Primordial Landscapes: Iceland Revealed

A Smithsonian staff member in the hall outside Iceland Revealed exhibit

The founder of my organization, Feodor Pitcairn, is a very accomplished nature photographer.  Though he worked in his family's financial business, his true love was photography.  He began his photographic career making stunning, natural-light undersea still images, then graduated to undersea videography.

At 80 years old, he has forsaken diving (too dangerous, he claims; he has related some really "close calls").  Now he photographs terrestrial landscapes with very high-end camera equipment.  He has spent the last several years making expeditions to Iceland, which resulted in an exhibition of his work at the Smithsonian Institution's National Museum of Natural History in Washington.

Mr. Pitcairn collaborated with Icelandic poet Ari Trausti Guðmundsson to "reveal a land of fire, ice, hardy life, and natural beauty. Visitors to the exhibit experience the remote beauty of Iceland, a land sculpted by the elements and forged by active geologic activity."

Enjoying the exhibit

Mr. Pitcairn organized a bus tour to Washington for a small group of his friends for the exhibit's opening on June 30, and Kali and I were invited to come along.  It was the culmination of years of work, and he was in "seventh heaven."

A beaming Mr. Pitcairn

A well-known Icelandic folk troupe with the (translated) name "Seasons" happened to be in town on tour and entertained the crowd during the reception.  During the mingling after the formal speechifying, Kali and I had a chance to speak with the Icelandic Ambassador to the United States and former Icelandic Prime Minister Geir H. Haarde.  He gave us his card and invited us to contact him if we wanted some "special considerations" should we choose to visit Iceland.

Though Mr. Pitcairn's images are striking, Kali's not much motivated by stark, sere landscapes.  I doubt we'll take Mr. Haarde up on his offer.   

Vanity (A Failed Experiment)

Creek in the moonlight - with my condensing breath

There's a very special place in "my" preserve called Peak Woods.  It's a 7-acre remnant old growth forest with huge American beeches, tuliptrees, and oaks cloaking a rocky, east-facing hillside rising up steeply from the bank of the creek.  I love to walk the trail alongside the creek at the base of the slope early on moonlit nights because the moonlight penetrates deeply into the forest and it reflects on the riffles in the creek, turning the water to quicksilver.

Last night, there was the added benefit of freshly fallen snow on the landscape, so I went for a walk soon after the moon rose - and I took my camera with me to try to capture some of the magic. 

In general, I was sorely disappointed - but I'm sharing the images with you anyway (hence, the first part of my post's title).  The woods and the creek were beautiful, but I was unable to capture the ambiance.  My camera has a "night scene" setting, but there just wasn't enough light even for that setting.  To do the woods justice, I need to bring along my tripod and shoot with a very long exposure.  And, to dress much more warmly!

The shadow of a bankside tree

My camera's flash kept going off; I assumed the camera was trying to measure the distance to the nearest object in order to focus the lens properly.  And, it probably was doing so, but it was also artificially illuminating the woods, an effect I was trying to avoid.

After photographing the creek and the woods, I was headed back to my car when the moonlight shining behind a post-and-rail fence caught my eye.  I figured, "What the heck; I'll give it a try." but the camera didn't seem to respond, so I gave up - and moved slightly just as the shutter clicked.  Here's the result.  If I'd had more patience, it might have made a nice image.

Late Summer Images

My friend who manipulates photographic images had been in the hospital in July. She fell backward down the stairs and one of her lungs collapsed. While she was in the hospital (she needed surgery to reverse the collapse), the doctors determined that she has a grapefruit-sized bleb (a benign growth) on her lung and probably has had for a long time. So, she'll be back in the hospital for more surgery. In the meantime, she made these images, one from the morning glory vine she has growing in her back yard, and one taken at Higbee Beach on the Delaware Bay shore in southern New Jersey on a recent trip there.

Midsummer Night's Tree

My friend who is an painter and photographer sent me this image she made by digitally manipulating an image from her garden. I like it because it evokes mystery, lushness, and rank summer growth. It's also intimate, sheltering, and comforting. I've made it the screensaver on my computer.