Calm Photos

Getting my week started off right. That’s what happened this morning. First I was invited back as a guest speaker at Centerville’s Driscoll Elementary School Career Day, scheduled for March 19th.

I find kid’s honest enthusiasm for my work to be quite refreshing.

Second, I received a call from my friend Andy Sawyer, the Director of Archaeology at Sunwatch Indian Village, informing me that a photograph I took of the winter landscape and the reconstructed village had won 1st place in the Midwest Division of the National Historic Landmarks Photo Contest, an annual competition hosted and organized by the National Park Service.

With this award, the photograph will also be recognized by being published in the 2009 calendar of National Historic Landmarks, published and sold through the online U.S. Government Bookstore. Out of the 2,500 historic locations throughout the United States, just 12 images are chosen for the calendar, with Dayton’s Sunwatch Indian Village now being amongst the few sites featured.

I captured the winning image in January 2008 on a very cold and frosty morning. The photograph was taken using a Canon 1D Mark III digital SLR with a Canon 28-70mm f2.8 L lens, both mounted on a Bogen tripod with a Kirk ballhead. The final image was a merged digital file of three separate exposures of the same scene. A tonal adjustment tool was applied to render the final high dynamic range photograph.

The stinging smell of stop bath solution. Mixing chemicals in brown plastic jugs and using all of my lawn cutting money for Kodak paper at Malone’s Camera Store. Loading exposed Tri-X film in the film processing tank by hand and in total darkness. Hanging 8″x10″ prints to dry. Red light bulbs. Worrying that my brother would come down stairs and turn on the lights while I was in the middle of making a print. Seeing the magic of the image appear on paper after careful timing with the enlarger.

Those are the memories that come to mind when I think back to my first explorations in the field of photography. This was WAY before the arrival of digital photography. I’m talking 1977.

Developing my own black and white prints in a home-made darkroom when I was only 12 formed the perfect foundation for a life-long love affair with photography. There was a fundamental discipline involved that demanded respect for the craft of image and print making. Granted it was not nearly as extensive or methodical as the incredible lengths that the masters of the early 20th century went through with their huge and cumbersome, 60 lb. 8″x10″ view cameras and obsession with perfect tonal range (think Adams, Weston and Strand), I still felt as if I were “paying my dues”  - getting my fingers wet in the holy water of the print trays and being baptized into the company of those who have transcended the boundary of mere hobbyist and entered the realm of the serious amateur.

Even before converting the corner of my childhood home basement to my own darkroom, I had been introduced to the wonders of the black and white darkroom at the Dayton Museum of Natural History. It was there that my astronomy instructor helped me develop and make prints of some my very first astro-photographs; time exposures on high speed Tri-X film of Comet West - a brilliant display in the early morning sky and comet so bright it has yet to be reviled since. I still kick myself for losing track of this negatives and prints.

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Like everyone else making adjustments during tough economic times, nature photographers (both pro and amateur) are trying to find less costly ways to get out into those scenic locations and beautiful landscapes, and as a result many are discovering or re-discovering how to pursue their artistic interests in areas much closer to home.

I would like to see this trend to continue, and not just for the simple benefit of others saving money but also to encourage an appreciation amongst many amateur nature photographers of one of the most important lessons that I stress in my workshops. More often than not, a photographer’s best shots are going to come from those places he or she is most familiar with. The backyards, rural routes, local metro parks, nature preserves and state parks of Ohio have proven to be bountiful resources for about 95% of the images that I sell as both prints and for stock licensing.

As proof I present the one nature/wildlife photograph that was published in both National Wildlife and Nature’s Best magazines as well as part of a year-long show at the Smithsonian Natural History Museum in Washington, D.C. - a photograph of baby House Finches taken just a few feet from the front door of my house in suburban Kettering, Ohio.

The misconception of so many amateur nature photographers is that they have to travel to the mountains or some exotic location far away to capture great photographs, particularly amongst those live in the so-called “boring” states of the American Midwest.

However, even when staying close to home - say perhaps the two-hour drive over to Hocking Hills - I like to spend at least two days, which obviously requires over-nighting. As any pro nature shooter will tell you the best light for landscapes is often just prior and during sunrise and during and just after sunset. That translates into easy access at the wee hours of the morning. Plus I usually like to have time to scout-out my shoot locations beforehand. It’s not a good idea to trust in blind luck that there will be perfect morning sun through a particular stretch of woodland or illuminated fall colors casting a crustal-clear reflection on still water.

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I cringe every time I see Tiger Woods through a fit on the golf course. There’s just something about the look in his eyes and the tone of his voice that is about as demeaning as possibly can be.

I don’t play or watch golf, but these moments seem to always make the 60-second weekend highlight coverage on CNN. This morning’s spot was a classic Tiger-throws-a-fit moment, and one which every amateur photographer out there can take a lesson from.

Camera shutters can be amazingly loud, particularly those found on consumer brand digital 35mm and SLR’s. Some of the fixed lensed cameras even go so far as offering a choice of funny sounds your camera can make when you snap the picture. That can be cute and funny when taking snapshots of the kids at home or on vacation, but when you’re in the gallery standing close to a pro golfer about to tee off, it’s best to put your camera away. It’s not worth the wrath of Tiger or whoever else is playing for tens of thousands of $$$$s.

Just seeing that spot on this morning’s news made me feel bad for the person who made that error in judgment. It’s one thing to see hundreds of amateurs shamelessly and unknowingly shoot away with their on-camera flashes when up in the nose-bleed sections of a football stadiums (those on-camera flashes are only good to about five feet in front of the photographer), but I feel for the individual who’s camera makes a pro golfer flub his or her shot.

I haven’t had much experience photographing pro golf tournaments, but I do know that the PGA is pretty stringent about the pro sports photographers who cover these sporting events, such as credentials, where to shoot, how to shoot and when to shoot.

In August of 2005 I had the opportunity to photograph the Senior PGA tournament held at NCR Country Club in Dayton. I wasn’t even going to do the shoot because I couldn’t get any type of response from the local PGA people regarding a press pass for the tournament. But a local gallery owner was insistent that I get out there and get some shots because “those prints will sell like crazy.” The best I could do was a practice round. One technique that I employed was using a 500mm lens with a Kirk KingCobra ballhead on a monopod, far enough down the fairway where my shutter could not be heard. This is the same basic set-up I use when photographing birds and wildlife. With this size of lens I was able to effectively capture detail, compress my depth of field and stay clear of the crowd. Most importantly it kept me from disturbing pro golfers.

Guess how many prints I sold ? Nada. Zero. All I got from that shoot was a local guy asking for a free print of his kid volunteering as one of the sign-holders on the course. It’s great in Dayton !

But a lesson was learned, experience added. Know thy subject. Know thy photo gear. Respect thy subject. Don’t bring the subject’s wrath down upon thee. And if I can pass this lesson on, then I guess the shoot was worth the time. At least I didn’t make one of the pro golfers flub a shot.

Yes, winter in Ohio is making one last, strong push before moving aside for spring. Right now it looks to be a snow storm on the verge of becoming a blizzard. What better time to start thinking about summer and where to go for some of the most incredible nature and landscape photography within the lower 48 - the San Juan Mountains of Colorado.

While getting up to speed on my recently installed upgrade to Aperture 2.0, I re-discovered several raw image files from a photo trip I took to Colorado in July 2006. Applying some the new editing features available with Aperture 2.0 I went through and selected some of favorite images from that trip. I thought it would be fun to re-post a few while providing some basic tips when visiting and photographing this incredible area of alpine scenery.

The San Juan Mountains - with an emphasis on the area between Ouray and Telluride - is one of those summer or autumn destination spots that should be within the top ten list of every nature photographer, both amateur and pro shooters, right along with the Smokies in spring, Zion and Southern Utah, the U.P of Michigan in fall, etc., etc.

A more spectacular display of alpine wildflowers I have not seen, yet. Yankee Boy Basin, which sits far above the mountain town of Ouray, is the most popular area for wildflowers and mountain vistas in the San Juan Mountains. But as always, the best shots are to be found by being a bit adventurous and driving the mountain road (sometimes more of a “path”) that leads upward from Yankee Boy to Imogene Pass then the old mining town of Tomboy and out the other side into Telluride.

   

                 

Here’s my tips for an incredible summer photo adventure in the San Juan Mountains of Colorado:

1) Base yourself out of Ouray. A fun, picturesque Colorado mountain town that is less expensive than Telluride.
2) If you fly in, you MUST rent a 4-wheel drive SUV or Jeep Wrangler. DO NOT - I repeat DO NOT - attempt the mountain road between Ouray and Telluride in anything less. You won’t get very far. I rented a Ford Explorer and it handled the boulders, rocks, mud and snow (yes, snow in July) beautifully.

3) Pack bug spray. At certain altitudes in the mountains you may run into flocks of ravenous mosquitoes and biting flies. Not often, but it does happen.
4) Dress warm with layers. You can start your trek in shorts and a t-shirt down in Ouray and by the time you reach Imogene Pass (13,000 feet +) you could be in long pants, coat and gloves.
5) Have a cover for your camera. I always recommend hotel shower caps. I’ve been using the same one for almost eight years now. Summer storms in the mountains are sudden, intense and unpredictable. The plus side is that all those alpine waterfalls are never dry or slow.
6) Camera body with spare batteries plus a wide zoom for your landscapes, tele-zoom for isolating scenes and macro for flower close-ups. Pro-grade tripod (extends to five + feet) with a solid ballhead, cable release, plenty of memory cards, circular polarizer, split-neutral density filter, detachable flash and hand-held reflector and diffuser are all items that I found to be very useful in photographing the mountains and wildflowers in the summer.
7) Good, sturdy hiking BOOTS. Not your cross-trainers, tennis shoes or Crocs, but boots. This is just as important as that 4-wheel drive.
Lots of extra water. High altitude hiking will dehydrate you quicker than just about anything else.
9) First aid kit, Balance Bars, Marathon Bars, etc.
10) If you go by yourself, make sure you tell someone where you’re headed and when you plan to return.
11) If you have any remote fear of heights, DO NOT drive this mountain road. There are sections where there is less than a foot of space between your tires and 1,000 foot drop-offs.

One of the many advantages of Aperture over Photoshop - as far as pro photography is concerned - is the way the program organizes image files with minimum effort and time on the part of the user. Original raw files are securely stored away while the photographer harmlessly plays away with automatically copied versions.

In addition to the various project folders I’ve added to Aperture, the program also organizes images by date, automatically creating folders listed according to the year the photographs were shot, in the last week, in the last month and by photographer rating. The user interface of Aperture was specifically designed for professional photographers who manage thousands of shots.

In many ways the program is smarter than the photographer, because after all, most photographers fall within that realm of scattered brain, artsy-fartsy types who start to get pretty squirrelly if they’re not out shooting and instead are spending all their time behind the computer, present company included.

In those ancient days of storing away 35mm transparencies in plastic sleeves there was the possibility that some images that should have been selected as stand-outs are inadvertently filed away, forgotten and neglected. With digital image file management, and especially with programs such as Aperture, the photographer continually has opportunities to go back through and review old images, sometimes with eyes and awareness slightly altered over the months and years as creative vision becomes more well defined, or maybe perhaps when it starts going in a completely different direction.

This is the case with the following two images. Going back through my 2006 files I re-discovered one of the many shots I took of a Saturday night rodeo on a summer evening near Waynesville, Ohio. When I first did my initial edits I focused on the typical “rider and bull” action shots - the ones with the bull and rider in mid-air, dust swirling about and the look of determination in the rider’s face. I had plenty to choose from. But while reviewing the thumbnails in Aperture this one jumped-up at me. It caught my attention where it hadn’t before. Maybe it’s because I’ve been looking at a lot of candid portraits and street images lately, but then again, there had to be something about the scene that first caught my eye when I took the shot. It’s what I call a good “story teller.”

Crowd shots can be good at that, especially at sporting events where there’s lots of color and character - the attitude of the riders, stance of the rodeo clown, the looks on the faces of the kids, the low light of late day. The image tells the message of rural Ohio in summer.

Below is another “hidden gem” recently discovered. Why I first passed this one over I don’t know. It was one of many I took while hiking and photographing Dark Hollow Falls in Virginia’s Shenandoah National Park in early April 2007. Most of my photographs of the area include the waterfall, but looking just across the stream I was moved to capture the still bare tree branches against the darkening sky with a cloud of mountain mist moving down slope. The lichen-covered rocks and fallen trees communicate that sense of wilderness in the landscape without distracting from the overall composition of the frame. What initially caught my eye - and the element that I wanted to emphasize - was the texture and feeling of the mist just above the ground and creating so much depth amongst the trees.

Tis a good one the more I look at it. What I love about what I do is my ability to instantly go back to the particular place and moment when each of my photographs was taken, and remember what I was feeling at the time and the thoughts that were directing my vision. I have close to 10,000 images in my stock library, and I can confidently say that I can go back and revisit each and every “shot-scene” and tell the story behind the photograph. That’s almost scary, but that’s the difference between the average shooter and someone who truly gets into and is passionate about his or her avocation.

This past weekend I took my daughters, Emma age eight and Chloe age six, to Indianapolis. We spent most of the day Saturday at The Children’s Museum of Indianapolis, which wasn’t too far from the middle of downtown. If you have kids and are looking for something to do on a boring mid-winter, Midwest weekend, I highly recommend this entertaining and educational venue. Of course the National Museum of the Air Force in Dayton is just as good of a choice, but we were there last January and wanted to see something new.

The Indy Children’s Museum has one of the best dinosaur exhibits I’ve seen, complete with surround sound and lighting effects that put you right in the middle of the Cretaceous Period, and on-site Paleontologists (my first career choice back when I was eight years old) who do a great job of interacting with the kids with games and hands-on demonstrations on fossil recovery.

The one thing about the Museum that blew me away was the Dale Chihuly “fireworks” glass sculpture that spans all five floors of the museum. On the lowest floor you can actually walk underneath and take in the incredible array of color and light that Chihuly is so well known for.

And there’s so much more. So much that it can easily tire a six year old out to the point of sleeping through the afternoon planetarium show, with head back and mouth wide open.

Here are a few other tidbits I learned during our trip:

1) Never try to get a table at The Old Spaghetti Factory in Indy on a Saturday night when monster trucks are performing at the nearby RCA Dome.
2) Other restaurant choices are quickly limited due to the “you can smoke in this restaurant but no one under 21 allowed inside” law.
3) Be prepared when your kids ask why that homeless man had blood all over his face, the one you pass when walking from the hotel to the restaurants.

And I’m not talking about just a little bit of blood here and there. I mean all over his face and all over the sidewalk. The ambulance did arrive. My guess is that’s the one thing they will remember the most about our weekend trip. Kids are funny that way.

I’ve chosen a few images to share from an assignment photo shoot I did last week, of a client’s Christmas Party held at the Dayton Art Institute.One of the things I take pleasure in when doing event photography is to go in for the little details that sometimes get overlooked, particularly at social gatherings. There were plenty of people shots, but sometimes the decorative details and unique characteristics of the venue can say just as much about an event, if not more, as the typical adults-at-a-party images.

This particular location was a bit challenging because the shooting conditions were very dark and there’s only so much a portable flash unit will do. Because it was a busy event with lots of people it really wouldn’t have worked if I tried to move portable strobe lights around. So I tried to mix things up between hand-held shots with a Canon 580ex Speedlite and some longer exposures using my Bogen tripod. All shots were captured using a Canon 1D Mark III.

The image below may cause this blog to lose its “family-friendly” rating, but it’s appropriate given the onset of cold and snowy weather.Part of the experience of staying at the Inn at Cedar Falls - whether it be in a room, cottage and cabin - is the opportunity to browse through the guest books and read the various words of wisdom and reflections left behind by those who’ve had the pleasure of visiting this “sacred place” on the edge of Appalachia in Southeastern Ohio.

My particular favorites are those with drawings and cartoons. Sometimes these simple sketches can say much more than words. During my most recent visit, while staying in room #4 up in what I call the “barn,” I came across this entry that included a visitors’ (it was a younger couple from Circleville, Ohio) artistic rendition of what was once the Inn’s cat-in-residence, “Monday.” I can’t help but laugh every time I see this image I took of that journal entry. This is true cartoon art with the artist rendering through his own brand of humor what his mind’s eye caught during his stay at the Inn - the typical cat with the typical cat-look on his face when confronted with the prospect of leaving the warmth and comfort of inside for the frigid air and cold, wet paws that would result from a venture forth to the outside elements.

I’m sad to report that Monday met his untimely end when a park ranger came racing down the road in front of the Inn at a time when Monday decided to venture out (during fair weather, of course). But Monday’s memory endures, amongst the spirit of the Inn and on the pages of the guest journals.