Stephen Russell Shilling

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  • "Surface creep," a type of wind caused erosion forms patterns of craters in the sand on Island Beach State Park, New Jersey.  The winds of the Atlantic never stop blowing. At least it seems that way. The leaves of the maritime forests nestled behind the dunes are always rustling, the grasses always dancing. The craters in the sand shuffle about imperceptibly. The landscape is always changing, always shifting.
    IBSP-NJ-645-BW-2-012_Final_Display.jpg
  • A lone gull soars over small waves as a storm rolls in from the Atlantic Ocean at Island Beach State Park, New Jersey.
    IBSP-NJ-35-4-011_Final_Display.jpg
  • There's something that connects the west coast of Ireland and the east coast of New Jersey. I imagine it's a fairly common trait on any body of land that touches the Atlantic. There is a quality of the foliage, a texture, a resilience that is palpable. I am so struck by it every time I find myself among it. It's the wind,
    2018-09-07_SRS_IBSP_35_R1-F017_Final...jpg
  • The thick canopies of trees at Island Beach State Park block out a great amount of light. Stepping into the maritime forests can feel like entering an entirely different world.
    2018-09-08_SRS_IBSP_35_R4-F017_Final...jpg
  • The thick canopies of trees at Island Beach State Park block out a great amount of light. Stepping into the maritime forests can feel like entering an entirely different world.
    IBSP-NJ-645-BW-2-006_Final_Display.jpg
  • A man and his two sons set and secure their line, preparing to fish. The two sons help their father by digging a hole for a section of PVC pipe used to assist securing the fishing pole during a particularly windy day at Island Beach State Park.
    IBSP-NJ-35-1-015_Final_Display.jpg
  • A small wooden signpost tells visitors to "KEEP AWAY FROM DUNES" at Island Beach State Park, New Jersey. I had been sure to maintain my distance from any dune I saw had some sort of protection, like a fence post. Even if it had been buried by the wind shifted sands. I wondered if there were some dunes that were being more preserved. Of course the though "who would know?" passed through my mind. But ecosystems, even those that appear resilient are delicate things.
    IBSP-NJ-35-2-016_Final_Display.jpg
  • A sandy path winds it's way through textured shrubs made hardy by the constant winds blowing off the Atlantic Ocean at Island Beach State Park, New Jersey, one of the last undeveloped barrier islands on the Northeast coast.
    IBSP-NJ-35-2-024_Final_Display.jpg
  • Something I find myself enjoying more and more each year is time spent by the water. If it is the ocean, that’s wonderful. But it can be any body of water. A lake, a river, or a stream. <br />
<br />
Island Beach State Park is rich in textures, and most of the flora has a ruggedness and resilience you can see. In its grasses, small shrubs, and even trees farther back beyond the dunes there is a presence you can feel. It reminds me of the Atlantic coast of Ireland, a place I feel deeply connected to.
    IBSP-NJ-35-4-023_Final_Display.jpg
  • A sandy path winds it's way through textured shrubs made hardy by the constant winds blowing off the Atlantic Ocean at Island Beach State Park, New Jersey, one of the last undeveloped barrier islands on the Northeast coast.
    IBSP-NJ-35-2-011_Final_Display.jpg
  • "Something I find myself enjoying more and more each year is time spent by the water. If it is the ocean, that’s wonderful. But it can be any body of water. A lake, a river, or a stream. <br />
<br />
Island Beach State Park is rich in textures, and most of the flora has a ruggedness and resilience you can see. In its grasses, small shrubs, and even trees farther back beyond the dunes there is a presence you can feel. It reminds me of the Atlantic coast of Ireland, a place I feel deeply connected to."
    IBSP-NJ-645-BW-2-010_Final_Display.jpg
  • Small hills, textured grasses and hardy shrubs form the beautiful landscapes of Island Beach State Park's sand dunes. In the distance, a fisherman has parked his pickup truck on the beach and set up for a long day of fishing. The winds are warm but strong, the sky is overcast and there is more than a hint of the possibility of a storm later on.
    IBSP-NJ-35-4-06_Final_Display.jpg
  • A woman walking along the waves. A lone, dark pickup truck parked upon the beach. Two dots in the distance, each in their own worlds.         You can feel out of place as a photographer. I often I do. You’re a detached participant, an observer. You’re a follower lead by whatever you find interesting. You follow the light, follow the activity. You hope to find the poetry of it all.
    IBSP-NJ-35-4-025_Final_Display.jpg
  • A fisherman sets up his lines, his pickup truck parked behind him. He has four more rods at his disposal and a luxury folding chair. It's an overcast day at the beach, and it looks like a storm might blow in.
    IBSP-NJ-35-4-021_Final_Display.jpg
  • A fisherman can be seen bending down, tending to his fishing pole before walking down to the water to cast out his line.
    IBSP-NJ-35-1-004_Final_Display.jpg
  • A solitary fisherman inspects his poles, making sure the pvc pipes have been dug deep enough into the sand.
    2018-09-08_SRS_IBSP_35_R4-F009_Final...jpg
  • A woman walks along the sea as the waves wash in and out. A fisherman watches from a distance as he sits next to his pickup truck, his palace on wheels surrounded by fishing poles. There were seven, if I remember correctly. I never saw any of them move, and I never once saw him rise to check them. The rain and the wind didn't seem to bother anyone. Maybe only the fish. Maybe that's why the fish weren't biting.
    2018-09-07_SRS_IBSP_35_4-15_Final_Di...jpg
  • A small family combs the beach, wandering far from their bucket as they search for seashells and anything else that might catch their eyes. They were so caught up in their searching, and there were so few people on the beach that day that they took little care to guard their already discovered treasures. It wasn’t until after I had turned around and walked away that the bucket was gathered up. I suspect one of the youngest of the group must have seen me.
    2018-09-08_SRS_IBSP_35_R4-F002_Final...jpg
  • In a moment of whimsy I found myself running through the sand.
    IBSP-NJ-35-2-018_Final_Display.jpg
  • IBSP-67-BW-006_Final_Display.jpg
  • The winds of the Atlantic never stop blowing. At least it seems that way. The leaves of the maritime forests nestled behind the dunes are always rustling, the grasses always dancing. The craters in the sand shuffle about imperceptibly. The landscape is always changing, always shifting.
    IBSP-NJ-645-BW-2-013_Final_Display.jpg
  • I went to the water’s edge in search of Rolland’s “oceanic feeling.”
    IBSP-NJ-35-4-014_Final_Display.jpg
  • Two gulls land on a higher drift of sand. I spent about a half an hour watching these gulls. They seemed to be friends, if I can apply such a human word. They spent time together, they flew up and down the beach. Not knowing how to determine their sex, I can't say if they were a breeding pair or not. Still, they had character. Each was suspicious, but one more so than the other. The one closer to me found a small round object in the sand, like a marble. It would pick it up and drop it down the slope of the sand, chasing it. It was really nice just spending time watching a relationship take place between two animals so removed from me and my experiences, yet I felt I understood what existed between them, how they spent their days together.
    IBSP-NJ-35-3-018_Final_Display.jpg
  • Two gulls land on a higher drift of sand. I spent about a half an hour watching these gulls. They seemed to be friends, if I can apply such a human word. They spent time together, they flew up and down the beach. Not knowing how to determine their sex, I can't say if they were a breeding pair or not. Still, they had character. Each was suspicious, but one more so than the other. The one closer to me found a small round object in the sand, like a marble. It would pick it up and drop it down the slope of the sand, chasing it. It was really nice just spending time watching a relationship take place between two animals so removed from me and my experiences, yet I felt I understood what existed between them, how they spent their days together.
    IBSP-NJ-35-3-014_Final_Display.jpg
  • The winds of the Atlantic can be harsh and seamlessly unending. Many plants, such as this scrub, find shelter wherever they can. This wooden stake and fenceposts surely are nearly a meter high, yet due to the erosive power of wind, sand has all but buried them.
    IBSP-NJ-35-3-004_Final_Display.jpg
  • A small wave is froze as it crashes against the shore. Moments before, a flock of plovers had raced off further down the shoreline.
    IBSP-NJ-35-3-002_Final_Display.jpg
  • You can feel out of place as a photographer. I often I do. You’re a detached participant, an observer. You’re a follower lead by whatever you find interesting. You follow the light, follow the activity. You hope to find the poetry of it all.     I followed families, fish and feathered gulls. I followed sand pipers and footprints. I followed plastic bags, the castaways of midday meals. I followed fisherman that moved, fighting the wind, the rain and the spray of splashing waves, and those who sat statuesque in their status surveying their surroundings. I followed paths and walked along fences that disappeared into dunes, man’s hand buried by time.
    IBSP-NJ-35-1-018_Final_Display.jpg
  • You can feel out of place as a photographer. I often I do. You’re a detached participant, an observer. You’re a follower lead by whatever you find interesting. You follow the light, follow the activity. You hope to find the poetry of it all.     I followed families, fish and feathered gulls. I followed sand pipers and footprints. I followed plastic bags, the castaways of midday meals. I followed fisherman that moved, fighting the wind, the rain and the spray of splashing waves, and those who sat statuesque in their status surveying their surroundings. I followed paths and walked along fences that disappeared into dunes, man’s hand buried by time.
    IBSP-NJ-35-1-016_Final_Display.jpg
  • IBSP-67-BW-001_Final_Display.jpg
  • There was another fisherman. His wealth consisted of only three fishing poles and no vehicle in sight. But he had two sons. Instead of a folding chair, there was a tent nestled into the grass at the base of a dune where it wasn’t supposed to be. The only thing weighing it down were the women watching on as the men caught that day’s meal. It’s likely that they hadn’t anticipated the stormy weather, but all I heard was cackling laughter as they fought against the wind as it tried to turn their tent into a kite.                 <br />
<br />
The father dug holes in the ground to secure the lines, his two sons helping him. They dug feverishly, hardly spoke, only occasional grunts and laughter. Theirs was a practiced routine undoubtedly performed in all manner of weather. The men worked as though the fish were on a schedule and they were already late. Occasionally, the father would wade out into the surf, cast his rod, and do battle with the wind and the waves, a cigarette as his primary companion.
    2018-09-07_SRS_IBSP_35_2-15-Final_Di...jpg
  • A seagull glides above a grass topped dune. Remnants of a fence, doomed to impermanence due to the shifting sands dots the edge, a fallacy of protection.
    IBSP-NJ-35-2-013_Final_Display.jpg
  • Time, and the winds coming off the Atlantic have pushed this dune away from the sea's edge and begun to consume a wooden fence offering a slightly surreal scene.
    IBSP-NJ-35-2-019_Final_Display.jpg
  • IBSP-NJ-35-4-05_Final_Display.jpg
  • I followed families, fish and feathered gulls. I followed sand pipers and footprints. I followed plastic bags, the castaways of midday meals. I followed fisherman that moved, fighting the wind, the rain and the spray of splashing waves, and those who sat statuesque in their status surveying their surroundings. I followed paths and walked along fences that disappeared into dunes, man’s hand buried by time.
    IBSP-NJ-35-3-024_Final_Display.jpg
  • You can feel out of place as a photographer. I often I do. You’re a detached participant, an observer. You’re a follower lead by whatever you find interesting. You follow the light, follow the activity. You hope to find the poetry of it all.     <br />
I followed families, fish and feathered gulls. I followed sand pipers and footprints. I followed plastic bags, the castaways of midday meals. I followed fisherman that moved, fighting the wind, the rain and the spray of splashing waves, and those who sat statuesque in their status surveying their surroundings. I followed paths and walked along fences that disappeared into dunes, man’s hand buried by time.
    IBSP-NJ-35-4-022_Final_Display.jpg
  • Evidence of dune sand saltation, a form of erosion by wind, seen on New Jersey's Island Beach State Park.
    _6272101_DxO-2.jpg
  • American Beachgrass (Ammophila breviligulata) seen here growing on Island Beach State Park, New Jersey.
    _6272114.jpg
  • Stratocumulus clouds seen high above the grass covered dunes of Island Beach State Park. Signs lead visitors to the foot path and remind them to "keep off the dunes."
    _6272028.jpg
  • Footprints of beachgoers can be seen between American Beachgrass covered dunes at Island Beach State Park, New Jersey.
    _6272102.jpg
  • A field of American Beachgrass (Ammophila breviligulata) seen on the backbones of Island Beach State Park, New Jersey.
    _6272126-Pano.jpg
  • View Of Manhattan From Liberty State Park, New Jersey
    _I2A8475.jpg
  • _6272108.jpg
  • New Jersey, 2015
  • Paterson_Great_Falls-New_Jersey.jpg