The St. John's is Not All Picture Perfect...

Confluence of the St. John's and the Lower Wekiva River ©Lynne Buchanan

The St. John's is one of the success stories for turning a river around.  There is even a documentary entitled "The River Returns: The St. John's River."  In 2008, it had the dubious distinction of making it to the list of America's Ten Most Endangered Rivers.  A much less happy honor than being named on of 14 American Heritage Rivers.  How we let something we supposedly cared about decline so much is beyond me, but it also may have had something to do with why people rallied to bring it back.  Although I was happy to see a great deal of beauty and many birds and other animals appearing healthy and happy within the riparian landscape, there were still areas that gave me pause. The photography above was taken where we moored the first night we were out on the water.  Although this makes a nice composition, invasive plants are still a problem along many parts of the river whether they are non-native or native like the dollar weed above.

Sick Eelgrass in the Lower Wekiva ©Lynne Buchanan

The real problems are more visible underwater, which is difficult to see in most places since it is a backwater river.  When I kayaked down the Wekiva one morning, I found a spot where the light was illuminating the water below and made this image with my underwater camera.  Everywhere I pointed the camera revealed a similar distressing scene of thick ropy algae covering the grasses.

Invasive Plants Taking Over Along the St. John's  ©Lynne Buchanan

Love Vine ©Lynne Buchanan  

Heron among the Dollar Weed ©Lynne Buchanan

Love Vine is a parasitic native plant. It is believed by some to have aphrodisiacal properties, hence its name, although it does harm the plants it attaches itself too.  Though birds love to fish among the plants on the shoreline, I have to wonder if too thick a blanket of invasive plants may make it more difficult to fish and even choke off the food supply.  Nature has its own balance and our use of pesticides, fertilizers, and other chemicals is disrupting this balance.

Wood storks along the Water's Edge ©Lynne Buchanan

Wood storks are my absolute favorite birds.  There is so much I love about these creatures.  They are but one of many species of birds I saw on this voyage that depend on the health of the river for their survival.  The thing is we all depend on the health of our rivers.  Somehow developers, people in the legislature, business people, and even every day citizens have distanced themselves from the environment and think it is somewhere else and that our ability to thrive is not dependent on its health, but this is simply not true.  Rivers and waterways provide food and water for us too and without healthy rivers are own future is just as threatened.  

Why I Missed Cut 34 on the St. John's ©Lynne Buchanan

The last late afternoon kayak trip I took, I was trying to find cut 34 to go over to the Norris Dead River.  I passed by this site not even realizing it was the pathway I was looking for.  Something told me to take a photograph of the abandoned, cracked kayak flipped upside down on the thick blanket of invasive plants.  I ended up having to get towed back to the houseboat we were staying on, because the cut I hoped to take back was also grown over.  My rescuers pointed out this place as where I would have been able to paddle through several years ago.  They told me that water management sprays back certain areas, so people can get to marinas, but that many of them are just covered up and choked off.

I had to post these photographs second.  My nature is to recognize life and survival and beauty first, but these images can't be ignored. Despite all the efforts to preserve this river, there are still lingering problems that could easily get out of control if vigilance is not maintained and efforts are not redoubled to keep cleaning up our waterways.  All of Florida's rivers are treasured. If some appear less beautiful than they once were, it is not their fault but ours.

My St. John's Houseboat Journey and Protection in Paradise

Rolling Manatee ©Lynne Buchanan

My houseboat journey along the St. John's was a wonderful experience despite a windy start. My good friend America and her wonderful husband John drove the boat and prepared food for the week.  It was so great to have a support team.

When we arrived at the Holly Bluff Marina (a great place to rent a houseboat!), it was extremely windy.  I think winds might have been gusting over 30 mph.  This is not good for driving a houseboat.  We were banned from leaving the dock, although they did say we could have the boat for an extra day.  I ended up driving down to Blue Spring to visit the manatees again.  I absolutely love manatees and never give up a chance to commune with them.  This one was amazing, rolling and spinning in the water.

The next day we went south, heading towards the confluence with the Wekiva River.  It was incredible there and where we moored was spectacular.  I kayaked on the Wekiva in the evening and at sunrise the following day.  That is where this beautiful starburst surmise occurred.

Sunrise at the St John's-Wekiva Confluence © Lynne Buchanan

After I saw this amazing sight, I was treated to another miracle–a whole flock of wild turkeys feeding nearby.  These three were along the shoreline and I watched and then followed them for quite awhile.  They seemed perfectly comfortable that I wast there, as I didn't paddle or make a sound.  The way they light hit them and revealed the incredible colors of their bodies simply amazed me.  This was a gift I hadn't asked for, as I never dreamed such a sight could be possible.  All I kept whispering was thank you...

Turkey Trio, Wekiva River ©Lynne Buchanan

From here, we headed north to the Dead River and Hontoon Island where we moored for the night.  The following morning, I climbed up on the deck of the pontoon boat and saw this amazing hawk couple.  They looked so peaceful and romantic, but it was all an illusion.  They were just scoping out the scene.  For the rest of the time we were there, they went for squirrels and ibis and anything else they could get their talons and beaks on.  

Hawk Couple on Patrol ©Lynne Buchanan

Our last day, we headed up to the Alexander Springs area photographing ospreys, herons, ibis, and other birds along the way.  Then we went back and docked in an elbow just below the St. Francis.  I decided I would kayak the Norris Dead River.  I went down to market 34 where there was supposed to be an entrance, but I did not see it because the Hydrilla had taken over.  I ended up going to marker 38 to the Woodruff Wildlife entrance.  I began kayking back towards the Norris River and it was beautiful in the last light of the day.

Norris Dead River in the Last Light ©Lynne Buchanan

It seemed like some idyllic paradise to me, but just like Eden I knew that I had to be careful.  If I didn't get back to the main river soon it would be dark and who knows what shadow creatures I could encounter.  I thought if I just made the next left I would be heading back to the St. John's.  Unfortunately, that was not true.  This was the other end of the cut at marker 34 and it was clogged all the way through.  Fortunately, I decided to ask a couple in a fishing boat.  Thankfully, Rick and Marcy, two amazing people and great Samaritans on the water, who fortunately also lived in the area, knew that the map I had was useless and that the only way back to the houseboat was to marker 38 and back along the St. John's.  It was a good hour or hour and a half paddle and there was no way I could make it before dark.  These kindly souls towed my kayak back and let me ride in their boat with them.  On the way back, I made these images, one of the sunset with my iPhone and the other of their rat terrier with my camera.  I was so happy to have met them and knew I was being watched out for as usual.  Thank you universe for all your protection when I need it!

Rescue on the St. John's ©Lynne Buchanan

Sunset, St. John's ©Lynne Buchanan

This morning, I kayaked down the St. Francis and was blessed to see my creatures, including an eagle, an osprey bringing nesting material, and several kingfishers, none of whom seemed to mind my presence and allowed me to watch and study them for quite some time.  How blessed we are to inhabit this planet with such wonderful beings.

Eagle on the St. Francis ©Lynne Buchanan

Osprey Bringing Nesting Material ©Lynne Buchanan

Kingfisher ©Lynne Buchanan

So thankful that the St. John's is being brought back and that river keepers and citizens have stepped up to protect this amazing river.  All the other waterways in Florida deserve to be preserved too.  Let's do our part.  I can't imagine a world where these kinds of soul connecting encounters were no longer possible.

Never Be Too Jaded to Appreciate Amazing When You See It

Sarasota Bay, My Lifeblood ©Lynne Buchanan

This one is for you, Dad.  When I was at my parent's house over the holidays, my father suddenly yelled for me to grab my camera quick and go outside.  My father is 84-years-young.  He has been living in this house on Sarasota Bay since I was 11 years old and I hate to say how long ago that was.  Anyway, let us just say he has watched a lot of sunsets.  When he called for me, he sounded very urgent.  I have been his daughter for a long time, so I understood the timber of his voice.  I snatched my camera and ran out through the sliding glass doors without thinking twice and saw this.  I truly about fainted.  It was like the sky and water were bleeding.  When I was done photographing and came inside, my father said he had never, ever seen a sunset like this in all his years on this planet.  This is the view from his backyard, so he sees sunsets every day.  

A photographer I know once told me that she never photographs sunsets.  They are too cheap.  I suppose she meant easy.  The colors are there and if you expose them right, you can make great images–especially if you modify the colors a bit in Photoshop or some other program.  

Perhaps she had a point, but her point was only valid if it is necessary for you as the photographer to prove that you are exceptionally skilled and that nature has only a small role in your creation.  Frankly, if you don't want to photograph something like this and burn this visual in your mind forever to call upon in times of stress, medical hardship, loneliness, challenge, whatever, you are crazy.   Let me just say that I did not modify the colors at all, except to back them off a little because it was too intense to be believable.  Sometimes we get so incredibly jaded.  Sunsets happen every day.  Why should we care? 

All I can say to that is that to me, each time the sun rises or sets it is a miracle, no matter how dramatic or not it is.  When I see something like this, I just want to scream and jump up and down with joy, amazement, love, and gratitude.  I don't know about you, but this is why I am here on this planet.  To show up at moments like this and thank God I can still feel my blood course through my veins a little faster and the air fill my lungs a little deeper.  

We are only here for a short flash, like this incredible burst of color, and then we are gone.  Sometimes, I wonder how long that will be and consider counting the hours, minutes, and seconds, but that is pointless, I know.  It is not up to me when it will all end.  It will just happen sometime.  This weekend was my 40th high school reunion and I was saddened to see how many of my peers had passed on.  I was also grateful how many people showed up–an amazing percentage actually considering how small the two classes they combined were.  I wasn't going to go, but then I did because I figured how many 40th high school reunions can you have.  I was so glad I attended too.  Memories were triggered, friendships reignited...

Sunsets like this, momentous high school reunions, all these things are fantastic and mind blowing and I applaud them.  But the little moments, the not so spectacular sunsets, the quiet intimate exchanges we have with life, they should be treasured too.  Sunsets are not cheap.  No aspect of life is without the greatest worth.  Celebrate every single moment you have and let go of your expectations of how fantastic things should be.  Sunsets like this happen when you least expect them.

Thoughts on "The Death of The Creative Artist–and the Birth of the Creative Entrepreneur"

Colon Cemetery, Havana ©Lynne Buchanan

In William Deresiewicz’s article The Death of the Artist—and the Birth of the Creative Entrepreneur in The Atlantic Monthly, he writes about how works of art are becoming commodities–consumer goods with a customer base.  From my own struggles to hold on to what I am trying to express with my photographs and blog posts while trying to market and sell my work, I tend to believe a lot of what Deresiewicz’s article is saying.  This paradigm shift he tell us has to do with the shift in the workforce.  No one is guaranteed a job these days and people have to switch careers multiple times.  We are in an age of entrepreneurialism where we are all being forced to become our own “marketing production, and accounting departments.” Deresiewicz writes that although entrepreneurialism is being sold to us as an opportunity, it is actually a necessity. 

The author suggests quality will deteriorate because no one has time for the 10,000 hours it takes to become really expert at something because of the demands of all these other roles.  In addition, Deresciwicz observes that in searching for a market, creative people are hitting multiple media and establishing platforms for their creativity instead of focusing on a single art form. Though I constantly feel the pull between creating and marketing, I spend most of my time creating and not enough time marketing in large part because I don’t understand how to market the work my soul feels compelled to create since the world of photography has changed so much.  It is also true that I had to incorporate writing to get my work and message noticed and there is no doubt that pursuing two creative media is very time consuming.  Yet one more reason marketing is the last thing I get to. Furthermore, it seems to me that the skills required to create photographs and write creative nonfiction are very different than the skills required for running a successful business.   Achieving success in today’s art world is a mix of creating something “artistic” and being able to sell it, with the business model often being a greater indicator of success. 

My photographs and writings reflect my inner awakening and I have shared them in an attempt to help shift cultural values, so that people understand we are part of a web of life and owe it to the planet to consider the consequences of our behavior towards nature.  Though there is clearly a need for my message in today’s world in my humble opinion, since we are destroying the environment at breakneck speed, this need is not something recognized by much of society or deemed relevant in the new paradigm of the artist. 

I am not interested in selling for the sake of selling, in producing without caring what I produce just so someone will consume.  To me, art is more than a widget.  Yet, if I cannot find ways to sell or share my work in museums, galleries, and public places without losing money as I currently do, I may have to stop displaying my work in these forums and create solely for myself. It is somewhat paradoxical that in this new age where everyone is supposed to have a voice, your voice is deemed less worthy if you don’t follow consumer trends and market your follower voice sufficiently through social media and other networking platforms.  Don’t get me wrong, I do share through Facebook, as it is the best means of reaching people I have found and with no advertising, my blog has been read more than 11,000 times.

Still, I have yet to figure out how to cross over from getting people to look at and read my work to earning enough money to cover the costs of sharing my work.  Though the reason I am an artist has little to do with making money, or I would have quit long ago, it is disheartening not be compensated sufficiently for the blood, sweat, and tears I put into my photography and writing in a world where everyone is trying to get the best deal on a product.  Yet, as someone said to me the other day about the starving artist story, “I don’t want someone trying to make me feel badly that I don’t want to buy something if I don’t need it or want it.”  In the past, there were patrons who funded creative endeavors because they saw the value to society.  Now we have to prove and create our own value.  For a long time, I have thought if I could just become well known somehow, then my work would sell easily because critics and other artists are always telling me how good it is.  Yet the point of creating has never been to become famous for me. 

I am not sharing my struggles to make anyone feel sorry for me.  I have been analyzing them for a while and this article helped me see what I have been facing in a cultural context that affects the direction art may go in the coming decades.  As someone who believes in the soul and the importance of art in opening our eyes to the deeper issues of life, I feel examining these issues is critically important.  

Below are three quotes from the article that I felt raised particularly significant issues.   To read the article in full, click on the link below: http://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2015/01/the-death-of-the-artist-and-the-birth-of-the-creative-entrepreneur/383497/?single_page=true

 “It’s hard to believe that the new arrangement will not favor work that’s safer: more familiar, formulaic, user-friendly, eager to please—more like entertainment, less like art. Artists will inevitably spend a lot more time looking over their shoulder, trying to figure out what the customer wants rather than what they themselves are seeking to say. The nature of aesthetic judgment will itself be reconfigured. “No more gatekeepers,” goes the slogan of the Internet apostles. Everyone’s opinion, as expressed in Amazon reviews and suchlike, carries equal weight—the democratization of taste.”

“’Producerism, we can call this, by analogy with consumerism. What we’re now persuaded to consume, most conspicuously, are the means to create. And the democratization of taste ensures that no one has the right (or inclination) to tell us when our work is bad. A universal grade inflation now obtains: we’re all swapping A-minuses all the time, or, in the language of Facebook, likes.”

“When works of art become commodities and nothing else, when every endeavor becomes “creative” and everybody “a creative,” then art sinks back to craft and artists back to artisans—a word that, in its adjectival form, at least, is newly popular again. Artisanal pickles, artisanal poems: what’s the difference, after all? So “art” itself may disappear: art as Art, that old high thing. Which—unless, like me, you think we need a vessel for our inner life—is nothing much to mourn.”

Note: Cuba has been incredibly supportive of the arts, as I learned on my recent trip there.  I only included the photograph above because the Colon Cemetery is so vast and evokes the scale of the loss I believe we are experiencing.  

Life and Death in the Desert and The Intelligence of Nature

Desolation in the Desert ©Lynne Buchanan

In the process of writing my book, I have come across many photographs I made during my cross country journey that are striking a chord with me now.   Sometimes people succumb to the mistaken impression that they are more powerful than nature.  Yes, the hand of man has done many things to harm the environment by being out of balance, but when it really comes down to it nature is more powerful.   These ruins were from the town of Kelso.  Today, the mission revival style former depot located down the street serves as a visitor center, while this is what has become of the town around it.  I am not alone in being fascinated by ruins; many people are drawn to them likely because they show what becomes of the havens we construct to "protect" ourselves from the elements the instant we begin to neglect them.  Nature can be harsh and inhabitable for human beings when we don't work with the environment.

Sunrise, Mojave Desert ©Lynne Buchanan

Though there are hardly any people residing or even visiting the Mojave National Preserve, in comparison with other National Parks, it is teeming with life.  In fact, the Mojave Desert is one of the most diverse places in the entire southwest in terms of wildlife, with 38 species of amphibians and reptiles, 50 species of mammals, 300 kinds of birds, and even a native fish in the two ponds within the preserve.  In the springtime, there are carpets of desert sand verbena and dunes evening primrose, but even in the fall the desert plants were abundant and beautiful though non-flowering.  This sunrise was one of the most spectacular moments of my journey.  To get to the Mojave Desert, I'd driven straight through on I-5, the real wasteland, from Redding to Nipton.  The moment I got out of my car and stepped foot on the desert, I could feel the energy of all the life around me.

Joshua Trees, Mojave Desert ©Lynne Buchanan

Even after the sun had risen, nature continued to put on a magnificent show that morning, as dramatic clouds filled the sky and the light was soft enough to subtly illuminate the desert floor studded with Joshua trees and the mountains behind.  Yucca moths lay their eggs in the pollinated flowers of Joshua trees and disperse the seeds, while 25 bird species nest in them, and lizards and other invertebrates use them for shelter.  These tree homes look in much better shape than the houses the gold miners built and abandoned.   Afterwards, I visited the cinder cone lava beads and the Kelso dunes, before heading on my way to the Grand Canyon.  There is something that speaks to my soul when I see plants and animals survive and thrive in seemingly hostile conditions, and I know it is because they have learned to work with the environment instead of fighting against it...

A Recent Excursion on the St John's River Near Blue Springs...

St. John's River Near Blue Springs ©Lynne Buchanan

A couple of weeks ago, I went kayaking on the St. John's River to make some images for my upcoming river exhibition.  I rented a cabin in Blue Springs State Park and put in the river right there, paddling up towards the Hontoon Island landing, although I didn't make it all the way there.  This part of the river was so intriguing, I had to stop.  I loved how the clouds and lily plants in the river paralleled each other yet were different. When I think about life and meaningful relationships we have with anyone, whether natural elements or people in our lives,  things seem to be smoothest when we are going in similar directions yet respecting our uniqueness.  Differences add dimensions to our experiences in life.  If everyone or every bend in the river were  the same, it would get pretty boring, yet we also want to balance and support one another.  While I sat in my kayak and watched and photographed, I was overwhelmed with a sense of peace and harmony.

Sky and Water Epiphany, St. John's © Lynne Buchanan

The beauty of one aspect of a relationship, the sky in this example, creates more depth and beauty in the water that reflects it.  Oh to be a mirror for such wonderment...

There is Light in the Darkness ©Lynne Buchanan

On the way back towards the park, more and more clouds filled the sky and the sun was veiled behind them.  Yet, at the same time its brilliance could not be contained and broke out in all directions.  It is this way in my life sometimes too.  Though I have faced many challenges, as everyone does, I always know the light is still there waiting to cast its golden rays on everything it touches.  And without the dark, we would never know the light. Having felt despair, joy becomes even more beautiful and miraculous.  Life is filled with ups and downs and each is always contained in the other.

Nursing Manatees in the Form of a Cross ©Lynne Buchanan

Life is sacred.  If there was ever a doubt in my mind it was erased when I saw these two young manatees nursing their mother.  The young manatees flanked her and flayed to the side creating a cross.  It was so perfect and balanced and intimate.  Though my children are long grown, I will never forget the beauty of nurturing new life.  To see this exhibited by any species is a gift.

Anhinga Facing Dark Skies ©Lynne Buchanan

Though the skies were darkening the Anhinga still stretched its wings and lifted its head, facing whatever was to come.  In this case, it was only ominous looking skies–the weather retreated.  We never know what is coming.  Sometimes it seems there might be a dark cloud, but when it will blow over is a mystery.  Instead of feeling beaten down by storms in nature or within our own hearts, it is best not to retreat and close up but to spread or wings and keep the dream of flying alive.

Eagle Watching ©Lynne Buchanan

Whenever I am blessed to see an eagle, it always gives me courage and hope.  They are brave and have penetrating vision.  The lesson they teach me is that though they see clearly what is in the world, they stay strong and fly high.  

Fall Color and Reflections on the St. John's ©Lynne Buchanan

The following morning, I got up just before sunrise and paddled out onto the river.  I went down a little inlet into this amazing watery section of Hontoon Island.  The water was so still because nothing had moved on it before me.  I stopped paddling and just floated, not wanting to create any disturbance and mesmerized by the reflections.  There were these sharp lily pads in the foreground and they and the patterns formed by the tree trunks would have been enough to excite me.  To have gorgeous red fall foliage too was beyond my wildest expectations.  These are the rewards you receive that mean the most–the ones you least expect or in any way have tried to demand.  The colors were so vivid in the early morning light.  The soft energizing light illuminated everything perfectly.  I thought, if there is a heaven this is it.

Fall Color Amid the Spanish Moss, St. John's River ©Lynne Buchanan

I know that the St. John's River faces many issues stemming from overdevelopment, agriculture, fertilizers, and other byproducts of human impact.  In the coming months, I will be working with the St. John's Riverkeeper and visiting other areas of the river that are suffering more from these issues than this comparatively undeveloped section is facing.  When I start any project like this, I prefer to begin with appreciating the beauty, so that I am aware of what I am trying to help protect through my work.  It is important to realize why we want to save our rivers and what we are at risk of losing...

Lost and Found in White Sands

White Sands with Starburst ©Lynne Buchanan

It has been just over a year since I returned from my incredible 13,000+ mile solo cross country journey, the whole point of which was to lose and find myself.  I am over 250 pages into my book about this experience and as I am writing, I am revisiting the photographs I made on the trip.  While I was traveling, I was also trying to process a few photographs and write this blog.  Often, I did not have time to really go through all the photographs and am finding lots of wonderful images I didn't catch then.  I did have to leave time for a little sleep.  Three months was a long time to be on the road.

When I arrived at White Sands, it was late in the afternoon.  The ranger groaned when she saw me and said, "Oh, you're a photographer.  You're the ones that always get lost out here.  You always get so caught up in taking photographs that you forget to look where you came from." I promised I wouldn't do that, and then I went out wandering through the dunes.  At first, I kept looking back, mindful of her warning and not wanting to be a further embarrassment to my profession.  Then the sky started to do what it is doing in the image above (the color version is at the end of this blog).  The sun was heading lower and lower into the sky and I knew it would hit the mountains and make a wonderful starburst.  I started running with my tripod, to get into a position where I could frame a composition I liked with the yucca, dunes, mountains and clouds.  I was practically hyperventilating and I completely forgot where I came from.  I'd also gone over many dunes to get past where the footprints were, so the only ones I saw were mine and I couldn't find the ones that had led me to this place.  It was going to get dark soon and I had no idea what was out there.  I consoled myself by noting that I'd left the grizzlies back in Montana and Wyoming.  It couldn't be that bad, could it?

Fortunately, as I was wandering back, I ran into a couple from the air force out walking their dog.  I told them my story of getting lost and they laughed and led me in the right direction back to my car, allowing me to save face this time.  Still, there is something so freeing about realizing that you have gotten 100 percent lost in the moment; that all you are doing it reacting to what is and celebrating it with ever fibre of your soul.  

The Way of the Ridges ©Lynne Buchanan

The next morning, I got up and arrived at the park as soon as it opened, driving as far back as I could so I could hike in a remote area once again.  I had a couple of bottles of water with me and realized that I better not get lost, because I could end of very thirsty.  Again there was no one there, but I remembered what had happened the night before and this time I kept looking for signs and physical formations I could follow like this ridge.  I counted the dunes I crossed, remembered  peaks and valleys, as well as patterns and textures.  It was a different kind of being in the moment, a kind of being that reminded me of when I used to play that game as a child where people say a word and then have to repeat what everyone said before them.  It is a being in the moment that is aware of connections and history without getting stuck in the past.  What a wonderful exercise for my brain and it worked, mainly because I was paying more attention to what was on the ground and I wasn't losing my head in the clouds like I often do.

White Sands with Full Moon ©Lynne Buchanan

That's not to say that there weren't interesting clouds in the sky and I did notice an almost full moon above a crater-like formation on the earth.  White Sands is so barren and strange that sometimes I felt like I was on another planet, although I definitely wasn't weightless and free.  The sand is so powdery and white and it was definitely strenuous slogging through all the sand, but worth every ounce of physical exertion.

I only stayed until the late morning, because I knew I had to get out of there.  A giant storm was brewing that chased me all the way across the country from there to Florida, and I still had to get through the mountains of New Mexico, so I could make it to Texas and had head south.  

I am sure it was the storm that had created the amazing clouds the night before and which continued to add drama to the sky.  The image below is the starburst photo in color.  The sky was so colorful, I actually had to tone it down a little bit.  When it was all happening, I couldn't believe my eyes.  Who can blame me for getting lost.  Which image do you prefer, color or black and white?