surprised myself at how often it's just the opposite. You may have noticed for example that the photo that accompanied "A Season for Colour" a few episodes back may have featured a small stand of trees with leaves in full yellow autumn glory, but these really provided a complimentary accent to the foreboding sky that occupies most of the image space with it's cool blue, tones that seem to speak of the months to come once the snow begins to fly. These aren't the images even I usually envision when I head out to do colour work at this time of year.

To me it seems this is a simple consequence of a being a predominantly black and white photographer with leanings toward the foreboding and moody set loose on the world with a colour emulsion. It's not that find myself ignoring what's in the camera and approaching what's in front of me the same way I do with the usual monochrome stock loaded. Except for those times when I may grab a camera on the way out the door to do other things I'm not committed to colour. There is always an extra film back in the pack when I carry either the Mamiya or Bronica system loaded with HP5+ or Acros and whenever a photograph to be made calls out for it, a not infrequent occurrence, I'll happily make the switch. I have to say there I rarely find myself in doubt as to which is called for, though there are situations when it seems either could work.

The image at the top is an example of this. Had I been shooting exclusively black and white that day I probably would have shot it more or less the same way. As it happens this was taken the same day I was testing out the Polaroid Automatic 220 that I wrote about previously. What I didn't mention there was that on that day a wicked wind was blowing up a minor havoc along the lake. As I emerged from the relative shelter of the nearby wooded path a few small breaks in the cloud was letting through the first rays of direct sun I had seen all day bringing a welcome drama to the wind whipped seascape. I was able to grab a Polaroid shot right off but the fast moving clouds meant I had to wait for another shaft of sun to bring the drama back again so I could get another shot with the Bronica. Good thing I did too because as fate would have it about 1/3 of the previous image I had done with the Polaroid ended up appearing in this exposure. Despite the distinctly un-autumn-like colour palette I think the sombre sky, weathered reeds and blustery weather so typical of this time of year make this an appropriately seasonal colour image.

One more example is this recent shot of my son Brennan. It was a bit of a side jaunt to the beach I took him on while running a few errands. Noting some rather interesting clouds before we left I grabbed my Nikon F80 on the way out the door. I can't say I was really planning to use him as a subject, but somehow he just belonged in the scene so how could I not? Now someone may prove me wrong, but I don't think too many would argue with the suggestion that it just wouldn't work the same way if he'd been wearing, say, a red hoodie. And though, yet again, the predominantly cool blue tones here hardly scream out autumn, despite the lack of any real queue I can point to here that gives away the fact that is image was taken in October rather than, say April, somehow there's still a sense of the season here. Maybe it's just me, because I know, because I was there. Maybe it's something else though, something about the lake, the clouds, the play of light. There are always things that can't be put into words. If there weren't we probably wouldn't bother with pictures.