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.

Second Guessing

Mill Canyon Peak, UT

For the past couple of weeks I've been trying to decide how much I like this picture, if I like it at all.  For while it is a pretty photo, it's very much in the "post card" vein.  Middle of the day, bright blue sky, centered subject.  The artist in me says there is nothing special about it, it's not "artistic" enough.  Screw the artist.  Sometimes you just have to turn off your brain and go with your gut.  I find I have to remind myself that not every shot has to be a home run.  I do like it, and it brings to mind the lyrics to a certain King Crimson song (this is mainly for my friend Brian):

"The more I look at it
The more I like it.
I do think it's good.
The fact is..
No matter how closely I study it
No matter how I take it apart
No matter how I break it down
It remains consistent."

Working a Scene

In landscape photography a common trap is not thoroughly "working a scene".  Too often we capture the obvious photograph of a particular scene and move on, never taking the time to see if there is a different, not so obvious way to capture it.  This has been a hard habit for me to break, as patience is not one of my limited virtues.  It is still something of which I need to constantly remind myself.

I took this photograph of Salmon River Falls just last week.  As the trail to the bottom of the gorge was not yet open I was very limited in how I was able to photograph the falls.  This was the only vantage point that offered an unobstructed view.  While this is a nice photograph I don't feel there is anything particularly special about it.  It is essentially a straightforward waterfall scene, albeit well composed and technically sound. 

In the second picture I decided to break out my 70-200mm telephoto lens (the "big daddy", as I call it) and see if there was a different, more artistic way to shoot the falls.  I experimented with focusing on many different sections of the falls, seeing which one was the most visually compelling.  I eventually settled on the photo seen below.  Is it better than the more straightforward shot?  No doubt there are many that would prefer the former over the latter.  Even I am still trying to decide how I feel about the alternate shot.  But perhaps that is what makes it more special.  It invites contemplation and repeated viewings.  And isn't that what art is all about?
 

Musings Over Wine

Dogwoods and Stream

I frequently am asked the question, "how do you make a living as a landscape photographer?", to which I reply that when I find out I will let them know.  The truth of the matter is I currently do not make a living as a freelance nature photographer, though that is my ultimate goal.  In the meantime I also work part time as a geological consultant from my home.  This setup allows me the time and flexibility with which to pursue my dream. 

The question in my mind every day is will I ever achieve that goal?  The reality of the situation is sobering.  Other nature photographers have done it obviously, so I know it can be done.  But can I do it?  There are days when I feel that it is possible, usually after I've made a few very nice images or I've made a sale.  But then there are days when the doubts and insecurities make it all seem so impossible.  Talent alone is not nearly enough.  In a perfect world it would be.  With practice taking a beautiful picture becomes fairly easy.  Selling that picture is infinitely more difficult.  Business and marketing acumen is every bit if not more important than talent.  Luck of course plays a role, though I'd like to think that we make our own luck through hard work and persistence. 

So how does one become a professional landscape photographer?  There are different avenues one can take.  Some pursue the editorial route, getting published in magazines, calendars, etc.  Others choose to sell their prints directly through a website and art shows, exhibits, or perhaps even have their own gallery.  Both routes require a lot of dedication and hard work.  I currently am pursuing both avenues at once, seeing which one offers me the most success.  More often than not (as in most of the time) that hard work leads nowhere.  Rejection is the name of the game.  I recently was a vendor at a local arts and crafts fair and sold very little over the course of the day.  Very little.  I have a thick enough skin so I don't take it personally.  Well, usually anyway.  But it is very frustrating when all that time and hard work is for naught.  It can also make it difficult to stay motivated when you know that submission you are putting together for that magazine or calendar company will most likely be turned down.  But you never know from where and when success will come, and so you just keep plugging ahead.  And having another glass of wine.

Getting Started

(The idea for this week's blog comes courtesy of Lauren.  Thanks Lauren!)

I've been taking pictures seriously for almost fifteen years now, and while the learning curve isn't as steep as it once was my photography is still evolving.  These days most of my learning is on the processing side, something I didn't have to contend with when I first began photography and was shooting film.  Back then my job was done once the shutter was tripped, for better or for worse.  But whether you are self taught (as I am) or you've taken classes, ultimately it will be up to you to better your photographic skills.

Photography is a blend of the technical and artistic, and becoming a good photographer requires mastering both aspects.  Classes are useful in the beginning, especially for learning the technical aspect of photography.  I think it's important for beginners to get familiar and comfortable with the technical side of photography first.   Technical proficiency must become second nature, something so automatic that it doesn't intrude when focusing on the aesthetics of a shot.  This means developing a solid understanding of exposure.  And understanding exposure means knowing how to choose the correct shutter speed and aperture for a particular scene.  The only way to make consistently good photographs is to shoot in manual mode, or at least aperture or shutter speed priority mode.   Shooting in automatic or program mode will more often than not leave you with a disappointing photograph.  How your camera "sees" a scene and how you see it are often quite different, the trick is getting your camera to record the scene as your eyes see it.  This is done by manipulating various camera settings.  Shutter speed, aperture, ISO speed, use of filters, and so on. 

Developing the artistic side is a longer and never ending process that comes with time.  It's cliche' but the only way to improve is through endless practice.  Concurrent with that and just as important is to look at other photographers work.  Observe how the pros compose their images.  Study the settings they used and why they used them.  Then try to apply those techniques yourself the next time you're out shooting.  This is where photography magazines are invaluable.  I currently subscribe to three magazines, the best of which is Outdoor Photographer.  Each issue is packed with dozens of spectacular images by today's professional landscape photographers.  While it can be humbling I do learn a lot.  Joining a local camera club can also be a good way of observing other photographers work and getting feedback on your own.  Online photo sharing sites such as Flickr are another great avenue for viewing other photographers work.

As I mentioned earlier I am self taught, and the book that was an invaluable resource to me when I was starting out is John Shaw's Landscape Photography.  Not only did this book inspire me to make beautiful photographs, but it also taught me how to obtain them.  But there are myriad photography how to books out there from which to choose.   Browse through them in your local bookstore or online and see which books speak to you.  If you are interested in taking a class or two most cities offer adult or continuing education programs that usually include introductory photography classes.  Then just get out there and shoot!

One of my earliest images, scanned from a slide.  This was taken at a bayou outside of New Orleans in April 1997.  I didn't use a polarizer, but I should have.  Shoot.

The Tilted Horizon

     The number of pitfalls that can besiege a landscape photographer is seemingly endless, especially for beginners.  One of my biggest pet peeves is seeing a photograph with an obviously tilted horizon.  Without a doubt it is one of the most common mistakes I see.   This is mind boggling to me because it is also the easiest mistake to fix.  Even the most rudimentary of photo processing software has the ability to rotate a picture any degree and then crop it.  And yet time and time again I see pictures by talented and experienced photographers with tilted horizons.
     The best way to avoid a tilted horizon is to use a bubble level.  Many tripods and tripod heads come with a bubble level built in so you can be certain you are level.  You can also buy a small bubble level and attach it to your camera.  More recently, some of the top of the line DSLR's come with a simulated bubble level inside the viewfinder.  This is especially useful if you are not shooting with a tripod.  
     If you do make this mistake don't fret, the good news is that it can easily be corrected.  Simply rotate the image the appropriate amount and then crop.  Alternatively, much of the software out there has automated leveling tools.  The one downside is that you will lose a bit of the image in the cropping process.  Still, this is much preferable to seeing a titled horizon.

Uh oh, tilted horizon.  Oops!

Rotate until horizon is level...

Crop, and voila

The Digital Darkroom

Before and after

This image is a good example of how the evolution of photo processing software can rescue a poorly executed photograph.  It was also a lesson to me on the limitations of film (and even digital sensors).  I made this photo ten years ago when I was still shooting film.  The scene presented a challenging exposure, with a very bright sky and relatively dark foreground.  Film and digital sensors are unable to record the range of contrast that the human eye can detect.  Consequently, in scenes with a high contrast range the bright areas tend to be blown out while the shaded areas are simply black, neither with any discernible detail.  This is a very common problem in landscape photography, as skies are often much brighter than the foreground.  In the days before digital the traditional way of dealing with this was to use a graduated neutral density filter.  This filter darkens the sky somewhat while leaving the darker foreground as is, thereby reducing the range of contrast in the scene.  These days HDR (high dynamic range, to be discussed in a future blog) has become the popular way of solving this problem.  At the time I took this photo I didn't recognize the need for such a filter, and as a result my image had an overly bright sky with a too dark foreground.  My joy at recording a beautiful scene turned to frustration when I got my film back the next day and realized my mistake.  However, now that I've become somewhat proficient in Photoshop I was able to "fix" the image, ten years after the fact.  I scanned the slide to produce a digital image and then edited the file in Photoshop.  The result is an image that reflects what the scene truly looked like.