The Photography of Scott St. Amand
Like many of my photographs of waterfalls, this one was taken in the Pisgah National Forest outside of Asheville, North Carolina. Although I quickly shy away from the compliments and comparisons some have drawn between my black and white landscape shots and the photographs of the great Ansel Adams, this one does remind me of some of his shots of the falls in Yellowstone. If I can be half of the photographer Adams was, I think that will be accomplishment enough.
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This macro photograph of a Pinus Echinata (short-leaf pine) was taken in North Carolina on the property of a dear family friend, a brother-from-another-mother, if you will. I was experimenting with my macro lens, which I had purchased just weeks before, and I came upon this sapling with beautiful green needles. It was not until I had framed the picture in my camera that I noticed the perfect symmetry of the needles radiating from the center. Nature is beautiful on a macroscopic level, but upon closer inspection–the kind we did as kids, when we were closer to the ground, and the snails were within our range of vision–nature is simply breathtaking. Whether it be the fractals found on pinecones or even broccoli, there is a divine order to these elements. For me, there is no other explanation.
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I love to photograph unique mushrooms, like this Chicken of the Woods (Laetiporus Sulphureus), which I came across in Panthertown Creek outside of Brevard, North Carolina. Even though the mushroom is not only edible, but apparently delicious (tasting like chicken, hence the name), I was not confident enough in my identification at the time to harvest it and cook it that night. After much research, there are very few mushrooms that look like this one, and those that do are generally edible as well. Perhaps when we are back in North Carolina in the New Year, I may come across a shelf of these mushrooms…then we’ll see who’s chicken.
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Nostalgia is a beautiful word. It is a is learned formation of a Greek compound, consisting of the Homeric word νόστος (nóstos), meaning “homecoming” and ἄλγος (álgos), meaning “pain” or “ache”, and was coined by a 17th-century medical student to describe the anxieties displayed by Swiss mercenaries fighting away from home. Nostalgia is a sentimentality for the past, typically for a period or place with happy personal associations. For me, nothing evokes nostalgia like the mountains of North Carolina. The earliest associations are of visiting the Smoky Mountains with my family when I was much younger, and later the mountains close to Winston-Salem, which were only a short drive away from Wake Forest. For reasons I cannot explain, the feelings are strongest in the winter, when the wind has stripped away the leaves from the branches, and you can see through the skeletons of the trees through the valleys and to the peaks. This photograph, taken outside of Brevard, North Carolina, evokes so many strong memories – all positive – which was not always the case in North Carolina. Hindsight and nostalgia are curious like that, though. No matter the number of disheartening days and nights, I still long to be back in the mountains. We’re going up for a week after Christmas, and I know the feelings will rush back, satisfying the homesickness for a while. Until then, in my mind, I’m going to Carolina…
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This photograph of a seedhead of tall ryegrass was taken on a high in Panthertown Creek, outside of Cashiers, North Carolina. It is a simple photograph, and one which I would normally have skipped right over when I was sifting through the hundreds I took that day. Nevertheless, something caught my eye in the simple elegance of the seeds and the blur and bokeh of the background. Although not actual wheat, this native grass reminded me of the old aphorism “to separate the wheat from the chaff,” which is exactly what I do when I cull through the photographs to find the “keepers.” The irony is not lost on me that the “chaff” nearly included this photograph.
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This photograph is a companion to Anna’s Hummingbird, which I posted on Wednesday. This photograph shows a bee and its balm, specifically a Halictus Poeyi (sweat “furrow” bee) about to collect pollen from a Monarda Clinopodia (white “bergamot” bee balm). The sweat bee and bee balm are native to North Carolina, where this photograph was taken. I was busy taking macro photographs of the native flowers in the beautiful gardens of a family friend, and I hardly noticed this little bee hovering near the dew-kissed bee balm. I was looking at my camera screen to see whether I had captured a focused shot of the flower when he drew closer, and I was able to catch him mid-flight. I would have loved to increase the shutter speed to catch his wings, as I did with Anna’s Hummingbird, but the lighting under the the dense rhododendrons was not conducive to such a shot.
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“Nothing lasts, nothing is finished, and nothing is perfect.”
This quote sums up the Japanese philosophy of wabi-sabi, which has no direct translation in English. “Wabi” is said to be defined as “rustic simplicity” or “understated elegance.” “Sabi” is translated to “taking pleasure in the imperfect.” This photograph of an abandoned toy truck captures the principle beautifully. The imperfection of the truck (and even the photograph thereof) is evident. Although the truck lost its wheels long before I took this photograph, its purpose has not yet been fulfilled – not completely. It is now immortalized in this photograph, which has subsequently become the subject of this post. Nothing is finished, really. This post will be replaced tomorrow by a less melancholy subject, and slowly it will fade from memory. Nothing lasts. The Romantic poets were students of the ephemeral, finding beauty in the brief life of all things. Even the Augustan poet Horace, famous for his introduction of the phrase “carpe diem,” was fascinated with fleeting time. There is a beauty to this photograph, though; however, I could not put my finger on it before I connected it with wabi-sabi. Now it has become clear why its perfectly imperfect composition and subject evoked such strong feelings of melancholy on the one hand, and pleasant nostalgia on the other. The Japanese phrase captures in two words, what it has taken me a lifetime to understand.
Nothing lasts. Nothing is finished. Nothing is perfect.
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This photograph was taken around midnight in Brevard, North Carolina. I hiked about a mile up to a remote field on the property of a family friend, where there was little to no light pollution. It was my first attempt at astral photography, and aside from the stars being a tad out of focus, I was thrilled at how the photograph turned out. The moon had not risen, and the field was pitch black. I used a 30 second exposure, and I was pleasantly surprised at how the sky was illuminated. The wisps of clouds immediately made me think of Van Gogh’s “Starry Night.” After I uploaded the photograph and did some very minor post-processing, I trekked back up to the field. Unfortunately, the wisps of clouds had turned into a think blanket, and all of the stars were obscured. When we return at the new year, I hope for clear skies and good weather so that I can capture more of these scenes.
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ST. AMAND PHOTOGRAPHY 