Category: Photography

Spring life is bursting all around us. One of the progressions that captures my attention is the emergence of leaves. Not only their presence as they begin to peek out and unfurl, but their color.

There’s something about that new, flamboyant, almost-neon green that calms me and gives me hope for what lies ahead. I find it simultaneously peaceful and exhilarating—a sort of energetic lightness.

(Confession/side note: I actually have bright green flannel sheets in this color. And I love them.)

One of the extended joys of this spring cycle is the contrast of new, bright green deciduous leaves against the deep, steadfast color of evergreens.

I don’t know that I’ve ever captured that better than in this image—a damp morning with aspens sporting their new, bright green leaves shrouded in fog. This scene is from Great Basin National Park and it’s my personal quintessential spring image.

Until next time, I hope new spring growth is filling your world with beauty and hope.

Cheers!

Bluesky Art Show

This post is inspired by the Bluesky Art Show, a challenge to share artwork surrounding a weekly theme each Saturday.

Wild Horse State Recreation Area was one of our favorite places to camp during our full-timing days. When we were fortunate enough to score a lakeside spot, we woke up to this view in the morning.

I loved the horizontal outcrop reflecting in the horizontal lake surface. It was epically serene in the mornings—before Nevada’s notorious winds picked up, whipping the lake surface into a frenzy.

Wild Horse was one of the few places in our chaotic full-timing life that I felt like I could get my feet under me to truly embrace photography as a daily practice and important part of my life, even as a nomad.

Of course, we couldn’t stay there forever. And I wouldn’t want to be there in winter when it’s a frozen ice-scape. Not my scene, for sure.

Cheers, friends! Here’s to fond memories of amazing places.

Bluesky Art Show

This post is inspired by the Bluesky Art Show, a challenge to share artwork surrounding a weekly theme each Saturday.

Fun fact: I have a degree in geology. And although I don’t use it in a professional capacity anymore (and haven’t for a long time), it’s still—and always will be—my first love.

My area of specialty at university was fluvial geomorphology. The geomorphology bit referring essentially to the study of earth’s surficial processes and the fluvial bit referring to rivers, streams, etc. My honors thesis was about sediment transport in sand-bedded streams. And even thinking about right now still makes my heart flutter.

So, now that you’re fully aware of the depths of my nerd-dom, it won’t surprise you that this week’s theme is of special excitement for me. Sure, lots of things can be flowing. But given my predilection towards fluvial geomorphology, of course I’m going to share flowing river water.

Geology in action

Before I moved out west—where flowing water is obviously a bit harder to come by—I spent time stomping around the stream-laden gloriousness of the Smokies. So I have a shit-ton of Smokies river scenes in my image library. But this close-up is one of my favorites.

Most of my river scenes from the Smokies are of the quintessential variety—sinuous streams, elegantly winding their way through smooth boulders under a lush green canopy using a slightly long exposure time to give the water a soft, ethereal quality.

But water is powerful as fuck. And there’s a reason those boulders are rounded-water. The reason I like this close-up shot compared to a lot of my other wider “dreamy” river scenes is that it demonstrates water in action more so than those larger landscape shots.

It captures the work in action. Cascades—large or small— continually pummeling the rocks beneath it is what has shaped all of these boulders, little-by-little, over millions of years. How fucking cool is that?

Cheers, friends! If you see some groovy geology happening around you, let me know. I’d love to hear about it.

Bluesky Art Show

This post is inspired by the Bluesky Art Show, a challenge to share artwork surrounding a weekly theme each Saturday.

I found my millipede friend here, having a rest in the leaf-litter at Elkmont in Great Smoky Mountains National Park.

I was nestled in the leaf-litter as well, hunting the intricate details of the world. My fixation was on plants and flowers, not critters. But I wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to capture my round friend’s smooth exoskeleton reflecting the soft, blue spring sky above.

From a photography standpoint, I initially disliked the small twig in front of it. But all wildlife deserves respect—even millipedes—so I didn’t remove it to keep from disturbing this fabulous creature further. (It was already in its defensive posture from my arrival before I spotted it and was taking extra care to give it some space.)

So I used the twig as part of the composition. During the critique at my workshop, my pal Tom (an incredible photographer whose opinion I respect greatly) disagreed with my assessment of the twig. He actually liked it. With the benefit of time, I eventually agreed. I do think it adds some scale and anchors the image. Now I’m glad it’s there.

Cheers, friends!

Bluesky Art Show

This post is inspired by the Bluesky Art Show, a challenge to share artwork surrounding a weekly theme each Saturday.

Mule deer are hella abundant here in Silver City. They’re frequent visitors to our yard and especially fond of our prolific apple tree. Damn, they love those apples.

But before we moved into the house, we lived in a local RV park. (It took many months after our arrival in Silver to find this house and finally move in.) Until then, happy hour was our typical trailer-living scenario—hanging out on our mobile “front porch” and decompressing from a long day.

And, also typically in that RV park, the mule deer came for a visit to browse in the swale behind our toy hauler. They’d get pretty close and part of our amusement was watching Toby trying to figure them out. He never quite knew what to do with them. So he watched along with us, in a state of constant indecision over whether he should be barking at them or trying to play with them.

On this particular evening, I got lucky—I’d brought my camera to happy hour. And as these two does began to have a little cuddle, I didn’t even have to get out of my chair to manage the shot. Which would have scared them off anyway. (And fortunately Toby remained chill and didn’t startle them either.)

From the luck standpoint, I was at the right place at the right time and it happened to be one of the evenings I made the effort to bring my camera to happy hour. From the preparedness-breeds-opportunity standpoint, knowing how to work quickly and take advantage of a fleeting situation allowed me to tap into muscle memory when I needed it unexpectedly.

And for all of the hard work it can be to craft an image, I’ll take the “easy” win on this one. But it’s a reminder my skills have slipped lately and why I need to get back to regular photography practice.

Use it or lose it, right?

I eventually worked some digital art magic on the original image to create this piece. You can find prints and other merch in my art store.

Cheers, friends!

Bluesky Art Show

This post is inspired by the Bluesky Art Show, a challenge to share artwork surrounding a weekly theme each Saturday.

I was irrationally excited about this week’s theme. I love exploring the patterns and grains in wood. It’s so easy to get lost in the details—the curls, swoops, knots, and colors have so much character.

It’s an understatement to say there were a lot of wood candidates to choose from in my library. It was a tough decision given my self-imposed restriction to choose only one image per week.

In the end this shot from Virginia City, Nevada won out. Not because it’s the most fuck-all amazing wood shot I’ve ever taken but because it represents how I perceive the town—old, rugged, worn, and “woody”. It transports me back there.

Wild West Mining Towns

When I lived just a few miles away, I would spend time trying to capture the intricacies of Virginia City. It’s ripe with details and textures that are a feast for a macro-loving photographer like me.

And when I think of Virginia City, one of the senses that comes to mind quickly—aside from my brief stint as a camel jockey there—is wood.

There’s certainly no shortage of brick and steel, but the wood stands out to me. There are creaking wooden signs and gates, massive wooden retaining walls, and wooden barrels lining the weathered wooden boardwalks.

In going through the image selection exercise this week, I realized I moved from that small Wild West mining town scenario to another one. But they are so utterly different that I don’t think of them in the same way at all.

Silver City isn’t “wooden”. It’s brick, concrete, and adobe. And often dazzlingly colorful. It doesn’t evoke the same sense of “Wild West mining town” that Virginia City does. The aesthetic is entirely different even though you can file them both under the same broad category.

It just goes to show that the beauty and nuances of our world don’t fit into a one-size-fits-all stereotype. And I get to love my two western mining towns for different reasons.

Cheers, friends!

Bluesky Art Show

This post is inspired by the Bluesky Art Show, a challenge to share artwork surrounding a weekly theme each Saturday.

Ah, sunlight! I had to resist the urge to go down a massive science-nerd rabbit hole on the importance of sunlight in basically every process and system on earth.

So I’ll simply stick with how much we photographer types love sunlight in all of the forms in comes in.

We want “good” light most of the time—soft light that doesn’t create huge, harsh contrasts. Sure, we can use “harsh” midday light to our advantage—if we’re clever enough.

But the “golden hour” in the morning and evening when the light has a warmth and softness to it is often our quarry.

It pushes our shooting times to the edges of the day. The evening effort is often easier—or more accessible—for most of us.

Morning shoots can be damn painful. Having to get up, be in the field, and be coherent enough to make a good image in the pre-dawn hours has always been a struggle for me. And admittedly, I don’t do that unless I’m in a group setting with the schedule set. So photography workshops help me push past the discomfort.

In those times, though, I’m always happy to have made the effort. That is, once I’ve had a nap, the pain of the morning effort has faded, and I’ve seen what I captured.

In this case, the soft morning light in Cades Cove courtesy of my photog family making sure I got out the door in the wee hours of a chilly spring morning.

Bluesky Art Show

This post is inspired by the Bluesky Art Show, a challenge to share artwork surrounding a weekly theme each Saturday.

I grew up in South Florida. Seasons were essentially non-existent. I might need to bust out a light jacket a couple of days a year. The true measure was more along the lines of lots of mosquitos or, slightly fewer mosquitos.

It was refreshing to move to Georgia where we could measure the year by seasons. Winters are fairly mild there. We even got snow from time to time. Granted, when we did, the impact was dramatic since few of us knew how to drive in it.

Then I moved to northern Nevada. Boy howdy, that was a shock to my Florida-raised system.

I’ve adjusted over the years, though. Snow and cold is just part of life now. Hell, I even own snow boots. They’re a little less necessary now living in southern New Mexico, but still handy to have around.

Our seasons are milder here. The saying in these parts is we have “four gentle seasons.” We get enough snow to be reminded winter is a real thing but not so frequently that it derails daily life for any great length of time. We definitely get cold temperatures, though.

That’s where I bump into the exception in my climate adjustment—my photography. I still haven’t embraced cold, winter shooting. I’ve dabbled at it but you can measure my diminishing motivation in lock-step with falling temperatures. It seems there’s still a little bit of that Florida-girl blood in my system after all.

Moving forward

But, I’m determined to overcome my photography rut this year. I’m going to have to embrace cold-weather photography to do that. In fact, I have a substantial winter shot list prepped for this year. It’s mainly driven by the professional need to have winter imagery of our area to flesh out my offerings in the Grant County Art Guild gallery where I exhibit. But if it helps me overcome my aversion to cold-weather photography, that’s a bonus.

There’s so much gorgeous winter photography to be done. Letting a little thing like cold get in the way is pretty silly. With the right gear, it doesn’t have to be uncomfortable. Or not completely fucking miserable, anyway. I simply have to set myself up for success.

Now, where are those snow boots? There’s a winter storm in the forecast and I’ve got some shooting do.

Cheers, friends! Keep pushing those comfort zones.

Bluesky Art Show

This post is inspired by the Bluesky Art Show, a challenge to share artwork surrounding a weekly theme each Saturday.

Studio photography is an entirely different beast than shooting on the fly or in the wild. My fellow photogs are probably snarkily thinking “Thank you, Captain Obvious” right now.

But a little perspective for those who don’t live in the shutterbug world, you might think studio photography is easier since you essentially control everything. It isn’t. It’s a different set of conditions to manage but it isn’t “easier”.

The challenges of studio photography

When we’re in the field, we don’t have control over everything. Sometimes we can choose our timing based on experience and conditions. And sometimes we simply have to work with what we’ve got and exercise our high-level photographer skills to make the best of it. Either way, we go into it aware there will be unknowns we have to manage and make adjustments for.

In the studio, you can carefully control the conditions. You have the ability to set everything up—styling, lighting, angles, etc. You can spend all day nit-picking the hell out of it, making micro-adustments down to the last meticulous detail as you shoot.

Therein lies the rub. When you have the ability to control everything you end up trying to control everything. The battle becomes not getting lost in the minutia.

And, trust me, in the studio we’re making endless tiny adjustments—ones that most observers wouldn’t notice. But in the end, it impacts the overall feeling and quality of the image, whether the audience realizes it or not.

There comes a tipping point, though, when you’re working against yourself. So we have to remind ourselves what the goal is for that day of shooting and make sure we’re not getting off in the damn weeds.

Studio blues

As for shooting in studio or in the wild, I like both. They’re very different efforts and experiences but both appealing in their own way.

Sadly, since we left Nevada, I haven’t had a studio. To be clear, my “studio” in Nevada was a corner of the guest room I could leave set up with lights and gear most of the time. Here in New Mexico, living not only in a much smaller house, but one we’re in the throes of renovating, even that setup ain’t happening.

One

So in my missing-studio-shooting-blues, this week’s theme brings me to my effort to capture one single perfect cherry.

Did I get exactly what I was going for? Nope. Time limitations and fatigue set in before I got there.

But am I satisfied? Yes. To semi-quote Farmer Hoggett from Babe^*, “That’ll do, cherry. That’ll do.”

Bluesky Art Show

This post is inspired by the Bluesky Art Show, a challenge to share artwork surrounding a weekly theme each Saturday.

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