flickr Gratification

As a photographer there are a lot of good reasons for using flickr. The most important being that your work can be seen by a lot of people. The social networking aspects of flickr mean that your friends and family can be notified about your new pictures automatically. More importantly however, by joining a "group" and then submitting an image to that group it will be seen by a large number of group members beyond your personal contacts.


"untitled" - latest, or so, picture posted to flickr. Honestly, what do you think?

It's possible for viewers of images to leave feedback in comments and to also use a box on the image itself to make notes. This is a powerful combination for getting critical feedback about what a photographer is doing well, and what might need improvement. Unfortunately this most powerful capability is almost never used effectively. Why? Because there are almost no critical comments of posted photographs.

Selecting one of the most interesting pictures (determined by flickr) will probably reveal a lengthy list of adjective-based comments: "Great!", "Nice!", "Awesome!" Along with a large number of invitations to add the picture to some group or other, probably a group that uses emoticons and multiple "!" in the name. (Incidentally, I have observed that even pictures with a banal subject, uninspiring light and a poor choice of framing will get fawning praise if they have over the top image processing and a black border applied) There will be very few comments that focus on specific aspects such as, "The catch-light in the eye really makes it pop." that help the photographer know what they are doing right. There will be no critical comments pointing out failures in the picture. Of course criticism is more helpful, because it helps the photographer identify areas that need improvement, or avenues of artistic exploration that are dead-ends. I know many people are initially hurt by critical comments, especially if they have spent considerable time working on a picture, but I think that eventually an artist desires critical feedback, because it's the only way to decide if what they are doing effectively conveys their message to an audience.

I myself have been guilty of leaving simplistic comments, though I usually attempt to articulate what I like about a picture. But isn't it time for considerate honesty? If flickr members aren't critical in their feedback of one another, then a large part of flickr's promise (to become a better photographer) goes unfulfilled. Personally, if you're going to leave a comment for one of my photographs explain what you do or don't like about it, just don't use "Awesome!"

Contemplating Murder

For several months now I have been weighing what to do about a Red Maple (acer rubrum) that has been sickly since it was transplanted to New York. Originally the maple sprouted then grew for the first several years on the coast of Maine. About six years ago it was moved here by me.


The Red Maple exhibiting yellow foliage and new growth that has died.

Last year I investigated why it is faring poorly, while a Sugar Maple (acer saccharum) of about the same age that was transplanted at the same time is thriving. I learned that while Sugar Maples will tolerate a range of soil pH Red Maples need acidic soil. The Maine coast is very acidic, the chances are good that the Red Maple would have done very well where it was. Here along the coastal plain of Lake Ontario the soil is decidedly neutral to alkaline. An online tree forum had a question posted which described a Red Maple with the same symptoms: yellow leaves and new growth shriveling in summer, the poster wanted to know what to do. The response was to remove the tree. While the maple might be temporarily helped by the addition of elemental Sulfur, ultimately it would weaken and die because it had been planted where the soil pH was not favorable.

So now I prevaricate between removal of the tree immediately or a long futile battle with the same ultimate result. Reduced to grimy pragmatism, digging out the tree means the loss of six years of poor growth and the price of some soil amendments. However my thoughts quickly turn, time and again, to the real failure: I should have determined if a Red Maple could survive here before I transplanted it, should have known better, should have been a better caretaker.

Occasionally I am side-tracked into thinking that this is an example in miniature of what now seems to be humanity's great accomplishment (altering the environment) and failure (fear of stopping alterations that have long term negative effects for us and nature). I didn't know, didn't even care to find out, what the maple needed to survive, I just went ahead and did what I wanted. Prior to understanding the web of ecosystems that support life on Earth, humans populated the planet, released millions of years of stored Carbon into the atmosphere, and poisoned many of the resources we need to survive. Now that I understand something about Red Maples isn't it incumbent that I try to discern and do the right thing?

I don't want to kill the tree; At heart I am a lifer, a conserver, a nurturer. I move toads fleeing the lawn mower, and wince when I drive worm-covered streets following a prolonged rain. Life is too difficult and precarious to throw away in a cavalier manner. Too often the fate of a living thing seems to depend on the whim of a dim, ignorant, and capricious universe. I believe the greatest thing a twenty first century human can do is to learn about, appreciate, and defend the lives of all creatures on Earth.

For the Red Maple I have discovered no unambiguous right answer, just thoughts like an Ouroboros going around endlessly: worth of the tree compared to the weed I pull out unhesitatingly; do nothing and hope that the tree will strike an unknown pocket of alkaline soil; it's my fault for moving the tree anyway; maybe it will just die quickly on its own; repeat with variation… Yet in a dry, antiseptic, sterile region of my mind bores the grubby unhappy answer. To paraphrase: is this a round-pointed shovel I see before me?

The Maine Grind

It seems that even our trip to Maine will be dogged by the wet weather that has dampened the Northeast all summer. As we traveled East in New York on route 90, we slowly overtook, then remained under, a monster thunderstorm that hammered the Albany area. Rain and hail alternately took turns tearing at the car. Lightning was all around us lashing the ground. Fortunately, by yesterday morning the rain and clouds were dissipated by warm air, and we enjoyed clear, rain-washed skies. When we drew near the coast streamers of fog were carried inland from the ocean by a cooler breeze.

Today is overcast with occassional light rain. However, for those of us "from away," this weather presents a welcome opportunity for silent contemplation. If you are fortunate to find yourself standing quietly in a Maine mist-filled forest without the slightest wind you soon learn it's subtle beauty. Droplets collect on the fanned branches of Balsam firs, and the only sound is of water dripping from the tips to the needle-blanketed earth. By the coast the scent of resin and salt is inescapable. All around, green pine and fir branches lace together, broken by the peeling white of paper birch trunks. Perhaps in time the clouds will shred and roll away under a high wind; rays of sun wax and wane creating a pulsing display of glittering beads. Yet often enlightenment comes with the understanding that eventually the exceptionality of this moment will fade. Chaucer wrote, "Men seyn that ‘over-greet hoomlynesse engendreth dispreisynge’." Familiarity breeds contempt. It's possible that being from away has its own blessings.

Another less contemplative option is to catch up on the latest Ellsworth happenings at the The Maine Grind and enjoy coffee, art, and (eavesdropping on other people's) talk. Currently on display is a great photo by Gifford Ewing titled "High Tide, Bar Island." It's captured on 5x7 AgX film, printed at about 36x48" (huge!) on AgX paper and selenium toned. Gorgeous black and white.

Where was God?

Today I came across a reference at Fairness and Accuracy in Reporting to the media's reaction to African (read Somali) pirates. The article describes the responses in editorials, blogs, comments, etc., "people have called unequivocally-often in blunt, colorful language-for killing Somali pirates." This reminded me of a letter to the Democrat and Chronicle that I have been pondering for weeks now.

The letter writer attempts to use the capture and subsequent rescue of Captain Richard Phillips as proof of God's universal love (brief recap: Phillips was held hostage by Somali pirates. On Easter Sunday snipers from the U.S. Navy shot and killed his captors). The letter entitled "Capt. showed love for crew" opens with, "This Easter was a remarkable message of God's love for us all." Note that the writer wishes to impress upon us that a message of love for all people was delivered to the world by God.

The writer goes on to quote John 15:13, "Greater love has no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends." The choice of Phillips to remain a captive so that his crew could go free is certainly noble.

The letter concludes with, "How awesome that Phillips was rescued on Easter Sunday — the day when Christians celebrate the resurrection of our Lord and Savior." It was wonderful that Phillips was rescued, I however have to question the hand of divine providence (at least Christian divine providence) in the whole affair. While it troubles me that someone would consider what happened to be a meaningful message of God's love, what is most disturbing is that the writer never mentions the fact that to successfully rescue Phillips three people were shot and killed.

So, was the rescue of Phillips a message of God's love for us all?

It certainly wasn't for the three pirates who died violently. Perhaps those three pirates were unloved by God, perhaps His love excludes some people. If we examine Jesus's teachings we find he spent a large part of his time with prostitutes, tax collectors, and other undesirable people of his day. In this case tax collectors warrant more attention. In the classical world of Caesar Augustus tax collectors were government employees (Julius Caesar had ended the practice of tax farming); tax collectors were often corrupt and oversight lax so that they were able to "shake down" the population for as much money as they could get and keep whatever was left over after the taxes were taken. They often used intimidation and violence to extract money from people. You can imagine that the poor and powerless, the same group that made up most of Jesus's adherents, were especially victimized by the tax collector. Yet Jesus invited tax collectors to join him, and he even went to stay in their homes. If Jesus didn't exclude thugs who harmed and terrorized his followers it seems unlikely that any humans are outside his, and by extension God's, love.

There is more evidence that God's love extends to all people; one of Jesus's most oft-quoted sayings is, "Love your neighbor as yourself." (Luke 10:27) After Jesus affirms his belief in this ancient teaching from Leviticus a lawyer, looking for a loophole asks, "Who is my neighbor?" In answer Jesus tells the parable of the Good Samaritan. The point of the parable is that every human being is your neighbor. Here also it seems hard to reconcile the killing of three people with Jesus's endorsement of the Golden Rule.

It seems to me that had Jesus met the Somali pirates he would have had no qualms about breaking bread with them at table.

So was the killing of three people and the rescue of an innocent captive really a message from God? Perhaps, but if there is a message it's probably not as simple as many, including the letter writer, would like. It might involve things like, understanding: why do these people choose to commit piracy? Does it have anything to do with the crushing and deadly poverty of Somalia? What about the destruction of the Somalian fishery by wealthier countries taking advantage of the lack of a real government to protect the fishermen and their way of life? Or maybe the message is that we are our brother's (and sister's) keeper and it's time to stop ignoring the suffering that goes on in many parts of the world.

I have a hard time believing that a just and loving God would view the sad conclusion of the situation as anything but a single epsiode, in a long and ancient history of human beings failing to love and tolerate each other as he would have them do.

And I wonder why it seems so few other people see it that way.