All of these came from Seal Harbor beach on February 5, 2018. I haven’t been able to ID any of the red ones, although I suspect these feathery ones might be Heterosiphonia, which is invasive in Maine.
“Seal Harbor Beach, Maine; February 4, 2018. (Beachcombing series No.87)”
Top to bottom, left to right:
Row 1: Rock Crab (Cancer irroratus), vinyl glove with coralline encrustations and marine algae holdfasts
Row 2: Sand Dollar (Echinarachnius parma), lobster-claw band, Common Slipper Shell (Crepidula fornicata), unidentified bivalve – possibly a baby Razor Clam (Ensis directus), Northern Rock Barnacle (Semibalanus balanoides), Slipper Shell, plastic lining from bottle cap, Toad Crab (Hyas araneus)
Row 3: unidentified bivalve – possibly a baby Razor Clam (Ensis directus). I think this is a Jonah Crab (Cancer borealis) but it has hairs on its back, which is weird. Common Periwinkle (Littorina littorea), unidentified Sea Star (Asterias sp.), Paper Birch bark (Betula papyrifera), lobster-claw band, acorn cap (Quercus sp.), juvenile Green Crab (Carcinus maenas), Common Periwinkle, lobster-claw band
Row 4: Moon Snail (Lunatia heros), plastic lining from bottle cap, sea glass, Coralline (Corallina officinalis), plastic stitch marker, unidentified bivalve – possibly a baby Razor Clam (Ensis directus), driftwood
Row 5: lobster-claw band, fragment of lobster-claw band, Toad Crab, Sand Dollar, Green Sea Urchin (Strongylocentrotus drobachiensis)
Row 6: Sand Dollar, Rockweed (Ascophyllum nodosum)
Row 7: plastic bread bag tag, Soft-Shell Clam (Mya arenaria), aluminum soda can top, unidentified plastic fragment, Common Periwinkle, Horse Mussel (Modiolus modiolus)
Visited Seal Harbor Beach on February 5: 40°F, 8:45 to 10 AM, overcast with light rain at first then the wind picked up and rain stopped. Lots of trash, including the first condom I’ve found on a beach. Eew.
Over on the Coast Walk I’ve been interviewing all kinds of interesting people here on Mount Desert Island. Porcia Manandhar told us about studying gull chicks,
Tim Garrity, director of the MDI Historical Society, talked about how our perception of history changes over generations, Earl Brechlin told stories from his thirty years as editor of the local paper, Rodney Eason, CEO of the Land & Garden Preserve, showed us historic photos of Thuya Landing’s construction, and Douglas McMullin, stewardship manager for Maine Coast Heritage Trust, walked us around the Babson Creek Preserve.
Coast Walk 17: Bracy Cove to Roberts Point, May 17, 2017
From top to bottom, left to right:
Row 1: Razor Clam (Ensis directus), lobster trap rope, Horse Mussel (Modiolus modiolus), Common Slipper Shell (Crepidula fornicata)
Row 2: pink granite beach stone, Rock Crab (Cancer irroratus), driftwood, Common Periwinkle (Littorina littorea)
Row 3: Waved Whelk (Buccinum undatum), Quahog (Mercenaria mercenaria), severely worn shell (probably Quahog) crab claw, aluminum can top, Moon Snail (Lunatia heros), beach stone
The latest news from the Coast Walk is here: http://jenniferbooher.com/wp-walking/coast-walk-17-still-life-may-17/
I’m finding seaweed identification a pretty tricky business. Each species has so many possible variations. For example, I’m pretty sure the first and last photos in this post are Palmaria palmata, but look how different the fronds are in the two specimens. The air bladders in the second Sugar Kelp photo were also really confusing. I haven’t found any references that describe that phenomenon. Also, some people online are telling me that Sugar Kelp is Laminaria saccharina, but all my references point toward Saccharina latissima. Man, I wish there were a seaweed-botany class I could take! Learning from Google and reference books just isn’t the same as talking to someone who really knows their stuff. I don’t like being self-taught – no confidence in the teacher.
For five years I suffered from a mysterious, wracking cough that left me bedridden for two months every winter and incapacitated for several more. After years of misdiagnosis as asthma, I was aggressively treated for severe acid reflux and allergic rhinitis (by aggressively, I mean surgery, medication, strict diet, and 2 years-and-counting of allergy shots), and have been cough-free for two winters. During the years when various doctors were treating me for asthma, one of their more desperate attempts to get me some relief from the coughing spasms was nebulized Lidocaine. I can’t tell if it helped. It certainly didn’t cure the cough. I saved the bottles, knowing someday I’d find a way to use them. The first photo began as both a celebration of my own healing, and an expression of frustration with how long it took to get treatment. The series got a little darker with the second photo.
Back in February, when it looked like the Affordable Care Act would be repealed with no replacement and a group of us were talking about ways to communicate with our members of Congress, one of my friends pulled out an enormous bag of her diabetic daughter’s syringes (only about two days worth!), and said she was tempted to go to Washington and dump it out on our senator’s desk. I borrowed it first, and the series became a meditation on the expense and difficulty and physical pain of managing chronic illness.
With the third photo, I ran into a ideological roadblock, and I’m not sure how to resolve it. Those are the medications of one person managing several health conditions, and while they were willing to let me borrow their meds, they did not want their name associated with the photo. Neither did my friend’s daughter. I understand, of course. It’s a small community and they don’t want their health issues to define them or to become a topic of conversation. But to me, a large part of the impact of each photo is knowing they represent the struggles of a particular person, and having a name on the photo really brings that home. It pulls the photo out of the sterile medical context and shows the human consequences – these are real people who could die without their medications, and who will be taking these medications for the rest of their lives. I’m not sure how to communicate that now. I thought about using fake names, but that seems … fake. A friend suggested describing the people: ‘Male, aged 36′ or something along those lines, but that’s dehumanizing, clinical language. Obviously my friends’ privacy trumps my artistic intent, so I settled for using initials, but to me, that pulls the punch. A name makes things personal and without it, these are just pretty patterns made of pills and syringes. Any volunteers?
Anyway, that’s as far as the series has gotten to date. Maybe I’ll do one of my own meds just to keep it moving, although I’d rather it weren’t all about me …
You can see why this is my favorite seaweed.
I’m going to call this one ‘Goldilocks’ because it’s attached itself to that poor little periwinkle. Imagine going through life with a headdress like that!
Set on a white background, seaweed looks so calligraphic. Rockweed in particular seems like an alphabet I can’t quite read. The longer the strands, the more they remind me of Arabic calligraphy. I need a bigger light box!
In other news, back in January I received a Kindling Fund grant for the Coast Walk. The Kindling Fund is one of eleven nationwide re-granting programs established by the Andy Warhol Foundation for the Visual Arts. I feel like a rock star: many, many thanks to SPACE Gallery, the administrators of the fund! You can learn more about the Kindling Fund and the other 2017 grant recipients here: http://kindlingfund.org/announcing-2017-kindling-fund-grantees/
Since I haven’t updated this blog in ages, there are lots of new posts in the Coast Walk project, including several still lifes:
I’ll leave you with my favorite tagline, from Garrison Keillor’s Writer’s Almanac: “Be well, do good work, and keep in touch.”