Morning With “Fourteen”

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I began to realize that the camera sees the world differently than the human eye and that sometimes those differences can make a photograph more powerful than what you actually observed.                                                                                                         -– Galen Rowell

What feels like a contradiction of seasons is simply a part of nature that I cannot explain. A “fall” leaf fallen on a moss-covered log among the forest still feels fresh to me. This was one of the first images I made during my morning walks with “Fourteen.” What a different view . . .

I feel certain we’ve all had the experience of going to a place for the first time to “check it out.” Several weeks ago, that’s one of the things I did. I needed to see if this place “feels right” for one of my Dig Deeper workshops. It does.

However, to make things even more interesting, I decided to spend a morning walk at this new place with one new lens to “check it out.” I needed to see if I liked it enough to add it to my camera bag(s). I did.

The mushrooms in all shapes, sizes and colors came alive on this wet, misting morning. Seeing the scene through the perspective of “Fourteen” helped me build this image in a way that would not have otherwise happened. The urge to switch to my macro lens, had I taken it with me, may well have changed everything. Herein lies the beauty of focusing on one place with one lens.

So, I spent one of my mornings at this place with a Rokinon 14mm f/2.8 lens and walked. And, I wondered, “Do I need this lens?” and “What can I do with it that I can’t do with what I have?” Ultra-wide is really not my style. Truth be told, for years people thought of me as one who focused on macro photography. And, yes, it is my Calgon … three macro lenses might suggest that. But macro isn’t everything or the only thing I do in my photography.

With “Fourteen” I knew there would be some challenges and that my first time out of the gate would be a learning experience. It was. I needed to draw on what I already knew and put myself to the task of getting to know the lens, the place, and the potential of both. I also needed to be prepared to “fail” in order to learn. I forced myself to use only the 14mm for most of the morning. Yes, I did take one other lens, but I didn’t break it out until it was obvious that an image I wanted was simply not possible with the Rokinon. That other lens was the Tamron 28-300mm, which gave me a great deal of flexibility and is a light carry.

The ferns of the forest were dancing all along the semi-steep climb to the top of the hill. The vibrant and varied greens of the wet morning were mesmerizing and made the walk all the more enjoyable. Many, many places to stop, notice, absorb and express my vision.

Back to the ultra-wide Rokinon, which is, by the way, a manual focus lens. Some of the things I learned spending the morning with this lens were expected. Others were not. Here are some of those observations:

     First, I really love my circular polarizer filter for outdoor and nature photography. However, using one is not an option as the front element of this lens is domed. This kept me even more mindful of the subjects I chose and the direction of light and its impact on the subjects.

Graceful ferns on the bank of the hill made it easy to take notice. What a wonderful dance to see and capture in this image. Ultra-wide perspective, an even slower approach and patience made this possible.

     Second, you can put a whole lot of stuff in the frame with an ultra-wide lens. The angle of view on this lens is 115 degrees on my full-frame Nikon D810. This means that I need to be super aware of where my tripod legs, my feet, camera strap and other tools (such as diffuser/reflector) are. And, I’ve got to be on the lookout (high alert) for things in the frame that I can or cannot move out of view and what I’m able to compose out of the frame with a step to the left, right, forward or back. A tilt of this lens up or down, I discovered, can create interesting, but mostly unwanted, distortion. I need, as always, to do my best work in the field when creating the image.

     Third, you can only get so close with “Fourteen”. It is not a macro lens, no matter how much I might like it to be. How close can I get? Well, the minimum focusing distance (MFD) for this lens is eleven inches. Since I didn’t research ahead of time and don’t carry a ruler in my bag, I had to figure this out in the field. Fun times. I learned that there’s an obvious advantage with autofocus lenses. When you’re too close to your subject and have crossed the MFD line, using autofocus, you know it. You don’t get the focus confirmation “beep” or the solid ball in your viewfinder. You learn quickly that you’re too close and need to back off. With a manual focus lens, there is no beep; and, depending on where you want to focus, you may not get  a solid ball either.

On this walk we discovered “Chicken of the Woods” (Laetiporus) in all its vibrant waves and intricate design attached to a downed and very wet and moss-covered tree. The ultra-wide lens allowed me to capture a sense of place that would not have been possible in this way with another lens. At least not how I was seeing it.

     Fourth, You need to use your tripod. What??? Yes, you do! I needed to use my tripod. Couldn’t I get a fast-enough shutter speed to handhold? Yes, I could and did. So, why the tripod? Go back and re-read the previous three lessons I’ve shared above. That’s why. If you want  sharp images, do yourself the favor of carrying and using the tripod. And bring along a shutter release cable (or wireless) to increase your chances. Any subtle movement can ruin all your hard work in composing and focusing on exactly what you want your image to look like. Pay attention.

This Chicken of the Woods was about three feet wide. I was VERY close to it (likely 11 inches away, which is the minimum focusing distance of the Rokinon 14mm) . Yet, the ultra-wide lens allowed me to give context. Simply not possible with any of my macro lenses.

I learned a few more things during my “Morning with Fourteen.” I need to study more on how other photographers are using ultra-wide lenses so I can be inspired and learn even more image-making possibilities. And my eyes … they’re not as good as they used to be. With a manual focus lens, ultra-wide or otherwise, I need to work slower and be even more deliberate and attentive. This lens is also great for night photography, which is on my list to learn and do as well.

Finally, I learned that the exercise of forcing myself to use only one lens is a really good one. I will do it again, with this lens and others. You learn to see the world through different “eyes” and angles and push through to reach the lens’ limits as well as understand its potential. Are these images “perfect”? No, but that wasn’t my intention. My goal was to come to a better understanding of the creative tool I had in my hands and where I could go with it.

“Today I have grown taller from walking with the trees” — Karle Wilson Baker . . . This quote mirrors the feeling I experienced among the trees and boulders on “Meditation Hill” on my morning walk.

My “Morning with Fourteen” reminded me that keeping things simple (one lens, one place) opens up a new world of discovery. I gained an appreciation for this new perspective. I spent that morning with my eyes and mind open. I took my time and got to know the lens and the place a lot more than I would have without focus. I had patience – with myself and the lens – and I enjoyed the learning process. (The place, by the way, was Mountain Lens Retreat in Hendersonville, NC. I will be back.)

I enjoyed being exactly where I was, and it felt really, really good. I breathed in the morning mist, listened to the light rain drops hitting the leaves high above. I listened to the birds wake up and smelled the freshness of the forest. I sat down to take it all in – not with the camera, but with my soul.

And, just because I can … though not from my “Morning with Fourteen”, I thought I’d share an image from Looking Glass Falls on a rainy, crowded late afternoon. I clambered down the rocks and under a huge downed tree, laid down on the wet rocks and got dirty. It was an exercise in “careful agility” and an experience that demanded patience. For me, the efforts and “Fourteen” paid up.

Stepping Out in Play

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Creative people are curious, flexible, persistent, and independent with a tremendous spirit of adventure and a love of play.

—Henri Matisse, French Painter (1869-1954)

This was where the light tent adventure began … The dried tulips in a bottle and Topaz Texture Effects. Playtime.

One of the first images inside the light tent. I needed to remind myself that this was a learning adventure, not an exercise in “perfection,” which, by the way, is impossible.

With anything new that we want to learn how to do, there is a learning curve. How steep that curve is depends on where you are when you begin. If you are a beginner in photography, learning a new camera, or you find yourself still struggling with the foundational concepts and application of exposure, then adding a new technique will likely be more difficult. This doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try when given the opportunity – just cut yourself some major slack if it is harder for you to understand and execute. Recognize any limitations – accept them, and push on.

LEARN FROM EVERYTHING

When all the petals fell off the other stems in an attempt to rearrange, this one flower was all that was left. Getting better …

In a perfect world, we would tackle learning new techniques by doing our research, learning from others and then start working the process. We all know, however, that we live in a less-than-perfect world, and many of us learn by stepping out and finding our way. We make mistakes along the way, and we learn. We learn what works and what doesn’t work. I think we’ve all said at some point (and more than once), “Well, I won’t do that again.” We tried, and our efforts may have been less than successful. Some would call that a “failure.” If we’re kind to ourselves, we will call that less successful effort an “opportunity to learn.”

Well, I stepped out recently in several ways. I’ve started working more textures and image blending into my photography. I’ve always admired the work of those who incorporate them into their work and create images that are drenched in creativity and emotional impact. Thankfully, this learning experience is further along than my latest adventure with a light tent.

For me, this image “feels” better, and the simplicity is more pronounced than with a stark whitish background.

Most of my work with flowers and other small subjects happens outside – in the field or during sessions (aka dates) in my back patio. I grow and buy plants and flowers that I find interesting and beautiful and explore them photographically. Since they are “my” subjects, I can move them, cut them, tear them apart, spray them with water and take my time with them.

MAKING AND TAKING TIME

What I know and accept about myself is that very often I need to squeeze a “learning date” in compressed windows of time. As much as I’d love to come to the table fully prepared with research and directions on how to do something, it doesn’t always work out that way. So, I gather my materials, rely on my current knowledge base and start doing (aka playing). This means that I bring to the table everything I know and then step out … experiment with a degree of logical choices to begin the process. I know before I start that there are things I already know and things I don’t. I will learn by making mistakes and re-framing. There is value in making mistakes. They lead us toward “right” answers.

In comes the small light tent (cube). I acquired it and a set of lights for free. It does not have the easy option of adding backgrounds, and it has a slight lean. And, we’re still in the winter cold season, so an indoor shoot is what I had to work with. I have used diffusers and reflectors for years. They work and are wonderful for controlling light and shaping subjects. I have never worked with a light tent or small lights. Here was my opportunity. I had some dried tulip blooms and small old bottles for the first shoot, and I had some lovely yellow flowers and another old bottle for the second shoot.

WHAT I LEARNED FROM SESSION ONE:  DRIED TULIP SHOOT

A different angle on the remaining tulip bloom in the light tent.

I should add that I don’t have a wonderful window in my house that would or could provide added natural light. So, I set up everything on the dining room table. A fun challenge as I had to figure out the best way to arrange the tent and lights (small with at most 8” stands). What I needed, in addition to the two lights was a good way to light the back panel evenly. I am still working on that.

I started out with several blooms in the bottle and found a design and flow I liked. I started working with it. Then, I had the idea of rearranging some of the dried blooms. Big mistake . . . almost all the dry petals fell off all the stems except one. Re-frame. I worked that one dried tulip instead of beating myself up for the fallen petals.

Are there lessons? Just a few.  1) Be careful when you’re working and moving dried flowers. They’re more fragile than you would like them to be. 2) The corner seams of the light tent can be problematic. Raise the set-up to take that out of the equation to minimize the post-processing “fix it later.”  3) Lighting in a light tent can be challenging. If the lights on outside are not enough, you need to find more ways to light your subject. Direct, frontal flash creates shadows on the background. Some could be interesting, but mostly they are a distraction and something you’ll want to remove later.

WHAT I LEARNED FROM SESSION TWO: FRESH YELLOW FLOWER SHOOT

With the fresh flowers, a complementary fabric on box (raising all above the light tent seams), the second learning session is off to a better start.

This time I brought more knowledge and experience from my first attempt at the tent. I decided to use a larger light tent to give me room to raise the flowers in the jar. In setting up the flowers to shoot this time, I brought in a small box about two inches high and large enough to hold the jar. I added a colored cloth to complement the flowers, hide the box and any corner or bottom seams of the light tent. I had a more stable set-up with the lights on the dining room table and didn’t have to fight the sliding stands.

This time I arranged the lights and tested their impact by turning on and off and watching what happened to the lighting of the yellow flowers. I brought in my flash again and worked angles and intensity. I experimented with flash compensation (both plus & minus), bouncing that light off a small, silver reflector, fired direct flash (on purpose) to create shadows, and figured out that directing the flash through the diffusion tent from the top and high sides with both lights on worked fairly well.

I knew this would happen, but wanted to share what happens when you flash directly at your subject while inside the light tent. Shadows sometimes can work with a subject, but not this one.

Flashlights can work to a degree, but not as well as you might think. Firing the flash from outside the diffusion tent works much better when the small lights are also on. Depending on the subject, you might try bouncing the flash or flashlight illumination off a small reflector.

Are there more lessons to learn? More mistakes to make? Did I get everything right? Were my efforts “perfect”? Nope. Other options to try? Of course! But, what I know is that each time I work with the tent, I’ll come at it with more experience, more knowledge and more ideas on what I might want to try.

FUTURE TENT PLANS

Going with the single bloom and same bottle, but firing the flash from above and outside of the light tent.

Now that I’ve had some hands-on experience with the light tent, I’ll do some of the research needed to yield more successes than “failures.” I’ll find more ways to master the light in the tent and to add backgrounds with some sweep that complement the subjects. In warmer weather, and on a sunnier day, I’ll bring the tent outside and see the impact of natural light using the tent. I’ll scare up the flash stands that I know are somewhere (unused) in all my gear and work on remote settings. I have more to discover, more to learn, and more to imagine. I’ve given myself a challenge, and I’m up for it.

What do YOU want to learn? Go for it! Bring what you have to the table and practice DOING. Don’t be afraid to make mistakes – you will. Learn from them as much as you do from your successes. In this never-ending road with photography, there is never nothing to learn. Embrace that awesome thought and yourself as a life-long student on a visionary journey.

Do your best and know that in doing so there is always room for incremental improvement.

NOT-SO-FINAL RESULTS

This is a blend of images and textures and Topaz Impression. The dried tulip in the light tent, an abstract of petals in water on a light box and the mixing in of Topaz.

Because I know there is more for me to learn (and know that I will), I can shamelessly share the results of these two sessions as well as how I chose to process the images. In a few, I incorporated textures and blending images. There are more experiments to come. I can’t wait to “bring it” with more knowledge and vision than the times before. I can’t wait to feel more “masterful” with the ten t and textures so I can unleash more of the artist within. What can YOU not wait for? Go do it!

Capturing a Sense of Place

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People aren’t interested in blueprints; they want to sense the painter’s involvement and pleasure in the subject . . . Paint a sense of place.   — Paul Strisik

Think of a place … where you live, where you grew up, or just a favorite place you like to go. If you were to share just one image to tell the story of that place, or why it matters to you, what would that image show? Now, think of another place, like New York City, Washington DC or even Florida. What would that one image be? When we photograph places we love with care and craft, it shows. When we photograph places we’ve never been, we have to work harder to express our fascination and awe.

As photographers, we have the opportunity to be a part of that “want to be there” movement. So, how do we do that? If we want to express the uniqueness or character or what makes a place special, we need to be able to articulate these things – verbally and visually. Sometimes, this means having a list of potential subjects – the “must haves” and the “want” list. However, more often and more defining are the descriptive words and phrases you use when you’re talking about those places. Those are the images you seek.

Shrimp boats in Engelhard Harbor, Hyde County, NC. What I love about the harbors is that the scene is always similar, but different. The boats change, and the names of each one make me wonder what the origin is. I fancy Wonder Woman, Miss Genelle, Miss Peaches, and I wonder about the sinking or sunken wrecks. I admire the fishermen who work harder than anyone I know and wouldn’t trade that life for anything. I also know that there’s an uncertain timeline for these vessels and the lifestyle. It’s why I visit and visit and visit these places as often as possible.

One definition of “sense of place” is a conscious awareness or sensation of a physical environment, region or location. This incorporates the emotional response to the place as well as its physical nature. The places I find special and visit most often are not always the most beautiful at first glance. Yet, my emotional connection to them allows me to present them in ways and on different levels from the first-time visitor who comes as a blank slate.

When we make plans to travel (near or far) and add new places to our “bucket lists,” what factors play into drawing us to those places? What makes us want to return over and over again? How do they make the cut? We may have read or heard about them. The odds are higher that we have seen images that inspire, invite and create a longing inside us to “be there.” What we’ve connected with is a sense of each place, to which we respond not only visually but emotionally and, sometimes, spiritually.

Don’t Give Up. Say It. Show It.

Our first time anywhere can be overwhelming and create in us an anxiety that comes from the desire and perceived need to photograph everything we’re seeing. It is this angst that can cause us to lose focus and detach from the moments and the place to the point that we’re simply grabbing shots or shooting and hoping that we leave with something good. There are various ways to lessen this impulse and calm the anxiety and pressure.

Dogwood tree in fall forest at Weymouth Woods Nature Preserve. If I use this image to illustrate “Say It and Show It,” I would say, “I love how the trunk and limbs of this tree are leaning and dark in contrast with the surrounding tall and straight trees. I love how it is different and how the fall colors of the forest allow it to stand out.” Then, I would work to find the best angle to express that, paying attention to edges around the frame, giving the tree a foundation of leaves and allowing it to be the star. It is among my favorites of trees, and I will visit in different seasons. Spring would be perfect.

I see this happen during workshops. When I do, I talk with each person about slowing down and stepping back to focus on what they find most interesting. I ask them to “say it” first and to clarify with enough detail to get them going. Tell me what made you stop. Then, I direct them to keep photographing until what they said they were drawn to is on the back of their LCD screen. “I’ll crop it later” is not a good excuse to leave. In fact, the attitude of “fixing” in post what could be done in the field does a disservice to the subject and the photographer. Leaving it for later is lazy. Remarkable things happen when one stays with anything long enough. This is one of the techniques I use often, especially when I get stuck. Say it, and stay longer. It works. Let’s face it, we all have the potential to become overwhelmed and lose direction. By verbalizing these things, we give ourselves a direction or path to follow and a relative destination.

Icons, Elements and Details Tell the Story

Sometimes a single image can tell someone exactly where you’ve been and why you wanted to be there. More often, the story is told with a series or collection of images that, when seen together, provide the bigger picture.

Capturing the beauty of Pharsalia Plantation and the surrounding area in Nelson County. This collection includes the icons, elements and details of this spectacular place and shares in every image what made me stop.

One way to be sure you leave a place with images that capture its essence is to focus on three things: Icons, Elements and Details. The icons are things that are easily recognizable, well known and familiar to the masses (lighthouses, monuments, land features). They can also yield the “postcard” image that everyone does. Consider the Great Smoky Mountains and Cades Cove. These are the subjects that are uniquely and universally connected with the place. Sparks Lane is a “must-have” image, but do it your way. Doing it differently is the challenge. Get the “standard” shot out of the way, and then “do you.”

Outer Banks Fishing Pier at Sunrise. When you visit the Outer Banks, the piers and lighthouses are among the icons. But we know that there is so much more …

The elements are familiar things that are connected and commonly associated with the location such as geography, plants, wildlife, structures, people and cultures. These can be illustrated within landscapes, grand and intimate, as well as in smaller sections or parts of the place. If I’m photographing coastal North Carolina and fishing villages, my collection of images would be incomplete without shrimp boats, crab pots and fishing nets. If I’m lucky, the collection would also include some of watermen at work in the harbors. Because these places remind me of my father’s work of repairing and building boats, and because I grew up on Long Island near the water, I connect more deeply with these places. Finding the things that make each area special is easy for me around the docks.

At the end of the day, at last light, a long exposure of the shrimpers in Port Royal, South Carolina. With the help of Topaz Impression, I’m able to accentuate the feeling I had as I watched the light go down on these boats.

The details complete the picture of a place. This includes macro and close-ups of the elements. Sticking with the coastal theme, this could include barnacles on floats, work gloves, white boots, the texture and pattern of wear on the boats, boat names and much more. And don’t forget the critters of an area. It’s the slowing down that allows one to notice those unique details that are intimately connected with the location. Wherever you are, put your “noticers” on. Find something? Move in closer, explore more intently. Bring it home.

Gloves, baskets and floats. All details that tell the story of life on the water from the waterman’s perspective near Chincoteague, VA

Use All Your Senses

From the time we are born and in every moment of our lives we use at least one of our five senses. We see, hear, taste, touch and smell and learn how to adapt to whatever environment we are in. Our senses work together and allow us to experience life on many levels. They also allow us to tune into our emotions and develop emotional connections.

No matter where we are or what we are photographing, we use our visual sense to create images that ultimately communicate what is happening in one moment of time in one specific place. However, what we see does not have exclusive rights to dictate what we photograph. What we hear and feel and smell also contribute to the images we create. Our state of mind also plays a part in what we notice and when we stop for a photo opp.

Misty morning fog in the forest on the Blue Ridge Parkway in North Carolina.

Scenario: You’re in the woods in spring after a rain shower. The lush green soaked with raindrops and saturated colors of the flowers, grasses, leaves and trees telegraph that moment and that place to you – the first viewer. Responding to the post-rain light, the peace and quiet and freshness, you have the opportunity to communicate what you see and how it makes you feel to those viewing the image. If done well, they are right there with you. And, they want to be there.

When creating images, consider how being in a place makes you feel. Work to identify what creates those feelings, and then work to weave them into your images.

Room of arches and shadows at Fort Pulaski, Savannah, Georgia. While most people who entered this “dead end” alcove spent an average of two minutes here, the light and shadows of this small room would have kept me captivated and exploring for hours. I did not want to leave.

Awareness, Meaning and Purpose

When we photograph different locations, we generally want to share something that we’ve seen or that has a specific meaning for us. We have something to say.

Environmental photographers who shoot areas where acres of trees have been clear cut may want to bring awareness of habitat destruction. Their approach to subjects is more literal and documentary in order to shed light on situations that need attention. Photojournalists tell stories with their images. A travel photographer shooting bright colored umbrellas lined up on a white sandy beach under a beautiful blue sky may want to entice people to that place for pleasure. A person who photographs wildflowers or other creatures found in nature wants to share a part of what excites them. We all put in the box what matters to us and present our view of the world. Styles of photography may range from recording to interpreting to artistic or graphic, depending on the purpose behind the images.

This scene, an old boat with the Roanoke Marshes Lighthouse in the background, felt “old” to me from the start. Interpreting with textures allowed me to express the scene as it felt to me.

With our images we tell stories, capture and preserve moments in places that mean something to us. We photograph to convey what moves us on a sensory level as well as intellectual. What and how we photograph can be very personal or commercial. Either way, we bring our life experience up to the moment the shutter is pressed. We see differently. That’s why when you put ten photographers in the same place, you will likely end up with ten completely different images. “Wow, where was that?” “How could I have missed it?” Common phrases spoken and heard among those who stomp the same grounds.

Becoming a “Local Tourist”

In many ways, whether we’re talking about walking out our back door or driving to New Mexico or flying to Alaska, capturing a sense of place is “travel” photography. If we’re trying to sell our home and take pictures of the house and rooms, we’re capturing a sense of place. It’s all about creating images that communicate what we want others to see and that have the effect we intend.

There are places in Chincoteague NWR that can be simply magical in early hours. This is one of them. Visit this spot every time I’m here. Different every time. Even though I’m not here often, I still have favorite places and could describe each one clearly. As a photographer, my job is to put those words and thoughts and feelings into my images so that the viewer understands as well.

There’s a difference in the way we photograph places we know, love and are intimately familiar with and places we’re visiting for the very first time. There’s a difference in the images people take as tourists, and the images people take when they know an area well or have lived there all their lives.

The “tourist” (even you or me) may be at a location only once. It may not be possible or affordable to return. We are stuck with the existing light and weather conditions. That said, a well-tuned tourist/photographer knows how to work the light and weather to create appealing images in spite of less than ideal conditions. What if you could never return to a place, what images would you regret not taking or rushing through?

If I were never going to walk this trail ever again, I’d want to take this scene home above all others – even the spectacular views across the mountain tops. It is the one thing that made me stop and say, “I can’t leave here without this.” Every place speaks to us differently.

The “local” photographer is familiar with the area, knows people to talk with to gain access to places not open to the public, knows the best time of day or year to shoot certain subjects, and knows the right place to be for the best shot. The local can come back when the light or weather is best. The local tunes in to those “character and culture” elements and works to maximize the opportunities.

The best way to become a “local-tourist” is to do your homework. Learn as much as you can about your subjects and the area you’re planning to visit. Use guide books, the internet, network with locals who know and shoot in the area. Build relationships with those who live and work in the places you visit, respect their wishes regarding access to their property. It’s important to be good stewards and good examples.

Parking on Ocracoke Island is slim to none. Your best modes of transportation are your feet or a bicycle. One trip to the island provides that lesson. Homework …

The Beauty of Networking

There are very few “secret” places. The internet has taken care of that. There are, however, always new places to discover and experience. Learning from and sharing with other photographers can be a good thing as long as we behave as we should and share as openly as we’re able. Networking builds relationships and also allows us to discover beauty in places we might have missed.

One of the photographers I reached out to was NANPA member, Jerry Monkman. I was new to NANPA and photography and had limited time to photograph on a trip to New Hampshire. I told him I had three days in the area and asked what should I NOT miss. He sent me an amazing list and told me not only to check out Nubble Light (Cape Neddick Lighthouse), but also what time of day. There were scenes I would have missed were it not for Jerry’s list and generosity.

Without the help of fellow photographer, Jerry Monkman, I would have likely visited at a less flattering time of day.

Another one is Jim Clark, former NANPA President, mentor and friend. Jim is an amazing photographer, storyteller and instructor. His images can teach anyone quite a lot about capturing a sense of place. Some of my favorite locations are ones that Jim introduced me to or reminded me of. While looking for new places to explore in West Virginia and, more recently, the Eastern Shore of Virginia, I reached out to Jim and learned even more about places he’s photographed for years and connected with people he’s met – good people. Over these many years since we first met, I have learned a lot more than photography from Jim. I’m thankful. Networking is wonderful, and we should share the wonderful places and people we know.

When the tide is high in Greenbackville, VA, on Eastern Shore, fishermen fish and floats float. Without Jim Clark’s tip, I would have missed this very small fishing village. My advice – bring boots.

Finally, Remember to Pay Attention to the Basics

Whenever and wherever you’re shooting, always remember the basic tools and techniques that will allow you to capture quality images: the right lens, a good, stable tripod, proper exposure, good composition and clearly defined subject. These are the elements you can control. Weather, on the other hand, is always subject to change. Good shooting techniques, creative thinking and vision will enable you to produce good images in most situations. Cloudy or white-sky days are wonderful for macro and close-up photography because the light is even and diffused (no harsh shadows to compete with your subject).

By putting on your “noticers,” you’re able to interpret a scene differently. (Roan Mountain trail on the way to Round Ball)

Work the scenes (great and small). Many a treasure can be found when you explore the scene and extract from it. Shoot vertical and horizontal formats. Don’t forget the nooks and crannies that hold even more good stuff. Be patient and persistent. Be a good editor in the field – learn what to leave in and what to leave out. Don’t put the viewer to work to figure out what you want him or her to see or feel. Engage yourself, connect with the place and invite the viewer of your images into your favorite places. Share your experience through the imagery.

Simple curves in the marsh grasses on an overcast day on Cedar Point Tideland Trail in North Carolina. Many folks walk this mix of boardwalk and dirt trail in search of birds. On this day, birds were scarce and light was sketchy. The sky would not have added to this image.

And, by the way, don’t forget your own backyard – where you live. Photograph the familiar in different ways. Look for the hidden gems – they are there. We often miss what is right in front of us or don’t photograph things because they are in or near where we live. We have a misguided impression that they will be around forever. This is simply not true.

We knew its days were numbered, but hoped the state would let nature take its course and give us more time to capture the rustic beauty of Frisco Pier in the, Outer Banks, NC. Numbered days before this icon is only a memory.

McNeel Mill in West Virginia near Cranberry Glades Botanical Area on Hwy 219. The fate of this mill is uncertain. Without attention or interest to restore, this, too, will be history.

Challenge yourself to photograph close to home. Celebrate what makes it special. Visit and revisit places and continue to photograph them. You’ll find that the place you see now is not the one you will see in the future. Both the place and you will change. You will not regret having taken some time to make those memories of where you live. In fact, doing so may even help you refine your seeing and noticing skills for when you travel afar.

Night shot of the Renaissance building in Uptown Greenville, NC. I live here and have never paid attention to this building. Thanks to an evening photo walk, I will in the future. The city is growing and changing every day. It is not the same town I moved to 35 years ago. Wishing I had known then what I know now about how time changes places.

Night image of light fixture and shadow on textured building. Another detail I would have missed in my own town without a scheduled photo walk event. The scene did not look like this, but it felt the way you see it here.

Come-Back Places – A Look at “My Barns”

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They aren’t always beautiful. In fact, they’re sometimes plain. Yet, over and over and over again, they simply call your name.

This is “Book Hen.” One of my favorites in 2004 (from a slide). It is now gone – building burned as a result of spontaneous combustion from damp hay.

If we think about “come-back” places, we will realize that we all have them. Some are across an ocean or continent, others cross-country. Some are just down the road and others even further. A “come-back” place is one that inexplicably draws you back and calls your name. Some of these go back to our much younger days, and most of them hold a special place in our hearts. The reasons why can be very different – memories, solace, excitement, peace, and so on.

“Book Hen” just a few years later, maybe 2006. Already fading and peeling.

EARLY COME-BACKS When I was growing up in a small town on Long Island, NY, I was a bike ride away from several places along the edge of the Great South Bay – ones that gave me a sense of peace and quiet. They were places to think and to be present with all my senses. What I remember about them was the cool, quiet breezes blowing through my hair, the smell of salt air wafting above the water, the lapping of small waves making their way to the shoreline. I remember the warmth of the sun on my face with eyes closed pointing up toward the sky. I remember a simpler time.

Abstraction of the Love Barn.

I’ve been away from that town for thirty-five years now, and the last time I went to see my childhood home, I had to count houses, and still wasn’t sure if I had it right. It had changed so much, and there was no house number on it. I suspect those long-ago come-back places are either no longer around or are so changed that I would not be able to find or recognize them if I did. So, I am happy and comfortable in remembering them, the person I was then, and the peace they provided and why I kept going back to them. They were a good beginning.

Corner of the “Love Barn” when you could actually read the words and see the face.

AND THEN, THERE ARE MY BARNS.  I have a collection (growing) of “come-back” places. Each one holds my attention and brings me back for different reasons. You cannot imagine how many GPS pushpins are in my Garmin for “awesome” trees. They are everywhere. Why is that? And, I love old barns and buildings and farms and the rural landscape. But why? When I dig a little deeper into what makes each place resonate with me enough to create a “must return” attitude toward them, it’s clear that some of those reasons are rooted in my childhood and the experiences I had and their influence on me – even if I didn’t recognize or acknowledge the impact as it was happening. Something else, my “come-back” places are only good. I am not drawn back to revisit negative things of old.

Meet “Cameron,” the little kitten we rescued along with her brother while visiting the barns. She just sat and watched us as we photographed. I still wonder what lucky people got the two of them. A rescue took them in for us after seeing how awesome they were.

So, these places draw on something below the surface, even when they are not inherently or obviously beautiful. Excellent example – MY BARNS – this wonderful place of the “not so beautiful” nature that continually calls me back to visit the barns just outside of Cameron, NC. I first “met” them and began photographing them as best I can remember in the summer of 2004. This was early in my photography journey, and I was excited to be introduced to new, different and quirky places off the beaten path and under the radar (still am).

Section of Cameron Barns with hand and electrical box

Always finding something new and different in these barns.

I’ve been visiting and sharing my barns ever since. Why is that? I’ve figured it out. These barns resonate with my personal history, and they continually feed my desire to discover new things, beauty and something different in what others might easily and simply view as old and broken down. The barns challenge and inspire me. Each visit delivers something I haven’t noticed or seen before. Each visit reminds me that “my barns” – like me – will not be here forever. In fact, each visit brings news and discovery that one more is gone and sometimes forecasts perhaps the next one to go. Even as I make the two- hour trek several times a year, I know that someday all of them will be gone. I’m relatively certain that the “Barnstormers” will not be back to repaint the old or find new barns to paint. Very likely, this “come-back” place of mine will one day become a very fond memory, not unlike those places along the shoreline of the Great South Bay. The barns will no longer exist, but will be ever retrievable in my mind, memory and photographs. They are a piece of my life history.

I called this side of the barn and images from it “Mutt Barn.” The entire barn is gone now.

This side of the barn (now gone), I called “The Race Barn.” Many a group photo were taken in front of this.

THE BACKSTORY OF THE PAINTED BARNS OF CAMERON, NC. They had their start with a young local artist, David Ellis, in 1999, who organized a group of artists, The Barnstormers, from near and far came to Cameron and painted on almost all sides of at least seventeen barns and buildings, trucks and tractors and other farm equipment. The community rallied around the artist with food, lodging, supplies and enthusiasm. They returned, I believe, a few times, but have not been back since 2004, when I began my visits. Cameron is a small crossroads town in Moore County about eleven miles south of Sanford, known for its antique stores and semi-annual antiques street fairs than for the barns.

Back side of Race and Mutt Barn in Cameron, NC. Another view of the barn that is gone.

If you find yourself in Cameron (not on Sunday or Monday), you must have lunch at The Dewberry Deli & Soda Fountain, which is downstairs below The Old Hardware Antiques. As long as I’ve been visiting my barns, I’ve been coming to and bringing others to the Deli to enjoy the great food and unique, old-time atmosphere. If you must visit Cameron on Sunday or Monday, pack a picnic lunch.

WHAT’S SO SPECIAL ABOUT THESE BARNS? – Anyone who has been with me at the barns can tell you how passionate I am about these now much older, painted, faded, peeling, weather weary warriors of another time. In part, this passion comes from being a photographer and being attracted to things that attract my interest. These barns are perfect subjects for Wabi Sabi images – challenging anyone to find the art and beauty in decay. However, I believe my connection to them goes deeper and further back into my family history and influences from childhood.

My father grew up on a farm, and everyone in his large family worked it. His parents and my great-grandmother came to America from Poland. They were farmers. Farming then (and even now) is not an easy life. It requires long, long, long hours, hard work and an acceptance that the rewards reaped in part rely on a dependence of nature to provide the right amounts of sun and rain to produce a worthy harvest. It is my belief that most farmers farm because they share a passion for the land and what it provides, and they love what they do, and they are not afraid to work hard. I’ve never met a lazy, land-hating farmer, so that’s my take.

When my three sisters and I were growing up, we had what I remember to be a very large garden (felt like a mini-farm).  Whether it was or not, it felt as I remember like it was as big as a football field. It probably wasn’t. We grew corn, potatoes, string beans, tomatoes, peas, eggplant, squash, cucumbers, strawberries, peppers and much more.

Long ago view of four of the barns in this section. Just this past year, the first barn disappeared. Vanished without a trace.

Each day, as the garden grew, my sisters and I would have to hoe and weed at least two rows each, pick whatever was ripe and ready, carry it “all the way back to the house” (such drama), and help do what needed to be done with it. We had to “work” the garden. I remember loving when the sweet peas and string beans were ready and usually tried to claim those rows (the “snacker” rows). I also remember hating the potatoes and their dry dirt harvest. We had to follow behind my father’s tractor as he plowed up the dirt to reveal those potatoes. No snacking and much harder, dirty work.

Sisters in the garden. Think this is where the potatoes grew. That’s me, wiping the sweat from my brow. (Notice the outfits and anklets. My mother made most of our clothes, too.)

I don’t think any of us really liked all those “hard hours” and work in the field. However, I do see now how those times influenced me and provided me with a strong work ethic and sense of pride and understanding the value of putting in the time. The work ethic of both my parents was instilled in me by way of example and experience, by being made to do what we would have preferred not to. We raised the garden not for fun, or to see what would grow, but to feed our family. My parents married at age 21. By the time they were 25, they had four girls to raise (and feed). I cannot imagine what that was like. I’ve never had children and didn’t marry until I was 43. The life I lead, in comparison, has been so very different. However, if I had been blessed with children, I know I would have made them “work” as well.

“Bliss Barn” on the corner in infrared.

So, when I drive through rural areas of the state and country – through farmland – and see the barns and buildings that belong there, I am reminded of that part of my upbringing that helps me appreciate what those places, barns, buildings, trucks and tractors represent. For me, they illustrate hard work, a passion for the land, providing for families, a sense of pride and responsibility, and the knowledge and acceptance of the dependency on the whims of nature on the harvest.

Pokemon Kid nestled in the autumn leaves.

My emotional and spiritual connection to these painted barns – my barns – goes deeper than the peeling paint, the grain of the wood and the leaning of walls from time and the elements. They bring me “home” on a level I have only in recent years figured out. Photographically, these barns just keep giving from an endless supply of potential in subjects, approaches and creative possibilities.

Do you have a “come-back” place (or many)? Somewhere you can’t help but going back to year after year or as often as possible? Think about what it is that makes you return … and why you can’t help but go back. The reasons may surprise you as you connect the dots. They may explain or confirm some things about you and your history, and may also give you new perspectives on these old, favorite places. Like me and “my barns, you might understand more fully why these places matter to you, and why they keep calling you back.

As for my barns, they are fading and falling and vanishing. Still, I will go until the last one falls …

“Falling Down.” I knew when I took this image (infrared) that it would be the last time I would see it. I was right. This past year the four other barns that remained in this section either fell or were taken down.

 

The door is nearly off the barn now, and some of the paper is missing.

American Gothic with a twist

Children on the side of the barn. This scene is no longer accessible as the trees and briars have overgrown and claimed the space.

The front side of the Love Barn in its early days.

The front side of the Love Barn with faded paint and autumn leaves.

Magic in a World of Smalls

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The simple things are also the most extraordinary things, and only the wise can see them.     ‑Paulo Coelho

There is magic in the world of smalls… both in the challenges and the rewards. Those old enough to remember the commercial for Calgon bubble bath will understand what I mean when I say that macro photography is “my Calgon.” The tag line included “take me away” and indicated an incredible, soothing and relaxing escape from the stressors of “real life.” Whenever my world is going crazy, give me a single flower and my macro gear, and everything swirling in my head and life evaporates. I’m drawn into a world of beauty, intrigue and interest that softens all edges and lightens all loads.

Dahlia in close with delicate curls of petals.

I must admit the initial learning curve for my macro adventures was far from stress-free. In fact, that curve resembled the most jagged and bumpy of roads. If it were a histogram, it would be filled with high peaks and low valleys repeated over and over and over. There are mountains to climb, barriers to break and challenges to accept and overcome. The efforts can make you feel like you are on a seesaw all by yourself, up and down, up and down. The goal is to find and achieve balance so that both ends are level and off the ground and your vision is reflected in the image.

Lensbaby Velvet 56 image of pink azalea blooms

A Few Challenges

Initial Barriers to Break. Probably the two barriers to succeeding in any area of photography that come to mind quickly (as I remember the beginning of my own journey)  are 1) understanding your camera and what all the buttons are for, and 2) understanding the fundamentals of exposure. Your camera and all the gear that you add to it are tools for you to use. They do not know what you see or what you want to convey. What can your camera do on its own (Auto or Program) with little help from you besides pointing and shooting?  How much more can you do to express yourself and capture the world as you see it if you become the driver (Manual, Aperture or Shutter Priority)? The difference in the results can be worlds apart.

Artistic interpretation of purple iris flower

What about focus? What does your camera do in “auto”? How does it know what to focus on? How do you become the focus driver? You need to learn how autofocus works in your camera and how and when to use manual focus. Remember, no matter how beautiful the subject, or how perfect the exposure and composition, a blurry image that needs to be sharp (somewhere) will inevitably be disappointing. Focus is important. Note: Very often, in the macro photography world, you will need to use manual focus to achieve sharpness and focus on the specific area in the frame that works for your subject and vision. Never let an autofocus point drive your composition.

Tall yellow orchid at Daniel Stowe Botanical Garden with black background

What about Depth of Field? Okay, so now you have the focus you want, but is there too much or too little in sharp focus? How much do you need? How do you know? The answer is often, “it depends.” What’s your subject and what’s your vision? If you can answer this two-part question, you’ll be closer to choosing an aperture that brings your vision into the image and before the viewer. What difference does it make?

Sparring With the Elements. Some things are simply out of our control … or are they? The elements we battle in the macro world include wind, water and light. We cannot control the weather, but we can find ways to work with those things that test our patience. With light breezes, we can set up and wait for the still moment. We can bring our subjects indoors or we can create wind shields that work in the field. As for rain, we can welcome it or wait things out. Umbrellas can help (especially with someone else holding it for you). Raindrops and saturated colors are a few of the perks.

Close-up of half a sunflower

Whether the light of day is dark or bright, there are ways to work with any situation. A few lighting tools can combat many challenges. Flash with off-camera cord can light your subject and also help with motion and wind. If you prefer not to use flash, then consider these tools – all of which can fit in one small package and handle a multitude of lighting challenges. My natural light battle kit includes: A 22” 5-in-1 Diffuser/Reflector set, a 12# silver/gold reflector, small flashlight. Tuck the small reflector and flashlight in the larger case, attach a carabiner and hook to your belt loop or camera bag. This is what I use most of the time for me.

Rhododendron Bud waiting to burst. Underexposed entire image and lit bud with flashlight.

More than a Few Rewards

Photography is my soul food. I cannot imagine my life and world without being able to express myself using image making with my camera and all the creative tools available. Macro photography is without question the deepest and richest and most delicious of all the soul foods for me. It allows me to see and enter worlds that fascinate, amaze and entertain. It slows down the pace, invites me to explore, build patience, and to heal. And, while not every image or session with my subjects results in spectacular creations, I leave each measure of time better for the efforts. Being able to photograph the beauty and treasures in nature has a healing effect that is beyond modern medicine.

Close-up of dahlia with five multiple exposures in camera.

I came to photography in my early 30s in between two diagnoses with breast cancer. During the second stretch of treatment, I could not be around people as I had no immune system. And while the medicine and treatment saved my life, it was photography that soothed and healed my soul. And for weeks I sought solace in the magnificent gardens of Sarah P. Duke Gardens in Durham, NC. There was beauty all around me, and all my senses were awakened. It will always hold a special place in my heart. It was there and in another field of wildflowers that I realized that photography was more than a hobby and that macro photography was more a passion than a passing interest. This should explain my having three macro lenses and other tools to help me get closer to my subjects. Better than any therapy I know.

Give me one hour with one flower and a whole new world is discovered – in it, and in me. When I give myself that time, I also challenge myself to see beyond the obvious and beyond the name that identifies the thing. I work every angle, examine the light, the shape, curves, lines, textures and push to find something new and different, to go deeper in the exploration. It takes focus, time, persistence and openness to make discoveries. And there are always lessons in the doing. There is never nothing to learn or nothing to see. Give yourself the gift of time with something that feeds your own soul. You’ll be surprised how good it can be and what you’ll discover.

What it looks like to spend time with one subject for one hour.

If you find yourself drawn to the small details in ordinary objects, it’s possible that macro photography holds some magic for you as well. When the weather is less than perfect or your busy life keeps you off the road, pick a flower or a jar of buttons, or shells or marbles and play. You can step outside and enjoy the weather while you play or find a spot with nice window light to get your fix.

Soft focus, ethereal orange and yellow dahlia close-up with Lensbaby Velvet 56

And if you’re not sure that macro photography is for you, get yourself a supplemental close-up lens (like the Canon 500D) or a set of extension tubes and try them out with the lenses you have. You may have to work through some challenges with working distance and such, but you can do it. I started with the simplest set of close-up filters and knew immediately that the world of smalls held incredible magic for me. Perhaps, you will, too.

Nine-frame, in-camera multiple exposure of pink dahlia close and spin on tripod.

A Look at the Journey: Coming of Age as a Photographer/Artist

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All children are artists. The problem is how to remain an artist once he (or she) grows up.  —Picasso

The Painting_NLP7937

Yup. I did it. This masterpiece is my “first” painting, It clearly illustrates a lack of knowledge and limited passion in the process. We all start somewhere…

Here’s a picture I painted using another much more refined painting as my guide (I added the fish in weeds and the little heart). It’s not good, even though I had the assistance of a five-year old girl directing what to add and when to stop. So, because I painted this, am I now “a painter”? Absolutely not. I know very little about the art and physical craft of painting pictures. In truth, I know more about painting walls and furniture than painting works of art.

So, what would move me closer to being an artist or painter? How about learning the fundamentals of painting and art from those who know far more than I do? What type of canvas do I use, how do I prepare it, what kind of paints should I use, and why? What brushes? How much paint on those brushes? How do I mix colors, create relationships between shadows and light or show textures in two-dimensions? Without direction, guidance and lots of practice, my vision could easily be lost. (Refer to my first attempt at painting, done just for fun and with little vision.)

One of my favorite images as it might have been painted by Georgia O’Keeffe. (Thanks for the help, Topaz Impression!)

These same ideas apply equally well to photographers. It took a long time for me to be able to call myself “a photographer.” It took even longer for me to call myself an artist. It is a good feeling to be able to own and identify myself as a “visual artist”. It confirms for me an understanding of my craft and my vision, and that in my favorite images those two are one. Both are fluid and evolving. If either one becomes static (especially my vision), my growth as an artist or photographer stops.

In the beginning, when I bought my first “real” film camera, a Nikon N70, and two lenses, I knew how to load the film, look through the viewfinder, zoom the lens and press the shutter – not much more. As a result, I took pictures and relied on the camera and photo lab to help me capture things I saw and present them as I saw them. I got “lucky” sometimes, but more often the images fell short of speaking to what I saw and was responding to with the camera. I was armed with a vision, but lacked the technical knowledge to successfully capture with my camera. I needed to know more, but had not a clue as to how much more there was to learn. What I know, even now, is that there is never “nothing to learn.”

Morning Marsh Maple from 1998 captured on slide film at Hoot Hollow workshop with Joe and Mary Ann McDonald

Morning Marsh Maple slide from 1998 at Hoot Hollow workshop with Joe and Mary Ann McDonald

One of the many turning points for me as a photographer came in the summer of 1998. I gave myself a week-long photography workshop in Pennsylvania at Hoot Hollow with Joe and Mary Ann McDonald. I had that Nikon and two lenses, a flash I knew nothing about, and tripod with a head I hated. I drove ten hours to get there and was super excited to learn. That first night Joe said, “And, tonight we’re going to start with a metering exercise!” I cringed and wondered how small I could make myself before I was invisible. I had no clue. I heard comments about metering “here” and adding “+2/3” or there and setting at “-1.”  This confirmed that I was at the very beginning of my journey to becoming a photographer and artist. I thank Joe and Mary Ann for scaring me straight.

From that point in 1998, what did I do to build my skills and knowledge? I joined Carolinas Nature Photographers Association and North American Nature Photography Association in 1999, attended annual meetings and Summits wherever and whenever they were held. I met excellent photographers and some very fine people along the way – people who have become friends and mentors, inspirations and encouragers. I took advantage of every learning opportunity that came along, workshops, seminars, shooting opportunities. I went out and took pictures, not always good ones. In fact, many of the early pictures I took back then had “issues.” I can see them now and have learned from them.

CarversCreekFall_NLP1781

Slow vertical motion blur (in camera) at Carver’s Creek State Park highlighting fall color in the cypress trees.

WV Waterfall_7562

Whether you’re looking to express your vision in a landscape or single bloom, every ounce of knowledge you have in the craft will help you present it as you see and feel it.

I am “self-taught” in that I have no formal training in art or photography, and this is okay. In fact, at least one of my very favorite artists, Vincent van Gogh, did not go to art school. Education comes in all forms. I have learned from all the books I’ve read, all the music I’ve heard, all the art I’ve seen. I’ve learned from every person (including artists, photographers, musicians) I’ve ever met or spent time with. Every challenge and every moment of peace has taught me something. And those are the things that are infused in my art and temper my view of the world. The same is true for you.

Wasp in Nest_NLP4288

Sometimes, when people know you love the small and unusual, they will give you just the right material to work with.

What did I and we need to learn? There’s so much … lens choice, exposure, metering, composition, timing, lighting. And, now, in the digital age, there’s also post-processing and image management. Where do we start? Begin at the beginning, and it doesn’t start with “go out and buy a camera.” My first question would be, “Why?. Why do you want the camera?” Do you want to capture moments with family and friends or do you want to do more? Whatever the answer, it’s all good. The answer simply points you in the direction of what camera and how much you need to learn to do what you want to do well.

I grew up with parents whose favorite phrase seemed to be, “Go outside and find something to do.” I did, there was no negotiation in that regard. They also took us camping and encouraged our plundering the trails, gardens, woods and shorelines of nature. Here is where scenes and light would be stored in my memory. With my camera, I knew I wanted to do more than document. Without knowledge of the craft, I would forever be a picture taker and not the image maker I aspired to be. The tools would rule, and my vision would appear only when luck met chance upon release of the shutter. In those early days, I was not able to articulate vision. Yet, I wanted the images to say more than, “This is a (fill in the blank).” I wanted my work to say, “Look! Look at what I see and feel!” This is the path on which I have been walking and loving and sharing.

Soft Blooms_NLP6268

Freedom from “tack sharp” and creative tools like the Lensbaby open up more windows for expression.

From a creative, kindred spirit perspective, the person who helped unleash the artist in me was Nancy Rotenberg. We first met in a small add in the back pages of Outdoor Photographer magazine in 1999. I had already bought my first macro lens and was working to create images that captured what I saw and felt in the world of small. I had the vision, but it wasn’t coming through in my slides. One phone call and a weekend with her at the farm in Pennsylvania began a friendship. From there, my work began to reflect my vision more clearly. The gifts I received from my time with Nancy was inspiration, encouragement and permission to be the artist/photographer. Here again was another turning point. There are many others who have helped me grow. I am certain there will be many more.

Finding and going with your own flow . . . be a noticer and let yourself fly.

Finding and going with your own flow . . . be a noticer and let yourself fly.

To echo the questions from childhood road trips, “Am I there yet?” No way. As Robert Frost once wrote, there are “miles to go before I sleep.” There is so much more to see, experience, learn and even more to share. This journey of mine may have had a distinct beginning, but it is one that will not end until my time on earth is done. For that I am grateful.

What fun it is to move and play in a forest tree surrounded by wonderful green grasses.

What fun it is to move and play in a forest tree surrounded by wonderful green grasses.

And for those who are just beginning, might I offer some encouragement? There is a lot to learn along the way. Always will be, that part never ends. Don’t give up. There are images you will only make if you are willing to step out of your comfort zone. Be brave. Be patient with yourself. Be true. Aspire to be the best you, not another version of someone you admire. Your vision will become clear and unique to you. Let it be. Let it grow.

Learning new things, like long exposures, can give you tools to capture the beauty of decay and slow the waves in the ocean.

Learning new things, like long exposures, can give you tools to capture the beauty of decay and slow the waves in the ocean.

Finding Beauty . . . Anywhere.

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There is a kind of beauty in imperfection.  –Conrad Hall

Ella_Kylie_NLP8328

Simple beauty is easily found in the innocence of a child.

One might think that finding beauty is a simple task. And, it is, when the object of beauty is obvious. Consider how easy it is to find beauty in a fresh bloom,  a young child, an amazing landscape or a simple scene. Finding beauty in the young or new and fresh is no challenge at all.

Engelhard Shrimpers_NLP7855

Still waters and reflections in the harbor filled with fishing vessels holds its own level of quiet beauty.

Finding beauty in the imperfect, the old and abandoned takes more effort—especially, if you’re not tuned in or open to the idea.  As Minor White observed, “One should not only photograph things for what they are but for what else they are.” Extended metaphors inhabit scars, wrinkles, broken windows and boards, torn fabric, and even, perhaps, dead flowers.

Painted barn door with grass and vines in Cameron, NC

Painted barn door with grass and vines in Cameron, NC. The boards are no longer straight, paint less than fresh and fading.

Just about everyone who knows me also knows that I love the old and abandoned. I’m a “collector” of all sorts of things. I have a passion for celebrating unseen beauty. And, I love a challenge.

So, in the interest of the challenge to find beauty anywhere, I gave myself one. Much earlier in the year I had picked and photographed some amazing sunflowers (when are they not?).  I also let them wither and dry to crispiness in the same vase and kept them around in their decrepit state – that is, until recently. It was time for me to follow through and find what I felt was still a part of those “long past prime” sunflowers – their inner (and older) beauty.

Sunflower_NLP7232

Easiest of all efforts to find exquisite beauty in a freshly cut sunflower bloom.

sunflowerchallenge_lbv_nlp6838

Here is where the challenge began. Textured paper background and natural light coming through glass door, using Lensbaby Velvet 56. Working and not working.

It was not as easy as I had thought it would be. And, I was most surprised. Remember, I’m the one who loves all things old, falling down, broken and imperfect. I’m also the one who loves, loves, loves flowers. So, I thought, how hard could this be? For the challenge, however, I had to work much harder than I had expected. I had to think beyond what I was seeing – the reality of the dried, shriveled, brittle petals, stems and leaves. I had to follow my nostalgia and vision. I had to find the right tool and best path to share this old bloom’s potential. Experience told me that the beauty was there; I had to bring it out.

It was far too windy in my usual studio set-up – the back patio. So, I set up inside and began shooting the dried sunflower behind the front glass door, making use of natural and artificial light. This worked and did not work at the same time. The background was less than ideal with the blue door, green canvas print, and even the art paper with green textures.

challengesunflower_sfo_nlp6930

With light background and Lensbaby Composer Pro with soft focus optic, the potential for finding beauty in the dried sunflower came through. This image is minimally edited.

Surprisingly, even my favorite “go-to, artsy” lens, the Lensbaby Velvet 56, was only meeting me halfway. Could I possibly blame these stumbling blocks on my subject? Was that okay with me? No, and no.  Not to be discouraged, I switched gears. Rather, I moved my set-up to the dining room table, draped a light-colored sheet on the cabinets and switched to my Lensbaby Composer Pro with my favorite soft-focus optic. Now, things were finally starting to click. Add an LED light and small flashlight along with the macro lens adapter for the Lensbaby, and I was “feeling it.”

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The same image as above with the addition of “Rustic Farm” texture by Topaz Texture Effects, brought out the beauty of the imperfect, old, dried up sunflower for me. This image feels good and right to me to celebrate the decay.

Even before I started this particular challenge, I felt that the dried up sunflower would be a subject that would lend itself to soft focus and later, in post, to some textures. I was right. Reality is not always kind, but vision can be. And this is where I landed.

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Another experiment with the tops of the dried sunflowers using Nik Color Efex Pro as the “beauty tool.”

So, you see, this challenge was a mix of several elements: a less than perfectly obvious “beautiful” subject, an open mind, frustration, persistence and vision. If we give up on anything because it’s not easy, we miss out. We miss out on seeing what is, and what could be. We miss out on the “woohoo” of success that sometimes comes slowly and even painfully.

Will I try to convince anyone that the results of this challenge are some of my best images? No, absolutely not. They aren’t, but they did satisfy the requirements of the challenge. What I see missing from them is that little bit of heart and soul that accompanies images I love (even if no one else does). What these images are, however, and represent are lessons in stepping up, keeping on and finishing the challenge.

Canal dock with crab pots in Hyde County

Canal dock with crab pots, broken basket and makeshift stairs found in Hyde County

As visual artists (and in life), it’s not always obvious or easy to see the good side or the best or the beauty. We have to give ourselves and those things that appear at first glance ugly, old or disposable a chance. We have to open our minds to see the potential we think is not there. We must be willing to make mistakes, and not only “not succeed,” but to fail.

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Embracing the imperfections of fading paint and rust in the rural landscape.

Embracing imperfection is not easy, but it is possible and valuable, given time and the right set of circumstances. The dead, dried-up sunflowers are disposable. The lessons, for me, are not. Thank you for letting me share.

 

 

Finding Your Pony

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. . . And today’s digital shooters often seem to use the camera like a machine gun, reeling off a virtual movie roll of images and searching for the best frame at a later date, assuming that in the midst of all that manure, there’s got to be a pony somewhere.

‑ Bruce Barnbaum, The Essence of Photography

Yes, there are pink ponies with purple hair that sparkle with magic.

Yes, there are pink ponies with purple hair that sparkle with magic.

Remember when you were little and there were certain things you really, really, really wanted? Mostly, those things might have been a new bike, that special doll or latest game. Maybe, some of you even really, really, really wanted a pony of your own. If you’re young enough, perhaps a “My Little Pony” character would have been on your list. Not mine. I got the bike, hated dolls and spent most of my time outside finding things to do (per the directive of my mother).

Family vacations were all about camping, hiking, exploring cool places and my parents tolerating the car rides full of, “she’s touching me, breathing loud, and are we there yet” from us four sisters. It was on these long drives that I began to notice light on trees, reflections in water, billowy clouds and fantastic skies. At some point, I realized I wanted a camera to capture those drive-by moments. It took until my mid-thirties before I gave myself a “real” one. The pony I wanted were those moments on film and in print.

From the window seat, it was difficult to imagine any ponies to be found ... but resisted the urge to give up or "find them later."

From the window seat, it was difficult to imagine any ponies to be found … but I resisted the urge to give up or “find them later.” Describe this image in one word? “Terrible.” There are others, and they are not pretty. I did not even want to get out of the car. I planned to wait for my fellow photographer to be done so we could head back to the hotel and warm up.

For a long time, several years, I took lots of pictures looking for the pony… And while not movie reels, I did take a lot of pictures with very little knowledge and a whole lot of hope that something good would turn up. Sometimes, usually by luck or accident, I found those metaphorical ponies – the ones that live inside every successful image. They were elusive buggers, at least for me, until I set my mind to learn what I needed to know and the tools necessary to marry the vision with an image that matched the goal.

Lo and behold ... I found one!! Good thing I learned to put on my "noticers."

I couldn’t do it. I found myself unable to sit tight and wait in the car. Lo and behold … I found one!! Good thing I learned to put on my “noticers.”

There are times when I am incredibly thankful that I started my photographic journey when there were only rolls of film to contend with and either 24 or 36 frames of opportunity to either use wisely or to waste. That’s not to say that there were not bad pictures made in those days (or now), but the mistakes were not all wasted. The discipline of learning how to use the tools (camera, lenses, filters, etc.) was much clearer when every roll had a measurable cost of time and money. Back then, memories were not “free.”

And, what do you know? Found another one!

And, what do you know? Found another one!

It takes more than a pile of wood, a hammer and nails to build a house capable of withstanding a storm. Likewise, it takes more than a camera, bundles of lenses and filters to build images that can also withstand time. To create images that speak to your vision, that hold the viewer’s attention and evoke an emotional response, you need to start with the right tools, learn how to use them and work on refining your goals. It takes work, time and patience (with yourself and the tools of the craft). It takes thoughtfulness, meaning you want to think about what you’re seeing, what you like, what you don’t, and consider carefully what needs to be “in the box” and what doesn’t.

In the hunt for ponies, I discovered one of the hunted.

In the hunt for ponies, I discovered one of the hunted.

As you walk along sidewalks, trails, shorelines and pathways, put on your “noticers.” Put them on your eyes, your mind and on your heart. Know that there are times when the ponies run away. The light changes, the bird flies off, you don’t have the right lens to match your vision. And, sometimes, the pull of real life things clouds up your noticers, and they don’t work as well as you’d like them to. Don’t despair. Keep on. Steer clear of the “crap shoot”, the “spray and pray,” and the barrage you’ll end up wading through later. It can get very deep and daunting.

As a visual artist, you’ll find your very best ponies in the field, not on the computer. And very rarely, hardly ever, almost never will you find your best ponies from the window seat. You must step out. You must explore, take calculated risks, learn and try new things to grow. There are millions of wonderful ponies waiting . . . just for you! (And who knows, maybe some of them do have pink bodies, purple hair and sparkle.) Go on. You can do it!

There are those times when the search reveals "Beauty and the Beast."

There are those times when the search reveals “Beauty and the Beast” in the most unexpected places.

And other times when the discovery of metaphorical ponies is a matter of time and patience as they unfold.

And other times when the discovery of metaphorical ponies is a matter of time and patience as they unfold. Go find yours . . . they are waiting!

For the Love of Trees

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Never say there is nothing beautiful in the world anymore. There is always something to make you wonder in the shape of a tree, the trembling of a leaf.  ‑-Albert Schweitzer

Etherial image of bamboo and leaves in forest as the wind whispers through it.

Ethereal image of bamboo and leaves in forest as the wind whispers through it.

“Go outside and find something to do.” This was the mantra of my mother for as long as I can remember. And, so, we did. We climbed trees, hiked in the woods, made up games using trails of leaves. For years, we camped in the forests up and down the East Coast. Our lives were filled with all sorts of outdoor adventures.

Grand old live oak in Magnolia Cemetery in Charleston, SC. This tree survived many storms in its life. Sadly, now, the entire top bend of the tree is gone.

Grand old live oak in Magnolia Cemetery in Charleston, SC. This tree survived many storms in its life. Sadly, now, the entire top bend of the tree is gone. (Faux color infrared image)

It’s no wonder that I have an affinity for trees. It should come as no surprise to anyone that I am drawn to them in my photography or that I connect with them on a poetic and metaphoric level.

Infrared landscape of Black/white infrared image in the Pixie Forest on Blue Ridge Parkway in North Carolina with trail leading through woods

Infrared landscape of Black/white infrared image in the Pixie Forest on Blue Ridge Parkway in North Carolina with trail leading through woods

When I was younger, I wrote poetry under the shade of many trees in many seasons. Now, instead of words on paper, I see the poetry within the forest and the trees. The stories their life rings could tell are likely nothing short of amazing. I imagine the stories told and written beneath their branches, the storms survived and the seasons shared.

Rare snow-covered trees inEastern North Carolina

Rare snow-covered trees in Eastern North Carolina

The trees are survivors, rooted and grounded to the earth and all its miracles. In their life and death, the trees are safe havens, providers of food and life. In their span of years, long or short, they offer opportunities for renewal and rebirth. Trials by fire, wind and rain are withstood in ways similar to our own.

Their character is revealed in the curves and lines of their branches and limbs. In the bulk and bend of their bones the years on this earth are revealed.

There are those that bend and those that break and snap. If I could be a tree, I might wish to be a blend of oak and willow – strong, beautiful, protective, graceful, flowing, tolerant and flexible.

Detail of young Rhododendron growing out of crack of rock wall.

Detail of young Rhododendron growing out of crack of rock wall.

It is in the trees that I see a magical dance of swaying and rustling leaves and limbs, wafting scents of flowering buds, the sight and sounds of birds and bees and butterflies wafting through pollen showers of spring and finding a landing zone on the bare branches of winter. There is the dance of flying, falling showers of gold and red and orange that covers the forest floor with an amber blanket. In every season there is a new dance, never to be repeated … ever.

Roots and moss and autumn leaves on a trail in West Virginia

Roots and moss and autumn leaves on a trail in West Virginia

It is in the trees that I see solitude and strength, mystery and beauty along with the wondrous gathering of tree next to tree next to tree and so on to blanket the land with community and a place to commune with the natural wonders of the earth. It is in the trees that I see life, each one unique, each one with its own struggles and triumphs.

In each one that draws and holds my attention, I see hope and beauty from seed to sprout to mature trees and snags through to the rotting, fallen logs. In each there is a home to new and different life.

It is that lifetime of experience from early years in the forests and among the trees that has shaped my interests and direction in the journey of photographer/artist. From their roots and trunks to leaves and branches . . . I see them. And I see me.

Heart in tree at Chincoteague NWR seen after getting news that my great niece, Ella, was born early. Just love in the trees...

Heart in tree at Chincoteague NWR seen after getting news that my great niece, Ella, was born early. Just love in the trees…

Exposed roots in park in Greenville, South Carolina

Exposed roots in park in Greenville, South Carolina

Blanket of autumn leaves on the forest floor.

Blanket of autumn leaves on the forest floor.

Interpretive landscape of live oak and pine forest in Outer Banks

Interpretive landscape of live oak and pine forest in Outer Banks

For Love of the Light We Cannot See

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What do we call visible light? We call it color. But the electromagnetic spectrum runs to zero in one direction and infinity in the other, so really, children, mathematically, all of light is invisible.
― Anthony Doerr from All the Light We Cannot See

Coastal Marsh in Infrared

Coastal Marsh in Infrared at 590nm – Harsh midday light that was not conducive to color photography.

It’s been over six years since I was introduced – hook, line and sinker – to infrared photography. Even before I processed my first image, I was hooked (and I knew it). It began one spring day when a box from Mark Hillard containing a Canon 20D converted to 590nm arrived on my doorstep. Keep in mind, I’m a Nikon shooter and had to learn to navigate the Canon. I had no idea what a nanometer (nm) was, and my brain hurt just thinking about what I might be getting into.

Bodie Light Sunset - Faux Color Infrared at 590nm

Bodie Light Sunset – Faux Color Infrared at 590nm

I’m not a science or math geek, so words like nanometer, infrared, wavelength, spectrum and conversions made my head spin. In the end, what that early experience (or inexperience) did for me and my photography was gave me opportunities do “happy dances” in light too contrasty and “terrible” for general color photography, especially landscapes.

The other challenge for me, initially, was that I absolutely LOVE colors! All of them, though purple in any hue is my favorite. When shooting infrared at 590nm, all my images on the back of the LCD reminded me of a negative. Pretty much all color was removed, which left the bare bones of the image subject to stand on its own in form, structure, composition and exposure.

Infrared image of Gresham's Mill in Georgia at 590nm

Infrared image of Gresham’s Mill in Georgia at 590nm – Raw Image Processed First

What I discovered was that shooting infrared was helping me see the landscape in ways I had not been able to before. It also helped me visualize the scene in black and white, another longstanding challenge that began to fade away the longer I embraced infrared (IR).

Infrared image of Gresham's Mill in Georgia at 590nm

Infrared image of Gresham’s Mill in Georgia at 590nm – Processed for Faux Color after the Raw image was processed

There are endless possibilities for capturing and sharing the world of infrared. IR filters can be used, but for a more fluid shooting experience, having a camera converted to specific wavelengths (for example, 590nm, 630nm, 665nm, 720nm (standard) and 830nm (b/w) makes more sense. A number of companies offer conversions. I had my Nikon D90 converted by LifePixel and have been very pleased.

Infrared image of Gresham's Mill in Georgia at 590nm

Infrared image of Gresham’s Mill in Georgia at 590nm – Processed for black/white using the Faux Color version.

I chose 590nm because it offered the possibilities for me to play with a big box of color crayons in faux color processing, and I could produce great black/white versions of those same images. Now, after only a few days of shooting with another Canon converted to 830nm, I am equally hooked to black/white IR imaging and plan to convert another Nikon body so I can experience black/white photography in ways I never have before.

There are many reasons why I love infrared photography, but perhaps the top three I will share here provide some insight into how it changed my way of seeing the world and expanded my photographic horizons.

Bald Head Island boathouse in marsh at 590nm - Long Exposure Faux Color Infrared

Bald Head Island boathouse in marsh at 590nm – Long Exposure Faux Color Infrared

First, IR photography breaks barriers. It is fantastic during harsh, midday light. What that means for me is that I can shoot all day long in color and infrared without limitations. When other photographers put their cameras down because the light is “bad” for color imaging, I turn to my 590nm infrared and shoot, shoot and shoot. For those who know me, I’m not a sleeper, so midday naps are unheard of for me. And, I always have snacks and water in the car, so eating is secondary to photography.

Infrared black/white barn near Cameron, NC, falling down next to a freshly plowed field

Infrared black/white barn near Cameron, NC, falling down next to a freshly plowed field. This barn has since collapsed into an unrecognizable pile of rubble overrun by vines and grass.

Second, IR photography reveals what I cannot see with my eyes. Remember, I said that I LOVE color, so visualizing the world in black and white was always a challenge for me (until infrared). It didn’t matter how much I read or knew, I just couldn’t internalize the concept. Colors always got in the way of that process. In addition, because infrared is outside the visible light that our eyes can see, it captures things that we simply cannot see, such as structure in clouds on a white-sky day.

Faux color infrared of stone archway at Lewis Ginter Botanical Gardens, Richmond, Virginia

Faux color infrared of stone archway at Lewis Ginter Botanical Gardens, Richmond, Virginia

And, third, (though not nearly approaching the end of all the reasons I love IR), IR photography provides freedom of expression. It gives me full permission to express my vision. What the camera captures in infrared doesn’t look “real.” The purest photographer, the one whose only desire is to present the world as it really is, could be challenged by IR photography at first.

I do not consider myself a documentary photographer. Rather, I embrace the idea that I am an artist with a camera as my medium. In post-processing infrared images, it’s PLAYTIME. The sessions follow a similar path of steps, but where they lead creatively is all according to the mood of the moment. With reality suspended, wider ranges of interpretation are possible, and that thrills me.

Infrared image of sunflowers in field at 590nm and lightly processed (before channel swap)

Infrared image of sunflowers in field at 590nm and lightly processed (before channel swap). Anything is possible.

The images presented here are just a few examples of what is possible when you put a converted IR camera at 590nm into the hands of an expressive photographer, however skeptical at first. Where you might go with your infrared interpretations is up to you.

Faux color infrared of Sparks Lane in the Smokies. No better way to capture an often photographed place than with infrared and imagination.

Faux color infrared of Sparks Lane in the Smokies. No better way to capture an often-photographed place than with infrared and imagination. Again, this from a converted Nikon D90 at 590nm.

If you’re interested in learning about infrared photography on a more technical level, or seeing where you can go with it at different wavelengths, here are a few options: Mark Hilliard’s blog  at www.markhilliardatelier-blog.com. It’s all Mark’s fault that I’m addicted to infrared. (Join Mark and me on our workshops, we cover both color and IR techniques. An IR Immersion workshop based in Pawleys Island, SC is set for this August.) Join the Infrared Photography Group on Facebook (nearly 6,000 members worldwide) at www.facebook.com/groups/Infraredphotography/. I also recommend LifePixel‘s website for lots more information on infrared photography.

IR GETS THE MOTOR RUNNING ... Faux color nfrared of 1956 Buick parked at Old Car City USA, White, GA

IR GETS THE MOTOR RUNNING … Faux color Infrared (590nm) of 1956 Buick parked at Old Car City USA, White, GA