Just in case you're wondering where the introduction on our Lakota Wolf  Preserve page came from, here's the full story;

There was an old Indian with a small grandson who came in the evening to sit and ask the many questions children ask. One day the grandson came with anger on his face. Grandfather said, "Come, sit, tell me what happened today."    

The child looked up into his Grandfather's wrinkled brown face and kind dark eyes, anger turning to quiet tears. The boy said, "I went with Father to town today to trade the furs we collected, and I was happy to go, because Father said that since I helped with the trapping, I could get something for me. Something I wanted. I have never been in the trading post before, it was so exciting. I looked at many things and finally found a metal knife, small but a good size for me, so Father got it for me." The boy laid his head against his Grandfather's knee and became silent. Grandfather softly placed his hand on the boy's raven hair and said, "And then what happened?"    

Without lifting his head, the boy said, "I went outside to wait for Father, admiring my new knife in the sunlight. Some town boys saw me, they got all around me and said bad things, calling me dirty and stupid and saying I don't deserve such a fine knife. The biggest boy pushed me so that I fell over one of the others. I dropped my knife and one of them snatched it up and they all ran away laughing." The boy's anger returned. "I hate them, I hate them all!"    

The Grandfather lifted his grandson's face until their eyes met, and said, "Let me tell you a story. At times I too have felt great hatred for those who have taken so much with no sorrow for what they do. But hate wears you down and does not hurt your enemy. It is like taking poison and wishing your enemy would die. I have struggled with these feelings many times. It is as if there are two wolves inside me, one is white and one is black. The White Wolf is good and does no harm, living in harmony with all around him. He does not take offense when none was intended, only fights when it is right to do so and only in the right way. But the Black Wolf is full of anger. The slightest thing sets him into a fit of temper. He fights everyone, all the time, for no reason. He cannot think because his anger and hate are so great, yet it is helpless anger, for his anger changes nothing. Sometimes it is hard to live with these two wolves inside me, for both seek to dominate my spirit."   

The boy looked intently into his Grandfather's eyes, and asked, "Which one wins Grandfather?"    

Grandfather smiled and said, "The one that I feed."

When Vic and I decided last May to pursue our mutual interest in photography more seriously, our journey began at the Saucon Valley Conservancy Barn Photo workshop with Frank T. Smith in June.  That was our first class together, and it not only sparked our passion for old barns, but lead eventually to having a few of our photos from last September’s Barn Tour selected for their Heller Homestead Gallery exhibit this month. This is the first time our work has appeared in a gallery. We're thankful for the opportunity presented by the Saucon Valley Conservancy and humbled to have a few of our images on the same walls as Frank T. Smith and other more worthy artists. 

Within just a few days of being notified regarding our selected images, I heard through Facebook that a friend and classmate from High School lost her husband to cancer in August after 13 years of marriage, leaving her widowed at 48 with two young boys, the youngest of which has Down Syndrome. I'm told Jeff Dunbar never smoked or drank. I haven't seen or spoken to Dawn (Butler) Dunbar in 30 years, and didn’t know her husband from Adam, but none of that matters, really. Dawn was, and will always be, a member of our tribe. 
 
When we heard a Memorial Fund had been started for Dawn and her boys, Vic and I talked about what we could do. My first thought was to donate our proceeds from the sale of prints at the Heller Homestead Exhibit this month to Dawn’s benefit. We consider ourselves blessed but still have bills we can't pay, so coming up with money to donate is difficult, no matter how worthy the cause.... and yet I was struck by the coincidence that this moment of need comes at a time when we've been provided with an opportunity we wouldn’t otherwise have, allowing us to use whatever gift we’ve been given to serve Dawn and her boys in a way that wouldn’t otherwise be possible. 

My second thought was how well and good that will be if there are any proceeds from sales at the Heller Homestead Gallery, but there's no guarantee we'll actually sell anything. So we’re going a step further and offering any image on our website, with proceeds from all sales from now until October 14th going to the Dawn (Butler) Dunbar Memorial Fund. Old barns may not be your thing, but we’ve updated the website this week and will continue to do so. Please browse our galleries, share the link to this site with your network, and help us come alongside Dawn and her boys at a time in their lives when they desperately need more than our prayers.  

Turns out Dawn’s husband was a farmer. I didn’t find that out until after we decided to dedicate sales from the Barn Tour exhibit to her benefit. You can call it coincidence, if you choose. Heck, I might even agree, if it were the only one.     

Good question. Here are the three reasons I wrote in my journal on Tuesday, October 16, 2012, after asking myself that same  question. 

First and foremost, it’s a creative outlet, something I desperately need. Photography is not as time consuming as writing. It’s done not while barricaded in an office walled off from the world, not with fictional characters or only after months or years of research. Unlike writing, you don’t need to dedicate yourself to a monk-like existence – at least where novel-length works are concerned, the only sort of writing I’ve ever really wished to do – to accomplish it. Don’t get me wrong, I still want to be a writer when I grow up. But it seems that writers must be willing to step off the merry-go-round that is life long enough to write something, and I’d still rather be living it than writing about it.
 
Photography is not as messy as painting. The clean-up is certainly easier, and the cost of the requisite trial and error process that comes with finding your style and polishing your craft is surely less as well. I like to say you can’t count cost when pursuing art – or any creative passion, for that matter –but the reality, at least for me, is that it must also be about keeping overhead down. I can’t afford to pursue an expensive hobby… yet if it’s a passion, I can’t afford not to.

Photography gives me that, in its simplest form. For the cost of a single roll of film – about $7.50 with tax – I can paint with light and shadow 36 pictures, and if, after spending another $15 bucks to have them developed and transferred to a high resolution CD, I have nothing that resembles the vision I had in my minds’ eye when I started, I can try again. And what have I really lost? I’ve probably learned something in the process, discovered some interesting new place and new people, maybe even shared the experience with others like myself, content to slow things down and pursue the countless beautiful images this world still offers, even in places one least
expects to find them. And if I’ve shared that experience with someone special, perhaps the journey has been more a blessing than the image I first imagined. 

Hence, my second reason… although truth be told, it was actually this that first lead me to realize photography as an art form. Forming ‘Level 5 Photography’allowed me to formally invest in something my wife has had an interest in since long before we met, but never seriously pursued. She has always set her own pursuits aside for her family, always supported my career and my dreams, such as they were, at the expense of her own. By investing in her photography and encouraging her to pursue her dream, I’m able to be more present in our relationship, having discovered that increasingly rare thing in marriage called a mutual interest.  

I’ve known for some time now that we make a good team, her and I. Sure, that involves friction and discord at times, a necessary evil if ever there was one…but for once we’ve found something we’re equally passionate about, something we can share and pursue together. I believe that as we grow and develop individually as photographers and as artists, so do we grow closer as partners. And that, to me, is priceless… as beautiful a vision as any we’ll ever capture on film.

I suppose if there’s one thing I hope to share with others through Level 5 Photography, it’s just that. Beautiful images come and go, after all… but a beautiful relationship – a beautiful love – leaves a legacy that endures.      

The third reason is for the pure escape of it. Photography is an excuse to leave  the daily grind and the laundry list of responsibilities and expectations we’ve  collected like the burrs that cling to our clothing as we pass through the drying fields of our Fall, at least for a precious little while. Photography – at least the way I intend to do it as long as I have my will – gets us out again to stretch legs and lungs, to ford streams and climb mountains, to not just seek the beautiful things but to see the beauty in everything.


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