The Poetry of Morning Light

A fine experience it is to have risen early to catch the first rays light.  Even on rather ordinary mornings, that first light of the day is always fresh and inviting. For a photographer, morning light best defines what they do and why they are there…it generates not only that initial glow of the day, but it speaks to those who experience it with the soft words of a poetic verse.

When I desire great light for my photography, what first comes to mind is the morning light. I suppose of the favorite images I’ve managed to capture, the majority were influenced most by the first caress that glows low across the sky. The colors change so rapidly during those fleeting moments, as a photographer I find myself rushing here and there to line up the shot before it changes again. Often, a few seconds can make the difference…a moment of hesitation…and it’ gone. I can visit the same location over and over, and each of those mornings generates a unique light show that showcases the qualities of what is there in different ways. It’s like a brand new performance each time. Anticipating the moment is what is required…having the ability see beyond what is current and recognize what is to come…then stand ready to capture what is displayed before you...can mean the difference between making the catch or missing it.

Countless mornings have greeted me over the years…most were routine…a few stood apart because the circumstances surrounding the moment were so captivating. 

Since moving to Kentucky, I've discovered just how poetic morning light can be. The atmosphere in this part of the country can often generate amazing secondary conditions that enhances the already high quality natural morning light. What adds to the flavor of those mornings is the song that is always present...a song that is filled with natures sounds and emotions. Many times when I review images I've taken on a morning shoot, I can remember clearly the sounds and emotions of the moment.  After all, photography is all about capturing emotions...capturing the light is but one aspect of why any given opportunity becomes important enough to photograph.

As amazing as the morning light is in Kentucky, one of the most magnificent mornings I've ever experienced took place in northwest Oklahoma on a goose hunt many years ago. It was a morning when I had no camera in hand. It was a morning when the constant Oklahoma wind for a change fell calm and the normally churning surface of Canton Lake spread silent under a canopy of stars. 

As the first vestiges of light began to glow on the horizon, every shade, every value was reflected on the surface and as daylight crawled toward its climax, thousands of waterfowl of all types exploded across the sky…circling…singing…calling out to their new day. My only desire at that moment was to lean against a willow tree and watch as the water’s surface was set afire by the brilliant reds, oranges, and yellows that used the sky as a giant pallet. Across this splendid example of what is best about the outdoors, nature presented herself in all of the magnificent glory intended by its creator. 

No camera could have captured nature’s poetry that was spoken that morning...but, the images, sounds, and power of those visual verses that were performed then have stood the test of time…for all other mornings have been tested against that single poetic example.

The Fossil Rock

Growing up in Corona - circa 1960

There’s something positive that comes from growing up in small towns.small town values from the 50’s and 60’s were still focused on God, family, friends, and community…pretty much in that order. I suppose that is why the old black and white television shows from that era were so enduring as they focused on those kinds of values instead of the self indulging hop into bed with anyone values so prevalent on the airways today.

One of the most influential times I experienced was the two years my family spent in Corona, New Mexico back in 1960 and 1961. If you draw an X from the four corners of the state of New Mexico, where they intersect in the middle is just about where Corona lies. On the edge of town during that time was a sign that said…Welcome to Corona...Elevation 6,666 feet.  A little know fact about that location is that the now infamous Roswell UFO incident of the 1940's actually took place closer to Corona instead of Roswell. Roswell it turns out was the closest large town that anyone would recognize, so it was dubbed as the location of that event. No one, it seems had ever heard of Corona which is not surprising as the graduating class of 1960 stood at around twelve.

As small and isolated as it was, it was a great place for a kid. We lived in a pretty much unfettered environment, free to roam as we chose, explore where we may, and experience life around us on the outside. Winter was the greatest time of all as the amount of snow we received was far greater than anything I had ever experienced before. All the kids would gather on top of the hill where the dirt road curved and angled down to the main highway. The snow was so deep it would become packed and hard creating perfect conditions for sledding. We’d spend hours gliding down that snow packed road and the cold never seemed to bother us…we were having too much fun. It was almost like the scenes from ‘A Charlie Brown Christmas’…we’d even go around caroling to all the homes in town…and take hayrides and sing Christmas carols along the way.

It was during that time I first became aware of the importance of presidential elections as Nixon and Kennedy went at each other. It was a new world for me…politics…and even though I was unable to comprehend the magnitude of the issues of the day…I instinctively understood that something big was at stake. To a nine year old youngster, John Kennedy seemed bigger than life…Nixon seemed to be some great sage with a rather dull personality. Little did we know what would transpire in each of their lives, and ultimately our own lives, just a few years further down the road.

Behind our house rose a shallow hill…not so much a hill as it was just a higher part of the terrain. Along its upper edge could be found large exposed rocks. I would often hike up there and look for fossils or arrowheads…never found any arrowheads that I can recall, but I did discover countless fossils. One rock in particular was one I called ‘the fossil rock’ as it was chalked full of intricately detail fossils. It was maybe eight feet across and roughly the same in length and skirted the edge along the top of the rise.

I would sit on this rock for hours and run my hands across the swirls and dips and crystalline structures scattered across its face. I dreamed of dinosaurs and ancient times and wondered what all those fossils were and how they came to be on that single large rock. It was one of the first times I ever dreamed such thoughts and those adventures of the imagination still reside and influence my memories even today.

Corona High School Science Class - circa 1960

Often on a warm day, I would lie back on that rock and watch the clouds drift by and listen to the constant wind as it swirled among the scrubby trees scattered across the landscape. From history lessons at school I dreamed about the ancient peoples who lived in that area so long ago and the explorers who traveled for the first time across that sparse land in search of treasures and riches and grand adventures. For a nine year old, those adventures of the mind were as real as if I had done them myself. 

The entire school system from first grade through twelfth grade was pretty much housed in one or two connected buildings. As a result, even those of us in third grade or fourth grade knew all the high school kids. The place was so small you could not help but know everyone. Athletics was a big deal and even though that school was really small, they were able to wield a football, basketball, and track team…mostly made up of all the same kids. They were actually pretty good too…at least they won more games than they lost. Some of the high school kids became legendary to us grade school kids and we looked up to them with the admiration offered to NFL super stars. Woody Dame, Clint and J.T. Roper were three of the more athletic. I’ll never forget playing a sandlot football game in the front yard, three of us kids against Woody Dame…he played on his knees…we got to run using our legs…he still beat us…but man, was that something to experience…Woody Dame, football hero from high school, actually took the time to play a game of football with us kids.  We were in kid heaven and about as excited as we could get.

Yeah…those were the days, days of exploring our world and our place in it. It was a time that still held a sense of innocence about it, but looming on the horizon were challenges waiting for us that we could never have dreamed of at that age. I do believe it was that time of free spirit thinking that helped us through those challenges.

Somehow through the years we too often allow ourselves to lose touch with the days of our youth. It’s inevitable I suppose as we grow older as responsibility and time take their toll on our lives. Yet even today, even though I rarely see a fossil implanted in its natural state anymore, when I do, my thoughts return to those days. A hammock has replaced the fossil rock as a place to lie back and a place where the nine year old in me resurfaces. As I swing in the breeze, above me across the sky, clouds still drift as they did then, and beneath the rocks and earth of the surround hills, fossils are still there waiting for discovery. Imprinted in my mind are the memories of those carefree days when a young boy not only explored the world around him, he opened his mind and heart for the first time to the magnificent flavor of God’s creation. It’s good for the soul to do such things, not only those, but to remember why we dreamed about those adventures the way we did. It reminds us of who we are.

Our stay in that little community was short lived…but the impact of those two years influenced the rest of my life…it was an amazing influence that still resonates over fifty years later.

Keith 

Symphonic Melody...What is it and how do you use it?

I suppose the first time I really began to like orchestra music was many years ago when I was still in junior high school. I remember listening to a collection of music on the radio played by a station that took a specific piece of work or a collection of works from a single composer and played them back to back to back. The music I listened to was from the soundtrack 'Lawrence of Arabia' composed by Maurice Jarre. What captured my imagination was how all of the works from the soundtrack, although different, followed the same pattern...the same overall musical theme throughout the entire score. Never before had I grasp the significance of that technique in a musical score. Little did I realize then that one day that same concept would play a significant role in my photography. You may wonder how could musical theory from a soundtrack score have any effect on photography...glad you asked.

For lack of a better term, some years ago I coined the phrase Symphonic Melody as it relates to how all the elements in a photograph work together.  This includes the use of color...or more specifically, the effective use of a color theme in your composition. Think about the best images you've ever seen...what stood out about them? I would bet it was these two things...how everything in the image looked like it was suppose to be there, and that the image carried with it an overall color theme across the entire composition. Everything contained within the composition worked toward telling the story...but one thing that most people tend to overlook is how the color(s) in the image also work to define the story. This color theme is what defines the essence of Symphonic Melody.

It doesn't mean everything carries the same color value all the way through...although, that actually can be an effective technique...what it does mean is that all the colors work to enhance the elements within the composition. There can be a wide variety of color values...but what prevails is that the composition is defined not just by the things that are in it...but how color was used to generate that eye appeal...or that comfortable feel of completeness in the image.

Sometimes, the overall image does carry one basic color standard throughout the composition. Then what breaks it up...what stirs the senses is that one element that stands apart....that causes your focus to shift...it is what adds interest and maybe even a little shock value to the theme. It is this shock that captures the imagination. All effective photographs use this to some degree.  There has to be something there that is different from the rest of the theme, familiar yet demonstrated in such a way that what is there is not what you would normally see visually...It must also be related to the overall story, so that the interest level is raised high enough that the viewer wants to use their mind to piece together that one imperfection to make the image...well perfect.

Think about this concept the next time you are in nature and attempting to capture something unique.  By building your composition based it's Symphonic Melody...you might be surprised at just how powerful that technique can be.

Keith