Reflecting on a Friend and Mentor

As I sit here writing, I look up to a blue sky filled with layers of big, white and gray clouds chock full of structure. The clouds are moving with the gusty breezes across the scene that holds trees flush with fresh shades of spring greens. This view has all the ingredients that are perfect for long exposures, in color and in infrared and in black and white.

In this moment, I think of and remember my friend and mentor, Mark Hilliard. Because of him, I am able to recognize and share the potential of this scene. I’m also able to share the techniques and skills required to capture the beauty of the elements in front of me. Mark was my friend for over twenty years. He left this world several days ago. I will miss him. Yet, I know that his influence on me and many others will continue long after we are gone.

Mark was my photography friend first. His deep passion for everything photographic was evident from the beginning. It felt to me like there was nothing he didn’t know and/or master. His passion, his immense knowledge, and his subtle ways of sharing with me what he knew. He instilled a confidence that I would not have grown into without his friendship. For whatever reason, the pouring knowledge into me happened so much over time, often subtly, that I didn’t fully realize the impact he had on me as a photographer, educator and as a person. I am sad that he is gone. I know I have so much more, I feel, that I could have learned from him …

Long exposure in infrared on the Eastern Shore of Virginia (850nm)

BACK STORY – THE BEGINNING

Many, many moons ago, I met Mark at a CNPA (Carolinas Nature Photographers Association) meeting in South Carolina. His manner was calm and kind, and his images were exquisite reflections not only of what he loved, but also how much he had mastered in photography. He was worlds beyond the level of my skills at the time. I was still in the “infancy to toddler state” of photography in my view. He was a master of many different genres – general nature & landscape, macro, hummingbirds, flash, black & white, long exposures, infrared, and so much more. His intense passion for the shrimpers, nautical scenes and grist mills was evident. (In his post, you’ll see and hear his passion for the shrimpers. https://markhilliardatelier.com/decay-of-the-american-shrimp-fleet ) I remember him telling many people that he would travel countless miles to photograph the grist mills, and he did. He even had a database in his Garmin with hundreds and hundreds of the mills, many of which he did visit. Much of that database also lives in my Garmin as well.

“Addiction,” one of my early infrared faux color images (590nm)

At one CNPA meeting some time later, we sat in the hotel lobby talking photography. At that time, he suggested that we work together teaching and leading workshops. I remember his face smiling when I said that I was interested. We definitely had different interests and styles (not to mention skill levels). He was the master of much, and I, at the time, was mostly known for my macro and close-up work. He told me that I brought the “woo wooh” to the workshops. He was right about that. Our styles, both in teaching, seeing and photography, were uniquely different, but we balanced each other out. And, so began a teaching partnership that continued over ten years. Unfortunately, March 2020 on Jekyll Island, was the last of our long-running partnership. One last exception was in December 2022, when we did our final workshop together in Georgetown, SC. It was focused on seeing in black/white. He was so excited to be able to teach again, especially in monochrome.

Shrimpers in Engelhard fog

Remembering Mark and the Donna Kay in Apalachicola, Florida

LONG EXPOSURES WITH MARK

To be honest from the start, I have to admit that I am mathematically challenged when it comes to the “exposure equivalents,” especially if they involve 1/3 stops. This admission comes from one who has balanced my checkbook to the penny ever since I have had a checkbook. Mark could do all the math in his head, and in fractions of seconds. Thankfully, he saved me from what I call the “willy nilly” approach to long exposures. (That’s when you just keep changing settings until you get a good result. Can I say that this approach is a real time waster?)

When Mark shared with me the Lee Big Stopper app (may not be available any longer, but still works on my phone), a new world opened up for me. The app does all the math that I could not do for myself. Mark gave me all the steps to follow in order to be consistently successful. He showed me how adding long exposures to my work could expand my horizons and make the ordinary objects or scenes magical. It took a while, but the process finally stuck, and envisioning the necessary elements now comes easily. I do long exposures on a fairly regularly basis, when the objects come together. However, Mark was especially fond of looooooooooong exposures, like 15 minutes or longer. He also loved the exclamation point! I have not yet developed that level of patience, or at least not to this day. I will miss waiting for him to finish up while I was ready to go. Long exposures may have landed in my skill set circle at some point, but Mark pushed me into that world much sooner. I am grateful.

Fog and a dock in Duck (Two-minute exposure – Mark’s was probably much longer.)

INFRARED AND BLACK AND WHITE

It was at yet another CNPA meeting around 2010 that Mark came up to me and excitedly said, “You need to shoot infrared!” Imagine my expression. I had no idea what he was talking about and couldn’t have told you what a nanometer was or why you should even care. He followed with, “I’m going to send you a Canon camera converted to 590nm.” Eye roll. Okay … and he did. When It arrived, I asked him what I was supposed to do with it. His response, “just shoot.” So, I did. I shot it for about three months with no instruction – not to mention that I am a Nikon shooter, and much on the Canon was “backwards.” After that stretch of time, I wondered now what I was supposed to do with all the images. I had no clue how to process them. I drove to his studio in Pawleys Island, and he showed me what he did with Photoshop, a channel swap action, and Nik Collection. That was the beginning of my infrared journey.

Early infrared faux color at 590nm, made with the converted Canon Mark sent me

A more subtle faux color at 590nm with my first converted Nikon

The bonus to learning infrared, besides being able to shoot all day when color photography was not feasible, was that I finally was able to “see” in black and white. That seeing was always overshadowed and cancelled out by my love of color. I had never been able to visualize what would make a good black and white image. With infrared, particularly the 590nm, all I saw on the back of the camera was something that looked like a negative. With the converted infrared camera, I was now able to see the bones and structure of the scene, the differences in tonality (versus colors), the lines and shapes and the darks and lights. Infrared opened up a whole new world.

What helped even more was that Mark’s process was orderly and multi-layered. I referred to the process as “the triplets,” starting with the base image (raw file) and moving to the channel swap to the faux color version and ending with the final black and white. What an enlightening process and lesson. Without Mark’s gentle pushing and tutelage, I may have never entered the wonderful world of “invisible light.” I still follow the basic steps he taught me; however, as expected, I add my own spin to my images. Once again, Mark added a new skill set to my wheelhouse, and he nurtured my efforts to the point of being able to teach others. Again, I am grateful.

Berry College Mill in Georgia (590nm infrared)

West Virginia Stop for Barns in Infrared (720nm)

Sheldon Church Ruins in Infrared (665nm)

CAMERAS – JUST HOW MANY DOES ONE NEED?

This question, and Mark’s answers over the years, became one of our running jokes. Mark had a lot of camera gear when I met him and when we started working together. I cannot begin to remember how many. Each time we got together, he would have something new and different. He would always tell me that it was the “last one” he would buy. After five years of hearing that, I told him to stop saying what we both knew was not true. He did, and he continued to add new cameras, buy, sell and trade and add more camera gear to his collection. I never heard him say that any were the “last one” again. We both knew better.

For the longest time, I had two cameras – one for color and the other converted to infrared (590nm). Currently (and shame on me, kind of), I have two converted DSLRs, three converted mirrorless cameras for infrared, and one color camera. I never thought I would go down that slippery path, but here I am. At least, I can say (or justify) that four of the six cameras are used as infrared loaners for my workshops. Sounds good to me. Thankfully, I don’t feel the need for more. Truly. I’m sure Mark would probably laugh at this confession.

Glade Creek Grist Mill in West Virginia

An image on the Blue Ridge that would not have been possible without infrared (850nm)

REMEMBERING MARK, THE PERSON

Of course, it’s hard to think of Mark without seeing a camera in his hand or sharing a print or photography wisdom because that is how many, including me, knew him best. But here’s what I will always remember about him: he was patient and kind. I wish that I could be as patient with myself and others as he was with my own impatience. Mark was gentle and calm in demeanor. He had a way with people and making them feel comfortable. His gift, too, was in conversation. He learned more things about those in our workshops than I ever could. His interest and attention were genuine, and it opened people up to share. He was a wonderful teacher – patient, encouraging and so, so smart! I often asked him if he had an encyclopedia in his head. It seemed like there wasn’t anything he didn’t know or could not fix, especially with cameras and computers. He was my “go to” for techy things and for answers to anything I could not solve.

Mark was my friend. We talked and shared about more than photography. I wish he was still here. I wish I had had a chance to thank him fully and clearly for his friendship and for the incredible influence he has had on my growth as a photographer and educator. I hope he knew. Either way, I am grateful.

Our last workshop together – Monochrome – December 2022

LESSONS AND FINAL THOUGHTS

Life is short. It’s a one-way street. People come in and out of our lives. Sometimes we are able to recognize the impact of our life-crossings as they happen because of how they begin. For example, asking “would you be my mentor?” would have been obvious. Other times, the process is subtle and organic—as it was with me and Mark. First, he was my friend, then my colleague and teaching partner. Somehow the relationship melded into a blend of the two, plus a mentorship that I didn’t fully realize was in place.

I remember when Mark’s health was in decline, and he couldn’t commit to teaching with me. He said to me, “It’s your time to spread your wings and fly. You can do it.” I still hear those words that came in a conversation, not a text and not in an email. I am grateful for the encouragement and the friendship. Again, I hope he knew this.

Mighty Oak in All Saints Cemetery in Pawleys Island (Black & White Infrared)

Perhaps there is someone in your world who has walked with you in your journey, who has taught you things that have expanded your horizons, who has encouraged you and helped you grow as a person or a photographer or whatever else you are. I encourage you to let them know how much they have meant to you, and pay it forward. Sometimes the magic happens and we don’t even know what we’re passing on or receiving. Being a mentor to others is not always a formalized event. Often, it simply happens when we are genuine, and when we share our time and ourselves and whatever others can learn. Sometimes, it starts with a friendship. I am grateful for all who have shared with me, whether you know it or not. Thank you.

Piglet noticed that even though he had a Very Small Heart, it could hold a rather large amount of Gratitude.

 — A.A. Milne, Winnie the Pooh

Rest easy, my friend, and thank you.

Mark Hilliard (December 4, 1953 – March 26, 2026)

Trail of the Pixie Forest (590nm infrared)

Mark with Clyde Butcher, one of his photography idols. (Shared by his daughter, Jaime Goldman)

Two minutes of Sunrise at Jekyll Island (If Mark were here, the time would have been longer, I’m sure.)