The Photography of Scott St. Amand
I took the photograph of this pod of pelicans off of Point Lobos, in Carmel, California. This is only the front of a much longer line of pelicans that was flying down the coast, and I thought the panorama captured them nicely against the bay and the creeping marine layer. I love how they are all in different stages of flight, some coasting and some flapping frenetically.
Click here for a larger version (and a color version).
This photograph was taken on the shore of Stillwater Bay. The path leads to Pebble Beach, and I was surprised by how many people I found wandering through the outskirts of the course, having climbed this well trodden path.
This photograph was taken just after dawn on Little Talbot Island, north of Jacksonville, Florida. It was one of the first macro photographs I took, and it remains one of my favorites. I love how it captures the pendant dewdrop and the weight of the driftwood branch and the water. The little bubbles add an interesting depth of field.
Click here for a larger version.
“Lugete, o Veneres Cupidinesque,
et quantum est hominum venustiorum:
passer mortuus est meae puellae-
passer, deliciae meae puellae,
quem plus illa oculis suis amabat.”
Mourn, O Venuses and Cupids,
and whatever there is of pleasing me:
the sparrow of my girl is dead –
the sparrow, the delight of my girl,
whom she loved more than her own eyes.
Catullus, Carmen 3
As evidenced by this brief passage from the funeral dirge of the first century (BC) Roman poet Catullus, the sparrow has been a subject of art and admiration (even tongue-in-cheek adoration) for thousands of years. I found this golden crowned sparrow perched in the chaparral along the path towards Whaler’s Cove in Point Lobos State Nature Reserve, Carmel, California. I thought it was a lovely photograph of a beautifully marked bird, but upon closer inspection of the photograph as I was processing the photos at the end of the day, I noticed the rather doleful look on the sparrow. For an animal that flits about, seemingly without care, this look struck me as rather queer. Perhaps, like Catullus, I am importing more meaning to the life of a sparrow than reason would suggest appropriate. Still, this remains my favorite photograph of the many sparrows I have photographed over the course of the last fifteen years or so.
Click here for a larger version (and a black and white version).
In 2006, I took the trip of a lifetime. After decades studying literature and Latin, I stood in Dove Cottage, Wordsworth’s home, and amongst the columns in the forum of Pompeii. We were young then, Anna and I, but to this day we love traveling with our families whether in North Carolina, or Alaska, or England where we were engaged and where this photograph was taken. I saw many marvelous sights on that trip–Marseilles, Mallorca, and all of the little English hamlets we visited like Grasmere. This photograph of a well-trod path through the bracken ferns was taken in the Lake District in Northwest England. Though you cannot tell from the perspective of the photograph, the bracken are as tall as I was, and the white and black sheep cloistered themselves between the fronds. I felt a bit like Alice, dwarfed by the thick blanket of beautiful green ferns. The Lake District truly is a wonderland, and I cannot wait to return.
Click here for a larger version.
As I mentioned in a previous post, I am less comfortable taking portraits of anyone except my son, who is a willing subject. This portrait, however, is one of my all time favorites. Zinger was born just as the Red Sox clinched the 2004 World Series. I was home from college, and I watched him being born to our sweet girl Hannah. She nipped his umbilical cord too close to him, and he was left bleeding profusely. My sister took him in her arms and staunched the blood for hours until he healed. He was hers from that moment forward. He loved the water, and he loved North Carolina – which is where I found him in this photograph. We had to say goodbye to Zinger a few months ago, but he will always occupy a warm place in our hearts.
Click here for a larger version.
I studied art history in high school and college, learning from incredible teachers and professors. I went to museums and saw visiting collections, but I never stood in the middle of St. Peter’s square or under the arches of a gothic cathedral until 2006 when I stood in La Seu, visited Pompeii, and walked into the middle of the Piazza San Pietro, marveling at the history that surrounded me. Yet something about Bolton Abbey, the skeleton of which I captured in this photograph, struck me more than even walking through the ancient streets of Pompeii. Perhaps because I was older, I had a new appreciation for the feats of architecture. Perhaps, too, it was because I was alone with my camera and my thoughts, not being bustled about by tour guides or other eager tourists. Whatever the difference, Bolton Abbey was more majestic to me than even St. Peter’s. It is a memory, a remnant of time gone by, of the monarchy, of the Reformation, and of the shifting sands of faith. While other abbeys were deconstructed during the Dissolution of the Monasteries, and all that remains of them is rubble, Bolton Abbey remains – like a fossil, its bones bared and resolute. When I stood in the nave, I placed my hand on a monolithic column, lingering for a moment and hoping to physically connect to the priory. With the weathered stone pressed against my hand, I wondered how many generations had set their hands upon the stonework, and at that moment I felt truly connected to a continuum of time – those who had come before and those who would come after to admire the remnant as I had.
Click here for a larger version.
I have lived near the ocean my whole life, and yet it took my first trip to the California coast to truly admire the beauty of the sea. The rocks and the waves are gorgeous in and of themselves, but together they are magical. This photograph captures the instant when the two come together to produce an ephemeral wisp of beauty. But for my camera capturing the fleeting moment, this little crash would have been forgotten, lost beneath the weight of the others that have come after it. My fascination with the waves and the rocks can be seen in my collection California Waves. I hope you enjoy this instant as much as I have. The Romantics–Blake, Wordsworth, Coleridge, Keats, and Shelley–all tried to capture that one infinite moment in words. I will never have the words to capture it like they did; but then, they didn’t have a lens…
Click here for a larger version.
This photograph is a macro shot of an Augochlora Pura (Green Sweat Bee) on a Monarda Fistulosa (a wild bergamot or bee balm). As the title of the post suggests, I was captivated (and I still am) by the iridescence of the sweat bee’s green head and thorax, and his purple wings that look like stained glass. This photograph was taken in Brevard, North Carolina on the property of a family friend. I had to be terribly patient to get this shot, but in the end it paid off with a beautiful capture.
Click here for a larger version.
ST. AMAND PHOTOGRAPHY 