I loved the opening and did feel the meditative intent. While I do not live along the Lake, or The Great Lake as Sen. Leahy would say, I spend a great deal of time with it and I too, last week, walked along its shore in Ferrisburgh, bitter cold as it was, and saw the fragments of ice in the water and thought of your photographs. The ice along the cliffs was most spectacular, almost like cathedral organs of white; the trunk of one cedar, atop the cliff, was entirely wrapped with an inch thick coating of ice, a reminder that the essence of the lake, the water, transforms and spreads in a unique way when the air gets as cold as it has been and the mist freezes as soon as it touches something solid. Frozen fog.
P.S. Glad you are updating your previous works; it is important that they not be neglected for they are fragments of your own past worth saving and, I might add, gorgeous and powerful.
Gripping. As the icecaps melt, the forests burn and the seas belch a toxic and putrid stench, you have found an ancient path worth following. It was a path followed by caribou, mastodon and bison, then indigenous hunters called primitive who knew their world better than we do. Don't leave it, Jonathan, and ponder deeply every fork. No reason to join the mainstream in a race to destruction and extinction. A generation older, I fear it's too late to rite the ship, pun intended.
Very beautiful. For the curious & patient viewer who deeply sees, there is the gift of the concentrated magical column of light in the distance at 3:17. Stunning work, Jonathan. Thank you for sharing yourself.
I loved the opening and did feel the meditative intent. While I do not live along the Lake, or The Great Lake as Sen. Leahy would say, I spend a great deal of time with it and I too, last week, walked along its shore in Ferrisburgh, bitter cold as it was, and saw the fragments of ice in the water and thought of your photographs. The ice along the cliffs was most spectacular, almost like cathedral organs of white; the trunk of one cedar, atop the cliff, was entirely wrapped with an inch thick coating of ice, a reminder that the essence of the lake, the water, transforms and spreads in a unique way when the air gets as cold as it has been and the mist freezes as soon as it touches something solid. Frozen fog.
P.S. Glad you are updating your previous works; it is important that they not be neglected for they are fragments of your own past worth saving and, I might add, gorgeous and powerful.
Thank you Mr. Harris: each piece you make is well worth the wait
Gripping. As the icecaps melt, the forests burn and the seas belch a toxic and putrid stench, you have found an ancient path worth following. It was a path followed by caribou, mastodon and bison, then indigenous hunters called primitive who knew their world better than we do. Don't leave it, Jonathan, and ponder deeply every fork. No reason to join the mainstream in a race to destruction and extinction. A generation older, I fear it's too late to rite the ship, pun intended.
Very beautiful. For the curious & patient viewer who deeply sees, there is the gift of the concentrated magical column of light in the distance at 3:17. Stunning work, Jonathan. Thank you for sharing yourself.
a wealth of information and documentation! fragments remind me of the work of karl friston and his markov blankets.
Now I know how many colours a lake can show me.
lovely film. thanks for this.