The History of My Photography

          I can recall the specific visual event and accompanying aesthetic impulse that eventually moved me to become an artistic photographer. The approximate year was 1986. I was driving northward along Interstate 91 in Vermont. The construction of I-91 had required that granite hills be blasted and cut to make way for the highway. I had driven through those granite passes numerous times and paid little attention to them. But, on one morning the warm-toned sunlight fell into the gorges at just an angle so that the rocks shown a gold color and the jagged corners of the cut stone made stark, long shadows. I experienced a feeling of awe at what I was seeing and wished I had a camera to photograph the rock formations. A Single Lens Reflex camera would have done the job for me. Up to that time, I had used small Brownie cameras to photograph family members and an occasional landscape scene that appealed to me. However, I had never experienced an emotional response to a scene that was strong enough to make me want to invest time and money in photography. Even so, I didn’t take up serious photography at that time because I was already invested in another art form. I had begun to paint what I eventually called “spiral line-art” paintings. I will describe those paintings another time. But, the impression of the granite gorges and my wish to have a camera suitable for artistic photography remained strong with me. Then I, my wife Nancy, and our son Jonathan moved from Brattleboro, Vermont to Wolfeboro, New Hampshire in the summer of 1989. I bought my first SLR camera before that fall.

          Wolfeboro is a well-known summer resort-town situated on Wolfeboro Bay, one of the major harbors on Lake Winnipesaukee. My interest in artistic photography was combined with an economic incentive. I saw in Wolfeboro’s tourism trade what I thought to be a good market for scenic photography and began to photograph the scenery around Wolfeboro that would appeal to the tourists – pictures of the yachts on the bay, the quaint shops on Main Street, and the beautiful landscape of Lake Winnipesaukee and the White Mountains. In the beginning, artistic photography was, for me, synonymous with landscape photography. I opened a photograph gallery in town in January 1990.

          To be continued…

Here’s a selection of early photographs that were taken within my first year in Wolfeboro and that were in my gallery. They can give only a semblance of the region’s beauty.

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 The Old Wolfeboro Railroad Station

 Main Street, Wolfeboro

1989

 Rust Pond at Sunrise

Sunset on Lake Winnipesaukee

from Copple Crown Mountain

I climbed up onto an abandoned ski-lift pulley to get this view.

 Sunset on Lake Winnipesaukee

from Clarke Point, Wolfeboro

 Pool of Mallards

Water spots open through the winter in Wolfeboro host a few hundred Mallard ducks.

 Essence of Mallard

This Mallard is sitting on ¼ inch of ice at the Wolfeboro dock.

 Chichester Field

Chichester, New Hampshire, is a small town 30 miles south of Wolfeboro. Like much of rural New Hampshire, Chichester has lovely farmlands. Pastoral scenes such as this have permanently bonded me to New England.

 Lady’s Slippers

Found on Mount Major in Alton

 Mount Chocorua

Mount Chocorua shows up small in a frame of tree-trunks and limbs on the shore of Lake Chocorua. This mountain is considered the most photogenic in New Hampshire.

 Wolfeboro Dockside

With the Mount Washington

cruise ship docked.

 Wolfeboro Bay Yachts

at Sunrise

The aqua-green hue in this photo was created by a polarizer filter.

 Wolfeboro Bay at Sunset

The magenta hue is genuine. The sun had just set behind me and cast a pinkish tint into the sky. The town lights had just come on. The water wasn’t frozen, yet was perfectly calm without a ripple. The snowfall was pre-winter. I returned to this spot many times but never again saw conditions that resembled these.

The February and March sunrises on this pond with Copple Crown Mountain in the background are worth getting up for, despite the cold. The sky colors are reflected by ice.

Black & White Photography

Today I begin featuring my black-and-white photography. The images were not taken with a digital camera in color and then converted to B&W with the push of a button. They were not touched up on a computer. These photographs were made with a cellulose film camera and printed in a chemical darkroom I built in 1994, four years into a fifteen year effort to succeed in professional photography…an effort that failed. I had some minor artistic success, but my goal of making a living from my photography wasn’t realized. Perhaps someday I’ll explain why I think I failed. I should. There are life-lessons to be learned from the affair. My decision to stop making “artistic” images was based in both emotion and logic.

This first set of images is of flowers I photographed in a completely dark room. Several flashlights were aimed at specific points on the plants. The background is black velvet. An exception to these is the print of the Hibiscus, which is a straight print from a color slide onto black-and-white printing paper.

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Daffodil

Amaryllis

Lily of the Valley

Bleeding Hearts

Hibiscus

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ZONKOUT

ZONKOUT

Please! Cover the Sun!

My eyes are over-exposed.

Space is out of control, orbits wobble,

harmony gone to static.

I’m standing on the launch pad,

my scream no longer heard above the after-blast.

You play my guitar, violent flame.

My immortal pen is in my checkbook.

Quickly! Hide my treasure.

Not on the National map,

but in a secure place

where only a car can get at it

by running over my head.

Drive telephone poles through my ears

to preserve my sense of hearing,

because an incessant drool of popular incantations

offers no insurance against a dented mind.

That soft flesh will deflect off metal

and wind up cast in color on a black automobile.

Insanity will take charge early in a crisis,

disregard the penalty for committing

the political act of growth

just to gather a handful of time.

When I, the anxious one

crying on the fringe,

am swept below the ground,

neighbors will say the site

had once been a cemetery.

While sitting to ponder,

I leaned my hand on the grass.

When I raised it minutes later,

the palm was a whole new pasture

of heart and life lines.

And I dreamed that first thing in the morning,

the increasing rowdiness would focus

at the base of a mountain and travel

either to attain its aim or any other place.

Yet still, the political pamphlet, written-off and altered

by a series of Engineering Change Orders,

cracks under the pressure of Presidents,

and is thrown as a moth-wing

to the withered groundskeeper

with a nailing staff.

Had I held my breath a minute longer

I would surely have died without one word.

But the thrust of a flower split my hypnotic reverie,

and I stood up on my page and spoke.

However, while on my way to the bathroom to read,

the electricity failed, the radiator bled.

My body tripped and flew,

shattered through the dark window,

and glass-edged anarchy divided my heart and life.

But electricity now succeeds in stars.

So, passing through reflections,

re-escaping to capture again and again myself,

I brush through and whisper secrets to the World.

And these thoughts fly toward you like a rock

thrown by a joker who ducks when you turn

as it strips in the wind past your ear,

silent as a cat running along a railroad track

ahead of a train breaking its gears before the pain.

Zonkout as Mother and Father

kiss me “good night” on the forehead.

                               Dennis Fredrick Evans

Spring Blossoms

Apples & Mustard

Bleeding Heart

Lavender

Paintbrush

Spring Field

Tree Garden

Flowers of Shelburne Falls

In Shelburne Falls, Massachusetts is a walking bridge named The Bridge of Flowers. The bridge is claimed to be an international tourist attraction. For a few years, I returned to that bridge to photograph the magnificent collection of perennials cared for by the Bridge of Flowers Committee. The following photographs are from that collection. There are also perennial flowers at other places in Shelburne Falls that are worthy of attention. From time to time I will post these photographs under the heading “Flowers of Shelburne Falls.” The names of the flowers, if known, will be in the caption.





Tulip





Lucifer 1





Lucifer 2





Morning Glory





Thistle





Forsythia & Willow

 

For more information about the Bridge of Flowers, visit the official website, bridgeofflowersmass.org.

4/20 '08

On April 20, 2008, my grandaughter Audriana and I ate in Nashua, New Hampshire at the restaurant Villa Banca. Both of us wrote a poem as we ate on outside tables. Today she sent me four photographs she took during our meal that I haven’t seen before. I was surprised at how the photographs unintentionally illustrate my poem. So, here’s the poem a month late for any celebratory significance, broken up by her photographs.

4/20 ‘08

A holyday unknown

to me until today.

4/20 Feast of Cannibis

celebrated at Villa Banca Restaurant,

one time a bank,

granite stone cut into the corner

of East Pearl and Main.

“Welcome to Villa Banca.

Please see hostess inside

for patio dining.”



Black metallic mesh table and chairs

under white umbrella,

sunny side of street, 

sunlight glistening

glittering off water condensed

onto crystal goblets on Boston Red Sox

2007 World Series paper coasters.

4:30PM service on 4/20 holyday

on a white triangular plate.

Grilled chicken tenders

in sweet teriyaki sauce glaze,

thinnest fried onion rings ever made.

Sweet strings coil into my mouth

with alfalfa sprouts.

 “How we doing over here? Still working on the chicken tenders?”

“Yes.” On 4/20 holyday.

But the teriyaki is beginning to taste too salty.

Can’t get over this place was once a bank.



There’s a large square clock above my head,

from the old days, with inner clock-works.

I watch the hands move to 5 and 30.

Finished working on my chicken tenders.

Studying the “Afterwards” menu.



I remember now, 40 years ago,

in the birth town of my daughter,

when I first saw this building,

fascinated by the grey cylindrical tower on one corner.



“Lemon Lust Pie.”

Tantalizing fresh squeezed lemon filled

fluffy cream cheese.

I’ll have that on 4/20.

Dennis Fredrick Evans

Photographs by Audriana



Tilton, New Hampshire in Images

Well…I’m humbled. I spent several hours today researching the history of Tilton, starting with the story of Mary Baker Eddy. Then the subject just blew up from there, like the Big Bang that began our Universe, so we’re told. Just take a deep breath, Dennis. No need to rush. Let the Helium coalesce into planets. In today’s post, I want to focus on the building that is presently the most colorful on Main Street. And I will after I mention five bits of history: Tilton was once named Sanbornton Bridge, which was part of the town of Sanbornton, which was established in 1769. In 1869, a group of Sanbornton Bridge citizens successfully petitioned the town of Sanbornton and received State approval to create the town of Tilton. The new town was named after Nathaniel Tilton, who built the area’s first hotel and an iron factory. Yes, I must mention that Tilton was once a prosperous mill town along the Winnipesaukee River. Nathaniel’s grandson Charles E. Tilton, who got his first wealth by prospecting for gold out West, built that huge granite arch on the hill and many other significant structures. But enough! Enough history for now. There are many details to work out. For instance, many people think the town was named after Charles Tilton, not Nathaniel. The situation is chaotic. But I see that there is a great story to gel.

Here’s the colorful building I’m talking about…yes from yesterday’s pictures.

Now here is the front of the building. Behind the building, across the river and up that tree-covered hill is the Tilton Arch, named after Charles E. Tilton. I found out today that the arch is actually in the town of Northfield. Now I need to go into the thickets and find the borders of Tilton and Northfield, and the history of those borders. 

The business there is Gemini Health Emporium. It’s a health food store. As may be guessed, the shop is far different than a GNC vitamin and supplement store.  I’ve been in twice since living in town and had some conversation with the proprietor. The last time I was in, he showed me how he makes sauerkraut in the back room. Yep – ferments it right there in several large, clay crock pots. He sells it to a ready clientele. I’m not fond of sauerkraut, but many are. This store is a sauerkraut lover’s delight. One wall in the store has shelves covered with large glass jars of dried herbs. Other shelves carry raw honey and other good food written on the show window. There’s more to report and I must visit to get names and more impressions.

   

I believe this psychedelic building has a peculiar story to tell. I found a detail in my research today that hints of something suspicious. I’ll dig into it. But for the rest of today I want to do some artistic crop work with the backside of this building.

Painted to catch the eye of a touring bumblebee!

For a good article on Tilton, check out Wikipedia’s. It was surprisingly informative. I looked at the website of the Tilton Main Street Program too. I have more to say about Mary Baker Eddy and will cite a good website.

Tilton, New Hampshire in Images

My wife and I moved to Tilton, New Hampshire three years ago. Only recently have I gone walking through the downtown, village part of the township. I’ve been through Tilton many times over the years, but now I want to share with everyone what I learn about this town from a closer look. I’ll start off with a short mystery tour.



This statue of what I presume to be a goddess, next to Winnisquam Regional High School near the west end of town, was sculpted in 1882. There are several of these marble statues on granite bases in town and I have no idea yet what they mean. Their presence indicates a glorious and wealthy past. Yet…

...this is the backside, the river side of Downtown Tilton. That large brown building looks like an old factory building. But on the street side there are retail stores. Some of the buildings on Main Street have apartments being lived in. I’m not sure about this one.

And right across the river is a backyard pen with two goats. What’s with that? Directly across from the house with the goats is a grade school. (No picture of the grade school yet.) And just a slight, five-minute climb up a hill from here is this thing!

Tilton has its version of the Arc de Triomphe?

Maybe this explains it. Mary Baker Eddy slept here.

But what explains this?

We're past the Gilded Age. Everyone used to get dressed up in suits or dresses when they went out. In the cities at least. Look at old photos of baseball games. The male fans wore a shirt and tie. Even the umpire wore a suit!