Postcard from the Olympic Peninsula

Coastline

The inlets
Wrap around the water
Writhing in the fury of the ocean’s waves,
Obscuring the distance they reveal
To the eyes that gaze absent mindedly
Down their beaches and their cliffs.

Indifferent to the conflict below,
The sun blazes down
But the winds cleanse the skin of its heat
As they are driven from the sea.

The sea that breaks the stoic rocks
And casts the sand’s lonely grains
-Along with the many homeless winds-
Across the beaches which slope
At the feet of their stony bluffs.

But the cliffs stand in austere grandeur
Defiantly surveying the endless waters
Whose numerous, ceaseless, enduring waves
Are kept at bay by the towering unity.

I am of the wind that has no home
In the conflict of sea and land
I am the sun that lights this vision:
Firmament of hills, sea and sand.

Tides come and go but never leave me
Sands shift in time but never deceive me
As sun I shine light on all at hand:
This ceaseless meeting of sea and land.

Poem by: The They

Digital Painting by J.R. Corkrum - “Land’s End”

Postcard from Zion

The trip was meticulously planned. Dates and weather were checked. Hotel reservations were made. Everything looked good. Instead, it was a bust!

The time was November 2015. The place: Zion National Park. It was supposed to be a trip to photograph the glories of Autumn in that most beautiful place. But somebody forgot to tell Mother Nature. I arrived in the canyon one day ahead of my friend and professional nature photographer Dave Forster. My job was to scout the park to find the best place for Autumn colors. Having done this before, I knew the places to seek out for Autumn’s glory.

Except I found very autumn color. The trees were mostly green. What yellow I could find was mostly a brownish yellow…not very photographic. Of the red and orange colors, there were none. To come all this way and not find what you were looking for…well it was disappointing to say the least.

The next day, Dave showed up and we took a tour of the canyon. Nothing had changed…there was nothing here to photograph. On our last Autumn visit, the colors were spectacular! We both nearly wore out our cameras. We took hundreds of photos, a few of which were shown here. This time, our camera stayed in their respective bags.

Just before you leave the park, there is a junction…the left one being the road into the high country of Zion. It’s a spectacular road, with amazing views of the park as you climb higher and higher, ending in the mile-long tunnel that brings you out into the high country. We decided to give the high country a try, even though autumn ends early up there because of the elevation.

As we emerged from the tunnel, we found mostly what we expected. Autumn was pretty much over here as there was snow on the ground. The higher we went, the more snow we found. Then we came upon the scene you see here: the last tree of autumn in the high country set among the red rocks so prevalent in Zion. Of course we stopped, both hungry to do something with our cameras.

We shot several images, each of us in a different spot. Dave was down below near the tree while I was stationed where I took this photo. Eventually Dave joined me up above and we continued to take pictures, each looking for that perfect composition. I think this photo was my best, although certainly not the best photo I have ever taken in Zion. This location partially saved our earlier disappointments down below.

The next day we headed further east, joining up with highway 89, then the beautiful Highway 12. With stops in Bryce National Park, then on to Hole-in-the-Rock Road and down to Dance Hall Rock, the photos of which have been shown here before. From there we headed back toward Zion, but turning on different highway that eventually led us up to 10,000 feet and Cedar Breaks National Monument.

So while the trip was not a total bust, I have to say that Zion Canyon was supposed to be the highlight of this trip, but it just did not happen. But that is the life of a photographer…sometimes you get lucky, sometime you don’t.

Postcard from Phoenix

Just last Saturday, I had the pleasure of attending the Indy car race in Phoenix. It was quite a race…won by Scott Dixon driving the #9 Target Car…the very car shown here. Except I did not take this photo in Phoenix. Rather, I photographed it last August in the winners circle in Sonoma, CA when he won that race and the 2015 Driving Championship. He is one heck of a driver. It was nice to see him win again.

The Sonoma track and the Phoenix track are two birds of a different feather. The Sonoma Raceway is a 2.5 mile road course…Phoenix is a one-mile oval track…well almost oval. It has four banked turns built into it…not sharp turns, but turns never-the-less.

I’ve been to two races in Sonoma and now one at the Phoenix course. This is the first time in 11 years that Indy cars raced in Phoenix (to be truthful, although the course is named The Phoenix International Raceway, it is actually in Avondale, just west of Phoenix). In Sonoma, I was far enough back from the course, that the engine noise didn’t bother me. Not true in Phoenix. Although we were high up, the course is small enough that the noise was unbelievably loud…especially at the start. Wow! And I didn’t bring any earplugs.

These cars moved at unbelievable speeds, anywhere from 185 to 191 MPH. And they never braked for the turns…they just took those turns at full speed. They could complete one lap in 19 seconds.  I was using the Verizon Indy Car app on my iPhone, so I could not only monitor the race standings, but the individual car statistics, including speed, gear changes, braking and more.

The Chevy equipped cars had the advantage over the Honda cars on this course. The top ten qualifiers were all Chevys. Three Honda cars hit the wall on Friday before the race, but were all rebuilt and raced on Saturday, although they started at the back of the pack. At the end of the race, 8 out of the top 9 finishers were all Chevys.

There was a lot more drama here about drivers and their cars than I’ve told you, but it would probably only interest hard core racing fans. It was exciting and fun and I got to watch a replay of the race Sunday morning on TV. I will go back next year for sure but will chose different seats. We were right at the start/finish line, but when the cars came off the last turn they were hugging the wall in front of us, so it was not a good view and the forget about decent photos. In fact, one driver hit the wall in front of us and skidded down the track along the wall. We never saw it.

One nice thing about this year’s cars, they have large computer generated electronic numbers on their cars that show their positions on the track during the race. I must admit at 190 miles per hour, it was difficult to see the number as they came by us. The light can also show their time in the pits when they come in for fuel and tires. Pit stops are critical in racing. The faster you can get in and out the better. In fact you could say Scott Dixon won the race in the pits as he moved up because he pitted faster than one or two cars in front of him.

Of course, for me, this is just a preliminary race for the big one coming up on Memorial Day Weekend in Indianapolis. It is the 100th running of “the greatest spectacle in racing” and I will be there for my very first time. Can’t wait. I got my ticket, airline flights, cars, and hotels all arranged. After Saturday’s race, I am ready!  

Postcard from Dance Hall Rock

This is the second image I’ve show you from my one-day visit to Dance Hall Rock in southeastern Utah. In case you don’t remember, Dance Hall Rock is 39 miles down a very rough, unimproved dirt road called “Hole in the Rock Road.” It lies east of Escalante. If you don’t know where that is, it is about 60 miles east of Bryce Canyon National Park, along Highway 12.

In my first blog about this big rock, I told you how the holes in the sandstone rock are created and how, over time, the wind blows dirt down into the hole, allowing plant life to eventually get started. The first image I showed you was of a hole only a few feet deep. Obviously, this one is much, much deeper. It is deep enough that if I fell in, it is doubtful I would survive. And this tree is very, very tall.

I had to work my way around it to get the right location for the best shot. Trust me…I was very careful negotiating around this deep hole. Although you can’t see it, the hole is quite wide and there is a garden of desert plants all along the bottom. It is quite something to see. To find these holes one must walk all around the top of Dance Hall Rock. They are not really obvious to the eye until you get near one. There are no trails or signposts…and even getting up on top of the rock itself requires a bit of scouting, then climbing. Not easy to do at my age. 

Finding and photographing this tree has been on my bucket list for a number of years, ever since I saw a photograph of it in a book on southern Utah. Finding its exact location was also a bit of a challenge. It took some careful scanning of Google Earth before I found its exact location. I only wish I could have arrived there earlier when the sun was higher in the sky. This was late afternoon and the deep shadows down in the hole were in large contrast to the sunlit top. It took all of my Lightroom and Photoshop skills to make the shadows a bit brighter.

I managed to wander around the top of Dance Hall Rock for a little while longer, looking for more holes. But soon I had to head down and get off the rock as the sun was starting to set behind some nearby hills. It was pitch black when we finally got back to Highway 12. I was tired, and relieved to get off that damned dirt road and back on to a paved highway…but I got the shot!! 

Postcard from Val d'Aosta

In the very upper northwest corner of Italy lies the beautiful Val d'Aosta, or in English: the Aosta Valley. It is a magnificent valley, surrounded on three sides by the Alps. There are two main roads that begin in the city of Aosta. The road west climbs slowly through small towns such as Pre-Saint Didler, Aumavilles, Introd…finally ending in the well-known Italian ski resort town of Courmayeur. 

Did you notice that the towns I mentioned all have French names? Why? Because it was first populated by the French as early as medieval times. It has a long and checkered political history too detailed to go into here. Remember, Italy did not become a nation until 1861. French was the official language for many years. It was Mussolini who forced the Italian language on to the residents. Many of the people who lived here back then chose to migrate to France and Switzerland. Today, both French and Italian are spoken here and most residents know both.

Back to the highway west. I mentioned the resort town of Courmayeur. That is where the Aosta Valley ends…at the foot of Mount Blanc. But wait, the road does not end there. There is a 7.2 mile tunnel through the mountain. When you emerge at the other end, you are in France.

The other road I mentioned runs north out of Aosta. Take it for a few miles and you enter Switzerland. Technically that road does not go through the Aosta Valley, so I won’t elaborate on it.

One of the most interesting facts about the valley is it contains around 100 genuine castles and 50 smaller fortified homes, all built ages ago when such things were in style. The castle above is Saint-Pierre Castle (notice another French name). It was built in the 12th century. Occupied for most of its life by French noble families, it was restored back in the 19th century by an Italian nobleman. He eventually gave it to the city of Saint-Pierre.

I took the original photo on slide film, then converted it to digital. I then sketched the image using digital pastel chalk to render what you see here. The mountain in the background is Mount Blanc.  I spent two days roaming the Val d’Aosta, taking photos and just enjoying the incredible scenery. If you are ever in northern Italy, be sure and make the trip. It is only about 1.5 hours north of Torino and is an easy drive. Bring your best camera!!

PS…Mount Blanc is not the tallest peak in the Italian Alps. That honor belongs to the Matterhorn. I bet you thought that mountain was in Switzerland. On a clear day, the Matterhorn is visible all the way from Torino.

Postcard from Italy

 

Italy in One Day

If I could feed you Italy in one day,
served within a cup for you to savor,
I’d begin in sunny Sorrento
south of Naples,
the morning air perfumed by lemon trees
whose fruit is distilled into the liqueur
that the locals pride themselves in making;
you hold a small espresso cup between index finger and thumb
and wrinkle your nose at the bitter flavor
of a first tentative sip
between nibbles of cheese and bread and fruit
in a tiny cafe that overlooks the Mediterranean
and the hazy outline of the island of Capri in the distance.

 
If I could feed you Italy in one day,
pressed between the slices of a fresh panini,
I’d take you to the Tuscan hills
far from the beaten paths of tourists
north of Siena,
the afternoon as fresh as laundry
drying on the lattice of clothesline
of the apartment across the piazza;
women’s voices dart like birds overhead,
flying in and out of open windows
as we share bites of our sandwich,
thick with tomato, cheese, and basil—
simple ingredients that yield a complexity
of tastes washed down with swallows of cold beer
under an ice blue sky.

If I could feed you Italy in one day,
prepared al forno like a primo piatto of lasagna or gnocchi,
I’d take you to an obscure osteria just outside the Duomo
in central Florence,
where the waiters sing you to your table
with operatic theatricality
and the vino della casa is the rich ruby colors
of the evening as it settles on the city,
soft as a silk scarf slipping through your fingers;
we feel the heat of the kitchen
press against the cool of coming night,
our noses florid with the spices of our meals
as we feed each other forkfuls from our plates;
the streets are alive with the commotion of traffic
and the banter of voices bouncing like balls
down the cobblestones of the Via.

If I could feed you Italy in one day,
poured like dark grappa in a delicate tulip glass,
I’d end at a taverna in a remote campo
in the heart of Venice,
where the tables are draped in checkered linen
under quiet awnings far from
the chaos of the Grande Canal;
the sweetness of the day lingers
in the echolalia of lapping water
and the sounds of gondoliers at work;
we indulge ourselves in the ablutions
of vin santo, biscotti dipped in sweet wine,
in limoncello or amaro sipped
from chilled glasses,
in espresso black
as the Venetian sky at night.

If I could feed you Italy in one day,
would we ever feel the need to eat again?

Poem by Mike Orlock

Digital Painting by J.R. Corkrum - “Portal of San Rocco”

Postcard from Barrio Viejo

This image is from a very special section of Tucson called Barrio Viejo. It is the old town section of Tucson. Barrio Viejo, the old neighborhood, mainly consists of Tucson's 19th century homes and commercial buildings. The area isn’t very big, but it has some of the most interesting doors you will every see.

Ironically, it is located right next to modern downtown Tucson. In the 1960's & '70's, much of the old neighborhood was bulldozed to make way for urban redevelopment, including the Tucson Convention Center. Today, most Tucsonans would be happy to bulldoze the Convention Center if it would bring back the heritage that was lost.

In the 1880's & '90's, this area was home to a culturally diverse community of working class people from America and all over the world. Many worked for the Southern Pacific Railroad. With the arrival of the SP in 1880, Tucson changed forever. Instead of a hopelessly impoverished, dusty little Mexican village in the middle of nowhere, it became the growing Southwestern city that we see today.

The old architectural styles of the Barrio Viejo are maintained by the local residents…proud of the area’s history. But they are just forward thinking enough to add some special features to the homes here by adding unique doors and bold colors. Besides homes, there are professional offices, art galleries, vacation rentals and a few restaurants and drinking establishments. There are even some new buildings that echo the architecture & character of the neighborhood.

The area is listed in the National Historic Register.

Postcard from the Desert

Sunset in the Desert

The sweet aroma of desert dust fills my lungs
While I sit and cherish every breath.
Gazing at the beautiful sunset in the west
I can’t help but to tear up at the sight of the
Wonderful purple, pink, and orange colors
Dance across the sky as they bid the sun goodnight.
Unaware, my hand slowly reaches out to the left of me,
Tries to get a grasp but all it catches is air.
Bowing my head I realize yet again
That I am here alone, watching the sunset
With no one at my side.
After the first few seconds,
My body begins to tremble, shake involuntarily.
There’s a horrible aching pain in my chest,
I tightly try to clench at my heart as I begin
To either laugh or cry, neither a difference to me.
It begins to beat faster, my shaking more violent.
I look to my left again praying there will be someone
There to hold me.
Quickly I blink a few times to wash the tears back,
Hoping when it clears that my love is there.
To my dismay I sit here in the desert alone,
Watching the sunset once again with no one at my side.
Taking deep breaths and wrapping my arms around my knees,
I gaze back straight ahead to watch the beauty of a desert sunset.
One of these days I’ll have someone by my side,
However that someday is not happening today.

Poem by Vanessa ‘0

Digital Painting by J.R. Corkrum

(To see a larger version of this image, just click on it)
To see more of my work, both in photography and digital painting, please visit my website, www.corkrum.com…
or visit my Flickr Page to see my latest works.

Postcard from the Oregon Coast

If I could find anything blacker than black, I'd use it.  -J. M. W. Turner

Some weeks ago, I wrote about my visit to the Turner Exhibition in San Francisco. As I said then, Turner is my favorite painter. I have loved his works since the first time I ever saw one years and years ago. Not only have I seen his work in San Francisco, but also in the Tate Gallery in London (his home turf, so to speak) and in other galleries around the world.

Several years ago, I attended a three -day family reunion with my wife’s family. It was held on the Oregon Coast, near Lincoln City. The rental of a large home on the ocean was arranged. The three trees in this painting were the view from the living room window. I took a photo of them, (along with many others that weekend), not sure what I would do with this particular one.

With the help of Photoshop, Lightroom, and some new digital painting plugins) I decided to try and create a digital painting in the style of Turner. The picture above was the result. If Turner were alive, he would probably laugh at it. But no matter.

Turner was marvelous when it came to painting clouds. He was a master of the sky. In the original photo, a storm was clearing but another was coming in from the west. These hearty trees have overcome any kind of weather that the Pacific Ocean could bring. This was perfect archetype for the brushes of Turner. So it was that I chose the style of JMW Turner as my model for this painting.

I am sure that any Turner expert could reign down a deluge of criticism on my humble efforts but, that is OK with me. I am not Turner…I am only me. It is my rendition of a painting done in the technique of my favorite painter. I loved how it turned out in the end and am pleased to present it to you for your consideration.

Postcard from Paris

“You start at a café table because everything in Paris starts a café table.” -Irwin Shaw

Life in Paris revolves around the café…it has for decades. It is the normal part of life in that great city. An English journalist once observed that in London there are 5,000 people for every waiter. In Paris, there are 5,000 waiters for every person. That may be very close to the mark. Most Parisians start and end their day in a café.

The café in this painting sits in Montmartre. If you are not familiar with Paris, Montmartre is the only hill in Paris. It is 426 feet high. You can see it from everywhere. When you see a movie set in Paris and you see outdoor stairs, that is Montmartre. On top of the hill sits the white-domed Basilica of the Sacré-Cœur. It is quite tall, topped by a beautiful dome. There are stairs that one can climb all the way to the top to get a breath-taking view of this magnificent city. I know because I did it.

As an aside, there are 3 very high places to get a great view of Paris…Sacre-Coeur, the Eifel Tower, and the Montparnasse Tower (the tallest building in Paris). A Parisian friend once asked me if I knew the best place to view Paris. I, of course, said no. He explained that the best view was from Montparnasse Tower. The reason…because it is the only place where you can’t see Montparnasse Tower. I agree as the building is not very attractive.

Back to Montmartre… you can get up the hill by either walking up the nearly never-ending, but beautiful stairs or take a special bus. I say it is special as there is only one seat on either side of the aisle. The streets are very, very narrow. When I took the bus, I thought sure the driver would hit several cars along the way or at least knock off their rear-view mirrors. He never did, but on several occasions it was very close.

For many years, Montmartre was a center for arts, especially the painters. At the beginning of the twentieth century, during the Belle Époque (translation: Beautiful Era, from 1871-1914) , many artists had studios or worked in or around Montmartre, including Salvador Dali, Amedeo Modigliani, Claude Monet, Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, Piet Mondrian, Pablo Picasso, Camille Pissarro and Vincent van Gogh. Today, many painters gather on a daily basis in the large square outside the Basilica.

But around 1909, Montmartre as a center for the arts began to unwind. It began with Pablo Picasso moving to Montparnasse. As he was the foremost painter of that time, other painters began to move there also. By the end of World War I, if not before, Montparnasse became the new center for the arts and artists. There were writers and poets living there already, but all art now seemed to begin and end in this section of Paris on the Left Bank.

That’s where we pick up the story of the cafes. In the 1920’s writers from America and the British Isles seemed to flock to Paris, specifically Montparnasse. They are known by the term, “The Lost Generation.” Included are Ernest Hemingway, James Joyce, F. Scott Fitzgerald, D. H. Lawrence, Gertrude Stein, Archibald MacLeish, Kay Boyle, Hart Crane, John Dos Passos, William Faulkner, Dorothy Parker and others.

The cafes are where they, the painters, poets, composers and their friends met on a daily basis. Poor artists and writers, which included most of them at the time, would rent tables by the hour and drink coffee and wine and talk into the late night. Cafes such as Le Dôme, La Closerie des Lilas, La Rotonde, Le Select, and La Coupole, all of which are still in business, were the places where starving artists could occupy a table all evening for a few centimes. If they fell asleep, the waiters were instructed not to wake them.

Arguments were common, some fueled by intellect, others by alcohol, and if there were fights, and there often were, the police were never summoned. If you couldn't pay your bill, people such as La Rotonde's proprietor, Victor Libion, would often accept a drawing, holding it until the artist could pay. As such, there were times when the café's walls were littered with a collection of artworks, that today would make the curators of the world's greatest museums drool with envy. Cafes were the center of all arts, not only for Paris, but for the world.

You arrived at your café at 1 p.m. and stayed until seven. You went out for dinner. You came back at nine and stayed till 2 a.m. -Jean Moreas

While the hey-days of the Montparnasse cafes ended with World War II, they are still an important part of French life…it could be called a living tradition. Today, you can see writers and poets slaving away to produce their masterworks…now using laptops as well as pencil and paper. Times change, but traditions don’t.

Having spent time in these cafes, I can tell you they are special. I will admit I am fascinated by Paris of the 20^th century, and to sit where some of the greatest artists and writers in the history of the world spent part of their daily routine…well it was very special. I love the cafes of Paris and the life style they engender. Starbucks and other coffee shops are just not quite the same.

“You end at a café table because everything in Paris ends at a café table.” -Irwin Shaw

Postcard from Sacramento

This bridge was my first view of Sacramento. The year was 1959. I was in the 8^th grade and my father had just been transferred from San Francisco to Sacramento. I was not happy.

Back then, there was no Interstate 80. There was only Highway 40. It did not go around the downtown area, but instead lead right downtown. In fact, you came over this bridge on to Capital Ave that led directly to the State Capital building. It is right in your sites as you crossed this bridge, strangely named Tower Bridge.

All well and good if your destination was the Capital. But, if you were headed east towards the North Area of Sacramento or even Reno, you had to take a circuitous route all around the Capital Park, then out 16^th Street, then on to another local highway that eventually became Highway 40 again.

If you were headed for Lake Tahoe, you still had to travel the same route, but you turned onto a different street to connect to Highway 50. Apparently in those days, the City Fathers believed the only way to make people stop and spend their money was to make them drive all around and through the downtown area. My great aunt Monica, when she came to visit us for the first time, said, “They took me all around Robin Hood’s Barn to get here.” Wish I would have said that.

Much later, the Feds built a highway around the city so that you could have a non-stop modern freeway route all the way to Reno and beyond. Today it is Interstate 80. Even if you wish to go to Tahoe you take the Freeway and connect to I-5…then to the Highway 50 turnoff. Of course, the city has not lost money as it has grown to a Giant metropolis with many, many new buildings, great shopping, and the tourist-trap known as Old Sacramento. (see my blog date 10/21/15).

As mentioned, I was not happy with the family’s move to Sacramento. I had to leave the metropolitan San Francisco Bay Area. It was my home for my entire life…at least to this point. I left people behind who were very dear to me as well as a city that is still one my favorite cities in all the world. I had to leave the 49ers and the Giants behind (only one year removed from their move from New York) as well as my Grandmother, Market Street, the Cable Cars, Fisherman’s Wharf, Chinatown, North Beach, and the Ferry Building.

That was the day when I became a San Franciscan in absentia. Of course that title still applies today. San Francisco will always be my hometown, even though I now live in Tucson.

Did my bad attitude towards Sacramento ever change? Nope! It got better as time passed, but Sacramento was a big city with a small town mentality. As Gertrude Stein once said about Oakland, “There is no there, there.” That was my feeling about Sacramento. I could not wait to get out. And I did. Four years later, after graduating from High School, I left for college. Can you guess where? That’s right…The San Francisco Bay Area. Actually I moved to the city of San Jose, now the capital of Silicon Valley. Admittedly I was 50 miles south of my favorite city, but still managed many, many visits to that great city. I was back home.

Over time, circumstances led me back to Sacramento on two different occasions. I still didn’t like it all that much. I suppose a lot of it has to do with its close proximity to San Francisco…its hard to compete, much less surpass a great city like SF. As for Sacramento, I left it for the final time in 1992. Truth be told, it is better now than it ever was and has more to be proud of…but it can never replace the Bay Area. Never.

Postcard from Tucson

As many longtime readers know, I live in Tucson, AZ. But, in all time I’ve done this blog, I don’t remember ever sharing an image of the city itself. Well, here it is in all its glory!

As you may know, Tucson is surrounded by hills and mountains. I took this image from up on Sentinal Peak. It is aslo known as “The Big A Mountain”. The reason? Right behind where I was standing to take this picture, there is a huge letter A, symbolizing the University of Arizona. It is quite large and can be seen for miles. It is all white, but a few years ago, it was red, white and blue…the school colors. I don’t know why they changed and painted it with just with white, but they did. Every year, it’s a tradition that the freshman class come up here and give the Big A a fresh coat of paint.

Moving back to the photo, the big highway in the foreground of the photo is I-10. This interstate runs from Los Angeles to Florida, or ocean to ocean, as you might say. It first goes east to Phoenix, then turns south for 100 miles to Tucson. Just to the right of the photo, it turns east again and heads to Las Cruces, New Mexico. From there it goes South again to El Paso then eventually works its way south and east again all the way to Jacksonville, Florida. It is a very long, long highway.

Just behind the freeway is downtown Tucson. Its funny in a way in that some of oldest old homes from the days of Spanish occupation in Tucson now mix with the modern downtown. When I first came here, I was not impressed with the downtown area. But it has been going through a renaissance with new buildings, new restaurants and shops. Its becoming quite classy and a fun place to hang out. There are theaters there…and just on Monday, they held a large outdoor jazz festival at various locations. There is a lot of new activity happening here and I am mighty glad to see it.

Now look just behind the downtown area and you will see a large collection of buildings that runs north and south. That would all be the University of Arizona. Look closely and you can see the football stadium. That is at the south and east end of the campus. Let your eye follow from there all the way until the large buildings come to and end. That would be the north end of the campus. It is quite large…trust me as I have walked almost all of it at one time or another. 40,000 students make up the student body. Its big enough that it has its own transportation system as well as a police department.

In between the downtown and the campus lies the 4th Ave District and the University District, each with its own unique ambience and definitely worth a visit if you ever come this way. Connecting all of these is a new streetcard system that begins on the west side of the freeway, just to the left of the photo. It travels through all the districts I mentioned, ending up at the very north end of the campus. Its a great way to travel the city and not worry about parking. As a matter of fact, I took it today to attend an art lecture at the University Museum of Art.

Tucson is surrounded by mountains. Most of the mountains you see in this photo are part of the Santa Catalina Mountains. To the far right of those mountains in the photo is the beginning of the Rincon Mountains. The city of Tucson runs right to the base of both those mountain ranges. It is a big city, in term land size. The city sits at about 2,500 feet evelvation and has aproximately one million people in the greater Tucson area.

I hope you have enjoyed this quick tour of my adopted home. I live in the western foothills above the city, at about the same elevation as the Big A mountain. It would be a couple of miles to the left of where this photo was taken. I really love this city and have enjoyed my 7+ years here. Maybe not so much in the summer, but everything here is air conditioned, included the streetcars. Thank God for that.  

Postcard from Tumacacori

The Old Mission Church

by Belinda van Rensburg

The air is hot and humid as we sit in the church pew,
the building's very old and nothing in it's new.
The walls are cracking; the alter cloth is stained,
and I'm sure that we'd get drenched if it should rain.

The roof is leaking but the preacher keeps on preaching;
A tired fan is squeaking and the rusty door is creaking.
The paint is peeling but the people are all kneeling;
pouring out their hearts to God with honesty and feeling.

I don't know the lingo but my spirit can discern,
that the congregation's here to worship and to learn.
Oh! How fortunate I feel as in this place I kneel,
for upon this mission church is God's approving seal.

 

(To see a larger version of this image, just click on it)
To see more of my work, both in photography and digital painting, please visit my website, www.corkrum.com…
or visit my Flickr Page.

Postcard from Tucson

I bought a new pocket camera just before Christmas. It is a Lumix camera with an amazing Leica lens. It has a 30-1 analog zoom and takes photos in both JPG and RAW. If you’ve followed me for any length of time, you know I use a Sony NEX-6 mirrorless DSLR camera most of the time…but also use a Nikon D-200 camera (big and heavy) and an iPhone 6+. The problem with the first two is they do no fit in my pocket. And while the iPhone takes great photos, if you start to zoom in to a subject, the pictures get increasingly bad. It uses what is termed digital zoom…not good.

So, I wanted a small, quality camera that fits in my pocket that will let me zoom when I needed it. The new Lumix more than filled the bill…and I got it at a great sale price!

Of course after receiving it, I gave it a proper workout. The results have been astounding. With that long lens, I recently photographed all the mothballed airplanes out at Davis Monthon Airbase. I shot from one of the high hills here in town. You can barely make them out with the naked eye and only if you know where to look. This camera took a fabulous picture and even with the camera zoomed out almost all the way, I was able to get a good photo just by holding it in my hand. It has an anti-shake mechanism built in that works very well.

Anyway, this is one of my test photos that I took out at Mission San Xavier del Bac, which is located just south of Tucson. It is a very old mission dating back to the 1700’s. You’ve seen a few photos from there in in past episodes of this blog. It is a quite famous mission and was once photograhed by Ansel Adams. His photo, (click here to see it) is very famous. It was taken at the rear of the mission.

My photo here was also taken behind the mission, just a few feet from where Ansel did his.Just to the left in my photo, you see a small part of a dirt driveway that leads into the mission. His photo was take on the other side of the road. Trust me when I say I am not trying to compare myself to Mr. Adams…he is leagues above me. But I do like this image very much. It captures the flavor of the old mission in the middle of the desert.

The mission gets a lot of tourists every day of the week. But few take the time to walk around to the rear. I was all alone back here while taking photos while the front of the mission was bustling with folks walking looking around. Fine with me.

I also took other photos of the mission on this day and again a few days later. It is a good place to test out my new camera. I went inside the church which is very, very dark. I managed to take a few images inside that turned out quite well, even holding the camera for a 1/6 of a second exposure. Now that blew me away.

The best lenses in the world are made by Leica. Many of the most famous shots by great photographers like Henri Cartier-Bresson, Man Ray, Eugene Smith, Garry Winogrand, and many more were done with Leica cameras. I recently went to a photography lecture by a famous old-time photographer (whose name I sadly can’t remember) who said right up front he made the decision early in his carerr to spend the money and get a Leica. They are expensive, for sure, but those lenses are the best…but of course they are not cheap. That is why I was so happy to get this new camera that came with a certified Leica lens.

But the best part was when I finished my shoot. I just put the camera back into my jeans pocket and drove away. Not a bad deal. It will go with me now every time I leave the house.

Postcard from Sacramento

Architecture

I am the type of person
that builds.
I build things.
Ideas,
Art,
Feelings.

I let my feelings build so high,
you could fill the tallest building in the world
three million times
before I break.

And when I break,
I fall so hard.
I imagine that my tall building
is a devastating crash
with only one causality .
Me.

I'd like to believe that my structure is strong.
Built out of the strongest metal,
but even it breaks with
three million feelings pent up inside.

It's not strong enough to carry all of the forever.

But the best part is
that when I do fall,
crashing under all that weight,
I can build a better building.

Maybe this one will be able to fill
the world's tallest building
four million times
before it falls too.

Poem by Lara Carboni

Original Photo by JR Corkrum – “Lines and Shadows”

(To see a larger version of this image, just click on it)

To see more of my work, both in photography and digital painting, please visit my website, www.corkrum.com…

or visit my Flickr Page.

Postcard from Dance Hall Rock

I think in a previous post, I mentioned briefly our trip down to Dancing Hall Rock…39 miles down an unpaved washboard road that I hope never to see again. Thank God we were in Dave’s SUV…but I sure felt every undulation in that long, long road.

As a sidebar, I always thought the washboard effect was caused by either water or road grading. I was wrong. A washboard road is caused by autos traveling greater than 5 mph on an unpaved road. The more cars that travel the road, the greater the rippling. So I guess our trip down Hole-in-the-Rock road added to the washboard effect. Apologies to all of you who go down that road from now on.  

Anyway, Hole-in-the-Rock Road lies of a few miles east of Escalante, UT…off of Highway 12. It was built by Mormon settlers to help other settlers coming up from the south get to Utah. Most of the country in that area is flat desert country with some hills and big rocks along the way.

Dance Hall Rock is one of those big, big sandstone rocks shaped like an amphitheater. It got its name from the Mormon settlers who would get together there for socializing and dancing. Apparently the rock has some amazing acoustic qualities that make music sound louder and more pleasing.  All this socializing happened in and around the 1880’s.  Being sandstone, it is very susceptible to water.

Our purpose that day was not to make music, but to climb up the rock to find large and small and deep sinkholes where plants and trees grow straight up. What you see here is a smaller sinkhole that has a  variety of desert plants. There were larger and deeper holes also up on top and you will see one of those soon, with a very large tall tree growing straight out of it. The light was very difficult to work with this day as the top of the rock is in bright sunlight and the deep holes are in strong shadows. A little Photoshop work should make it a better image. I will publish it here as soon as I have finished.

I wish I knew a little more about geology so I could tell you how many years it took to make this hole. Its all driven by wind and rain and as time passes, the hole gets deeper and deeper. The wind deposits topsoil over time and brings the plant seeds that grab on to the soil and grow. Nature is so wondrous…there is a great line from the original Jurassic Park film, “Life always finds a way.”   It did here.

(To see a larger version of this image, just click on it)

To see more of my work, both in photography and digital painting, please visit my website, www.corkrum.com…or visit my Flickr Page.

Postcard from Zion

I think I mentioned in a recent post that I had been to Zion earlier this month to photograph the autumn colors in Zion Canyon. I think I also mentioned that this part of the trip was a bust! There wasn’t any color to speak of…many of the green trees went directly to brown, bypassing red and yellow. Even the yellows where one could find them were not all that vibrant. And the reds? Forget about it. They were not there.

After that disappointment, my friend and fellow photographer Dave Forster and I headed up into the high country of Zion. It’s a spectacular climb up the mountains with breath-taking views of Zion plus the mile-long trip through the Zion-Mount Carmel Tunnel. Up top, you find spectacular red-rock mountains with lots of amazing geological formations.

Sadly, except for one location high up near Checkerboard Mesa, Autumn colors were also sadly absent. But that one location yielded some pretty good photos, if I do say so myself. We even found a beautiful all-yellow tree that made a great backdrop for some photos you will see later on. 

After shooting those photos, I headed back to the car as it was quite cold. But along the way, I looked down as I always do and came across this lovely little scene with a couple of small rocks, a little snow and some very interesting thin ice patterns. It is one of nature’s abstractions and I was lucky to be there at just the right time to photograph it. The sun was behind a mountain but was starting to emerge. In a very short while, this scene was gone.

Some of you may think I placed the snow on the rock. I did not. This scene was shot exactly as I found it. If I moved the camera down a little bit, you would see my feet. The whole scene is perhaps 6” to 7” wide…a very small area but very unique and quite beautiful. One of natures small miracles that you should always look for when photographing in the wilderness.

Postcard from Lee’s Ferry

Well, this blog is not really from Lee’s Ferry, AZ, but it is the closest place on the map to where I took this photo. These bridges are called Navajo Bridge. Yes, there are two of them, but it is always just referred to as a single bridge. It spans the Colorado River upstream from the Grand Canyon. This is the last photo I took on my recent two week journey to Yuma, then on up into Southern Utah. The first week I spent with my son in Yuma and had a marvelous time. I am a very lucky father to have a son like Eric.

The second week of my trip took me north to Las Vegas, then northeast to Zion National Park. The main purpose of this trip was to photograph the autumn colors in Zion. Well, to be honest, that was a major disappointment. I was joined by my friend and fellow photographer Dave Forster from Wenatchee. I was shocked to see so many green trees among the few disappointing yellow-colored trees. Many of them went from green directly to ugly brown. And red trees were absent completely. We did find some interesting color up in the high country of Zion, but not much. I will share some of those shots in the near future.

From there, we went east and north…first for a brief stop at Bryce Canyon, then down to the Escalate area along Highway 12. There, we took a right turn and headed down Hole-In-The-Rock Road…an all dirt rough road built by Mormon settlers that is 55 miles long. Our trip was only 39 miles as our destination was Dance Hall Rock. We were there to photograph the trees and plants that grow in deep holes on top of the big rock. You will see some of those photos in the near future.

We spent that night recovering our sore backs and bottoms at Ruby’s Inn just outside Bryce. The next day we headed back toward Zion, but instead took a different road up to Cedar Breaks National Monument at 10,350 feet. There was two feet of snow on the ground, but we hiked through it to get a few photos. It was my first visit to that park and well worth falling in the snow twice. Will also have a photo from that park in the near future.

From there, I started my trip back to Tucson, stopping in Flagstaff for the night to rest my weary bones. Dave stayed at Zion to meet up with another friend. The following day they hiked through the Virgin River up intoThe Narrows, a beautiful slot canyon that starts where the road ends in Zion Canyon. That hike is entirely through water and I am far too old to make that trip, which is all too sad. Maybe in the next life.

But that brings me to the above photo. Navajo Bridge is located on Highway 89A in Northern Arizona. It is the highway you take to visit the North Rim of the Grand Canyon. 89A starts and ends on US Highway 89…which starts in Flagstaff and ends in Montana. 

Prior to the construction of the first Navajo Bridge, the only river crossing from Arizona to Utah was at nearby Lee's Ferry, where the canyon walls are low and getting vehicles onto the water is relatively convenient. The ferry offered only unreliable service, however, as adverse weather and flooding regularly prevented its operation. Today, Lee’s Ferry is the starting point for rafting trips along the Colorado River through Grand Canyon.

Construction of the original Navajo Bridge (the one on the right) began in 1927, and the bridge opened to traffic in 1929. The bridge is 834 feet in length, with a height of 467 feet from the canyon floor. In 1990, it was decided that the traffic flow was too great for the original bridge, and that a new solution was needed. The sharp corners in the roadway on each side of the bridge's approach had become a safety hazard due to low visibility…and the deficiency in the original design's width and load capacity specifications were becoming problematic. By this time, the bridge had also become part of U.S. Route 89A..

Deciding on a solution was difficult, due to the many local interests. Issues included preservation of sacred Navajo land, endangered plant species in Marble Canyon, and the possibility of construction pollution entering the river. The original proposal called for merely widening and fortifying the bridge, but this was ultimately rejected since this could not possibly bring it up to current federal highway standards. Replacement was then the only option, and it was decided to discontinue automobile use of the original bridge. The new bridge was built next to the original and retains a similar visual appearance, but conforms to modern highway codes. It officially opened in 1995.

The original Navajo Bridge is still open to pedestrian and equestrian use, and an interpretive center has been constructed nearby to showcase the historical nature of the bridge and early crossing of the Colorado River. If you look close, you can see this center on the far side of the bridge. Bungee jumpers are frequently seen using the span. The original bridge has been designated as a Historic Civil Engineering Landmark.

Well, there you have it, a quick summation of my recent trip and the history of the Navajo Bridge. I will be sharing more photos from the trip in the very near future so stay tuned!

Postcard from Zion National Park

Zion

The Doorkeepers of Zion,
  They do not always stand
In helmet and whole armour,
  With halberds in their hand;
But, being sure of Zion,
  And all her mysteries,
They rest awhile in Zion,
Sit down and smile in Zion;
Ay, even jest in Zion;
  In Zion, at their ease.

The Gatekeepers of Baal,
  They dare not sit or lean,
But fume and fret and posture
  And foam and curse between;
For being bound to Baal,
  Whose sacrifice is vain,
Their rest is scant with Baal,
They glare and pant for Baal,
They mouth and rant for Baal,
  For Baal in their pain!

But we will go to Zion,
  By choice and not through dread,
With these our present comrades
  And those our present dead;
And, being free of Zion
  In both her fellowships,
Sit down and sup in Zion --
Stand up and drink in Zion
Whatever cup in Zion
  Is offered to our lips!

Poem by Rudyard Kipling

Digital Painting: The Watchman at Sunset

by JR Corkrum

To see a larger version of the painting, just click on it.

Postcard from Old Sacramento

You may have noticed I’ve been gone for a while. Or maybe not. Anyway, I was called north to help my dear friend and former wife recover from a heart attack. It was a bad one, nearly costing her life. I won’t go into great detail other than to say she is doing well back home now in Boise.

Part of her recovery time was in Sacramento at a friend’s home in Land Park. They let us stay there in exchange for watching their home and dog while they were in Mexico. After my friend Susan and her daughter left for Boise, I stayed there until my friends got back. I had some time to kill so I wandered around downtown Sacramento and into Old Town Sacramento, now a State Historic Park.

Old Sacramento dates back to the 1800’s. It was built right along the Sacramento River. Before Sacramento's extensive levee system was in place, the area flooded quite regularly. Because of this, the city's streets were raised a level and wooden sidewalks were built along the streets. As the city grew and eventually became the California State Capital, old Sacramento fell into disrepair and disrepute.

I lived and went to high school in Sacramento back in the early 60’s. Back then, no one in their right mind would be caught dead in that part of town. It was inhabited mostly by winos, hobos, indigents, and the homeless. About the only businesses there were cheap bars that sold cheap booze to its unfortunate inhabitants.

After I left Sacramento and went off to college, a major effort began to secure the area's future as an outdoor living history center similar to Colonial Williamsburg in Virginia. Several historically significant buildings were moved or reconstructed. Those that were beyond repair were demolished. To make a long story short, Old Sacramento lives today as a monument to the past…and a major tourist attraction much like Fisherman’s Wharf in San Francisco and Cannery Row in Monterrey, to name just two. While I remember the old Fisherman’s wharf of my younger days with fond memories, I can’t say the same about Old Sacramento. Even though Old Sacramento might be termed a “tourist trap,” it is a far cry better than it used to be. And I think the word “trap” is too strong in this instance.

While the architecture from this period is commonly attributed to Victorian gold miners, characteristics of West End, such as multi-storied buildings, large arched doorways, full-height balcony windows and the use of decorative wrought-iron balconies, were most often seen in parts of Spain and the Spanish colonies. This influence may be attributed to the fact that during the period of Spanish rule in California, Sacramento enjoyed immigration from Eastern United State and from all over the Atlantic, including Spain and the Canary Islands, and the Spanish colonies. The founding of Sacramento itself was a direct result of the discovery of gold in 1848.

Today, Old Sacramento houses several different kinds of restaurants (no fast food joints), plenty of gift shops, unique clothing stores, arts antique dealers and more. There are also buggy rides, a railroad museum and an old riverboat housing more shops and restaurants. Old Sacramento continues to hosts the annual Jazz Festival over the Memorial Day weekend as it has for many years. So, as you can see, the joint is jumping! And I am sure glad they preserved the wooden sidewalks…they give the place a lot of character.

I enjoyed seeing it again for the first time in many years. The sketch shown here is from a digital photo I took while sitting outside drinking a cup of coffee. It was a nice way to spend part of my day, just walking around and enjoying the scenery. In a way, it was all new to me as I have not been there in many years and it has definitely changed since the last time I was there. I did live for a few years in the Sacramento area in the 80’s and early 90’s. But I left for the last time in 1992. But even during that time, I never spent much time in Old Sacramento. I was glad for the visit. 

(To see a larger version of this image, just click on it)

To see more of my work, both in photography and digital painting, please visit my website, www.corkrum.com…or visit my Flickr Page