Serendipity is Nature's Generosity

Lamb's Ears - Image c Lynda Lehmann

I've been wanting to get back to painting, because painting is my first love.  I had promised myself that my next post would be about pigment instead of pixels.  But nature intervened and threw me a curve.  
I had all but given up on finding anything pixel-worthy on my walk today, when I stumbled upon these dried "Lamb's Ears" plants (as a friend of mine calls them).  They are just slightly wilted from the cold, which has been intense for a December on Long Island.  But their light gray-green color was outstanding against the auburn of dried, fallen leaves.
It's sometimes hard to find subjects to shoot on suburban streets, unless one comes across a wooded area or something at the very edge of the street. In order to respect people's privacy, or should I say their feelings about privacy, I never point my camera towards a house.  That's why I so enjoy getting out of the neighborhood to the larger outdoor spaces with my camera.  Not only is there usually more to shoot, but I feel free to point my camera in any direction.
Nature came through again today, with a subject that I feel holds a good deal of beauty and mystery.  I've seen this cluster of plants in the same location before, but today the light was right and the colors just popped! Whenever I take in a scene or object of beauty, I feel rich. So today held a tiny bit of serendipity for me.
I hope you found beauty and a touch of serendipity in your day, as well!    
Reposted from Peripheral Vision blog.  All images and text  are copyrighted material, and may be used only with written permission (email is okay) by the author/artist, except where syndication rights have been granted. All other rights reserved. Please visit my primary art site at http://www.lehmann.myexpose.com/gallery if you would like to see my paintings and more of my photography and digital art!

A Ballet of Blossoms

Peachy Petals - Lynda Lehmann c 2009

Watch the petals of irises sway, billow and gently gesture in the breeze. It's like watching a ballet: the dance of sweet spring air over translucent sheaths of brilliant color, orchestrated interplay of air, color, and light....

Irises may be my favorite flower, for their intricate, sculptural forms, whose graceful spatial relationships flourish in 3-D. I think they're much more interesting than tulips, for example, whose colors are just as beautiful but whose petals form a more symmetric and predictable, cup-like structure. As with the process when I paint, I enjoy variety and a few surprises!

The closer I move with my eye or my view through the camera, the more I see of the fantastic architecture of the flower kingdom.

What's your favorite flower?

This article is re-posted from "Peripheral Vision" at www.innersights.blogspot.com.

Rush of Water, Hiss of Foam

Sorry to repeat myself, but I think I've made a great improvement here, over my last post. This is a cut and edited version of my latest amateur beach movie. I've put back the original soundtrack with wind and water sounds. I hope you enjoy it. When the music pauses, listen to the waves!

I loved making it, and hope to learn more about the video editing software. It's on my long list of goals....

Thanks for your visit and for sharing this with me!

Video c Lynda Lehmann but available on YouTube for embedding. Re-posted from "Peripheral Vision" blog.

Sibilant Songs of the Shoreline: Surf, Shells, Seagulls, Sand, and Sky

Early Bird - Image c Lynda Lehmann 2010

Winging It - Image c Lynda Lehmann 2010

Feeding Time - Image c 2010 Lynda Lehmann

Alone Among Strangers - Image c 2010 Lynda Lehmann

Anticipation - Image c 2010 Lynda Lehmann

Blue Sky, Blue Water - Image c 2010 Lynda Lehmann

Nested in the Sand - Image c 2010 Lynda Lehmann

Gull Walk - Image c 2010 Lynda Lehmann

Beach Baubles - Image c 2010 Lynda Lehmann

Inevitable Beauty - Image c 2010 Lynda Lehmann

What's sibilant at the seashore? The hissing of the foaming surf, the shrill screeching of gulls, the satisfying intervals of silence and solitude.

Okay, you've got me. The words I've used to DESCRIBE those natural phenomena are instances of sibilance, whereas the phenomena themselves, are not.

Nevertheless, every time I go to the beach with my camera, nature reveals her little secrets to me, sights and sounds and smells (there I go again) that fill me with joy. It seems that by looking through my camera lens, I've made a pact with beauty. Each time I see more than the time before. No exotic foreign scenes, just everyday sights of the shoreline. Each time, I feel so rich and enriched: my cup of beauty is full again!

I see the entire animal kingdom in the clannish squawking chatter of the gulls, moving mostly in unison against the waves, in vigilant outlook for their next meal. I see the cosmos in a brightly colored scattering of shells, the treasures of ages in a golden, iridescent conch half buried in the sand.

It's an addiction. Framing an image in your viewfinder or LCD screen can do two things. It can actually insulate you from the walking/hiking experience because you loose yourself in the intention of getting satisfying photographs to document the experience you're only HALF having, lol....

Or, by the concentration of your focus on aspects and segments of the surrounding environment, you actually sense and see MORE of it! Most of the time it's a wash (no pun intended) and what I lose in the directness of the experience, I'm compensating for by the poignant visual moments--those shining little moments of thrilling epiphany--in which I entirely lose myself. Nature spins its magic around me and I'm in FLOW for as long as I go with it.

At one point I had hundreds of gulls taking wing around me--and for a moment I was immersed in a universe of fluttering wings whose "whooshing" sound filled the beach and drowned out the crashing of waves and the hiss of sea-foam. (As you can imagine, I was immensely grateful that none of them dropped on me...)

I watched in awe (through my lens) as one sedate gull was knocked over backwards by a wave. He had to use his wings to straighten himself and scramble back into his sitting position. If a gull can look surprised and flustered, I think he did! But maybe I'm anthropomorphizing too much....

I've been carrying my tripod lately. It becomes quite heavy to lug over long distances on sand or muddy trails. But it's worth the benefit of better photo quality--and I'm finally training myself to carrying it religiously. I've been shooting at narrow apertures, as small as F 11 and even F 16 on sunny days, to facilitate depth of field. Although JPG noise continues to be a problem, even when I use a noise filter in the processing.

Here are a few of the many images I shot the other day. My favorite shots are "Anticipation," "Nested in the Sand" and "Blue Sky, Blue Water." My greatest joy is finding beauty and tranquility in everyday scenes, including local beaches and parks. Most of us are fortunate enough to have a park, or a stretch of forest, or a garden, somewhere nearby. Do you have a favorite sanctuary where you habitually go to find natural beauty and peace?

NOTE: I would like to thank all those of you who voted for my photo in the Newsday photo contest. I believe the winner had literally thousands of votes, and was a shot of a child hugging a marine mammal. I haven't been able to find it again to verify this, but it was an adorable and heartwarming photo, well deserving of the votes.

All images and text c Lynda Lehmann. If you would like to view more of my art or make a purchase, please visit Lynda Lehmann Painting and Photography or my gallery at Imagekind, where you can choose from several sizes and paper types or buy my prints plain or matted and framed.

The Beautiful, Beckoning Wood

The Beautiful, Beckoning Wood - Lynda Lehmann c 2010

The arbor gleams. Trees gesture, dance and sway, playing with the showering gold of sunlight. Vines crawl and meander, yet always ascending. Textures pop and reflect the underlying vitality, setting the precedent for "Form." Wood wet with past rain glistens orange and lush vines play a rich green counterpoint. Shadows vignette the drama, and my heart leaps joyously into the cauldron where Creation plays out its evolving domain.

Note to My Readers: I want the above paragraph to stand alone, hence this note. My husband and I walked on the Long Island shoreline the other day, enjoying the sunshine and the January thaw. I was serendipitously graced with this image on the way out, at which point I was resolved to my day's photo-taking being over. It was getting late and the light was fading from the part of the shore we had been walking on. But we emerged into the sunlight and there it was: one of the most beautiful forest scenes I have witnessed: the bright side-lighting, the moisture on the trunks that brought out the rich colors of the bark, and the complements of orange and green. I hope this image brings to mind for you, some of your favorite moments of encounter with nature. I'd like to hear about them!

Image and text copyright Lynda Lehmann. All rights reserved.

If you would like to view my art or make a purchase, please visit Lynda Lehmann Painting and Photography or my gallery at Imagekind, where you can choose from several sizes and paper types or buy my prints plain or matted and framed.

Rockin' Out

Unexpected Yellow - Lynda Lehmann c 2010

Arizona Mineral Abstract - Lynda Lehmann c 2010

I love rocks. Rocks in any form. Little shards, rounded pebbles, mighty boulders, and vast canyons--they all resonate with me. It's as if I can feel their solidity, their might and permanence. They give me a feeling of being anchored to the great mysteries at our feet and in the more vaporous elements of the atmosphere around us. They make me feel strong. They are enduring and completely OF the earth!

In our everyday lives we may see rocks as inorganic, consisting of minerals steeped and birthed in the heat and power of the Earth. But if one believes in quantum physics and the concept that everything is energy, one must believe that rocks too, consist of and emit energy. (I am speaking of rocks in a metaphysical sense. As for the emissions of radioactive elements, now THAT is another subject altogether....)

Here are a few photos of boulders I took in Arizona's Tonto National Forest. Not only do the rocks resonate with me in some enigmatic energy way, but their surfaces are a feast of form and color. Abstracted realism is one of my favorite forms of photography, and these boulders make powerful abstracts in their own right. It's just amazing, how much beauty is embedded in flowers, plants, trees, animals, air, water, fire, and yes, rocks!

Again, my eyes rejoice in what my camera can take away from majestic natural scenes filled with mystery and surprise. Every day is a gift of vision and inspiration.

Layered Rock in Tonto Forest - Lynda Lehmann c 2010

Sanguine - Lynda Lehmann c 2010

And here is an example of the total package--a macroscopic view of multiple microcosms, a vast panoramic landscape supported by rock. A canyon is a universe unto itself.

Red Rocks Ridges - Lynda Lehmann c 2010

Note: This is my first post in the New Year. I want to wish everyone health, prosperity, and happiness in 2010 and beyond. And for all of humankind, peace on Earth. May beauty fill your cup and lead you to your fulfillment, whatever its form. And may we find a way to justice, for all people.

All photos and text copyright Lynda Lehmann. All rights reserved.

If you would like to view my art or make a purchase, please visit Lynda Lehmann Painting and Photography or my gallery at Imagekind, where you can choose from several sizes and paper types or buy my prints plain or matted and framed.

The Nature of Pine Bark: Beauty in Every Line and Pore

The Beauty of Pine Bark - Lynda Lehmann c 2009

Looking for and finding natural beauty, is my life. It carries me through my days, cushioning me from life's disappointments and the tragedies of the human condition. I remember the day I walked around the shore of Echo Lake State Park in New Hampshire, snapping photos of tree bark. I approached this tall pine, among others, on a crowded beach, and stood just a couple of inches from the scabrous and meandering bark. The people sunning on the lake shore literally stared--no doubt they thought I had escaped from the "loony bin." What IS that woman doing, standing with her nose stuck against the trunk of that scraggly, old pine? (Smirk...)

I've always had to explain to people how and why I LOOK at things with great interest. I've been asked in recent years,"Why are you always looking up?" The answer, of course, is that I find great inspiration in the trees, sky, and clouds. And why shouldn't I? Chances are, those particular acquaintances might be more concerned with contemplating their navels.

I remember WAY back in my college days, when I carried an apple home from the dining hall at Penn State and a roommate made a quip about "pseudo-intellectualism." But I was in earnest when I commented on the form and exquisite color of the apple. Of course in those days of upheaval and rebellion, we questioned everything. Especially the "Establishment," the "military-industrial complex" and the other stale institutions of the status-quo. Now, in my ripe old age, I realize that more than anything, we have to question ourselves, as the basis for any positive change. Transformation begins with our own perception and intellect. We have to take responsibility for who we are, for our own attitudes, actions and reactions, before we can change the world.

I'm lucky that simple beauties change the world for me! If this means I'm a "simple" person, I'll take it. I think I'm blessed to find the beauty and mystery in small details some other folks might be "too busy" to discover.

NOTE: I did tweak the above photo a bit, to bring out the hues that were already there, in the pine bark.

All photos and text copyright Lynda Lehmann. All rights reserved.

If you would like to view my art or make a purchase, please visit Lynda Lehmann Painting and Photography or my gallery at Imagekind, where you can choose from several sizes and paper types or buy my prints plain or matted and framed.

The Sacred Energy of Wild Places

There is an energy at the core of Life, a sacred energy felt most apparently and keenly in those places we may refer to as "wild." For some of us, that place may truly be in a remote wilderness area. More likely it will be a place that is just a bit out of the way. But it seems to me that the place, whether near or far from the beaten track, will be a place that is as yet unexploited and unspoiled by the touch of man.

My husband and I discovered such a place about two weeks ago. One of our mini-excursions into the Maine countryside brought us unexpectedly to a wooded marshland. It was just a tad off of a main road that was not quite a highway, but a two-lane road well-traveled by local traffic.

We made a right turn on a street whose name I can't remember. What I do remember is that it was indeed, a "proper" town street-sign in white and green with a name bestowed on this road. But it was not in any sense your typical suburban or even country road.


I was stricken with my first view of the marsh. Forest encroached on all sides, rising above the area on gentle hills. The trees still retained some of their autumn splendor but were at least partly given over to the stark winter nakedness that makes their skeletons so much more gestural and poignant than their leafy summer counterparts.



I got out of the car and scanned the near distance. Woods, woods, and more woods, with a wetland in the middle that coalesced into a quiet stream that wound its way through the thicket.


At the side of the road, cattails abounded, rich in their brown fur and contrasting the more sparse occurrence of milkweed pod. Some of the pods were open to the skyward flurry of their gossamer white fuzz, while others remained closed and pregnant with the seed loads of future plants.



A huge beaver lodge graced the middle of the watery pool on the right side of the road, commanding the eye's attention, as would a mansion on the vast grounds of a manicured estate.


But this was no manicured estate. Although fairly close to the town of Norway in southwest Maine, it had all the trappings of a true wilderness. Bird calls of all ilks met my ears, like beacons of a distant time in the annals of Creation. The milkweed seeds, picked up by an intermittent breeze, sailed into the blue dome that reflected on the water below. Everywhere there was life. Thorns, red winter berries, the milkweed, swaths of emerald moss and the texture of the slightly churned water. Sweet pungent air, sparkling with sunlight. The auburn of spent foliage rimming the swamp.


I could almost hear our dear Mother Earth inviting me in her mysterious tongues to partake. She wanted me to embrace her, smell her, feel her caress, hear her song. She wanted to delight me. She wanted to pay homage to herself for her dignity, sustained in the face of ages of exploitation and consumption, by her own stubborn Being.

Years ago, I wrote a young adult novel (one of four, actually) about a teenage girl who has to leave the lowland plain between Brazil and Peru, to climb deep into the Andes. She had to undertake this journey because her tribe was dying out, and their only chance was for her to try to retrieve the ancient medical secrets of the Incas, from whom she had descended. The Boutiquin, the ancient medicine chest of the forest floor was dying out and only she, Liana, with the tenacity of the vine for which she was named, could make her way into the highland to fetch the ancient wisdom.

Along the way, repeatedly, she bent her head to the Earth and heard the Hum of Being.

In my writing, the "Hum of Being" was a contrivance to enhance the plot, an embellishment in my manuscript to bring home the feminist and earth stewardship themes of my book.

But last week, in that patch of wild made of forest and river and swamp, filled with sunshine and seeds and berries and birdsong, I heard the Hum of Being for myself. Have you ever heard it? What is your experience with finding yourself surrounded by the magic of a sacred place? For me, it is the among the very best and most inspiring of life experiences.

All photos and text copyright Lynda Lehmann. All rights reserved.

If you would like to view my art or make a purchase, please visit Lynda Lehmann Painting and Photography or my gallery at Imagekind, where you can choose from several sizes and paper types or buy my prints plain or matted and framed.

Inklings of the Sublime

Magical World - c Lynda Lehmann 2009

Shimmer - c Lynda Lehmann 2009

Waterscape IV - c Lynda Lehmann 2009

Web of Light - c Lynda Lehmann 2009

I had such a wonderful nature experience this past summer, that I feel it has not only enriched me, but actually transformed me. I'm not a calm person. But the more I opened myself to the patterns and textures all around me, the calmer I felt. It was as if the serenity of the ENDURING THINGS just oozed into my pores, all the way to my soul. I felt warmed and comforted. The more I looked, the more I saw. And the calmer I felt.

I filled up on the great "Cup of Beauty" that is our world, and have made using my senses into a sort of mantra. On college campuses, back in the sixties, the motto was "Tune out and turn on." I never felt that was the way to go, and I'm more sure of it than ever. My mantra is "Pause to receive, rejoice, and BE." I believe that the ubiquitous beauties of the world can lead us to transcendence, if we open our hearts. All we have to do is pause and focus. Very simple.

The sunlight or clouds playing on the lake surface and the infinite forms, colors, and patterns of lichen, are just a couple of examples of the natural beauty that astounded me. I feel spiritually rich.

I'd love to hear about some of the details of nature that fascinate you!

All images and text copyright Lynda Lehmann. All rights reserved.

If you would like to view my art or make a purchase, please visit Lynda Lehmann Painting and Photography or my gallery at Imagekind, where you can choose from several sizes and paper types or buy my prints plain or matted and framed.

The Real Magic

The Real Magic - c Lynda Lehmann 2009

Autumn is a magical time of year. In the state of Maine as in many other places, nature is going through its Rites of Passage by changing its behaviors, forms and patterns in advance of the coming winter. The paradox is that as it passes into dormancy, rest, or even hibernation, concentrating its resources in order to burst with new life in the spring, it seems to be at its most beautiful. In the time of transition the phenomenal sights are fleeting, but linger long enough to inspire us with anticipation of more life experience and joy, in the future.

Please click on the image to see a larger version. All text and image c Lynda Lehmann 2009. All rights reserved.

If you would like to view my art or make a purchase, please visit Lynda Lehmann Painting and Photography or my gallery at Imagekind, where you can choose from several sizes and paper types or buy my prints plain or matted and framed.