Chasing That One Great Photograph

 I began a quest some years back to capture a single great photograph that stands apart from anything I may have taken across previous attempts. Needless to say, I'm still chasing that quest, but along the way I've learned a great deal about photography in general, and about myself more specifically. 

A few years ago I started one of the most interesting and revealing projects I've ever attempted. I called it: The Ansel Adams Project. For the better part of a full summer I chased around my home range looking for photographic opportunities that would convert well into Black and White images. It presented a challenge far greater than I anticipated, yet that challenge elevated my personal understanding about the art of photography. I began to see landscapes from a completely different perspective. Not just for their scenic value, but for values that can only be utilized emotionally. Although I officially ended the project at the end of that one summer, it never truly ended as I gained a new appreciation for the Black and White photograph. As a result, I have continued within the same mindset ever since. 

This spring I felt like I had fallen into a state of mundane mediocracy with my photography and needed something to jumpstart that drive and desire again. As a result I resurrected The Ansel Adams Project focusing more on seeking out black and white landscapes as I venture across my Kentucky home range and beyond. Oddly enough, I rediscovered the excitement of once again seeking out a creative outlet and have shifted a great deal of my photography toward Black and White.

In recent days I began to explore an obscure backroad in more detail. It is the kind of road most people would simply drive down and never take a second look at the rather ordinary scenery. Yet, the Ansel Adams Project taught me to look past the mundane and visualize the greater potential of a location no matter how ordinary. A few days ago, as I drove along that narrow road, a single location caught my attention and instinctively something inside screamed at me to stop and turn around. I spent a few minutes exploring a wide spot where a weathered old fence straddled either side of a two track road leading toward and into a wooded patch spread across a shallow hill a couple hundred yards away. The light was harsh, the sky sort of ordinary, the scene looked rather plain, but I fired off a few photographs anyway using a wide angle lens and a polarizer filter to darken the sky. First results, I discovered later, were promising, but I felt strongly this location could offer more...I just needed to be there on the right day...one filled with the right light... and covered by a more dramatic sky.

Two days later the day started off cloudless and bright. By early afternoon, puffy white clouds began to form and stack up against the deep blue of the sky. The time was about 2:30ish and I knew the light would begin to drift into a lower angle along that old road. Maybe, just maybe, I might get lucky, so I grabbed my camera gear and off I went. It's only about a 20 minute or so drive over there and when I arrived, the clouds had indeed stacked even tighter together throwing a series of dark shadow across where that weather old fence and shallow hill stood.

The sky behind the hill was bright blue and filled with fluffy clouds, but that created a problem; I had no graduated filters so either I expose for the sky and end up with too dark a landscape, or I expose for the landscape and blow out the sky. As it was somewhat windy, the clouds were on the move, so I waited...ten minutes later what I hoped would happen did indeed occur. 

The clouds moved over and waves of light began to infiltrate across the land behind the fence. Over the next hour, I took almost 300 images hoping I could capture a single photograph in the best light. I could see it in my mind as to how it might appear, I just needed nature to cooperate. As the light scampered across the landscape I would fire off in rapid succession 3 and 4 or 5 images at a time trying to time how and where the lights and shadows intersected with that treeline across the top of the hill. I moved left, then right, then forward, then back attempting to line up the best composition with the fence row and the background along with the shadows and light areas but nothing seemed to work...until I made a fateful move; I stepped to my left and back toward the edge of the road. Until then my focus had been on lining up the background with the fence row. My mistake had been that I was overlooking the foreground where a patch of wild flowers bloomed directly in front of a section of the fence.

At that moment, a cloud drifted over the area darkening the entire hillside. After a few long seconds, a gap opened in the clouds and a beam of light filled the middle and background and I fired off another series of 4 or 5 back to back photos. A quick look at the viewer and I felt like maybe, just maybe I had finally found it. All the shots were made handheld using an aperture of f/22 to obtain the greatest depth of field. That setting required a higher ISO of 400 and relatively slow shutter speed of around 100/sec, but at 18mm focal length, that was okay.

When I process a black and white photo, I will first process the color version just to see if everything falls into place. Afterwards, I use that finished color image almost like a negative when I run it through the conversion process. Much like Ansel Adams performed in the darkroom, I have developed my own dodge and burn process technique when I create a black and white image. When I finished with this one single photo out of the almost 300, I knew I had made a good one...possibly even one of the best photographs I've ever taken.

Does it qualify for that one great photo I've been chasing? Maybe, only time will tell. One thing for certain, at least in my eye, it is certainly in the running.

Zippo Lighter Moments - (A favorite from 2013)

I've written a lot of stories about hunting, fishing, camping, and photography over the years. Most of them ordinary tales about times past, or technical essays about how to do one thing or another photographically. Of all those 500+ stories within this blog, few stand apart as truly unique. One of my personal favorites was this one...I repost it here from 2013, mostly as a reminder to myself about not letting life get in the way of living. Please enjoy: Zippo Lighter Moments

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It is a subtle noise, more of a clink and less of a clunk, but distinctive and recognizable well beyond what it's simple action might otherwise dictate. A simple flicking of the shiny cover with an upward motion of the thumb activates the signature sound-clink- then a pause followed by a flick-zip that generates a stream of sparks to ignite the flame whose lighter fluid aroma drifts with the wind. 

I hadn’t heard the clink of a Zippo lighter for many years until recently, and when I did I immediately knew what it was. Upon its activation I was in a moment taken back to another time more years ago than I care to admit to. My mind jumped from scene to scene as the ghost reels of times past flickered across the faded memory screen stretched across my imagination. Each scene played out in perfect harmony as the sound of that old Zippo lighter stamped into existence dormant long-to-come moments waiting for a trigger to resurrect them back to life.

 

I can’t rightly say when I first heard a Zippo lighter sound but I can remember clearly the cold air and pipe tobacco aroma associated with the use of one special lighter. My old friend Ralph as he was accustomed doing, would flick his lighter, fire it up, and light his pipe blowing short puffs of smoke until the bowl would glow crimson red. Then he would again clink it closed.  The sweet fragrance of the pipe tobacco would softly fill the air.  

I didn’t know it at the time but those obscure moments became set in my mind by the actions and sound of him using that old Zippo. If I recall correctly he inherited the lighter from his dad so it already had a long history to it and by default those moments became part of my history. He used the pipe and the Zippo just about every place he managed to find himself, but my memories are locked more onto the hunting and fishing adventures we shared together. You see Ralph was somewhat, maybe even considerably older than the rest of us, a mentor of sorts although he would never have admitted to it. In spite of his age we the younger had a hard time keeping up with him.  

It didn’t matter how cold it was, if there was a duck hunt to be had, he’d be there. Those were the most memorable Zippo moments. We would arrive at our destination and as we scurried around trying to get rigged, he would calmly repack his pipe, flick the lighter open and fire it off. I can hear it now as clearly as then…clink…zip...puff and puff, the blue smoke wafting in the winter pre-dawn air set aglow by starlight in a film noir nostalgic moment. He did it so often we hardly paid attention to it…back then. It was just part of what he did and we got used to it...yet somehow, those images were embedded within our souls.

Sharing a canoe with Ralph was a fine pleasure that all of us relished. His pipe and Zippo lighter were always there for every fishing trip. What greater joy could there be than to see the sky aglow before daybreak, hear the muffled whine of fishing line as it twirled toward a rendezvous with a summer morning bass, and hear his Zippo clink and the subtle puffing of a lit pipe. Everything seemed to fit perfectly in sync; time, place, emotion, and moment. Our times together in a canoe were the best of times and when we were able to combine that pastime with a camping trip, they became the better of times. A hypnotic campfire that spoke of times past, old adventure stories, hilarious and near disastrous at times, told and retold brought us to joyous tears. Then without fanfare almost unheard in the background against the clutter of the evening chatter there would come that clink…followed by the scent of pipe tobacco. 

Sometimes he would be in the middle of retelling a story when he’d light up. The clink became a pause for effect moment and each pause added to the impact of the telling part. He’d hold the pipe in one hand and wave it with some kind of animated gesturing as he elaborated on his story. Sometimes he’d simply let the pipe hang from one side of his jaw and then he would talk through it. His stories would often run on an on. He could take a two minute story and bleed the moment into a full length adventure that would take half the evening to tell, and inevitably his pipe would go out…then we’d hear another clink, another pause as he reignited the tobacco...then the story would continue.

We enjoyed many rendezvous’ across years of building a reserve of memories that served us well. As Ralph aged he approached another rendezvous with life, one that collided with Multiple Myloma. In spite of his serious condition he continued to fish and get out as much as he could until he could simply no longer do so. His Zippo and pipe were there with him along the way, and when he passed he left behind a legacy of living that words can never fully define.  

What I understand now that I did not then, is for better or worse, we need to have those Zippo Lighter moments for no other reason than to lock into place what it means to be a friend. Even though he was not actively trying to teach such admirable traits, he did manage to get the point across to us without even knowing it. Yet, Ralph was more than a friend, more than a mentor, he was a maker of timeless memories and the clink of that old lighter became the stamp of approval that solidified the texture and flavor of those adventures.   

 

I harbor few regrets, but when I recently heard again the clink of a Zippo lighter, I realized that my life since Ralph left us has exhibited far too few of those moments. I do treasure the small number that were made and can only hope that a simple sound coming from a classic lighter will stir within me not only more self awareness but a greater desire to become a maker of timeless memories. And even though I do not smoke, I purchased a shiny new Zippo lighter a while back. On those melancholy days when my mind is set adrift and I forget why I enjoyed going on those adventures, I’ll flick the lid to hear that distinctive...clink...and use it as a reminder.

 

Keith

 

Ansel Adams Kind of Day

 Ansel Adams, arguably the greatest American photographer of all time, with his black and white photography style and attitude towards photography as an art form, has made a huge impact on my photography in many ways. A few years ago I embarked on a summer long photography project I dubbed "The Ansel Adams Project" where I focused much of my photographic attempts at identifying potential black and white landscape opportunities and then creating images in the style of Ansel Adams.

The Ansel Adams Project

What I learned from the Ansel Adams Project

I learned a great deal about how to construct a black and white photograph through that project and my appreciation of the complexities and flavor of black and white photography grew a great deal as a result. I suppose that project has never truly ended as I will from time to time continue in that quest to experience those Ansel Adams kind of days where the sky has transformed itself into a cobalt blue highlighted by cotton ball type clouds adrift across its expanse. Recently, another such day presented itself and as I was needing to get out of the house I spent most of that afternoon driving the local backroads of Kentucky in search of Ansel Adams style landscapes. 

All the books say the best light to shoot in is early and late, you know, that golden hour of the day when the light is soft and shadowy and generates shadows and drama. The good thing about shooting black and white style images is that you can shoot almost any time of day even during the brightest and harshish middle of the day light. Most of the time that is when you will find those puffy white clouds floating in the sky and the sky will be at its bluest. Yeah, the golden hour does offer a great deal of drama and will serve a black and white photograph well, however I would suspect that most of my black and white photos have been taken mid-day.

I rarely shoot in-camera monochrome and will 99.9% of the time shoot everything in vivid color that I convert to black and white using the Silver Efex plug-in with Photoshop Elements. Although there are a number of very good black and white conversion products available, I really like Silver Efex in that it allows for the full range of color band adjustments along with color filter effects and even the ability to select the type of film simulation, plus adjustment curves and preset options.

When I scan the backroads for potential black and white landscapes I look for several specific things that I believe lend themselves well to the black and white final image. I've already mentioned a deep blue sky and fluffy white clouds. Those two are almost a dead give away, but there are other things a well. I love to find an open field with a distant hillside bathed in shadow and sun. The contrast presented by such a setup works well in black and white. I also look for large stately trees that stand alone in a wide field. I will most always shoot from a low perspective so as to raise the tree canopy above the horizon and isolate it against the sky.

Another view I look for are reflections on water especially with the blue sky/cloud combinations and also to include old barns or stately buildings or a single tree. Many times as I drive around doing other things I will run across a location that has potential and so I make a mental note of where I saw it and try to return on another day. Large open expanses make for nice panoramic images especially if they can be photographed from an elevated location, even just a small amount of elevation gain can make a difference.

Around where I live there are large fields of crops, mostly corn, wheat, and soy. If I can find a bronze wheat field swaying in the wind on bluebird day, it is pure gold as a potential black and white photograph, especially if there is an old barn or a single tree in the middle of or near the field.

Most of the time when I shoot those blue sky days, I choose to place the horizon relatively low in the image to accent the sky and clouds, but sometimes I do just the opposite and accent the landscape. It just depends on the angle of the light and the texture of the sky. Speaking of angle and texture, I will shoot with a circular polarizer filter which helps to darken the sky and reduce glare in the clouds. Once I begin the post processing, it makes it easier to retain cloud detail and by applying a red or yellow filter during post processing, the sky can be rendered a dramatic almost black. Polariers only work within a 180 degree arch opposite the direction of the sunlight. Just use your index finger and thumb as a guide. Point your finger at the sun and extend your thumb to the side. The 180 degree arch will be outlined to either side and around your back. Anything inside the opposite 180 degrees, the polarizer does not do well.

I do love Ansel Adams kind of days. The trick is recognizing how to visually convert what you see in color into what the scene would appear as in black and white. It's not all that difficult. It just takes a little practice, but once you master the process, an Ansel Adams kind of day can open your photography up to a whole new, or maybe a return to an older style of photography.

When The Dogwoods Bloom...

 Seems I tend to struggle photographically when the Spring season arrives. Certainly, that should never happen as the natural world begins to awaken from a winter's slumber and the sun climbs higher in the sky, well, that should be motivation enough.  Even so, I often find it difficult to sustain any degree of motivation to explore and photograph this newness of life..but...when the Dogwoods bloom...

From time to time as Spring progresses, I make time to stroll across the fields behind my home. It is there I discover the first signs of what is yet to come as a myriad of small wild flowers begin to form clusters of natural bouquets scattered amongst the debris of winter. Someday I will learn all the names of these small wonders of nature. Until then, I am at peace with simply enjoying their colorful flavors. Sometimes I bend low to the ground to steal a closer look and will even snap a few photos simply because I can. Rarely do I ever do anything with those snapshots, but the process serves a purpose to get me back into the swing of being a photographer again...at least until the Dogwoods bloom.

Eventually, the trees begin to show signs of coming back to life with a few buds and first fruits of leaf formation. I am always amazed at how slow the transformation process appears. A few trees sprout sooner than others and are often subject to enduring a late season freeze. Somehow or another, they always survive and turn a brilliant green in their own time. Cherry tree blooms come early, as do other ornamental trees, but the Dogwoods hold off a spell. I suppose they instinctively know the time is not right, unlike the Redbuds whose pink and lavender blooms harbinger a sign of how the best is yet to come...that would be when the Dogwoods bloom.

Some of the Maple trees produce their helicopter seeds early, but most hold off until the their leaves are well formed before having their branches hang low with the weight of millions of winged seeds. At the slightest breeze, the sky is suddenly filled with flashes of twisting and flapping seeds as they wing their way to the ground and into my gutters which are readily clogged by their numbers. Someday I'll put gutter guards on to prevent such a thing...but not at least until after the Dogwoods bloom.

The season muddles along often with stormy weather and breezy winds shaking the landscape from its long slumber and yet the Dogwoods are not here. The sky will turn cobalt blue with nary a cloud floating across its face and the Dogwoods seem to wait for such skies as their blooms were made to reach upwards toward the blue. 

My camera may have lain mostly dormant for several months and my creative heart along with it. Even after the first tantalizing hints of a change in seasons, those dormant doldrums are slow to awaken. I may spend a few moments lost in the hopefulness of what is to come, slow to capture even the most modest of images. 

With inner stirrings biding their time...still drowsy, still not fully ready to venture forth in earnest, I wait...then as sudden as the thunder of a Spring storm...oh, the Dogwoods, they have bloomed.

CG44331 - Motor Lifeboat on the Umpqua River Bar - The Story Behind the Photo

 When I was a young man, as I have often relived on this blog, I spent four years in the United States Coast Guard most of which stationed at the Umpqua River Lifeboat Station in Winchester Bay, Oregon. It was an adventure that far surpassed any adventures I've managed to be involved in since then. It was also a time when I purchased my first 35mm camera and began to explore the world of creative photography with quality equipment, at least with what I could afford at the time. That camera was a Fujica ST701 with a 50mm f/1.8 lens plus a Vivitar 135mm f/2.8 lens. My only regret was...I wish I had taken more photos of our station's operations. This photo of the CG44331 was probably the best one.

If I remember correctly, I was shooting Kodachrome color slide film probably ASA (ISO) 25 or possibly 64, I don't rightly remember, using that Vivitar 135mm lens. The events that led up to the capturing of this image began early one foggy morning as our commanding officer Chief Boatswain Mate John Whalen decided the conditions were right for what we called Breaker Drills. 

The Umpqua River Bar can be one of the roughest bar crossings on the west coast. Over the years, there have been many vessels lost on or near this body of water where the Umpqua River spills into the Pacific Ocean. When conditions are right, multiple layers of massive breakers can form across the width of the bar which was at the time (circa 1974) bounded on the North and South by rock jetties with a training jetty a bit further inside the bar directing the river flow outwards. At its widest it spanned about 300 yards from the tip of the South Jetty to the end of the North Jetty. That training jetty has since been extended all the way to the tip of the South Jetty forming one continuous channel and river flow directing structure.

On training days, the conditions were usually moderate with a 12 to 15 foot breaker line forming across the shallower north spit and middle ground areas leaving the south entrance channel mostly clear. These kinds of conditions were suitable for realistic training without presenting a high risk level to the crews.

Fujica ST701

If I remember correctly, I was a bit late arriving on site and had to scramble across the beach to reach the black rocks at the backend of the south jetty, then make my way along the top of the jetty by hoping from boulder to boulder trying not slip and fall. The training ops were winding down as a few moments before I arrived the 331 managed to experience a 360 degree roll. The young somewhat inexperienced operator had gotten himself turned broadside to the breakers and caught one across his starboard side. Over she went, hung for a moment, then righted herself as she was designed to do without stalling the engines or flooding the interior. I did not get any photos of the rollover as it happened before I got there.

The 331 did suffer some damage losing a ring buoy and having a radio antenna break off along with having some internal gear tossed around and some bilge water and oil thrown around inside the engine room, but otherwise she was in pretty good shape. Roll overs are not how you are supposed to do it for obvious reasons. 

As the 331 made her way back toward the calmer waters deeper inside the channel and then eventually back to the station for cleanup and repairs, I snapped the original transparency image...a single moment in the history and timeline of a fine vessel and crew. Many years later, I converted it to a black and white digital image which I believe more realistically captures the drama of the moment.