The Story Behind the Photograph - The Nebula of Orion: Where Stars are Born

The beauty of photography is its ability to be expressed in so many ways. I have often promoted the idea of what I call Cross Training where as a photographer I want to pursue as many kinds of photography as I can. The reason being, by doing so you will strengthen your overall understanding of the photographic process. One of the most fascinating and challenging forms of photography is Astrophotography. It forces the photographer to look at the exposure process from a different perspective and at the same time offers up a fascinating opportunity to see a part of creation that is virtually invisible to the unaided eye. However, with the camera's ability to accumulate light, even what appears invisible can be captured by using a few relatively simple techniques. Photographing the night sky requires one to not only expand more deeply into the elements of photography, it also requires you to develop a basic understanding of the night sky itself. When both are combined, the results can be spectacular.

As part three of the 'Story Behind the Photograph' we will take a look at one of the most challenging photographs I've ever captured; The Nebula of Orion: Where Stars Are Born

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The winter night sky and the summer night sky offer two differing vantage points for observing the heavens. The summer sky provides a fascinating view toward the center of our Milky Way Galaxy. Bracketed by the constellations of Sagitarius and Scorpius, our view toward the center of the galaxy is filled with bands of dust and gas and billions of stars. With just a simple wide angle lens, a tripod, and a dark sky, you can capture amazing images of our home galaxy as it arches above the southern horizon.

Fast forward to winter and the night sky changes and so does our view. Instead of looking inward toward the center of the galaxy, we are now looking away from the center toward the outer edges where wispy bands of stars orbit and we begin to look toward deep space. The constellations also change, and one of the most prominent is the constellation of Orion, the Hunter.

Orion forms a basic X in the southern winter night sky and consists of a variety of stars including four stars forming the corners, three bright stars forming his belt, and three stars below the belt forming his sword. One of the sword stars is actually a nebula, a place where stars are born, and it is one of the few nebula's of this type visible to the unaided eye appearing as a slight smudge forming the center star of the sword. This nebula when seen close up in all of its glory is one of the most beautiful in all of creation.

It is here dozens of new stars are being created within a gigantic fan of gas and dust consisting mostly of hydrogen , which also accounts for the reddish hue. It is also one of the easiest nebula's to capture using simple photographic equipment. But, to do so requires an understanding of basic celestial mechanics. You see, as the earth spins, the stars appear to move across the sky. This movement can be measured quite precisely and equals so many degrees per minute (I don't recall the exact number). To be able to photograph this relatively dim nebula, you must be able to do three things; use a long telephoto lens to make it large enough to see, use a relatively long exposure to accumulate the dim light, and because of the long exposure and long focal length lens, you must be able to track your camera across the sky at the same rate as the apparent movement created by the spin of the earth.

It sounds more complicated than it really is. Yes, you can purchase expensive camera or telescope tracker devises that work quite well, or, using a bit of ingenuity, you can build your own. The most common home built tracker is called a Barndoor Star Tracker. It is simply two pieces of wood with a hinge at one end and a drive mechanism located at the other end. There are some precise measurements required, but that falls outside the discussion scope of this story, but there are numerous examples available.

The drive mechanism must turn exactly at 1 rpm, or one full revolution per minute. It also requires that it be aligned rather precisely with the north star, actually just to one side of the north star. Once every thing is attached and aligned, and the drive mechanism is activated, this simple devise will quite accurately track deep sky objects for up to several minutes allowing your camera, which rides on top, to take clear and sharp long exposures bringing into view that which is not visible.

And so it was, one March evening in 2014, my Barndoor tracker devise was attached to a sturdy tripod and a small 1 rpm motor was attached to the drive mechanism. With some trial and error, the tracker was aligned with the north star, and using my 500mm lens, I zoomed in on the Orion Nebula. It took several attempts to get the exposure and focus correct and also a few slight tweaks of the north star alignment, but I eventually enjoyed what proved to be an amazing evening of shooting the night sky.

Standing outside on a cold winter evening under a clear sky is almost like viewing Heaven from afar. On this particular evening it seemed as though I could actually see to heaven and back as the night proved to be dark and clear, adorned with silver jewels. Hovering above the southern horizon, Orion the Hunter shimmered in all of his glory, bold and bright, unmistakable by its form, unbelievable in its clarity. It stood like a beacon as though its placement was purposeful and it shined as a visable symbol representing all the other hidden wonders residing just out of visual reach.

The tiny 1 rpm motor was activated and gently hummed as the connecting arm it turned rotated the drive shaft which slowly moved the barndoor tracker allowing it to counter act the rotation of the earth and stars. Using a remote shutter cable, I pressed the shutter release and counted from 1....18, 19, 20. A few seconds later, across the view screen appeared the reddish glow of the Orion Nebula. Using the viewer zoom, I took a closer look and realized my measurements and alignment on this occasion appeared to be dead on right. After a few more shots, I rushed inside to download them.

The image required some slight tweaking in Photoshop, brightness, contrast, color corrections, noise reduction, sharpening, all in small increments to enhance the elements already there...and a final crop to bring the nebula to its final appearance. Being my most vocal critic, I tend to find fault in almost all of my images, but even after close inspection, this capture exceeded every expectation.

Several previous attempts to photograph this same nebula had resulted in frustratingly blurred and imperfect images resulting from improper alignment of the tracker. But, when I took a close look at this one, the surrounding stars appeared as sharp pin points of light and the subtle delicate textures of the red, pink, and blue giant gas cloud floated across the darkness of space in a choreographed dance of color. Embedded within that cloud were the glowing beginnings of new stars having just formed not so long ago in celestial terms.

Orion Nebula - Where Stars are Born

All the hard work, the research, the trials and lots of errors, the endless nights standing in the cold air when the conditions were marginal, had finally paid off. With this single photo, my view of the heavens changed. The Nebula of Orion, where stars are born, became more than just a winter constellation, it became a photographic pathway to the hidden wonders of the heavens.

The Story Behind The Photograph - Shanty Hollow Morning

Almost every photograph I share has a story behind it. When I take time to browse through them, the memories associated with the moments leading up to their capture often will refill my thoughts with pleasant apparitions. With few exceptions, those memories reflect a sense of nostalgia from times past when moment, preparation, and opportunity combine to create an extraordinary photographic event.

As the second installment of 'The Story Behind the Photograph', we will take a look at one of the most remarkable photo adventure events I've experienced in recent years. This one I call,  'Shanty Hollow Morning'.

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The weight of my Old Town Camper canoe pressed heavy across my shoulders as, long before daylight, I slid it off the rack atop my Jeep to have it settle across my collar, balanced precariously between tipping and riding on an even keel. As I carried the canoe and slowly spun toward the water, the ambient light shimmered across the surface of the straight edge smooth lake and stars suspended themselves in a bowl-like ebony-laced arch high above in the clear morning air.

I always find it comforting in a way to hear again the familiar hollow sound a canoe makes when you lift it off your shoulders, gently flip it upright, and lay it on the water along the edge of a small lake. There is no other sound in nature, especially early of a morning, no other familiar movement that can compare. You feel blessed in a way, for this simple action generates a life long memory so ingrained into your mind it far exceeds the ordinary act used to create it. So it was, again, on this Kentucky morning filled with anticipation of what might come.

Even though summer was deep within its realm, the morning air was damp and unseasonably cool. Indeed, summer mornings in Kentucky offer a canoer/photographer some of the best conditions one can hope for with calm winds and layers of mood enhancing fog. As a photographer conditions like these provide excellent opportunities to capture exceptional moments. They also provide moments of soul heeling we sometimes require.

Leading up to this morning, I found myself caught in what seemed liked a perpetually high level of work related stress. A moment alone with nature was something my mind and body craved from within their deepest reserves for those reserves were depleted to the point of exhaustion. They required a day afield to replenish the low energy levels. As I stood next to the canoe in the pre-dawn light, the heeling process was already at work. Within a few moments, my gear was loaded, and I gently shoved away.

Paddling a canoe under a dark sky creates an odd sensation of movement without feeling like you are moving. The sky hovers motionless, the water appears black and seems to stand vacant and empty around you, yet you feel the canoe gently surge forward with each stroke of the paddle.

The ambient light was bright enough so the surrounding hills formed a strong silhouette against its glow and slowly with each movement of the paddle, those hills rolled behind me. It took about a half hour to reach the upper end of the lake where it arched east and west to form a hammer shaped head. I paddled a short distant to the west toward the dam, then spun the canoe around to face what would soon be a rising sun. 

I attached a wide angle lens, then made a preliminary adjustment of the field of view to include the front half of the canoe, then simply drifted for the next twenty minutes or so, making subtle adjustments with the paddle, absorbing the quiet, relaxing my inner self. In time the sky grew brighter and with the slow ascent of the still hidden sun, the thin blanket of fog began to stir, moving almost ghost-like across, then lift from the surface of the lake. I am always amazed at how nature creates its own path. The coolness of the air combined with the warmer water to generate a dancing fog so light, so airy, the slightest puff of air alters its course which catches the subtle rays of light in ever changing subtleties. As the fog rose higher, a larger cloud lifted above the tree line on the far side of the lake. 

The sun, trying now to find its path into daylight, cast a beam of light through the hovering form and set it aglow. This glow then reflected off the impossibly smooth surface of the lake now filled with uncountable fingers of mist shooting upward following invisible currents of air. Ever so slowly, I turned the canoe to align it with the glow of the morning light, waited for the ripples to settle, positioned the camera angle to just undercut the sky, and snapped the image.

When the image appeared on the view screen, I knew a moment of pure gold once again displayed across my visual imagination. My soul cried internally at the serenity and beauty displayed before me. I lowered the camera and simply watched the morning play, dance and spin in front of me. Later, as I paddled toward the lower end of the lake I felt replenished. Uplifted by the experience I rose above the moment to become suspended by a renewed strength, thankful for the moment God had once again revealed to my heart, reinforcing an understanding to my weakened soul of why I do such things. 

There is more to photography than taking pictures...the stories behind the photographs reveal more than the simple image alone can visually explain. Seeking out such revelations opens the heart of a photographer and fills it with a secreted form of art, one requiring only a moment such as this one to express openly what lay hidden deep within.

The Story Behind The Photograph - Wild White Indigo Sunrise

Every photograph contains two stories. The first one being the visual message you the photographer are attempting to show. The other one being the story behind the image, or what it took to capture the photograph. In many ways the second story can often be the more intriguing of the two but because of its nature, it is almost always known only to the photographer.

Great photographs rarely happen because of random chance. Most are captured only through perseverance, planning, and vision.  Capturing something truly unique is as much about how you manage to place yourself at that point of best potential as it is understanding the fundamentals of photography. Sometimes luck does play a roll, yet simply being there requires a choice. Seeing the opportunity requires you look beyond the ordinary. Capturing it requires the ability to command the moment both technically and artistically.

Over the next several posts we will take a closer look at what it took to capture a specific image. Let's begin with one of my favorites; Wild White Indigo Sunrise.

The damp, prairie grass closely hugged the full length of my legs as I walked in the predawn light into this Oklahoma landscape. Even though it was late spring, the morning air was cooled by a whispering, but stiff breeze as it caressed the upper reaches of the blue stems and the myriad other prairie grasses. With each step I felt my soul move closer to heaven and at once I was transported to an ancient time long before white men trekked across the plains to settle new lands. My senses were filled with the sweet prairie aroma, familiar, yet somehow foreign to my civilized nature. I paused for a moment and cast a gaze toward the sky. Nothing but thick clouds stretching beyond the horizon threatened to circumvent an attempt to capture one of those legendary prairie sunrises.

When I reached a shallow high spot that fell away toward a long valley stretching to the horizon I stopped and placed the camera tripod onto the rocky ground, and extended its legs between the grasses to form a secure platform. My large camera backpack by this time felt heavier than I remember it being and I slipped the straps off my shoulders and gently placed it on the ground. There was just enough daylight forming to allow me to see. It wasn't the dramatic pre-sunrise light I hoped for, but a somber gray mood was cast across the prairie and with it most of my hopes of a great morning of shooting.

Around me prairie birds began to stir warming up their songs to announce the arrival of dawn. There were no other sounds but the breeze, the birds, and my labored breathing. The morning breeze rose toward a wind causing the loose material of my long sleeve cotton shirt to flap. I noticed the tops of the grasses were beginning to arch more and more, leaning over, then springing back in time with variances of the wind, and the morning progressed toward what would be sunrise, a hidden sunrise clouded behind that vail of overcast hugging close to the ground.

I locked the camera onto the tripod, installed my long 50 to 500 mm lens, a good one to start with just in case some bison appeared deeper across the valley. I had given up hope of catching the sunrise, but instead hoped to see something of the wildlife I knew roamed, or flew, or scurried across the prairie in this area.

Directly in front of me about 10 yards away the silhouette of a lone Wild White Indigo plant rocked back and forth with the wind and the day grew brighter, still gray, but light enough now to be able to see across the valley. The overcast too changed as more texture appeared across its subsurface area and the winds began to stir the clouds lifting them higher above the valley. I checked the time, the sun would be full up as sunrise was behind me now by a few moments. I again looked toward where I believed the sun was hidden behind the cloud cover, the sky grew a bit brighter and a pale cast of color appeared between a thinned layer of overcast.

Pointing my camera toward this pale color, I zoomed and focused, but it just did not look right, yet as I was looking through the view finder, the lone wild white indigo plant suddenly darted across my field of view. It was bouncing and rocking back and forth with the wind, and I tried to focus on it as best as I could. At the same time, that thin band of color, suddenly grew brighter as the clouds parted just enough to allow the sun to almost burn through. Across the field of view, a bulls eye apparition of gold, yellow, and orange mixed with the thinner blue-gray clouds and then without much warning, the hidden sun almost burned a hole in the clouds and created a brilliant spot across the dark overcast. The Indigo plant continued to sway in the wind and I knew this moment would not last long. I focused on the indigo plant to take a shot but the wind pushed it over...I waited...waited...waited...the brilliant color began to fade, then the wind calmed for a brief moment and the indigo plant lifted upright into my field of view. I snapped the shot. Not more than a few seconds later, the cloud cover once again engulfed the sun and it was gone.

Moments such as this one are rare encounters along the journey of a photographer. A degree of luck played out during this photo shoot, but had I not already scouted the area, rose well before sunrise, driven for an hour, then hiked in the darkness to be there, this encounter would never have happened. I love photographing Oklahoma's Tallgrass Prairie as it provides an array of opportunities found in no other location. It is truly a land of color, a world of adventure, an enchanted place where what once was...still is.