A Tale of Two Photos

The photo above was taken at a very popular place in Yosemite called Gates of the Valley or Valley View. I’m sure you’ve seen photos from this place before and probably better ones than this. This view of Yosemite, however, is so compelling that it’s hard to take a bad photo from this spot. That’s how it is with most grand landscape photographs. They’re basically documents of extraordinary locations. As long as the photo is exposed well and not horribly composed, it will look good. However compare most photos of extraordinary locations to the experience of actually being there, and being there will win out every time. There are very few photographers who can photograph locations like this and make them unique and their own. Galen Rowell and Marc Adamus come to mind. Mere mortals like me will look for more intimate and less grand places to make compelling images.

This image is probably not a location you’ve seen before. Interestingly enough, it was taken at the same location as the first image. However I was turned about 100 degrees to the right for this one. Being that it’s in Yosemite, there were probably hundreds of photographers in the park that day, but I wonder if anyone else got this photo. Photos like this one require distilling the experience of grand landscapes and putting them into a more personal point of view. Though I would never compare the experience of a photograph to the experience of being in Yosemite Valley, I feel that this photograph is not dwarfed by the beauty of the location. It stands on its own.

I go out in nature to be wowed by the grand majesty of it, but it’s the essence of the beauty and majesty that I try to capture in simpler more intimate images.

Discrimination

I shot 4×5 film almost exclusively for about 8 years. During that time many large format photographers switched from 4×5 film and larger to digital. We found many of their new images disappointing and we chalked it up to too many images and not enough discrimination.

Now I’m shooting exclusively digital and I suffer from same malady. I must have 100 times more images to go through and decide about. I know what I like and don’t like, but most of the time I’m clueless if an image is good or not. My wife’s opinion helps, but ultimately I need to sit with the images for a while and let my desire for them to be good to pass. Hopefully then I can look at them with a more objective eye.

The image at the beginning of this blog I loved immediately. It’s very hard to just shoot sky and have it look like anything. I usually don’t even bother, but sometimes the sky here is so compelling and there’s nothing on the ground that I can put with it, so I give in and try to capture it alone. I hope this one stands the test to time. I hope to do more to go with it.

The image at the bottom has had a more troubled history. I love the colors of the rock in this area and have photographed it a number of times but never got anything I liked. This last time I think I took one shot with “a what the hell” attitude. I have worked on it off and on for that last few weeks and now I think I like it. We’ll see.

My Favorites of 2012

2012 is drawing to a close and it’s “10 Best” time again. I have no clue what my best images are. I can only say what are my favorites right now. I know that what I like and don’t like from 2012 is probably going to be different six months from now, but I don’t want to give up getting posted on Jim Goldstein’s 10 best blog and others, so here goes…

In 2012 I discovered how much I love the Colorado high country. This image is was taken at over 11,000 feet — very close to tree line. There are no cottonwoods or aspens at this elevation, but the low lying bushes turn wonderful colors in the fall.

Here’s another high country image. It’s summer on long lake in the Indian Peaks Wilderness.

As it gets into late autumn we start getting cold nights and the creeks begin to freeze. I spent a lot of time photographing frozen leaves and grasses in them.

Frozen leaves in South Boulder Creek.

The morning sunrise reflected in South Boulder Creek.

Morning sun and reflections on ice. This is in Eldorado Canyon.

We’re driving over this beautiful pass on Red Mountain. It’s snowing and every 30 seconds I
see something else I want to photograph. There’s no place to pull over so I just start
shooting from the moving car. I thought my shutter speed was fast enough to stop everything, but the images have some sharp and some blurred areas. I like the effect that it gives.

Frost on fallen cottonwood leaves. I never saw a cottonwood tree till I started going to the eastern sierra. I love them.

Morning sun on the walls of Eldorado Canyon. Eldorado Canyon is my favorite local place. It’s about a 25 minute drive from my home.

An early frost and mist on Mitchell Creek. Another high country image of the Indian Peaks Wilderness. I no longer miss Yosemite since spending time here.

One more image of frozen leaves. I love the shapes and colors of them.

There are actually 11 photos here because I couldn’t narrow it down anymore.

If you want to see larger versions of the images, you can see them here.

Thanks for stopping by.

Peace on Earth Good Will to All

I’m a Jew, but I love Christmas because it gives us permission to love one another and wish each other well.

I love this quote of St. Paul.

If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing.

Merry Christmas!

Art and Spirit

I recently had to write a short bio about me and photography for a spiritual magazine. I have trouble with art and spirituality, because although I’ve been a meditator and follow a spiritual teacher, most of what I see of “spiritual art” are photos of Buddhas or churches or bad out of focus pictures. After some reflection about the matter, here is what I wrote.

*****

In my late teens and early 20s I used to wander the streets of New York with my camera snapping candid photos of people on the street. There were times I would get so wrapped up in what I was doing that my mind would become very still and I would get into a kind of ecstasy. I would look at events in front of me, be thrilled by them, snap a photo and move on.

I didn’t know anything about quiet minds or spirituality at the time, and in fact I was fairly confused and unhappy in life, so while I loved these wonderful experiences, I wondered what they were about and how could I have them all the time.

One thing I noticed then that is still true today is how little I have to do with the result of my photographing efforts. While taking photos, the ones that I thought were great while taking them were not necessarily the best photos of the shoot. In some way my thoughts and opinions while shooting had very little to do with the result. Something greater was at work.

These days I love to spend my time in nature wandering around with my camera. I still get very quiet and just respond to the beauty I see in front of me. Sometimes I’ll take photographs of what I am seeing and sometimes not.

I am not a documenter of nature. If you want to experience the 360 degree wonder of being in nature, by all means go out and be there. What I’m doing in photographs is capturing my experience. If you look at my photos and are stopped, then I’ve been successful.

People like to talk about spiritual art but I don’t like to make differences. To me the purpose of all art is to stop you and take you out of yourself.

Open

It’s 5:30 Saturday morning. I don’t have to go to work today, so I can have an extended hike and photo session. I’m in a pissy mood and the weather is totally boring: too warm and too dry. Where can I go today to be inspired? Very little locally has been inspiring me lately. I know, I’ll go up to the high country. Five thousand feet isn’t enough for me. I need 10,000.

On the drive up to Red Rock Lake, the right wheel of my car starts making a whooshing sound. Halfway to my destination it starts getting louder. I better turn back. I don’t want to be stuck in the middle of nowhere. It gets louder and more rattley on the drive down and I’m glad I get back home safely. However, I’m still in a pissy mood and it’s getting light outside. I’ll walk to Wonderland Lake. Should I take my camera? Oh what the heck, take it.

As I start walking, I pray to get quiet, for the internal chatter and criticism to stop, and somehow my prayers are answered. The next thing I know I see this tree and the bark is just captivating. I stop and take a closeup of the bark and move on. Suddenly, even though I’m in a populated, suburban area, there are all these small beautiful scenes that are grabbing my attention.

I pass a stranger with two very sweet labs who want to sniff and lick me. I gladly oblige. The stranger asks me what I’m taking pictures of and I get uptight with the thought of having to explain myself. I say “anything that suits my fancy.” He gets it and talks about the beautiful sunrises we’ve been having here lately. We both love sunrises.

I photograph little vignettes of leaves and branches. Emotions and their evaluations come up, but I choose to accept them as they are instead of trying to figure them out or get rid of them. I’m now having a great time, just being open, and seeing and occasionally photographing.

I eventually get home after a wonderful morning walk. Whether I made any good photos on my walk remains to be seen, but again, I’m reminded that all one has to do is be quiet and open.

Seeing is Everything

When I worked in commercial photography, I used to love to assist women photographers. Photography — being an art form that required operating different machinery — usually attracted a lot of men; and women as fashion photographers were not very common. I loved working for women because their sensibilities were so different.

There were two photographers whom I was privileged to assist multiple times. One was Deborah Turberville who shot beautiful moody images for Vogue. The other’s name I won’t mention because she was told of a remark I made that was supposed to be a compliment and totally took it the wrong way and threatened me. So, I’ll compliment her again, but she will remain nameless.

The second photographer was not interested in the details of the lighting or the exposure. We would set up the lights and take meter readings. She was very concerned about how the light looked in the Polaroids and would have us adjust it to her liking.

Some assistants would claim that they did all her lighting as a kind put down. However, they would do it under her direction. She didn’t care about the technicalities — she had us to take care of that. She was only interested in her vision.

***

I’ve never been interested in giving workshops because I’m not interested in teaching techniques. Almost all the information to accomplish anything photographically is out there, and most things you can find for free online or in books. I’m more interested in teaching vision, or seeing.

And, vision or seeing is something that is unique to you. I can’t tell you what your vision is. I can only tell you what works for me.

Seeing for me requires a quiet mind. The more mental chatter, the less we’re able to see what’s in front of us. By quiet mind I mean no distractions — like “I want to take this kind of image,” or “I need this for my portfolio.” Seeing means having as few preconceptions and desires as possible. When I’m out with a camera, I’m just focused on what’s in front of me and around me. I react to my environment and allow myself to be moved by it.

When I am moved by something I might try to photograph it. Here’s only where technique comes in — technique and past experience. I might have tried photos like this before and failed. Maybe I’ve learned from that failure, to photograph it differently. I’ll use my past experience and technical knowledge to try to make a beautiful photograph. But before the technique and past experience, I have to see.

Seeing is everything. Everything else can be learned.