Archive for the ‘Family’ Category

First test of our new MōVI

Wednesday, September 18th, 2013

[Teresa] We recently added some incredible new technology to our motion kit. The MōVI M10 from Freefly Systems is a handheld 3-axis digital stabilized camera gimbal that is changing the world of filmmaking. This weekend we took it out to put it through its paces. Chasing kids around in the forest was a pretty good test - here are the results.

This demo, The Berry Patch, was shot entirely handheld using a Freefly Systems MōVI M10 with a Canon 1DX and a Zeiss 14mm distagon lens.

Camera and MōVI – Fritz Mueller
Editing – Teresa Earle
Music – Serena Ryder Mary Go Round under license from Universal Music Canada

Filmed in Whitehorse, Yukon. Copyright Fritz Mueller Visuals 2013

Daisy’s Christmas

Tuesday, December 18th, 2012

A short film about the spirit of Christmas. Happy holidays!

Daisy yearns to be included in holiday festivities with her family. But what she finds is more enduring…

Credits:

A film by Fritz Mueller and Teresa Earle
Story and editing – Teresa Earle
Camera – Fritz Mueller
Composer and sound designer – Jordy Walker
Daisy’s family – Robyn Mueller, Stella Mueller, Teresa Earle, Bill Earle
Thanks to Jayden Soroka

Filmed in Whitehorse, Yukon
copyright Fritz Mueller Photography 2012

 

Mother Caribou

Tuesday, May 24th, 2011

[by Teresa]  Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about mothering and maternal instincts and motherhood. I’m going to lose my Mum to cancer, and walking this difficult path with her has brought on waves of introspection about what it is to be a mother. Having my own kids offers some lessons, but when you’re immersed in something you don’t always see things clearly. Plus, mothering is an incredibly tough job and, since my kids aren’t even in school yet, I figure I’m still on probation. Also, I’ve always known I’ll never be half the mother that mine has been to me.

I’ve also looked to nature for lessons in parenting. At this time of year I’m always reminded of incredible mothers I’ve witnessed during birthing season in the North. Feigning injury and putting themselves in harm’s way, nesting birds flutter about in front of predators to lure them away. Grizzly sows dedicate two all-consuming years to nurse, protect and rear their young. Tens of thousands of caribou cows cross half the Yukon Territory to drop their calves in a safer place. They’re all compelling, but it was the caribou mothers that made me cry.

My Mum and some insights about mothering converged on a knoll in North Yukon during one of my richest Yukon experiences. Fritz and I were spending much of June in Ivvavik National Park trying to find the Porcupine caribou herd. One afternoon Fritz fixated on a distant ridge, so we hoisted our packs and crossed a hellish patch of tussocks that followed us for hours, and as I stumbled in the ruts and mud I cursed his route and his impulsive ideas and his heavy cameras and his cheery mug. But we got there, and the site was glorious, and the tent overlooked a greening slope dotted with caribou.

For three days we watched thousands of caribou cows and calves graze and stream across our ridge. The exhausted cows had patchy fur and skeletal frames, while their calves were the picture of good health. The mothers grazed constantly, interrupted only by calves that nursed the nutrients out of them. Heavily pregnant, they’d migrated thousands of kilometres, swam icy rivers and dodged predators to reach their calving grounds, and they were already preparing to return south trailing young. In the caribou migration I found searing lessons about birth and death, survival, and the fragility and fortitude of nature. I pondered their capacity to endure horrendous conditions. I was awed by the instinctive, selfless acts of these mothers.

We carried a satellite phone with us for safety, but one evening, under the intense glare of the June sun and in the company of thousands of caribou, we dug it out for a couple of personal calls. We phoned our parents, who’d unconditionally loved and supported us through years of crazy adventures and dreams, and I stood on that remote ridge with tears streaming down my face as I described to Mum the spectacle around me. She listened intently – she knew satellite calls were precious – and in her voice I heard a mother’s empathy for these hardy caribou and their unthinkable journey. For years she would retell our conversation to others in great detail; she got a huge thrill from that call, and I felt so privileged to share my experience with her. Someday I will stand among the cows and calves with my daughters at my side, and we’ll remember my Mum – their Grandy – and all that she enabled us to be.

Cold weather, warm edit

Thursday, February 17th, 2011

[by Fritz] It’s definitely easier to edit photos from a tropical trip when it’s -35° C outside. For the last few days I’ve finally gotten around to editing and processing photos from a family camping adventure to Hawaii last year. I don’t know how other photographers keep up with the processing backlog, but I find that months can go by before I get time to process my personal shoots. Here’s a portfolio of images from Big Island, Hawaii Volcanoes National Park, Mauna Kea and Honolulu, Oahu.  

Linnea borealis froggilus

Wednesday, August 11th, 2010

[by Teresa] Yesterday the girls and I found a wood frog in our front yard. It’s likely this fellow came from a pond teeming with frogs ten minutes down the trail from our house; in the spring we can hear the din from home. Not exactly a remarkable discovery until you think about where we live.

The Yukon isn’t the most hospitable place for amphibians; the wood frog (Rana sylvatica) is one of just a handful of amphibians that can survive our northern winters. This handsome little frog is the northernmost amphibian in North America, and it doesn’t just survive—it thrives in many ponds in the Yukon. Their story of adaptation is incredible; in winter their cells fill with glucose which acts like antifreeze, helping the wood frog survive as its body temperature drops well below freezing.

Watching the frog with the girls reminded me of a special photograph Fritz took at the pond four years ago this summer. In July 2006 I was hugely pregnant and barely getting off the sofa, and with just a couple of weeks to go I was keeping Fritz on a pretty short leash. He’d gone on a few quick trips in June, but by July I wanted him shooting well within cell phone range, and in Whitehorse that means not leaving city limits. No day trips to White Pass, no afternoons in a blind at Kluane. He found stuff to do and things to shoot, but it was frustrating to be stuck so close to home at the height of the northern summer.

One morning he headed to the pond and found loads of frogs and wildflowers—the twinflower (linnea borealis) was in bloom. We spoke a couple of times through the day; I’d had faint contractions and set up a doctor appointment for the next morning. Fritz was home by dinnertime, and that evening he showed me some of his day’s work. One series stopped me short: a pair of frogs flanking a twinflower.

Given that we were expecting twins—and I had basically started going into labour that day—I was struck by the symbolism of the shot. But Fritz had been so absorbed with shooting, the significance didn’t dawn on him till I pointed it out. That night he sent this photo out with a mock baby announcement to our families declaring our “hoppy” arrivals.

Feeling the Freedom

Wednesday, June 9th, 2010

[by Teresa]: This summer marks four years since the arrival of our two new roommates. As friends and family know, having twins pretty much blindsided us. After a dozen years as a totally self-absorbed, adventuring couple, our household doubled in size and practically everything came to a screeching halt. No sleep, no perspective, no ability to work: that first year was a blur.

Fast-forward to last summer, when our intrepid three-year-olds tagged along on all kinds of adventures. For a week they sat at the edge of a remote river watching grizzly bears feast on salmon a few yards away. They camped out on the back of a ferry. They went on assignment for Canadian Geographic. And now they play together while we get back to what we used to do a lot more of: talking shop about photography, about stories, about shelved plans that are being dusted off. These kids rock.

It took a lot of effort and adjustment to get from two sets of diapers to two pairs of hiking boots, but we made it. Their enthusiasm for ‘bentures’ is infectious, so this year promises lots of family-friendly exploits: scaling volcanoes, learning their wildflowers, more helicopter flights, loads of time sleeping in a tent.