The Grand Canyon Experience

Photography in national parks brings with it a mixed bag of emotions for me. On the one hand I'm thrilled to be photographing some of the most spectacular scenery in the country, if not the world. And yet, I realize that many of these parks have been shot by tens if not hundreds of thousands of photographers over the decades. What can I do that hasn't been done before? How can I put my own spin on it when I'm only there for a matter of days? Such were the thoughts swirling in my head prior to my first visit to the Grand Canyon.

After three wonderful days in Zion National Park, my friend Brian and I packed up and headed for the canyon. We both fell in love with Zion, and while Brian was eager to experience his first glimpse of the canyon, I was ambivalent. The Grand Canyon is arguably the most popular national park in the world, how the hell was I going to capture it in a way that hadn't been done before? While popular in its own right, Zion offers many opportunities for different photographs. The variety of scenery in Zion is in my mind its greatest attribute. Yes, there are iconic scenes, but with a little effort it is possible to find different and unique images in Zion.

My other issue with the Grand Canyon was that while this was my first visit, I was afraid that all the pictures of the canyon I had seen over my life would make it feel like I had already been. Sure enough, my first glimpse from the overlook seemed all too familiar. Still spectacular, but not in the way that Zion was the first time I laid eyes upon it. At that moment I wasn't even certain I was going to bother trying to photograph it. The inspiration just wasn't there. There was no thrill of discovery.

And then there were the people. Throngs of people on the rim, crowding each and every overlook I turned in to. That first evening I tried three different overlooks before I found one with available parking. "Are you s*&%$# me?", I muttered (or perhaps yelled) to myself, as I drove to the next overlook down the road. Not exactly the one on one communion with nature I enjoy. I took pictures at sunrise the next morning from one of the overlooks, me and three dozen of my closest friends. It wasn't until a couple hours later when Brian and I began our hike down into the canyon that the sheer majesty of this wondrous place unfolded before us. It was then that we had finally arrived at the Grand Canyon.

Travels With Myself and Someone Else

That someone else is my best friend, Brian. Yesterday we returned home from a week out west, visiting Zion and Grand Canyon National Parks. Unlike most of my trips the primary focus wasn't photography. Rather, I was looking forward to spending time with Brian. We hiked during the day, drank at night, and talked and laughed throughout it all. That's not to say there wasn't some picture taking going on. Most early mornings and evenings I was out there with my camera, although on this trip Brian was with me on a few of these occasions, a rare treat. He would wait patiently as I too waited for the elements of nature to do their thing. The picture you see here was one such occasion. We spent almost an hour at this spot, watching the shadows creep across the canyon in the fading evening light.

Brian and I have known each other literally from birth. This past week was the most time we had spent together in God knows how long. And while we were both ready to return home, it wasn't without a certain degree of sadness. Not because I was leaving those beautiful places, but rather because it was the end of our vacation together. For me the trip wasn't about Zion, the Grand Canyon, or even photography. It was simply about spending time with my best friend, a reward far greater than any photograph.

Ode To My Tripod

Today I replaced my trusty tripod with a sleeker, and most importantly, lighter version. I have had the same tripod for over 14 years, almost my entire life as a photographer. Like many people I tend to develop somewhat of a sentimental attachment to objects that mean something to me, although I don't go overboard with it. After all, it's not like I've named it, ala Wilson in the movie Cast Away (I tried calling it Manfrotto, but that just didn't stick. Inside joke for you tripod owners out there). And while I won't be taking it to bed with me tonight, it isn't without a certain degree of reflection that I retire it. We've been many places together, my tripod and I. The thing is a beast, and has served as the bedrock of almost all my photos over the years. Stable as all get out, it's been with me on countless trips to the Texas prairie as I photographed wildflowers, on several journeys to the Desert Southwest and the Canadian Rockies, and all over the east coast. It has stood with me in the boiling heat of White Sands National Monument and in the freezing cold of winter along the banks of the Bow River in Alberta. But it became clear during my hikes last year that it was time for a new one, something lighter that I could attach to my pack or carry over my shoulder. Plainly put, I got tired of lugging it around with me. And so today it has been relegated to a corner of my office, a decorative piece from this day forward. Thanks for the memories, old friend.

On a related note, anyone out there want to buy a used tripod? Good as new!

Snowfall

Last night as I lay in bed I watched the snow coming down, our first real snowfall of the season. To me there is nothing more peaceful than a snowfall. My thoughts immediately turned to the photo you see here. I took this back in the winter of 2006, while my wife and I were on holiday in the Canadian Rockies. I had gone out by myself for a short hike. Traipsing through two feet of snow I came upon this scene. The thing I remember most of this occasion was the complete and utter silence. No sound from a nearby road or highway, no people, no airplanes, just total silence. It was so quiet it was as if you could hear the snow falling. Of course I couldn't, but the complete silence made it easy to imagine that I could hear each and every snowflake coming to rest on an ever deepening blanket of snow. It occurred to me how rare it is these days to find total silence, even when out in nature. It is becoming increasingly difficult to escape the sights and sounds of man. After I took this photo I set down my camera pack and tripod and laid down in the snow for several minutes, staring up at the sky. It was a peacefulness I had never experienced, before or since. I wanted to stay there for hours, reveling in the beauty if it all. To me the photo itself is nothing special, but the memory surrounding it is priceless.

Since I have become a serious photographer instances such as this are rare. One of the downsides of being a nature photographer is how it has changed the way I relate to nature. It used to be that when I came upon a beautiful scene I would relax for a while and take it all in. No more. Now it is all about how to best capture that scene in a photograph. I go to work in essence. I see the scene but I don't really experience it, not in the way it should be experienced. The process of making a beautiful photograph has trumped the quiet appreciation of nature. Don't get me wrong, I very much enjoy the photographic process. The excitement I feel when I happen upon a scene with a lot of potential is what I enjoy most about landscape photography. But I miss the ability to simply enjoy the scene for what it is, that quiet contemplation of nature. I am not alone in this, other nature photographers I have talked to or read about have lamented the loss of this simple communion with nature. The solution seems obvious, just leave the camera behind every now and then. But that is much easier said than done, for I can imagine no greater frustration than witnessing a beautiful scene and being unable to capture it. Perhaps someday I will be able to do just that, when I have tens of thousands of images under my belt. But for now I will continue to shoot, all the while trying to remember to take the time and remember that nature is first and foremost the reason why I love landscape photography.

Undergarments

Note: My friend Brian recently asked the readers of his blog bgfay750.blogspot.com to write about what they know (a talent, interest, passion, etc.) and describe what that passion has taught them about themselves. I thought my response would make for a good blog post, if for no other reason than it's already written. I'm all about maximum mileage for minimal effort.

Right about the time I was completing graduate school I discovered my true passion: women's undergarments. And landscape photography. After 8+ years in the corporate world I decided it was time to pursue my dream of making landscape photography my full time career. If I didn't make a go of it I knew I would forever regret it. Six years later that ultimate goal has yet to be achieved, though I am inching (and I do mean inching) ever closer to it. However, I've come to realize that 2/3 to 3/4 of my professional life is spent on photography, and in that sense my goal has already been reached. I'm sending the majority of my time doing what I love.

So what has this taught me about myself? Good question. Most of all I've learned that I have an artistic side, something I had no idea of growing up, having come from a not very artistic family. I've also learned that I don't live nearly as conservatively as I once thought. I've taken one or two big risks to get where I am. I've sacrificed security for freedom, a choice I'd make again, without hesitation. Finally, I've come to learn that we largely make our own luck. Hard work and good decisions will pay off. Trite perhaps, but true. And lastly, I have learned that pursuing my passion for women's undergarments would have been far more lucrative.

Thoughts on Social Media

I am sitting here drinking my egg nog (sans whiskey, though that might help my writing) and thinking about this whole social media phenomenon. I have been involved with marketing my photography through social media for almost two years, and I must admit to a growing sense of frustration with it. The conventional wisdom these days is that social media is a must have marketing tool for any business venture, large and small. My use of social media has primarily been with Facebook, Flickr, and to a much lesser degree Twitter. Early last year I developed a business Facebook page for my photography, and after eighteen months and a not inconsequential amount of money spent on advertising (you're welcome, Zuckerberg) I have amassed almost 2,500 fans. But what impact has this had on my bottom line? If the idea of social media is to advance our business and make money, shouldn't that be the ultimate criterion by which it is judged? If that is the case then Facebook has been a complete failure for me. Sure, I very much value my fans comments on my work and in that respect it has been helpful. When trying to decide which images to include in an exhibit or art fair I look to see which of them received the most comments. But from a purely bottom line standpoint it has done little for me. I have no doubt many other types of businesses have benefited greatly from Facebook. I'm just doubtful that landscape photography is among them. Adding to the frustration is that fan participation on my page has been on the decline for months now. Despite having more fans than ever the number that comment on my photos has been less and less, despite efforts to keep them involved. I am no longer the flavor of the month it would seem.

My experience with Flickr has been something different. At the behest of a friend I signed up for a Flickr account and started uploading photos. This will be good exposure, I thought. After a few months of this I began to question what good this was doing me. You see, the feedback on Flickr is always positive, never critical. "Brilliant!" is a common post. It has reached the point where I think I could post a pic of toenail clippings arranged somewhat artistically (however that would be done I have no idea) and I would get the usual positive response. Brilliant! Fantastic! My real problem with Flickr is that in order to get comments you have to give them, to the point where I feel it becomes an obligation. Leaving comments solely to receive them in return. In essence a popularity contest. What's the point of this? Ego gratification? I admit to a certain amount of wanting that ego stroke, both on Flickr and Facebook. Artists I believe are all very insecure underneath. The main benefit I have seen with Flickr is the ability to look at many other photographers work and learn from it. Beyond that it has provided nothing. But at least it's free.

I ask myself what a true professional landscape photographer would do (WWATPPD). I know for a fact they do not deal with Flickr. I currently no longer post to Flickr, though I do lurk. One of the best ways to advance your art and gain inspiration is to look at other photographers work. Professional photographers do utilize Facebook however, and I am curious to know what their experience has been. Am I just doing it wrong? Maybe I'm just not that good? Perish the thought! Perhaps I'm just not savvy enough. That is entirely possible, and likely. But I'm not giving up on social media. I will continue to tweak my strategy, hoping for that breakthrough that will skyrocket me to fame and riches. I mean really, is that too much to ask?

Working a Scene, Part 2

When I find a nice scene I usually try to photograph it in a variety of light.  I came upon this location several weeks ago and made the first image you see here.  It's a nice capture with an interesting sky and nice color, but I wanted to capture the scene at sunrise.  I had my opportunity this past weekend and ended up with the image you see here.  It was by pure chance that I happened upon this scene the few days of the year that the sun lines up so perfectly with the stream.  Two versions of the same scene, each with completely different moods.  For the first image I used a 3-stop graduated ND filter, the bottom is an HDR image.