Now you see it…

 

This image represents one aspect of what keeps me challenged, and forever thirsty, in my passion for the photographic arts: capturing that “moment” as you are seeing it in real time, and forever encasing it in pixels and perhaps dots on paper in the same  way you originally experienced it. How many  photographs actually do this?  This beautiful morning scene drew me in a week or so ago, on one of the first full days of autumn. It was about 7:00 a.m., and the dew was so moist it was literally dripping off the leaves; the shafts of sunlight were radiating through the branches and the fog, creating an otherworldly effect in what is normally an unremarkable rural setting near our neighborhood. But the moment… the moment was pristine. I framed, clicked, reframed… but  even as I shot, I could tell, somehow, the beauty of the fog-laden air, the clean, refreshing aromas, might never be truly represented by my efforts. Even so, I continued shooting until the sun rose so high that the shafts disappeared and the morning’s magical essence faded away. I hope a bit of it remains in my photograph, and I hope you enjoy…

Be prepared…

 

The image above is a happy accident. It was not the image I went out to photography last evening, but it’s the one I came home with. And while I am fairly pleased with the result, it falls in the category that we as photographers cannot seem to drill into our own heads: Be prepared.

Here is what happened. Driving home from running errands yesterday evening, I saw the cloud formations to the east looking particularly dramatic. The sun was setting, its rays slowly melting from golden to fuchsia, the clouds were gaining structure and contrast in a way that simply guaranteed I’d have an award-winning shot without breaking a sweat. That attitude should have been my first clue. Ahem. So confident was I about my intention and subject, I quickly stopped by my house and in the blink of an eye, grabbed my tripod and camera–already armed with the perfect wide-angle zoom for my landscape, and within 5 minutes was in position and on location. Didn’t

Only… wait. One problem. The sun died… right in front of my eyes. The cloud formation, which should by all rights should have exploded with color, simply…. fizzled.  The cloud went dark. And there I sat looking at a dark blue cloud on a quickly darkening sky. Hmm…. Any light, anywhere??? Oh, yes… of course… the light BEHIND me was spectacular and the local radio tower was perfectly framed in color. Except, I was standing there with a wide-angle lens and the beautiful tower was far, far away. I tried framing, reframing and finally had to settle for an image I knew I would have to severely crop later. The result is what you see above. OK, so maybe somehow, someway, I made lemons out of lemonade (you all can be the judge) but once again, I had to humbly admit that I let my excitement over getting “the shot” get in the way of my clear thinking about what I should have come prepared for. Yes, a longer telephoto should have been in my bag (I didn’t even grab a bag!) so that if the shot I thought I was going to get didn’t pan out, I might have had some  options.

I tell this story because 1) I think it’s important to constantly remind oneself that the road to becoming a great photographer is fraught with humbling lessons and 2) the joy of the chase is actually the true joy of photography. If you end up with an award-winning image, it’s icing on the cake. Just keep enjoying the journey. Til next time…

Big sky country…

 

There is nothing more dramatic, more magical, than a winter sky. It’s truly the season of the “big sky” and if you are photographer and you don’t get out and shoot from December to February, you are truly missing one of nature’s most wondrous achievements. The problem for me in the winter is that am generally working til dark, and I usually glance up and out my window right about the time the “big show” begins… only to realize that by the time I grab a camera, fit a lens, jump in the car, and stash my tripod, the magic will have passed. There is more leeway to make this all come together after work in the summer, but unfortunately, the skies just don’t seem to have the same magnificence in July. This image was taken a couple of evenings ago at a park just across the street from where I live. I was prepared to come away with nothing, or next to nothing, but I forced myself to go through the motions and see if I’d get lucky, somehow. While the spot I was shooting from was far from ideal–no sweeping vistas here–once I saw what was happening in the cosmos, I just sat down and shot. I tried about a dozen different angles and hoped for the best. In the end, I think I captured a bit of the majesty I enjoyed in person, which in truth, is always my personal photographic objective. So while the sun may be warmer in June, I’ll always be able to look back and appreciate this gorgeous mid-winter sunset. Hope you enjoy…

Last vestiges of autumn…

 

As the world around me turns increasingly grey and brown in January, I often yearn for the season gone by, even as I look forward to new treasures ahead. In looking back over the last several weeks of shooting, I recently came across this early December image, just waiting to be shared. This delicate leaf was just hanging on when I shot it one breezy morning… one of the last leaves to join all the others, disintegrating into mulch, creating fodder for new life in the spring. I am drawn to compositions like this because I love to be able to capture that “moment in time” when even the smallest, often overlooked, aspects of nature can be contemplated, and a greater meaning can be found. The leaf is long gone by now, but my image, and my memory of the moment, remains. Hope you enjoy…

New year, new vision…

 

The new year is perennially cause for reflection as well as celebration, as many of us take stock of where we’ve been, our accomplishments, milestones,  joys and sorrows, and with indomitable spirit, try to look optimistically at the  potential for the year ahead. No matter what happens in my life, one constant is my love for my family, and my passion for photography. Those two things are my emotional anchors–one force completely selfless; the other, admittedly, entirely self-absorbed. Luckily my family understands my creative drive, fuels it, supports it, and helps me celebrate it when I create something I am proud of. It’s the perfect balance to my life.

This year I am committed to continue pushing myself technically and creatively, to challenge myself with new places, subjects, and tools, as I embrace my passion for communicating thought, feeling, and emotion through photography.  It’s a never-ending quest; one that poses infinite possibilities with a new door ready to walk through, every day. Welcome 2013, and Happy New Year!

No place like home…

This post is just to remind all budding landscape photographers that while the lure of exotic, beautiful landmarks can often make us feel like we need to travel far and wide to find inspiring subject matter, sometimes you just need to visualize a familiar place with new eyes. This rural scene is only about 10 minutes from my home.  I decided to just take a drive one morning a few weeks ago, and after about an hour, was rewarded with this picturesque, pastoral scene. So remember, beauty is out there… just open your eyes and look around–sometimes  you’ll find, you’re already home. Hope you enjoy…

Peace in the valley…

 

There is a Canadian photographer whose posts I read religiously. He is not a name that people will know by the best-selling books he’s authored, or the classes he teaches, or by the covers of Nat Geo he’s  graced. But there is a soulfulness to his work and a sense of inner poetry that draws me in every time one of his posts hits my inbox. In this day and age, with hundreds of emails, tweets, posts, etc that bombard me every day, the fact that his work makes me stop what I am doing and thoughtfully enjoy it for 5- 10 minutes, really says something. In fact, if I could do that for anyone else, with either my words or photography, that would be a rare honor, indeed. The reason I am mentioning this is because one of the tenets of this photographers’ work is to learn to find art and beauty around you, wherever you are… rather than feeling like you have to travel somewhere far away — to the “beautiful places.” I agree 100%–there is artful, miraculous beauty all around us.

Case in point. I went out last Friday night to shoot a dazzling sunset. It was a crisp early fall evening, clear, but with just enough clouds that I was hopeful they would make a dramatic evening sky composition. I had scouted several areas earlier that day and had settled on one overlook spot I felt had potential. So I got there at the proverbial hour, set up the tripod and shot, shot, shot. I captured some OK scenes, but all in all, nothing spectacular. Just when I thought perhaps I had exhausted my possibilities, I decided to walk just a little further, look beyond another patch of trees, and try one more lookout point. Lo and behold… I realized I had “the shot” in front of me. The light gleaming off this spire, as an anchor to the dazzling fire sky truly made the image work.

Later, once I began editing my collection from the evening, I realized that this was indeed the shot I had been after when I had set out. It’s a wonderful feeling, to look at an image and feel as if you’ve been given a gift. No one else has to love it… I don’t necessarily shoot for “likes” and “thumbs up” — this is just for me, and that passion–combined with execution–makes me feel like a real photographer. Peace, in the valley, indeed. Hope you enjoy…

Pacific giants…

Sometimes a photograph needs a bit of perspective. This shot, of one of the starkly beautiful craggy rocks that jut out from the Pacific coastline, is given a more awe-inspiring perspective by the rowers who are dwarfed by its presence. It adds a nice element of interest to the shot, too, and while I wish I could brag that I’d planned it that way, the truth is, the final product was more of a happy accident. I did see the canoe approaching, quickly previsualized the image, and waited until they hit the sweet spot in my composition. What I did plan entirely was the soft yellow flowers in the foreground, which I felt would soften the overall scene and provide a natural contrast to the sharp edges of the rocky subject. In the end, this was one of my favorite images of the Pacific shore, which is awe inspiring to behold, but whose magnificence is more difficult than one might think to portray in a single image. Hope you enjoy…

 

f/9, 1/250 sec, 115 mm, ISO 100

 

Looking up…waaay up…

 

I took a trip recently to the amazing Sedona area and was not disappointed in the gorgeous landscape and scenery of the desert Southwest! With only  a day trip’s worth of time to shoot, my subjects were fairly well known but I still tried my best to capture some creative images. This shot was taken at the popular tourist spot known as Montezuma’s Castle–an ancient cliff dwelling of the Sinagua Indians carved into the sandstone. While the dwelling is indeed impressive from a historic and cultural basis, what captured my attention photographically were the giant white sycamores that populated the ground below, their stature and gleaming albino bark making a sizzling contrast to the deep azure sky above. I was tantalized with so many image possibilities! I could have remained here for hours but in my 30 minute stay, managed to come away with at least a few photographs that recall this unique beauty and experience. This composition captures the dizzying perspective of looking from the base of one of the white giants to the cliffs above. I hope this translates to others as well! Hope you enjoy…

Beckoning…

The title of this post holds a couple of meanings for me. The primary one is purely emotional; the sea and the beautiful windwashed tree create an inner pull that makes me yearn to be standing at this spot once again, on the outermost edge where California meets the vast Pacific–a stepping off point from land to sea. There are few places that hold such beauty as the wild Pacific coast. The second meaning of the title relates more to me as a photographer. This image, no matter how pleasing, doesn’t begin to truly capture the scene as I recall it–it’s a mere snippet of the view I experienced. Perhaps the ocean will always be a challenge… its vastness, its smell, the roar, the feeling of moist, blustery sea spray… How can one photograph capture all that? Perhaps it can’t, and yet, as any photographer can attest, we continue to push the limits of our technology to bring a little piece of such landscapes home with us. And so, the Pacific Coast beckons me as a photographer to return, to try again, to stay longer and to try harder to illustrate this immense beauty in my own art.