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[kirstinadamsbimson-blog]

Yolo County Wildfires

There have been wildfires west of Winters in Yolo County every year since I moved back to California, in the Vacaville hills in and around the Monticello Dam area. I’ve photographed two of them--the Wragg fire in 2015, and the Cold fire in 2016.

If you’re curious about the names, they come from the fire’s starting point. When wildfires start in more residential areas they’re usually named after streets. These fires started along highway 113, the winding two-lane highway that travels through the Beryessa Gap, and so are named for the canyons they originated in.

Both of these wildfires occurred during the peak of the California drought. The past three or four years have seen ever increasing, out-of-control wildfires throughout the state. For non-Californians, the thing you should know: California has been absolutely, horrendously, unthinkably bone dry. In the summertime you can grab a handful of dry grass from a field out in Plainfield, grass that was green and lush in the winter, and it will crumble to dust in your hand. That is the kind of fuel these fires feed on.

If you’ve never experienced a wildfire, they’re really quite something. I can think of few things besides blizzards and hurricanes that rival the sheer minuteness you feel in comparison to nature’s fury and power.

In recently digging through my archive, I found several photos that I either never published or that have, in my opinion, been rather neglected by me. I rather thought they really demonstrate this feeling, and the unnerving disruption big wildfires can cause.

Wragg Fire - June 22, 2015 | This photo was taken on the outskirts of Davis, CA, where I live. The hospital butts up against the start of the fields and farmland, and there is a particularly good spot west of the parking lot that offers a stunning view leading up to the Vacaville hills. This is that view, only an hour or two after the fire started. I first noticed the fire when I saw suspicious looking clouds rising up from the west an hour and a half prior.

Wragg Fire - June 22, 2015 | These are the wilting remains of a sunflower field in Plainfield, west of Davis, as the smoke began to travel east. It rose high, leaving a pocket of fresh air between it and the ground--at least for a while. It somehow feels particularly ominous to actually see, clearly, the contrast between clean air and polluted.

Wragg Fire - June 22, 2015 | Big headlining photos in papers and magazines highlight firefighter’s efforts, or the giant smoke clouds or huge flames--which are great things to show, but a lot of what it is to experience a wildfire is in the little things. The color and texture and shape of the clouds change; because they’re not really clouds in the traditional sense, they’re smoke clouds. With the more severe fires, especially when there are strong winds, ash will rain from the sky and pepper everything in little white flecks.

Wragg Fire - June 22, 2015 | This photo reminds me of the tales of history, of the burning of cities in the night during wartime. This was a shot to the west taken from along Putah Creek in Winters, the city just to the east of the Wragg fire. At the top of the hills you could see tongues of flame and a line of fire along the ridge, and over the lower-lying hills, like this one, an errie red glow as firefighters fought the flames through the night.

Cold Fire - August 2, 2016 | I often feel there isn’t enough photography out there capturing the firefighters; not in action, but sitting, waiting, being, thinking about what’s out there that they will soon have to face. I feel that those kinds of photos show the true emotional cost and scale of wildfires. This shot was taken in the Golden Bear estates on the night the fire broke out, where a line of firetrucks sat, each waiting their turn for deployment. I have more photos of it on my website.

Cold Fire - August 3, 2016 | Another thing I feel often gets lost in the scale of wildfires, amidst worries of loss of life and infrastructure, is the wildlife. Huge swaths of habitat are destroyed, large populations of insects and other small animals are killed. What happens to those that survive? Where do they go? This photo was taken along highway 113, against the backdrop of the burned Audubon bobcat ranch.

If you’re interested, I have plenty more shots of these and other wildfires I’ve photographed on my website, which you can view on my blog and on my portfolio. Feel free to share/reblog, but please be sure to include credit.

If you like my work, please also consider supporting me on Patreon!

[kirstinadamsbimson-blog]

Ferocity: The Story of Her

This is my sister. Throughout the course of my photographic career she has been my constant model, dating all the way back to my first at-home jerry-rigged photo studio in 8th grade. Whenever I wanted to try out some new technique or simply had itchy shutter finger (I don't know if that's a thing but I'm making it a thing), she'd offer herself as a subject--sometimes eagerly, sometimes reluctantly at my request. It was early fall of 2015 and this was one of those days in the middle, where I'd asked and she'd sort of shrugged and said okay. There isn't necessarily anything particularly special about the photo itself; the composition is adequate, the lighting as well, focus is mediocre, and the background has only the barest complementary value. From a critical perspective it's mostly uninteresting; that is, except for her--and her jacket.

That is what caught my eye when I ran across this photo out of the thousands I perused for my post. Now, something you should know about my sister: she is fierce, she is willful, and she is kind. She always has been, and perhaps that is what I've loved so much about using her as a subject over the years. I don't actually have very many photos of her in this jacket, and this is likely one of the best I do have. It was her favorite. We picked it up on a summer shopping spree at the thrift store (or as much of a 'spree' as can be had during their $5 fill-a-bag sale), and it sort of became a constant around the house. If you saw her passing through the kitchen on her way to work or the store, she was usually wearing it. She wore it when she went to counter-protest the Nazi rally at the California state Capitol as well; and it was there that she let it go. Most know about that rally in June 2016--It made national and international headlines. It was violent and it was horrifying; an omen of what was to come. Seven were stabbed by Nazi and white nationalist demonstrators, suffering not only their physical wounds but the trauma of such violent and disturbed behavior. And she was there, wearing that jacket as she watched a man get stabbed in the shoulder, eyes going wide as pain and shock and unreality settled over him. Once the aggressor had moved on, he was swarmed by other counter-protesters, including my sister, who tried to assess the situation and help the man, who was stumbling and tripping over himself, face white as blood pooled from his shoulder and soaked his clothes. My sister is a caregiver. In the two years leading up to this moment she'd been the full-time nanny to a sweet 8 year old girl in Davis. She is first aid trained and certified, as any good caregiver should be, and so when the moment came she ripped off that jacket without a moment's hesitation and used it to apply pressure to the man's shoulder as he collapsed to the ground, white and trembling and still as wide-eyed as when he watched that switchblade embed itself in his body.  It took some time before EMT's were able to come to his aid, and when they carted him off on a gurney to a waiting ambulance, her jacket went with him, nearly soaked through with his blood. I was told all of this later that evening over lemonade when she returned home. She, myself, and my husband sat in the backyard soaking up the early-summer heat as she explained, in response to our query, why she had a sunburn on her bared shoulders when she left for the counter-demonstration with a light jacket for the very purpose of preventing such a thing. And so when I came across this photo, though hardly my best work or my best photo of her, I knew it was the one I wanted to share, along with its story. I sometimes find myself in awe of her strength and moral conviction--such action as I described above is no easy feat, and does not come without cost. And yet, amidst the horror that consumes our daily reality, such strength is desperately needed to push back against the encroaching darkness. And so I look at some of my photos--photos like this one, and remind myself of what that strength looks like.

Please feel free to share/reblog her story as well, but please provide credit.

[kirstinadamsbimson-blog]

Springtime came and went a couple weeks ago; now temps are rising to the low-mid 80′s, and the rains have passed. But before they did, I captured this shot in my backyard in the evening after a day of rain.

More photos on my website!

[kirstinadamsbimson-blog]

Yolo County in California is a farming community; agriculture is its lifeblood. Between the small cities that make up the county are fields upon fields of tomatoes and almonds and, in the summertime, Sunflowers--set against the Vacaville hills.

Prints of this and other of my photos available on my Society 6 page!

Support on my Patreon Page!

[kirstinadamsbimson-blog]

There is a gap in the Vacaville hills through which you make your way along highway 113 to Lake Beryessa, and further into Napa County. It’s called the Beryessa Gap. This is it during a colorful, cloudy sunset in November. Plainfield farmland lays in the foreground. Yolo County, CA.

Prints of this and other of my photos available on my Society 6 page!

Support on my Patreon Page!

[kirstinadamsbimson-blog]

Hi!

I’m a photographer based in the Sacramento Area of California, and this is my personal photo/art blog. I’ve got a website with a blog too, but thought I’d toss a few things up here.

About me!

I’m a nerd, an artist, and general-busy body with my nose in far too many projects at once. I shoot everything: black and white, landscapes, street photography, and other subjects often in documentary-style. I also dabble in sketching, painting, and mixed-media sculpture. I particularly enjoy upcycling and trash art. I love earl gray tea with milk and honey, good cinema, living history, and the natural world. When I’m able I try to be politically active, and you’ll see me cover local protests and other news-worth events from time-to-time.

I also photograph a lot about Yolo County, CA. It is an agricultural area, so I focus a lot on that, as well as academia as I live near UC Davis. From time to time you can find my work displayed locally.

Check out my many pages and profiles:

My website

My Patreon Page

My Twitter Page

My Instagram Feed

My Society 6 Page

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