Fragile Things
This image was an unexpected surprise. I was out in mid-May along the north shore of Lake Superior. The days were warming up; the snow had long since melted, and I had set out to photograph some water over rocks. I had chosen a location I had not been to in a long while. A beautiful little peninsula sticking out into Lake Superior. There are loads of great rock patterns and twisted trees dotting this spot, and I was expecting to photograph the patterns of bark, rocks, and water. The last thing I was expecting to find was ice patterns.
I only found one ice pattern, and it did not last long. I love to photograph the ice. There are always interesting patterns and shapes that can be found, so I was excited to discover this unexpected surprise. There is a sense of fragility and impermanence to it that makes it feel special. This little patch was no exception. It was the fragile look to the pattern in this ice that drew me in. It was like looking at the delicate feathers of a bird or the folds of an elegant fabric. I knew this scene was not going to last long.
I hurried as carefully as I could to get my camera set up on this evanescent pattern in the ice. I had to spread my tripod legs very wide so as not to disturb the tissue-paper-thin ice. Zooming in with my 200mm telephoto lens to fill the frame with the elegant pattern. I centered my image on a section that I felt best conveyed the ice's intricate and fragile nature. I tripped the shutter for 1/6th of a second. As soon as the exposure had been made, a tiny ripple in the water below erased the pattern and tore the ice away. As quickly as I made this image, the scene had disappeared.
The fleeting moment of this experience is perhaps what makes me appreciate it even more. Not only was I not expecting it, but I was also able to witness it and create an image of it. And no sooner had I accomplished this image than the whole thing was gone. As if it had never existed. It is these fleeting moments spent with fragile things that make photography such a gift.
