IN THE KINGDOM OF THE SKIES

Road to the Catalinas near Tucson IN THE KINGDOM OF THE SKIES

Scenery is rather like a good meal, to be really satisfying, it should be topped off with special dessert-perhaps a meringue-of clouds. They can't be just the ordinary, utilitarian kind that threaten to spoil family outings or are endured for the sake of spring flowers. They should be the big, fluffy, puffy, full-ofvim-and-vigor-clouds. These are best served on a vast expanse of richly tinted desert land, over splendid stretches of deeply eroded canyons, miles of dramatic rock country or distant forested peaks. Which leads us straight to Arizona-where both landscape and complementing clouds are part of her natural resources.

Of course, every state in the union has clouds of some sort. A clever meteorologist has pointed out that rainfall from altostratus, nimbostratus and cumulonimbus clouds are capable of delivering five million tons of water (which could spread an inch deep over the whole of say Missouri), and in so doing release energy equivalent to 140,000 Hiroshima-type "A" bombs.

This sort of things never happens in the Arizona we are thinking about-a land of beautiful, scenery-decorating summer thunderheads, castles and color-drenched sunrises and sunsets.

Weathermen characteristically pull the petals from the rose to see how it is put together, while we prefer to sit back and enjoy the mystery and loveliness of their "bulletin boards of the sky."

The poet, Shelley, who lay on his back and pictured himself as a cloud, "daughter of Earth and Water, nursling of the sky," would have loved Arizona. Between horizon and zenith is unusually ample space for the building of airy architecture. The San Fran Francisco Peaks may be a springboard for an afternoon poem in blue and white. On a clean page of background a first line is written by the unseen wind. Today the theme may be an epic with a genii materializing, growing with a swiftness that denies the existence of time, into a power, robed in billowingwhite. Vanquishing all comers, it absorbs them and poises, all-conquering, formidable, and then abruptly bows off the stage, dispatched like a poet's thought thrown in the wastebasket.

Fishing in the White Mountains

I have a friend who would like to see a whole book done in pictures of the story of the skies. She thinks that every animal that ever walked the earth has his moment in clouds. Dragons trail long tails and change into Pomeranians or pug-nosed Chinese dogs to march in quaint procession over the Painted Desert and then disappear into Classic temples with Taj Mahal towers. Horses with wings and albino elephants make a circus parade through ethereal streets, to the applause of cherubs, themselves resolving into baloons, tinted by the rainbow colors of the earth below. I would rather take a day in Arizona, and watch-ing from some lookout on the ground, forget I'm earth-bound, live the hours in "skyey bowers."

Each sunrise begins a new chapter, being written simultaneously but differently over many landscapes. At Monument Valley it may start with the punctuation marks of thousand-foot high rock formations in black ink against a glow of light and staccato words in individual clouds taking on visibility long before the sun explains in the clear light of day, what they really mean.

At the Grand Canyon, shapes as massive as the endless rims can layer across the sky, breaking the oncoming dawn into splintered rays that pierce the deep bowl, breaking around Wotan's Throne and the cupola of Vishnu Temple.

But everywhere there is a brief interlude between the night and the day which is full of mystery, if we have time to watch it. Forgetting the cold experience man has gained through his thousands-of years-sojourn on the earth, the watcher at sunrise must feel that whatever the sun is about to reveal will be newly created, a panorama no eves have ever seen before.

If any clouds have survived the night, they may hold off for a while, the disillusionment that full daylight brings. Empty skies push us back to the work that waits doing in field, office and the kitchen. We only, they tell us baldly, imagined the enchantment, only dreamed the color. The earth, they insist, is really very matter-of-fact. Direct rays show us only too plainly that it is by benefit of well-placed shadows the human eye perceives form and depth and that the spectrum of satisfying shades is dependent upon the slant of light. The beauty of the earth is a gift, offered by the sun but also taken from us at his whim. Painter and photographer have known this always, but the rest of us often come upon these uncompromising facts by mere chance.

Afternoon has another story to tell. Our globe turns, as though away from the unpleasant truth and heads back toward the realms of fantasy.

For summer clouds in Arizona, most potent after the climax of the noon hour, are a fairytale of light and shadow, changing the world below and evolving whole constellations of forms of their own.

Now every Saguaro seems to grow taller, pointing with fantastic fingers at shapes in the blue as amusing as themselves. Mountain ridges grow plumed headdresses and the tallest of forest veterans expand their outlines against so engaging a backdrop.

This is the time flowers on a hillside pose for their

portraits, each face limned against decorative white to bring out the delicate perfection of petal and stem.

Just when the mood of sky and earth seems at its most playful, full of sunlight and towering castles, you are most apt to be treated to a battle of the elements. It may start without any apparent reason, like a brief, sharp disagreement between friends. Over the sparkling desert-you can see for miles and miles-one group of clouds grow dark with anger. Arrayed one part against the other, they spar for position, locking arms and pushing this way and that, threatening to spread their war over the whole earth. Trails of purple rain drape on the distant landscape, as though the life-blood of the contestants was being poured out. Sparks of lightning, growls of thunder may accompany the combatants' fierce struggle. Still pummeling each other, the fighting clouds may move out of sight and the spectator be left to think it was only a mock wrestling match, until a flash-flood comes surging down a desert arroyo to prove how real it was. The happier ending to the encounter is the sight of the same clouds reconciled, smiling and shaking hands in a rainbow across their share of sky.

NOTES FOR PHOTOGRAPHERS INTERESTED IN ARIZONA SKIES OPPOSITE PAGE

"DESERT RAINBOW HERALDS THE STORM" BY WILLIS PETERSON. A pot of gold? Maybe not. But the sudden shower is worth more than gold to Arizona ranchers who cherish each drop of rain. Four peaks of the Mazatzal Mountains range form a mighty bulwark while the rainbow dips down into the valley 3% x 4% Speed Graphic, second at f. 11. Ektachrome film.

"SKY CONFLICT OVER THE SAN FRANCISCO PEAKS BY JOSEF MUENCH. Taken with a Graphic View Camera-4" Kodak Wide Field lens. 4x5 Daylight Ektachrome film, exposure 1/10th second at f. 16, with no filter. The photographer says: "As we were driving from Flagstaff, past the Museum of Northern Arizona, toward the ski area, we saw the sky was vividly blue and completely clear. Suddenly, nature took the cork out of the bottle and unloosed a genii of a cloud which grew with amazing rapidity to fill the sky. The sky gradually darkened and rain began to fall on the mountains,"

"SUNRISE NEAR MORMON LAKE" BY WILLIS PETER SON. This was an Anderson Mesa sunrise in Northern Arizona near Mormon Lake, a few miles from Flagstaff. To make the sun appear larger, a telephoto lens was used. Long focal length lens or telephoto lens are often valuable for sunrise and sunset pictures because the colors are not always distributed over the whole sky Thus, a portion is "pulled up" where the hues are best seen. 20" Telephoto mounted on a 34 x 4% Speed Graphic, 1/10th second at f. 8, Ektachrome film.

"SKYSCAPE-CANYON de CHELLY" BY DICK CARTER. This view of Canyon de Chelly, the spectacular canyon area in northeastern Arizona near Chinle, under the jurisdiction of the National Park Service as a National Monument, was taken last July The photographer says: "I was fortunate to be at this spot at the right time. Five minutes later the sun disappeared for the rest of the day. A flash flood from the cloudburst, which took place soon after, forced several Indians to wait on high ground with their horses and wagons. Their trail crosses the usually dry bed in the right center area." 4x5 Linhoff Technika, gomin Schneider Angulon lens, 1-A filter. Ektachrome daylight film, time 11:00 A.M., exposure 1/5th second at f. 28.

CENTER PANEL

"SUMMER RAIN AT SUNDOWN" BY FRANK PROCTOR. This photograph was taken on Highway 64 half way between the Grand Canyon and U.S. 66 last July. One of the hard things about taking sunset pictures is getting a location and taking a gamble that the sunset will be colorful. The photographer says: "I drove for miles along the highway in order to get into a field to set up the camera before the sky turned color. The picture was taken with a 4x3 Speed Graphic with an 8" Kodak lens, 1/25th second at f. 11. A picture-sunset is a real accomplishment, calling for the full cooperation of sun, winds, lay of the land, as well as every other factor that goes into the intricate making of clouds. When it is achieved, there are few sights more colorful or thrilling. No rainbow has more spread of color, no painting such expanse of beauty.

Trees, rock formations, mountain ridges and peaks all lend their efforts, standing as shapely silhouettes to offset the play of light. "Mare's Tails" become great banners whipping across the darkening stage or the color surges up in a disembodied glow of tones. Rivers and lakes merge with the sky, wearing tinted clouds on their surfaces, as though this were the end of the world and they eager to catch the ultimate glory of a final triumphant moment.

"SUNFLOWERS AND STORMY SKY" BY JOSEF MUENCH. Taken with a Speed Graphic Camera, 54" Zeiss lens, 1/5th second at f. 16 on 4x5 Daylight Ektachrome film. The photographer says: "We were traveling between McNary and Springerville in the White Mountains in the mid-afternoon of a July day last year under a threatening sky when these sunflowers waved an invitation at us. The blossoms, like photographers, enjoy the sun but seem to welcome dark clouds to show off their charm." Summer rains in the mountain areas of eastern Arizona turn mountain meadows into colorful flower gardens.

"THUNDERHEADS OVER THE LUKACHUKAIS" BY JOSEF MUENCH. The scene is in northeastern Arizona, not far from Four Corners. Taken with a Graphic View Camera, 6" Ektar lens on 4x5 daylight Ektachrome film, 1/10th second at f. 11 with Polaroid filter to create stronger contrast between clouds in blue sky. "On an August day our way lay along the western scarp of these rugged mountains. The great expanse of desert architecture was complemented by the building-up and shift of the clouds, irresistible to the camera," explains the photographer. The range is forested and also is the scene of much uranium activity.

"PORTRAIT OF A SETTING SUN" BY DAVID MUENCH. Taken with a Speed Graphic Camera, 6" Ektar lens on 4x5 daylight Ektachrome film, 1/15th second at f. 16 with no filter. "Overlooking the Verde Valley, as we drove between Prescott and Ashfork in August, this view, with a delicate screen of lacy leaves and twigs suggested a Japanese print effect and I liked the sun-burst before the orb sank into the darkness," says the photographer, OPPOSITE PAGE "LIGHTNING IN AN ANGRY SKY" Late July and August in the desert regions of southern Arizona are the months of the summer rains, if and when they come. When the storms come they travel from the south and have their origin in the Gulf of Mexico. Generally, in late summer afternoons over desert mountains, great clouds roll in and turn into a boiling fury, loaded as they are with thunder and lightning. This spectacular photograph was taken during such a storm. To photograph lightning one must have the patience of a bird watcher and have a lot of luck. We are sorry but we lost the name of the photographer in moving a picture file. Whoever he is and wherever he is he has come up with a camera classic. Congratulations!

No two days are ever exactly alike in their cloud trimmings and a student of the skies, whether he be amateur enthusiast, artist or weatherman can name the season of the year from what is going on up above. Most of us pay scant attention to this "other world" although our activities, physical comfort, even our choice of food and perhaps even livelihood is shaped up there. Generally clouds are considered too ephemeral to be of more than passing interest. Convenient to hang sunsets upon and part of the harmless but perennial topic of conversation-the weather-they are too often relegated to the attic of familiar objects, in our minds.

Yet man has always been interested in these signposts in the sky. It was the priests of Delphi who were the first, we are told, to predict weather from them. Noah took them seriously enough to decide when he must round up passengers for his ark. In Greek and Norse mythology they are treated like furniture, serving as couches for the gods to recline upon. Strangely enough, the Anglo Saxon word we use for them meant, originally, "rock" or "hill," but we have no hint as to whether or not these early skygazers believed they were substantial enough to climb, granting that they could be reached serving In our present exciting age, when invisible as well as visible barriers are falling before man's charge, the airplane has not only pulled in the belt of the earth to make it a much smaller affair, but is beginning to pull the sky closer to us.

If you've ever been up in a plane (and who hasn't) you can never again think of clouds in the old fashioned way you did before. I find them much taller than I had expected. From below they look mountainous, but I had rather expected high plateaus on top, smooth enough to walk on, if one could discount gravity. On the contrary, there are canyons, bigger than the largest down below, dividing mountains and plains by their shadowy depths, while still more masses rise above-in fact a whole new world of them.

I have yet to see the silver linings I'd heard about, but better than that, I know now that no matter how heavy a cloud may look from below-above it the sun is shining uninterruptedly. For some reason, that has taken the sting out of the dullest day. Up yonder, I remind myself, it's really as nice as can be.

The day may yet come when the instruction in your roll or box of films may have, along with other exposure data, some guides about clouds. Mention will be made of Cirrus-floating by themselves, fibrous and with indefinite edges-be on the lookout for a possible sunrise or set and don't worry about rain. These are made of ice crystals, anyway. Cumulus clouds with "vertical development" (the meteorologist's way of describing our rolling castles and fantastic animals) reach up to the Cirrus and promise only fair weather, as long as they keep to themselves.But no printed form is going to dictate just how to improve your pictures with clouds, because there's no telling what the skies will set out for you at any particular spot or time. That adventure is yours alone. The light meter points out how much more brilliant than the earth the sky is and if the delicate shadings of clouds are not to be washed to uniform white, there must be a compromise in exposure-arrived at by reading the clouds, then the landscape, and steering in between.

Sometimes you'll be tempted to take just the clouds themselves, without enough foreground for a salon judge to stand on. Chances are, he won't entirely approve of the result but if you can hold down your enthusiasm on the exposure reading to counteract the intense light, the results will delight you.

Most of the time we prefer to keep our feet on the ground even if the sky is putting on a tremendous show and deserves maybe two thirds of the picture. There should still be something interesting nearby, whether figures, colorful rocks, or a lonely desert Yucca or even a canyon rim from which the cloud patterns may spring and sweep.

This is especially true with sunset colors and sunrise tints. Hurry away from a flat horizon line and find some trees through which the color may trickle, or even some irregular shape that will be just a black outline from which the eye can lift to the spread of color.

You can weave clouds into the scenery as well as making them the main subject. Little fluffy ones floating alone may be just what is needed to fill in an otherwise blank corner. A streamer moving definitely in the line you wish the spectators eye to take can balance some heavy object on the other side. Vertical clouds help create the illusion of added height, horizontal ones spread out the scene. It often calls for speed in setting up to capture these clowns of the airways, but the picture is rare that will not be improved by a cloud. Next time you set out to enjoy the scenery of Arizona include in your program some special attention for the pageant of the skies. Reflecting, completing or enhancing the landscape, the clouds offer you whether as spectator. painter or photographer, always new and unexplored kingdoms to conquer.