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Transcending Winter and Prejudice – The Skunk Cabbage
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That day I did not plan to photograph flowers, it was too early in Spring (or too late in Winter?) and too cold to kneel down on the short, patchy grass. We were hiking in the North Cascade Mountains searching for beautiful landscapes, snowy peaks, enjoying the thrill of nature awakening to a new season of growth and revival. On the way back, just before sunset, as we were leaving the high elevations and entering the thick forest, more and more pools and swamps were dotting the trail. Suddenly we noticed the flowers: some open, some not, some floating on the water which was reflecting fir trees and sky, some buried in snow but longing to be discovered. The skunk cabbage’s early blooms, stubbornly defeating the freezing nights, were the only flowers available for the nature photographer. I realized I never read thoroughly about this plant, although I studied many plants and photographed even more. It is maybe due to the lack of other colorful flowering attractions that day that I finally noticed the reclusive skunk cabbage and paid closer attention to its earthy beauty. (We, photographers, often tend to be overly attracted by paragons of sentimentality, as one could call those classic landscapes, sweet little kids or fiery blooms. Not that is something wrong with them, on contrary; but there is a mysterious, poetic feeling about less traveled artistic subjects.) By the end of that day, my first ever photographing these plants, I realized that the skunk cabbage’s soul resonates with me so deeply. It was as if I entirely rediscovered myself and remembered why am I battling steep trails in search of the untouched wilderness. The skunk cabbage is truly wild. Its flowers are not for the vases or pots, cannot and should not be tamed, they belong to the forest’s darkest corners, where the surrounding, humid atmosphere brings them into existence and gives them sacred meaning.
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This plant thrives where light fades, therefore photographing it can be challenging. I found useful to think well before photographing skunk cabbage – what do I really want to express? To me its wilderness and ruggedness were more important than a beautiful shot of petals or a mundane image of flowers. On the other hand, I also found delicate beauty in the sweet curves of the leaves, the fullness of the bloom. How can I preserve its wild image but convey the gentleness? Which lenses would portray in fairness this plant? To me, this subject was one of the most difficult I ever shot, and I can say in honesty that I took many pictures that day, with various lenses and filters, but just a few pleased me. This is not a complaint, after all photography is about the pursuit of that memorable image, the best image possible, if there is a best image. To me photography is about exploration and discovery, and then again the rediscovery of what was first missed.
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Skunk (or swamp) cabbage, Symplocarpus foetidus, or the Western type - Lysichiton americanum, is a member of the Araceae, or Jack-in-the-pulpit family. These surprising plants bear tiny flowers (florets) on a structure called spadix, which is surrounded by a modified leaf – spathe. When I mentioned ‘flower’ above, I was actually thinking about this spathe. Each floret has both male and female parts, but they are viable at different times. The pollen is shed within the spathe, and it may be carried to other plants through insects (bees or flies). Interestingly, the skunk cabbage spadix is able to generate intense heat through an unusual type of respiration, it is a plant exhibiting thermogenesis. The difference between the spadix and the outside temperature may be 25ºC (77 F) or more and can melt the surrounding snow – a warm oasis in the middle of coldness! The heat is produced around the time when the flowers open, and it helps volatilize their aroma which attracts flesh flies seeking a warm spot to lay eggs. If skunk cabbage is cut or bruised it releases an unpleasant, pungent odor, but if you carefully kneel down to smell the spadix, you may discover a pleasant aroma when the tiny flowers bloom. The Eastern skunk cabbage has deep roots which contract after growing into the earth, they pull the stem deeper so that the plant actually grows downward! The leaves are large, efficient light collectors allowing the plant to pursue photosynthesis even in the deep shade of the swamp. Animals rarely appreciate them since they contain a lot of oxalate crystals that burn the mouth.
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Fig 1. In ‘Looking at God’ I wanted to show the skunk cabbage within its most faithful environment – the dark forest swamp - but without conveying darkness. I shot looking down on a plant sleeping on a bed of water clear enough to reflect the blue sky and tall evergreens. A wide angle lens (24mm, Nikon, and my classic Nikon N90 S camera) and aperture gave me the best perspective and width. I used a polarizer filter to saturate the colors and select for the most defined sky reflection, then bracketed the exposures. Water is everywhere: below, above (a few large drops on the leaf and the flower), the sky seems to be soaked as well. The focal point of the image is the body of flower and leaf but the reflection of the forest is the visual metaphor that enhances the image. Without the surrounding forest, the whole plant would not look so integrated in its environment, but if the plant was to be shot from a low level, with no sky, the picture would have been less pleasant. I looked patiently for such an expressive flower, resting peacefully on a pool that reflected the evening sky and guarding trees. The reflection evoked an intimacy with the place, it is the large detail that enhanced the image. I chose the angles of leaf and reflected trees carefully, their lines intersect thus sharing a note of dynamism to an otherwise restful picture.
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One advantage in photographing skunk cabbage is its stillness due to its weight and the lack of wind where this plant is found – on the ground between other plants and trees. Oftentimes I might not need a flash despite the low light, although a tripod is still needed but might not be easy set in the mud and marsh. You can protect its legs with plastic bags wrapped in rubber bands. Better wear boots and have some extra socks in case your feet get wet.
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Fig 2. Another version of a flower and its watery context suggests a blue sky indirectly, as reflected in the pool but without evergreens now. This rendition is necessary, it shows the ever soaked forest floor where skunk cabbage thrives. ‘Color Soaked’ is a more documentary image. The dynamism of the composition here is given by the angle at which the stem is shot (a diagonal line, shot from above), the three leaves oriented in divergent directions, and the golden flower situated in one of the strong points. I also used a wide angle lens and an f/11 for a good depth of field. A blue/yellow filter and/or an extra-color film can be used to enhance the dominant colors of such images. Skunk cabbage is one of those subjects that can be well photographed in a low light, cloudy day. The soft light enriches the colors and reduces contrast, but also brings a more bluish tint to the water element. You can use a fill-flash if you need to warm up the image.
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Fig 3. ‘Like a Candle in the Night’ is my favorite image of a skunk cabbage for all the reasons I can think of. It comes to look closer at the soul of the plant, there is a rich, unexpected beauty in this flower that lets herself discovered now from a different approach. There is life inside the spathe, (look at the insects, fallen needles), and, just like a candle the flower emanates warmth which allows insects to get a break from the rough weather outside. This is a close-up but not too an exclusive photograph: the leaves gently embrace the “flower” while the rest of the plant is allowed to stretch outside a narrow frame, and continue in the impenetrable darkness of the lush forest. Just like a candle, the image suggests a welcome holiness. It is the holiness of nature which never fails to surprise the persistent observer with beauty, harmony and usefulness. I used a 105mm AF Micro Nikon lens and experimented with various apertures and exposures. My intention was to underexpose the background to impart the illusion of darkness (although it was still day light when I shot this). The image was underexposed 2 stops, creating the necessary nocturnal ambiance.
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Fig. 4. ‘Mysterious Cup’ is a shot coming closer, as looking into the eyes of the plant. The result is a different image, an image about roundness, cohabitation, offerings. Maybe, without further explanations, one could not guess the name of the plant, hence the mystery. I did not find easy to compose a close-up of skunk cabbage. I tried to convey a feeling of tri-dimensionality, of a benevolent holding palm. I used a 300mm lens and an f/8 with the purpose to focus on a little part of the plant while the rest is sliding back into the secretive darkness of the marsh behind. Sure enough, skunk cabbage remains peacefully withdrawn in its own muddy world.
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After that day I never looked at the skunk cabbage the same way again. I found and experienced a new, unique world in this elusive flower of the marshes.
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When Water Reigns
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Photographic Society of America" Journal, February 2010, p.22
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f e b r u a r y 2 0 1 0
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