Seeded Earth - Bo Mackison » nature

Hanging Around

Bo Mackison — Tue, 07 Feb 2012 11:35:14 +0000

Sometimes it is the simplest things that can bring joy. I was watching several acacia seedpods dangling from a young tree at the Arizona Sonora Desert Museum a few days ago. My camera, set on a tripod, was set up next to me. Two boys, maybe 8 and 5, came bounding towards me. They stopped at my side and looked at the tree.

“What are you looking at?” the older boy asked me. He had a small camera dangling from his wrist and began twirling it in circles. Perhaps it was his pre-photograph warm-up exercise.

“Oh, I’m watching these acacia seeds. They are moving in the breeze. I was thinking about the photograph I want to take.”

The older boy stared at the seeds a moment, obviously confused. But the younger boy appeared to understand. He pulled at his brother’s shirt, dragging him towards the women waiting for them. “C’mon, Jay,” he said, giving me a backwards glance. “She’s just hanging around.”

Yep. Me and the acacia seedpods. We’re just hanging around.

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Bo Mackison is a photographer and owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC. Sometimes Bo hangs around, and sometimes she takes photographs, too.

A Roadrunner for Joanne

Bo Mackison — Sun, 05 Feb 2012 02:12:33 +0000

”Now then, I can easily understand why it should puzzle you that a person of my intelligence, I.Q. 207 super genius, should devote his valuable time chasing this ridiculous road runner, this bird that appears to be so skinny, scrawny, stringy, unappetizing, anemic, ugly and misbegotten. Ah, but how little you know about road runners. Actually, the road runner is to the taste buds of a coyote, what caviar, champagne, filet mignon and chocolate fudge are to the taste buds of a man.” Wile E. Coyote

Last year, when I wrote about seeing roadrunners in my Arizona backyard, Joanne Keevers left a comment and said she wanted to see what a roadrunner looked like since there were no roadrunners in Australia, and would I please take a photograph if I got the chance. Well, it’s taken me almost a year to see a roadrunner within camera range, and even this guy nearly escaped without me getting a photo. You can tell he is running away from me as I snap his portrait.

Funny thing, before I reached for my camera, he walked to within ten feet of me and then stared at me, almost cocking his head as if to say, “You want something, lady?” Even while I had my camera in hand, checking the settings, he stood quite still. But as soon as I lifted the camera to my eye and began pressing the shutter, he took off at a brisk pace.

He did not run. He merely walked off in a bit of a hurry. I don’t think road runners do much running, but they are quick of movement. They are one of the few creatures that can kill a rattlesnake.

So, Joanne, here is a roadrunner photo for you — with best wishes to you from Arizona to Australia.

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Bo Mackison is a photographer and owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC. She enjoys watching the variety of birds in her backyard arroyo. And once in a while, she even gets a bird photo!

Nature’s Abstract

Bo Mackison — Fri, 03 Feb 2012 21:41:59 +0000

A photographer sees the world through a filter. Not the interchangeable filters for lenses, but the filter in the photographer’s mind through which an unfolding scene is seen as a photograph. ~ Bo Mackison

Pincushion cacti are rather small cacti. Globular, lots of protruding, sharply hewn spines. Almost easy to pass by in the search for the giant saguaro, the prickly pear with its oval sculptural pads, the ocotillo waving green branches with the tips turning red with flowers.

Then I saw these little groups of pincushions. I liked how they were bunched together in little pods of three or five, and since my camera was ready on my tripod, I took a few photos.

Later in the studio, I enlarged the photo — and wow, it was no longer a simple little cactus. I’m studying the desert, letting in the immensity of the place while still focusing on and absorbing the tiny spaces. There were sure some tiny spaces in between the spines of this not-a-friend-of seamstresses pincushion. I sure loved it, though.

Spaces — this is an entangled pattern of tiny spaces, tiny bits of shadow and light from the cactus spines.

How do I look at these spaces? Seeking? Searching?

Turn the spaces into words through metaphor? Struggle with the concept of spaces with danger or limitations? Give thanks for the infinite variety of spaces and places? Celebrate life and the wholeness of the world, place by place, and tiny space by tiny space?

Do you examine spaces? What thoughts come to mind when you observe the many complexities of tiny spaces such as these cacti?

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Bo Mackison is a photographer and owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC. She is exploring the Sonoran Desert and examining the smallest of spaces while allowing in big thoughts.

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Desert Twilight

Bo Mackison — Tue, 31 Jan 2012 02:52:23 +0000

Sonoran Desert Twilight

Seeing form with the whole body and mind.
Hearing sound with the whole body and mind.
One understands it intimately.
~ Eihen Dogen

When I am in the desert, I have two responsibilities — to listen, to see.

I watch as nature busies herself doing the quiet things not easily seen, sometimes only sensed. A lizard scooting from under a cooling rock. Cactus wrens darting from their nest holes in the saguaros to the top of the cactus, on alert, the look-out. Then swooping about, catching an insect or two, and a return to the nest inside the huge saguaro.

A pack of coyotes sing. A second pack joins, in harmony. Silence. Then the who-ooo of an owl. I hear it, I never see a twitch of movement.

I am content, also, to hear the sound of silence. Silence has a sound. I feel surrounded by the desert, as if she has a hold on me. The desert wakens all my senses — sacred senses.

Now is the time to remember that all you do is sacred. ~ Hafiz

I stayed in the desert overnight. There was no roughing it for me. My days of primitive camping ended decades ago. This time I had my car, a sleeping bag rated warm enough to keep me comfortable in the desert night. (The low reached 38˚F — not too cold.) I had a backpacker stove and a French press coffee cup. I had coffee and soup in a box for dinner and granola and fruit for breakfast and lots of bottled water. I had a lantern. I had the necessities. I also had my iPad, a last minute addition to my camp gear. I was set. Luxury camping.

When I woke up at 4 AM and couldn’t fall back to sleep, I sat in the car and read The Turquoise Ledge by Leslie Marmon Silko on my iPad. Now that is really desert camping in luxury. I didn’t wait the first touch of daylight to make my coffee. The sun rises late in the desert — I don’t know why — and I got cold. I finally maneuvered in the dark and heated water and made my first cup of coffee by the yellowish-orange hazy lights of Tucson reflecting off the clouds.

By the time it was light enough to follow a trail and not walk into the desert plants, I was dressed in layers and had my hiking stick and coffee cup in hand. I followed a trail along an arroyo and was quite pleased to be out in the desert, alone, at dawn — until a pack of coyotes ran across the trail twenty feet from where I stood.

Once I got my heart out of my throat and back into my chest where it belonged, I turned around and hiked back to camp. All those sacred senses were on alert.

But it was a great explore.

My first overnight camping trip in the desert.

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Bo Mackison is a photographer and owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC. She is exploring the Sonoran desert.

Ocotillo Sunset

Bo Mackison — Mon, 30 Jan 2012 03:21:56 +0000

“Something has happened
To my understanding of existence
That now makes my heart always full of wonder…”

~ Hafiz, The Gift

I have desert dreams. They are not as tidy as I would like, but perhaps they are tidier than one would imagine. My desert is a tidy place with a tidy habit. No dense, tangled tropical paradise. In the desert there is room to move. Space for movement. But even more important to me, there is space to see.

Vision is not blocked by billboard or building. When I look, I can see afar. It is not unusual to look across the desert and see a mountain thirty or forty miles away. There is space to form thoughts, to search for answers. My desert dream affords me a polite habitat, nothing to tangle my feet and make me fall, no hidden roots to trip me, no overgrowth to hide my path.

There is room for all to grow, for me to grow.

In my dreaming desert, I do not cut myself on the spines of the cacti, the thorns on the shrubs and trees. I do not step upon desert earth that has rotted from beneath the surface, that gives way with the weight of my step, and sucks my leg into a gaping hole in the desert floor. The desert in my dreams has been sanitized for my night time journeys.

Awake, the desert is wild and streaming a series of ever more deeply saturated color. There is the silhouette of the ocotillo and its thorns, long and sharp. I watch the sun disappear, it drops below the horizon, and the layers of red, orange, purple linger until night’s arrival blackens the sky.

The sun sets. I breathe in tempo with the still warm desert. I inhale, the desert earth inhales. I exhale, the desert earth exhales. Heat stored in the desert’s earth meets the night’s cooling air, and the desert pulsates with energy.

Desert rhythms. I stand and watch, supporting myself with my walking stick while gripping tightly to my world.

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Bo Mackison is a photographer and owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC. She is in the Sonoran desert.

Shadows of the Olive Leaf

Bo Mackison — Fri, 20 Jan 2012 15:22:32 +0000

On my first full day back in Arizona, I spent the last hours of sunlight in the historic mission garden at Tumacacori National Historic Site in southern Arizona. It is one of places I visit most often when I am in Arizona – a tiny historic preservation of an 18th century mission church in ruins. I often find a quiet space – easy to do – and simply sit.

Take in the warmth of the lingering sun which soon will disappear behind the Tumacacori Mountains. Watch soaring hawks dip and slide on the currents of wind. Listen to the breezes whispering to the leaves. Listen to the voices from the past, voices raised in chanting song. (I don’t have to imagine these voices – there is a recording of the hymns similar to those sung by the O’ohdam centuries ago. It lends a surreal audio experience to the already memory-haunting surroundings.)

I took a few photographs in the garden, but not one of a flower or a desert plant. I captured these olive leaf shadows on the bark of another tree, other trees ou of focus in the background, but adding another layer of shadow and mystery. I captured the blue waters in the silent fountain. A few cracks in an adobe bench, the textures of the hand fired bricks.

It was a fine first day explore of one of my favorite thinking places. Very quiet, a pensive place. This mission garden provides the perfect space for contemplation.

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Bo Mackison is a photographer and owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC. She is taking a few days to adapt to her cross country move from Wisconsin’s snowy-frigid winter to Arizona’s desert-sun winter.