Schoolhouse Falls

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I generally dislike hiking a day or two after a strong rainstorm.  The mud, while most enjoyable to Kemper in his rainboots, is cold and insipid, and no matter how much I go out of my way to avoid it, the muck and mire always seem to find their way into my socks at the very beginning of the hike.  This hike in Panthertown Valley to Schoolhouse Falls was no different.

The beginning of the hike was pleasant, as the mud puddles had frozen over.  As we descended into the valley, and the sun rose higher into the sky, the puddles thawed and into my sneakers they migrated.  Nonetheless, when we reached the falls, my madid socks became an afterthought.  The falls were running as strong as I had ever seen them after the deluge of the prior days.

I also had the first real opportunity to try out my new wide-angle lens, a Rokinon 12mm f/2.  I kicked myself for not bringing my neutral density filter.  We were in a hurry as we left, and I had misplaced it somewhere in the cabin.  Next time, perhaps, I will remember it, and I can picturesquely blur the water.  This panorama was about as artistic as I could get in the stark, mid-morning light.  The sun is just outside of the frame, and I cropped out a huge sunspot from the foreground rocks.  Still, given the less than optimal conditions, I was pleased with the composition and the photograph.

Short of a small adjustment to the exposure of the top half of the photograph, this shot is straight out of the camera with little post processing.  The new lens is tack sharp, and though manual focus is a new adventure for me, I rather enjoyed playing with the focus peaking and zooming in on the touchscreen to see that everything was in focus.  In reality, the field of view is so shallow, that everything past a couple of meters is in focus at infinity.

I’m looking forward to trying my hand at night photography with the lens.  There were a few cloudless nights that would have been good candidates, but it was cold, I was tired, and slogging the tripod up to the fields on the property did not seem appealing at the time.  Also, my remote release that I bought for my old Nikon did not work for my new Fujifilm.  Sure, I could have used a timer to avoid camera shake, but like I said…it was cold, and I was tired.

Until next time, then…

Sampling Deity

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This photograph was taken during a morning hike in Garrapata State Park, Carmel, California.  I bought a 10-stop neutral density filter for just this purpose, and I was so pleased with the result.  For those less photographically inclined, a neutral density (ND) filter is basically like a pair of sunglasses for the camera.  You screw it on to the lens and it blocks out a certain portion of light.  A 10-stop ND filter blocks out, you may have guessed, ten times the light that would ordinarily hit the sensor.  By doing this, you can reduce the shutter speed and anything that moves—such as waves and water—becomes blurred.  Many photographers use ND filters to achieve this “softness” in waterfalls, waves, etc.

This was one of my first attempts at using a ND filter, and I was thoroughly impressed by the effect.  The waves were crashing on these two rocks off the coast of Garrapata, but in this photograph, they look calm and soft.  The smoothness of the water belies the strong, fierce waves.  The ND filter also allows much more saturated colors, which can be artificially boosted in post processing, but here occurred straight out of camera.

I love the sharp contrast between the jagged rocks and the smoothness of the waves.  It is completely unnatural in light of what was actually happening while this exposure was being captured, but it appears completely organic.  I am not usually one to manipulate nature in my photographs.  Generally, I take what is given to me, capturing a moment of nature and editing the photograph only to enhance the natural effect, perhaps to capture the melancholy of how I felt when I pressed the shutter button.

Here, however, I sampled a bit of deity and fiddled with the elements.  The effect is completely different than what I saw; the photograph, in this way, is far closer to a piece of art than simply my effort to capture the art of nature which was presented to me.  There is something to be said for the artistic quality, though I must admit that I am a bit uncomfortable determining how the elements should be portrayed.  It is a departure from my more documentary nature photography, but this is, perhaps, not a bad thing…

Bixby Panorama

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Even the middle of the day on the Pacific Coast Highway is breathtaking.  The marine layer has rolled off the water and into the mountains, capping them with a low smoky halo.  The views are breathtaking, and I want to pull off around each new bend, and especially when we get to the Bixby Canyon Bridge, which is but a speck in this panorama.  (A closer shot is included below.)  The Bixby Canyon Bridge has inspired many artists, songwriters, etc.  At one point it was the tallest and longest span bridge in the state of California, and the engineering feats taken to build it were monumental.

This photograph, one of the rare colored ones that I prefer to the monochrome, has always looked more like a painting to me than a photo.  I have gotten closer to where I plan and pose photos with an artistic mind over the course of the last few years, and as such my ratio of purely documentary (read “bad”) photographs to “keepers” has begun to increase significantly.  In many photographs, I am fortunate that I am living in an era of post-processing software.  In the photograph I posted yesterday of the silhouette of a woman, herself taking a picture of the waves, I did not notice her at first when I took the photograph.  She was a happy coincidence, and I focused on her more and more, but I could not capture the essence of the candid photo.  Dumb luck has proven to make some great photographs, at least in my brief career.

For this one, I actually used a tripod – a rarity in my California photos – because I first have to lug it on the plane, and then lug it on my hikes and set it up any time I want to use it.  With an impatient four year old (at the time) this was quite a “do” as Anna’s British cousins would say.  But I had planned the shot for months.  I wanted to capture it from down the coast from the first moment I realized what I was looking at.  These days, I am taking the time to enjoy the artistic act, and not just snapping the shutter and hoping I capture something amazing.  I like the process.

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On Discovering an Artist’s Mind

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Salt lingers on my tongue, the shore in my nostrils, even five years later, and miles removed from the rough-hewn valley, where I tried in vain to compose the essence of the waves, the spirit of the ocean in a single exposure.  My camera pulled at me as we walked gracelessly across the rocks.  That’s where Kemper and I found her, sure-footed above the whitecaps, a small silhouette against a dense layer of mist that settled over the shoreline, whitewashing the coal-black granite.

What does it say that I, myself, framed her body against the foothills, lingering on the shadow-play of her form, as if the roil of the ocean were quotidian; yet her profile swelled in the portrait like a distant odalisque?  What draws me back to her silhouette on that promontory, at that moment–that moment that will never be forgotten, though she may not have know that we were even there.

Morning Dew

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This photograph was taken just after dawn on Little Talbot Island, north of Jacksonville, Florida.  It was one of the first macro photographs I took, and it remains one of my favorites.  I love how it captures the pendant dewdrop and the weight of the driftwood branch and the water.  The little bubbles add an interesting depth of field.

Click here for a larger version.