Happy Halloween

I very rarely post about anything not photography related, but today I make an exception. This is just too much fun to pass up.....

Slow Down and Look Around

I know you're busy. I'm busy too. Everybody is busy. We are all busy. But for cryin' out loud, take a look around. Open your eyes and focus. See all that is around you.

I look back at my body of work, and with the exception of my Mexico images, everything else is something that you walk by every day without looking at. Well, you may look at it, but do you really SEE it? If you are willing to SEE, there is really so much around us to be seen.

Many times at my exhibits, people will stare at images and talk to their friends "Where is this, it looks so familiar?". Unable to come up with the answer, they come to me and ask the question. Usually, when I tell them the location that a certain photograph was taken, their reaction ranges from astonishment to bewilderment.

"I walk right by that spot every day and never really noticed that." People are so "connected" now, that they hardly notice anything. Turn off the iPod, put your cell phone in your pocket, and just walk. Listen to the sounds around you, and see what there is to see. Spend a few minutes with yourself. You might be surprised what is out there.



"Cigar Store Indian"
Limited Edition Fine Art Photograph
by Scott Bulger

"Everything has its beauty but not everyone really sees it." - Confucius 551 BC - 479 BC

Sanctuary

Hiking through the woods at this time of year is a unique experience. While in the summer, it is typically several degrees cooler when you come upon a stream, once it starts to cool off in October and November, it often feels a few degrees warmer once you reach the banks of the flume.

The streams are swollen with turbid water as the lakes are being drawn down for the winter. The banks are saturated, and strewn with colorful leaves that float to the ground when the breeze kicks in, creating an audible rustle.

The extra water holds the frost at bay, and nourishes the moss, keeping the streams banks green while the woods turn brown and yellow. The water swirls and splashes, buffeting the rocks and downed trees, yet amongst the violence, sanctuary has been found.

In the hollow of an old branch on a felled tree, a family of five has set up house. The curious youngster peeking over the wall to see what is happening, while the cautious father hovers over the others to protect them from whatever may come their way. Their footing is precarious. A rise in the water level would wash them out of the sheltering depression they have rooted in. Unable to flee, they wait.

"Family of Five"

"The woods are lovely, dark, and deep, but I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep."

Robert Frost

Where Did the Last 30 Days Go?

Thirty days since my last blog post and I sit here wondering what happened to the last month. Time seems to go by faster and faster and you have to wonder what you must be missing each time you blink. The last lunar cycle has been packed full of activity, and if I had thirty six hours to each day instead of the alloted twenty four, it still wouldn't have been enough time to get everything done.

Most recently, my oldest son, a 20 year old junior in college came home for the first time in about eight months. His two little brothers (4 and 9) were very excited to see him, and they spent a lot of his four days home hanging out together. It was great to see them all playing together, laughing out loud at every goofball joke that the four year old perpetrated.

I didn't get any real quiet time with him until driving him back to the airport early Sunday morning. His plane was leaving at 9:00, so we figured that he should be there at 8:00, which meant we would have to leave the house at 7:00, so my alarm went off at 6:00. It was a chilly morning, with the temperature hovering around freezing. We talked a lot on the trip to the airport, him excitedly telling me about his future plans, and me offering my sage advice that I'm sure went in one of his ears and right out the other. That's ok, it's a fathers job to talk whether or not the kids actually listen. He usually humors me by at least acting like he is listening, his eyes focused just to the side of my head, one eyebrow furtively raised with deep concentration. Of course, he's probably thinking about what he can make himself for dinner once he gets back to his apartment, and whether he left any milk in his refrigerator.


Once at the airport, he assured me that he would be able to manage his own way inside, practically throwing a verbal arm bar across the door so that I couldn't get out, "You don't have to park Dad, I can manage my own way through an airport." And that quickly, he was out the door.

So I found myself out and about at 7:45 on a Sunday morning without a designated time to be somewhere else. How was this possible? I cast a quick glance into the back seat to make sure my camera was there and off I drove. To quote Ferris Bueller, "Life goes by pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it."

I really enjoy just driving around with no particular destination, just seeing what there is to see, and attempting to record these little rectangles of the world with my camera. A camera gives you liberty. It creates a shield between you and the world. When looking through the viewfinder, you are watching the world unfold in slow motion, scenes transpiring at your own pace, with the use of your own personal hand held time machine.

Driving through the woods, a clearing appears on both sides of the road, early morning light filtering through the trees, glistening off of the heavy frost that has settled on the grass. Pulling my truck over into a clearing, a large flock of turkeys makes it's way across the road in front of me. I grab my camera and open the door. The cold morning air fills my lungs like a "Slushie" fills a big plastic cup. I'm not a big fan of the cold, but there is something invigorating about these autumn mornings.

I walked through the fields, small patches of icy marsh crunching under my feet as the thigh high grass drops its frost on my jeans. I pick a few scenes and fill my frame. A heavy wind kicks up and a large flock of birds take off, cackling and squawking as they circle the field, momentarily lighting in a snag, and then circling again before flying out of sight.


I'm very proud of my all of my boys, but I'm very proud of the man that my oldest is becoming. I think he can find his own way through the airport.