The Lake: Waning Crescent with Venus

Posted on April 26, 2024 by Jack & Barbra Donachy

Month by month, photo by photo I’m making progress with this daunting task, key-wording, culling, editing, retouching the tens of thousands of photographs we’ve accumulated. The collection goes back to old print photographs we scanned into Lightroom, continues through our years together in Sacrament and on into our years in Alaska which have been punctuated with travels elsewhere and a two-year span in Mongolia.

Usually I’ve drawn energy from this project as I revisit memories and track the progress we’ve made as photographers. My editing and retouching skills have dramatically improved, and that too has been satisfying. But there have been low periods as well. Recently I pitched a story to the editor of a magazine. He liked the draft I showed him and asked for more. I finished the piece, sent it in… and nothing. It’s as though I’ve been ghosted. Unpleasant.

And so I find myself revisiting old questions. Have I lost the touch? Usually editors are enthusiastic about my work. Does “lost the touch” really mean “gotten too old?” Which leads to a downward spiral into the really big question I find hanging over my head at times: What if nothing ever comes of all this? What if this late-in-life push is, ultimately, pointless?

Things can get dark. But, are you enjoying your life? Barbra asks, trying to be helpful and cheering. The answer to her question is (on most days) an unequivocal Yes. And yet… and yet…

Faith in the past as an indicator tells me this moment of doubt will pass. That same past tells me that the only way to know is to keep moving forward. I suppose I could construct a metaphor about moons waning, disappearing… and then finding themselves again and waxing into fullness.

Sunset over Mount Veniaminof at Black Lake

Posted on March 23, 2024 by Jack & Barbra Donachy

Veniaminof was active on and off in the years we lived at The Lake. There were times when, while out fly-fishing the river, we could hear it rumbling, it’s smoking cone just over 20 miles to the west. In this photograph from a remote cabin on Black Lake near the headwaters of the Chignik, the volcano is even closer – perhaps just 20 miles distance. The forecast during our stay on Black Lake had been for fair weather, but shortly after sunset the evening one of us took the above photo we were hit with a huge out-of-nowhere storm packing freezing temperatures and winds in excess of 100 miles per hour. The little cabin rattled and rocked and we dug deep under a pile of blankets and sleeping bags, hoping the shelter would hold together. It did. That morning we woke to calm and a lake locked in thick ice. Our way out – back to the village, was by boat – a mile down the lake, seven miles down Black River and then seven more miles down Chignik Lake. No cell service. We were locked in, solid.

Rothko Sunrise, Point Hope

Posted on February 16, 2024 by Jack & Barbra Donachy

***Sunrise, Sunset – Point Hope, Alaska*** *November 19, 2011*

One hundred twenty-five miles north of the Arctic Circle, on this date there still remained four hours and three minutes of daylight in Point Hope’s sky. This late in the year the Chukchi Sea was blanketed in ice, the sun barely ascending above the horizon. From November 18 to 19, nine minutes and 52 seconds of daylight were lost. The following day, ten minutes were lost – an additional eight seconds. The next day, 10 more seconds of light disappeared. And so it continued, darkness gathering momentum toward December 6 when the sun vanished, leaving only a glow on the horizon. The sun remained down for 30 days until January 6 when it peeked above the frozen sea at 2:03 PM and remained barely visible for 19 minutes and 20 seconds.

I first encountered art in the style of Mark Rothko’s colorfield paintings (a painting by an art student at the local college) in my teens. Like many others, I was fascinated by the juxtaposition of colors. I would shoot this scene differently now… but will most likely never get the opportunity. Happy to have been there, seen it, and come away with this photograph despite its imperfections.

Paradise Bend

Posted on January 18, 2024 by Jack & Barbra Donachy

Arctic Sunset

Posted on November 19, 2011 by Jack & Barbra Donachy

At 2:21 p.m. on December 6, 2011 the sun will set in Point Hope. Of course, in most places, the sun will rise again the next day. This is not the case here. The sun will not rise again until 1:56 p.m. on January 7, 2012.

This afternoon, I could see the most beautiful pink and orange reflection out my kitchen window. The sunset and the ocean called to me. It was 12 degrees out with just a light wind, tolerable with my down jacket, mittens, face mask, and snow boots. The colors in the sky were magical. Swatches of blues and pinks hovered above the icy sea washed with an electric orange glow. The snow leading to the beach was pristine except for scattered caribou prints. Seven foot cliffs of packed snow loomed over the eroded beach. The edge of the ocean was covered in undulating sheets of ice showing only patches of open sea. The frozen crust lifted and fell slowly as the ocean below it was beginning its winter slumber.

In California, I used to visit the coast in order to replenish my energy. The foaming and crashing sea along the West Coast always rejuvenated me, especially when my spirits were low. The Arctic Ocean imbues a person with a sense of calm and peace. As I looked to my left and right up and down the icy beach, others, too, were taking in the view.

9:56 p.m.

Posted on April 2, 2011 by Jack & Barbra Donachy

We were at a friend’s house watching movies last night. Pink streaks of soft light brushed with gold appeared on the wall. At nearly 10 o’clock at night, that could only mean one thing–a beautiful sunset. The snow drifts in the foreground indicate where the ocean shore starts. The ice just below the drifts covers the beach. From there out to as far as the eye can see is the Chukchi Sea still locked in ice.