Life on the Lake
By Jimmy Tomzak
12 Feb 2008
My family recently purchased a 100+ year-old farmhouse. The foundation was laid in 1906, but most of the house was destroyed by a fire in the early 1900s. Rebuilt soon after, today the house includes three distinct additions. The place has a lot of character; I cannot find a straight line vantage point on the entire property. The interior remains largely unmodified from its original style. Any remodeling was completed years ago; the result is far from granite countertops and dark hardwoods. But there is definitely more to this estate than cracked plaster and worn barnwood. In the historic village of Grass Lake, a small railside town where the county offices have lakefront property and the grocery store has a hillside lakeview, our multi-parcel stake is located at 365 N. Lake St. and includes nearly 300 feet of prime lakefront land on scenic Grass Lake. The focus of this photographic story begins by looking through a lens at the purchase of our new home during that summer.
Before the deal was signed, I was the first to correlate the address and date theme. Far from a quaint lakefront cottage, the farmhouse at 365 N. Lake St. materialized as a year-round residence. Three-hundred-sixty-five days in one year, and we will be enjoying them all at Three-hundred-sixty-five Lake Street. Most people miss the opportunity to breathe slowly and watch three-hundred-sixty-five consecutive orbs sink into the giant sparkling mirror known as Grass Lake. But I do. Watching sunsets at our new lake home never gets old. Some say sunsets are cliche. But what about lava lamps? During their cyclic path, the blobs of colorful goodness in a lighted lava lamp dynamically mold themselves into infinite globes before falling back to the mass of standard-issue goo. The blobs, in a process dictated by time and luck, are viewed by the lava light watcher who will never see the same blob in the same place in the same form ever again. Likewise, I will never see another sunset that is exactly the same as the one I saw yesterday. At this point, the camera is an essential tool.
365 Days - 365 Sunsets --- all for free. Taking in the calming motion and clear stillness of the surrounding wilderness is a priceless experience. My goal is to create a visual artistic novel documenting life while the sun sets. I envision a collection of images that traverses time, senses, seasons, and emotions; readily readable the photos are art for the sake of art, nothing more and nothing less.
The collection of images found here are only a failing vignette of the true splendor of life on the lake. But I offer a point at which to begin.
Furthermore, the significance of this property to our family runs far deeper than the lake itself. More than just a building, the aging farmhouse at 365 North Lake Street is a triumph of independence for my family. For my mom, my little sister, and I, the place we call home is more than just another house. It is my mom's first house. A first jump to financial independence after a bitter divorce and other life complications, the land is a trophy of success - but not one that will simply be placed on a shelf. No, this trophy has a story, and it is a tale worth telling.
A few years earlier, I never would have imagined being in our own home, let alone having the means to remember it photographically. Nevertheless, contriving this project is a work in progress, as I am currently attending school. Being miles away from the serene solitude of our lakehouse, in a place where serenity is far from the norm, brings its own challenges. College and tranquility are not words often used in the same sentence. This case is no exception. I frequently exacerbate my photo taking to compensate for my absence. However, no amount of snapshots in short sequence can replace the missed time between the leaves falling, the lake freezing, the snow accumulating, and the general rise and fall of every periodic sun, moon, and star state in between. I look forward to that in the future, but one step at a time warrants itself here.
Time is an elusive subject for pictures. One can capture a moment, a slice of life, a snapshot of time, but only in time can one accumulate a collection of sunsets and life. Art evolves, and one of these days, I will complete my 365 photographs. Until then, I share what I have now, and I watch the sun set.
1 response
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Rhaedyn said (19 Oct 2008):
nice. "365 Days - 365 Sunsets --- all for free." so few things in this world are free, but you're right- the breaths we take and the time we take advantage of to see beauty around us are free and wonderfully priceless. buena suerta with your 365 fotos. and i hope your family enjoys this beautiful piece of property- i'm terribly jealous ; )
