"Pay attention to the world." -- Susan Sontag
 

Category: photography

Red and Pink Amaryllis (1 of 3)

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From “The Amaryllis” in The Canadian Horticulturalist, Vol. 22, No. 1 (January, 1899), published by The Fruit Growers Association of Ontario:

“The Amaryllis belongs to the bulbous class of plants, and under that name is generally included, for commercial purposes at any rate, the numerous family of Hippeastrums, as well as the Vallota and other species closely allied to the amaryllis proper, all of them belonging to the natural order of amaryllis.

“The first record we have of the introduction of amaryllis to European gardens gives the date as being early in the eighteenth century, about 1712, it being indigenous to the Cape of Good Hope, South Africa, where so many varieties of these beautiful plants have been introduced. These were herbaceous in their character, the foliage commencing to die down soon after the flowering season, followed by a period of rest…”

From “Amaryllis in the Maze” in The Story of Amaryllis and Other Verses (1908) by Viola Taylor:

In the dead winter comes a thought to me
Of Amaryllis in her maiden days,
Threading her way along the winding Maze
Of close-clipt yew and stunted myrtle tree —
A leafy fortress where her heart was free.

Green was her dress, with billowy skirts that made
A gentle rustle when the nights were still;
The misty dawn of many a hidden frill
Shot from the turnings of the puffed brocade
And mossy velvet bound with twisted braid.

Hello!

As is often the case with my posts and their photographs, I went hunting for some new quotations about my subjects — in this case, I searched Google Books for title references to “amaryllis” to see what I could find. That’s where I discovered Viola Taylor’s book of poetry, The Story of Amaryllis and Other Verses, which includes nine poems (of 39 in the book) about amaryllis:

Amaryllis in the Maze
Amaryllis and the Faun 
The Defence of Amaryllis 
Amaryllis in the Faith
Amaryllis in the Shade
A Memory of Amaryllis 
The Passing of Amaryllis 
The Last of Amaryllis
Hic Jacet Amaryllis

After reading all nine, though, it wasn’t clear to me what (or who) “Amaryllis” in the poems referred to. Not that there’s anything wrong with that — poets do like to be obtuse, don’t they? — and most of the poems could be interpreted as metaphors for the life cycle of amaryllis plants and flowers, or maybe references to a person known to the author as Amaryllis, or even symbolic references to the Amaryllis of Greek mythology.

None of these possibilities satisfied me that much, so I tried some additional rabbit-hole digging on Taylor and her books — only to blonk my head against gated research sources (the scourge of the internet!) and very little else. While this may have suggested some (paywalled) academic interest in her, I then discovered that Viola Taylor also published using her married name from her first marriage (Viola Woods); her married name from her second marriage to British journalist and newspaper editor James Louis Garvin (so, Viola Garvin); that J. L. Garvin had a daughter also named Viola from his first marriage; and that that Viola Garvin wrote and published poetry too. All this of course made it very difficult to zero in on the correct “Viola” — even as I thought about paying for a couple of journal articles to learn more.

With the rabbit-hole having expanded into too many tributaries(!!), it seemed best to crawl back out and just enjoy the little book of poetry. It’s available for free, if you would like to take a look, here: The Story of Amaryllis and Other Verses.

This is the first of three posts featuring amaryllis from Oakland Cemetery’s gardens whose flowers were predominantly red, or — with a little extra light or by adding a bit of white — exhibited strong pink tones. I separated them from the mostly-magenta amaryllis (see Amaryllis, Mostly Magenta (1 of 2) and Amaryllis, Mostly Magenta (2 of 2)) for that reason, and it was quite a bit of fun to see how most of these could be rendered as deep red or intense pink by playing with Lightroom’s hue and saturation sliders for red and magenta. It was another kind of rabbit-hole I spent some time in, I suppose, before I settled on whether or not to finish these as red flowers or pink flowers, because any of them could be completely shifted from one color to the other, with no distortion.

Funny story (to me, anyway): as a tyke I dyslexically thought the word “magenta” was actually “magneta” (pronounced mag-KNEE-tah) — perhaps from some formative exposure to the Marvel comics Magneto character. It took me quite a few years to pronounce “magenta” correctly (luckily, it’s not a word you actually use a lot in daily conversation), and even now, half a century later, I still sometimes catch myself reading the word as “magneta” instead of “magenta.” Weird how things get stuck in your head and seem to stay there forever, eh?

Thanks for reading and taking a look!

Amaryllis, Mostly Magenta, in Black-and-White (2 of 2)

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From Light and Lens: Photography in the Digital Age by Robert Hirsch:

“The process of making pictures involves keeping an open mind to single and serial image constructions, narrative and non-narrative formats, in-camera juxtapositions, and post-camera manipulations. How does changing the sense of scale, the size you expect something to be, affect viewer reaction? Does the unusual scale evoke humor, mystery, or horror? How does this make you rethink the subject? Consciously ask yourself questions like these: How does image size affect viewer response? How would changing to black-and-white or color affect the image’s emotional outcome? Examine how one photograph may modify the meaning of the image next to it. Consider what happens if text is added to an image. How can meaning shift with a title as opposed to leaving a photograph untitled? What is the most effective form of presentation, and what is the appropriate venue?”

“When making color images, the intensity and the relationship of one color to another within the scene plays a vital role in creating contrast. If you decide to make black-and-white images, then contrast is created by the difference between the darkest and lightest areas of the composition.”

Hello!

This is the second of two posts (the first is Amaryllis, Mostly Magenta, in Black-and-White (1 of 2)) showing black-and-white conversions of the color photos I originally posted in Amaryllis, Mostly Magenta (1 of 2) and Amaryllis, Mostly Magenta (2 of 2).

Thanks for taking a look!

Amaryllis, Mostly Magenta, in Black-and-White (1 of 2)

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From “The Garden in Black & White” in Creative Garden Photography by Harold Davis:

“It’s clear that black and white is very important to certain kinds of garden photography. Why?

“For one thing, a black and white photograph is ‘art.’ In the context of gardens, black and white has a long history of rendering the shapes, forms, and composition of the garden….

“Up until fairly recently, photography was only black and white. Color was not an option. Nineteenth-century photographers, such as Eugène Atget (1857–1927) who worked near Paris, used the prowess of their monochromatic cameras to capture gardens around the world with a particular emphasis on the patterns and structure of formal French gardens. To some extent, this embrace of the static in garden photography was driven by technology: not only was photography monochromatic, shutters were also slow, so capturing anything in motion was non-trivial.

“As time went by, when color film was introduced, the great era of Kodachrome was on. Fast forward a few more decades, and the wet-film darkroom transitioned to digital. Not only is the default capture mode on most digital cameras or smartphones in color, to choose to render a garden image captured in color in black and white is an affirmative choice. In today’s world, to present an image in black and white is making a statement. The statements may well be: ‘Look at me, I am a work of art!’ ‘I am special.’ ‘I am the form and composition reduced to its essentials.’ Of course, it also helps that black and white photography is simply beautiful.”

Hello!

For most of my photo projects — where I clump a couple dozen similar photos into a Lightroom collection and work on them together — I often convert a few to black and white to see if I like the monochrome versions enough to produce a separate set. Usually, I don’t find them compelling; but for the mostly-magenta amaryllis I featured in the previous two posts (see Amaryllis, Mostly Magenta (1 of 2) and Amaryllis, Mostly Magenta (2 of 2)) the combination of colors in the pink-to-purple range (along with the slightly shiny glow produce by lots of rain the night before I took the photos) seemed to work out well in black and white. As I often do, I added a bit of silver tone (actually, a wee bit of light blue) to each of the images, which seemed to further emphasize the soft textures of individual flower petals.

Thanks for taking a look!

Amaryllis, Mostly Magenta (2 of 2)

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From “Amaryllis” in Bulbs and Tuberous-Rooted Plants: Their History, Description, Methods of Propagation and Complete Directions for their Successful Culture in the Garden, Dwelling and Greenhouse (1893) by C. L. Allen:

“This interesting genus has had a hard struggle to establish its identity. At one period it had numerous species, and many sub-genera, all very beautiful. One by one these have been removed, becoming separate genera themselves, until there is scarcely enough left to hold the name. Some eight distinct kinds still hold, in trade, the old generic name….

“[The] Amaryllis is but little known in this country, while its synonyms are extensively grown and highly appreciated. Amaryllis is now simply a trade name for several genera, a popular name applied in the same manner as that of Calla Lily to Richardia, or Japonica to the Camellia. The genus formerly included Hippeastrum, Brunsvigia, Crinum, Nerine, Sprekelia, Sternbergia, Vallota and Zephyranthes…..

“The genus Amaryllis consists of but one species.”

Hello!

This is the second of two posts featuring Swamp Lilies (or Swamplilies or Swamp-lilies) or Amaryllis or Crinum or just pretty flowers, that I took at Oakland Cemetery’s gardens a few weeks ago. The first post is (including a bit about the plants’ names) is Amaryllis, Mostly Magenta (1 of 2).

Thanks for taking a peek!

Amaryllis, Mostly Magenta (1 of 2)

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From “Summer-Flowering Bulbs” in A Garden of One’s Own by Elizabeth Lawrence:

“Instead of agonizing over perennials that will never be at their best in our climate, we should use plant materials adapted to our hot, dry summers. With this in mind I have been experimenting for several years with summer-flowering bulbs. The amaryllis family alone is an almost inexhaustible source for Southern gardens….

“The choice member of this family is the Amaryllis belladonna (July and August) with its six or eight lavender-pink flowers in an umbel on a two-foot stem. It is perfectly hardy, and has bloomed for me in the poorest soil in both sun and shade….

“The crinums are the showiest of the amaryllis family.”

From Bulbs and Tuberous-Rooted Plants: Their History, Description, Methods of Propagation and Complete Directions for their Successful Culture in the Garden, Dwelling and Greenhouse (1893) by C. L. Allen:

“The name Amaryllis is supposed to have been taken from a famous shepherdess mentioned by Virgil, and distinguished for her beauty.”

Hello!

Most of the flowers I’ve uploaded for this post (and the next one) I’ve always known by their common name, Swamp Lily (or Swamplily or Swamp-lily, depending on where you read about them). While it’s true that they are known by that name, it turns out — this may be devastating news! — that they’re not lilies. Shocking, I know, and not unlike something I wrote about previously — see Leopard Flower Variations — when I was equally surprised to learn that daylilies are not lilies either.

Swamp lilies of this kind are members of the plant genus Amaryllis, in the plant family Amaryllidaceae, and there’s a pretty good chance that the plants in these nine photos are the Amaryllis belladonna described in Elizabeth Lawrence’s quote at the top of this post. They may also be a variety of Crinum — another genus in Amaryllidaceae — but I couldn’t tell for sure from the photos, and when I went back to Oakland Cemetery’s gardens to get a closer look at the stem and leaf structures (based on the pointers in this video Crinum, Amaryllis, and Lilies: How to tell the Difference Between Them), the plants had, uh, gone on vacation. In any case, I now check Wikipedia’s List of plants known as lily page whenever I see “lily” in a plant’s name. The page probably should be called “List of plants you think are lilies but really aren’t” — and if you look there you’ll see two kinds of amaryllis listed, both commonly misnomered.

I took these photos the morning after a night full of thunderstorms, so most of the flowers were still weighed down with raindrops, as you can see from the pictures. I thought about trying to dry them off a little (though I hesitate to interfere with nature, you know), but then realized that the flowers hung more gracefully on their stems from the weight of water and — as a rare occurrence in the southeast — there was no pollen dust all over the petals and leaves because it had been washed away. Fresh and clean, they all glowed a little — in a range of magenta and purple colors (according to Lightroom) and some green, yellow, and orange among the leaves and the remains of desiccated flowers.

Thanks for reading and taking a look!