It Ain't About What You See...It's About What You Feel....so...don't settle for Average

The main difference between Ansel Adams...and most of us...is that he looked at photography from an artistic perspective...he experimented...tried different techniques...he never settled for ordinary...and he understood the capabilities of his camera equipment.

Camera's really are not all that smart. In spite of the sophisticated electronics and the built in auto exposure capabilities, they still only read the light in such a way as to make a best guess calculation and move the exposure to the middle of the scale. If all you are wanting to accomplish is to take snapshots and capture simple pictures with very little artistic merit, then the auto exposure works pretty well.  It's been a great marketing ploy for the camera manufacturers...making it easy to take decent photo's without thinking to hard.

But, when it comes to capturing images with artistic merit...well...now that requires a bit more...let's say... understanding of what the camera is actually doing. I don't have room here to go into a long explanation of all the functions of digital camera's. But, what I'm going to do is give you an example of the difference between what happens when you simply allow the camera to do what it wants to do...and you telling the camera to do what you want it to do.

Most of my photography involves nature and/or landscape photography. As a result, I tend to shoot almost exclusively in Aperture Priority...that is where you select the aperture or f/stop and the camera selects a corresponding shutter speed. Aperture priority allows me to control the depth-of-field which is important in landscape photography. I also use a lot of exposure compensation...you know...that little +/- button usually on the back or maybe the top of your camera...anyway...I rarely shoot in full manual mode.

Another aspect of digital cameras is how white balance affects the image, or how well the camera captures color depending on the temperature of the light. (Indoor lighting has a different temperature range than daytime outdoor light). Most digital camera's allow you to change the white balance, but I would guess most people simply use the auto white balance (AWB) setting and just let the camera make that choice for them. White balance can also be adjusted by using the group or symbol settings...like shade, or cloudy, or portrait...these actually help quite a bit and are easy to use.

AWB works pretty well within a set range of light temperatures.  If the light on your subject falls outside that range, then AWB will often shift the color either toward the blueish or reddish side depending on the light temperature situation. Knowing and using this to your advantage can have a huge impact on how your images turn out.

Here's an example.  This first image above was taken simply allowing the camera to do what it wanted to do. It's not a terrible picture...but right away you may notice that it seems to have a rather bluish tint to it.  That's because the light temperature at the time fell well outside the normal range of the AWB capabilities. What I was experiencing visually and emotionally was a deeper, richer lighting situation...So, how then did I manage to capture the next image taken just a few minutes later?

Both images come straight out of the camera...no Photoshop tweaking was done to either of them. The bottom image is a much more powerful image...richer...deeper...more dramatic in its texture and overall effect.  Well, basically there is only one camera setting difference between the two images. Instead of using AWB, or either of the Shade or Cloudy setting on the camera...I switched over to manual White Balance and shifted the setting from it's normal middle of the road 5500 degrees kelvin to 9900 degrees kelvin. That simple shift told the camera to push the color setting from a middle temperature range to a range that more closely matched the color temperature of the sky at the time.  Doing so caused the camera to capture the scene in a much bolder rendition.

The reason I am explaining all this is to re-enforce the idea that photography is not always about capturing exactly what you see.  It's about capturing what you feel. Understanding how the camera reacts to light is one of the first advanced concepts that novice photographers should understand. Doing so gives you a tremendous advantage when it comes telling the camera to do what you want it to do...instead of simply accepting what the camera wants to give you.

Here's another example.  This next image is one where I basically allowed the camera to do what it wanted to do...I did use a graduated filter to darken the sky some and tweaked the brightness a bit in Photoshop, otherwise it is pretty much the way it looked coming out of the camera and represents the scene very closely to what it actually looked like.

Overall...it's not a bad image with some interesting cloud features. But, looking at it tells me one thing.  I've seen this kind of image a thousand times...I've taken this kind of image a thousand times.  Other than the unique cloud formations there really isn't anything extraordinary about this image. But, remember...photography is not about what you see...it's about what you feel. So...knowing this I wanted to capture the scene in a different way... a way that would generate more drama...more power...more depth and impact. So...I shifted my location to gain a more dramatic composition and...once again...I shifted the WB to manual...and pushed the setting from 5500 to 9900...here is the result.

Same lighting...same basic scene...Big difference.  Which one portrays more drama...which one looks ordinary? Did the scene actually look like this?...not really...but that is the way I wanted it to appear...that is what I was feeling...what I visualized the moment should be and could be.

Understanding that what the camera sees is not necessarily what you see is one of the most difficult concepts for novice photographers to grasp. Understanding this...combined with a solid working knowledge of the mechanics of your camera...can result in creating amazingly bold and powerful images even under rather ordinary circumstances.  It's also important to remember that you don't have to settle for what the camera wants to give you...in most cases what it offers is simply an average...and we as photographers should never settle for average.

Keith

A Sense of Scale

There was good flow of water ripping over the edge of the falls at Shanty Hollow that day, yet the images I made just didn't seem to capture the effect of what it felt like to be there. What was missing was that sense of scale that one gets while standing at a location in person. As I worked my way around the edge of the pool at the base of the falls, I tried to visualize just how best could I capture this moment.  Then it became apparent. To capture the grand scale of the location...I needed to get lower...way lower...and shoot upward. I knelt as low as I could without getting the seat of my pants wet...it was a bit chilly that day...and framed the shot using a 18 mm wide angle lens oriented to the vertical. I used a small aperture...f/22...and focused about half way between what was directly in front of the camera and the rock wall where the water dropped. I was careful to include a good portion of the flowing water as it rolled over the rocks at the apex of the outlet stream. The result was a photograph that for the most part captured a greater sense of the scale of the location.

Scale is one of those things we rarely think about when photographing a location. In reality it's one of the most important things to be aware of especially in certain circumstances. The idea is to use scale to provide a sense of largeness or smallness to the moment. Doing it effectively can be a challenge, but there are techniques one can use to enhance the prospects of capturing a greater sense of scale.

One technique is to include something in the foreground...middle ground...and background in the same frame. This technique adds depth and distance to your composition. Usually a wide angle lens works best for this kind of shot...but can be done even with a 50 mm normal lens. In order to keep it all in focus, a small aperture is required...something like f/22...to extend the depth of field range. This often results in a slow shutter speed which also dictates the use of a tripod.

Another technique is to shoot with a wide angle lens from a low perspective looking upwards...like what was described in the first paragraph. These low perspective angles will automatically increase the sense of scale simply by the distortion effect of having part of the scene so close to the camera lens.

Image was created using five or six vertical shots stitched
into a single shot. The result added a lot more depth and
distance to the scene

Another way I've used to improve that sense of scale is use several images stitched together. This takes a bit of practice and some savvy using Photoshop...but it is a very effective method. What I normally do is to use a wide angle lens...18 mm or smaller...and take a series of images...usually five to six that overlap by about 30%. These images tend to work best when taken in the vertical or portrait orientation. Then using the panoramic stitching feature in Photoshop...stitch them into a great image than what would be possible using a single image.

Capturing scale often requires some forethought and a willingness to think through the problem. Recognizing when the moment requires a sense of scale may very well be the most difficult part of the process. It certainly requires the photographer to purposely set out to accomplish capturing that sense of scale as compared to capturing a routine image.

Scale is a great way to draw the viewer into your images. Capturing it requires some purposeful practice.

Keith

The Importance of Background

Way too much background clutter - Too many
things competing against my main subject - Not
a good example of an effective background

She was a talented young lady performing at Bowling Green's International Festival and I found myself taking a number of photographs during her performance that year. The light was bad...but I wasn't too concerned. These were just fun shots after all, so I did not take into account many of the things I would ordinarily look for. Later, after I had downloaded the images, I came across that series and right away realized I had made some really bad photographic mistakes...the worst being not paying attention to the background. Although the photographs were not terrible, it was obvious to me that the clutter scattered across the background had all but ruined the images. Oddly enough, I've used some of those images in workshops as examples of what not to do.

Much stronger background Isolates
subject and works with the story

Not staying alert to the background is one of the prime ways to ruin your photographs. This is most readily evident with people shots, but it also applies to all kinds of photography, such as wildlife, nature, and studies of shape and form. Background is important because almost every effective image requires an effective background and every image that is successful often owes that success to the effective use of background. It is rare that the two are not connected.

An effective background works by helping to isolate your main subject...yet at the same time it provides a sense of depth and connection to the story of the image. Backgrounds do not have to be something that is recognizable. Actually, they probably work best when it is not, but they do need to blend well with the subject. What you do not want is a background that competes with your subject.

Light background enhances the darker subject

Backgrounds can relate to the subject, or they can provide a contrast. Often it is how the color is distributed across it that influences the eventual outcome of the image.  Not all backgrounds need to be blurred blobs of out of focus color, they can be crisp and solid...but they must in both cases...complement your main subject.

Receding backgrounds with angles of light often
generate a wonderful sense of place and depth

What I look for in an effective background is something that will help to isolate yet provide a sense of place for my subject. Many times simply moving to the right or left a step or so will position my subject in such a way as to take better advantage of how the light plays across the field of view. A simple change of perspective will also make better use of framing. I also like to play against contrasts...something like dark against a light background...or light against a dark background. Color use is also important, and contrasts of color will often generate a vibration that is very catchy and powerful.

Sometimes, location dictates the background. Even so, by first thinking about how to use that location to give your image a sense of place, you may find yourself moving, bending, twisting, kneeling, or even climbing higher to position your subject against a background that works to bring out the characteristics you are looking for.

As I have said many times, there is more to photography that taking pictures. So when photographing your subjects...don't just concentrate solely on the main subject...think about placing your subject within the context of the environment and use the background to enhance and bring interest and strength to your composition.

Keith

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

Shadow of a Mountain

Jim Anderson Photo

...in my youthful imagination, his life and the life of the mountain became as one...whose influence holds me captive still today...His life is a part of my heritage...a part of my two son's heritage...and is a part of the mountain's heritage. He, after all, was not just a frail old man, but a man with a story and a history connected by a mountain...
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In the 1950’s and early 1960’s, I was fortunate to grow up in the Mayberry-like community of Wister, Oklahoma just a few miles down the road from Poteau. The memories of those years spent in that southeastern Oklahoma community instilled within me a sense of personal values that still resonates with me today.

That part of the state carries with it a unique flavor of terrain where broad wooded valleys are accented with prairie fields and pine covered hills. The most dominant of those hills is Cavanal…a 2000 foot escarpment that spreads its broad shoulders across the western edge of the county. According to local legend, it is known as the world’s highest hill being listed as 1999 feet high…one foot short of being actually classified as a true mountain.  Whether it actually is the highest hill in the world is open for conjecture, but the legend of that mountain carries with it a sense of identity and home.

It is within the shadow of that mountain, where my family planted roots…four generations on both sides were born, lived, and many are now buried within sight of its peak. It is where I first began to dream visions of grand adventures sparked by stories of fox dens and bear dens across its flanks my grandfather told me about.  Stories about his youth chronicled with faded photographs from the turn of an old Victorian century toward the promise of new 20^th century.  There were stories of French and Spanish explorers along with Native Indian cultures that owned that land long before it was settled...and stories of strange and wonderful things that happened on the mountain. The word 'Cavanal' is derived from the french word for 'Cave' and indeed legend has it that Indians in the area would report rumbling noises from inside some of the caves found on its flanks.

Robert Star Bridgman - my great-grandfather
Circa 1910

Robert Lee Bridgman was his name…everyone called him ’Bob’. His father Robert Star Bridgman, my great-grandfather, established one of the first proprietorships in Poteau having moved his family there around 1895 using a borrowed wagon. As a youth Robert Star stood witness to the Civil War…just young enough to have stayed out of it, and over the years established and ran several businesses including a cotton gin, hardware store, and a newspaper…eventually evolving into a furniture and home décor business that still operates to this day…well over 100 years later…still owned and operated by family members. My grandfather followed his footsteps and continued in the family business tradition for many years.

A dapper and youthful Bob on the right
circa 1915

I remember my grandfather mostly as a frail and gentle older man…during WWI he ended up in France and was injured by poison gas that wrecked his lungs causing him great distress for the rest of life. Pictures of his youth before those war years show a strong and vibrant young man…rather dapper in appearance.

Robert (Bob) on left with friends
Circa 1915

I can only once remember him ever raising his voice in anger…seems I knocked a picture off the wall because I did not listen to him when he told me to settle down…my grandmother was more mad at him for raising his voice than at me.

He often would place us grandkids inside a large cardboard box…close it up…then spin us around, shaking the box every which way…to our great delight…and I was fascinated when he removed his teeth and placed them in a glass of water…he could almost make his chin touch his nose after doing so. I still remember watching him sit in his back room listening to a small Philco radio that seemed to take 5 or 10 minutes to warm up enough so it would work.  If not the radio, then he would open the news paper and read through it finishing the crossword puzzle before putting it down.  He would often walk the half mile or so to town instead of drive, until that became too difficult. He was not highly educated, but had a great intellect and even served as a local representative for the Democratic party during Roosevelt's run for office. His politics were simple...do what was right for the country, for the people, and for your family...and apply christian values to all three.

Goldie...on the left, was severely burned and
died shortly after this picture was taken
 Circa 1905

But…what I remember most about him was his integrity…an integrity that was strengthened by his Christian values.  Quiet and gentle by nature, he possessed a strong sense of self…slow to anger…always thoughtful…always ready to help. Yet he carried with him a longing to remember and forget a tragic day when he was just a small boy..a day when his little sister Goldie died in a fire. I never really knew much about what happened back then, but you could still see the event lingering in his eyes if you looked closely enough.  Although he was right handed, his hand writing carried a strong slant backward...from what I understand this often indicates that something profound must have happened in his past...Maybe it was Goldie...

There were times when a family would come into his place of business…the kids needing shoes and something to wear to school. Often, they would have little resources to pay for such things, but my grandfather and grandmother would make sure those kids had what they needed…the dad had a new pair of overalls and work boots, and mom a new calico dress.

They would place the bill in the books as an IOU…and tell them to not worry about it for now. More often than not, a week or two later on a Sunday afternoon after church, my grandmother would hear some knocking at the backdoor…that same family would be standing there holding a sack of tomatoes or some corn on the cob, maybe a basket of eggs…and hand them to her as payment for the clothes.  The next day…paid in full…would be written in the ledger.

That life style of generosity was returned to them in the same measure some years later. After a devastating flood, that all but wiped out Wister, their place of business was all but ruined.  With no insurance to deal with it, recovery would be long and difficult. A few days later as we were helping to clean up, some mail actually arrived…in the stack was a bill from one of their long time suppliers in Fort Smith. The look on my grandmother’s face told the whole story. Realizing they had no funds to pay for that bill and the newly purchased stock was mud caked and ruined, she opened the bill…across the face was written…paid in full. Their supplier recognized the situation and in a level of generosity not often seen today, wrote off their bill as a gesture of good will.

Robert (Bob)
Enter backdoor of his home
circa 1940

It was stories such as these…some I witnessed…many more I heard about… that formed in my mind who I was as part of this family. My grandfather’s stories about his boyhood playing on the heights of Cavanal Mountain still linger in my memories. In my youthful imagination, his life and the life of the mountain became as one, and although I long ago moved away from that environment…its influence holds me captive still today. I am often haunted by melancholy desires to return to the days of my youth…to the heights of that mountain…and revisit again the simplicity that was life in those days. I often wish I could travel back in time and visit my grandfather during his youth...to see for myself the formative years that so influenced his life...that with direct connections through time influenced mine as well.

As my grandfather grew older…his damaged lungs took a terrible toll on his health and his once sharp and insightful mind faded into confusion.  Often he would suffer through difficult nights unable to breathe, gasping for air. I remember my grandmother late one evening as she knelt beside her bed for her nightly prayers…asking God to not allow my grandfather to die suffering from the lack of breath.  She was afraid she would not be able to cope with watching that happen to him, and she did not want to see him suffer that way. In his final days…her prayer was answered…his kidneys failed…and the doctor said he would not feel a thing and would quietly go off to sleep.  He breathed his last breath in the early winter of 1973…with the comfort of family surrounding him.

When I think of my grandfather, I think of home...when I think of home...the memory of his life fills those thoughts...and as those memories play out in my mind,  I think of that mountain…it was a mountain made of earth and stone with a history and a life as large as its broad shoulders. It's almost like the strength of that mountain carried my grandfather through the years...yet, as frail as he was…I've grown to understand that it was the man…made of integrity and honor…who was the larger of the two.

Keith

First Light...Last Light...make big first and lasting impressions

My favorite times to photograph happens just before sunup and right at sundown...that last few moments between twilight and daylight...daytime and evening.  The first light of day generates some of the best moments because there can often be so many kinds of conditions that exist at that time...morning haze, fog, clear skies, clean air, subtle and bold textures in the sky.  The window of opportunity normally only lasts for a few minutes and in that few minutes so many things can happen.  Blink, and you can miss the best moment.

One time a few years back I had arrived before sunrise at one of my favorite locations on the Tallgrass Prairie in Oklahoma.  There was a thick layer of low lying clouds that obscured the horizon and the sunrise appeared like it was going to be a non-event.  I made the trek into the prairie through the tall grasses to a rocky outcropping.  By the time I arrived my pant legs and boots were soaked thru by the heavy dew.  The sky was all but grayed out and I really didn't think the morning shoot would materialize.  

Just at sunup time, I began to notice some indistinct glowing in the obscuring cloudy cover where the sun should be appearing.  Instinctively I lowered my tripod  and framed some coneflowers to line up with where the sun might appear.  Within  a minute or so, the sun burned thru the cover and set the hazy fog aglow and the disc of the sun popped thru...I fired off a couple quick shots...made a quick adjustment and fired off one more, then just as quickly, the sun faded and the moment was gone.  My morning shoot was pretty well over in that few seconds of opportunity.  If I had not been there, I would have missed capturing one of my favorite prairie moments.

First light doesn't always mean the actual first light of day.  In this particular case, first light was that moment when the light first appeared in high enough quality that I could use it photographically.  It is that transitional light that often becomes the first usable light.  First usable light provides a unique blend of spontaneity and power that flows thru time...and your capture if it is that single best moment of that timeline.

The same applies to the last light of the day.  Many of the same situations exist during that time.  Many years ago when I was stationed in Oregon, I made a trip over to Crater Lake National Park.  I spent the whole day there...the only camera I had at the time was one of those 110 pocket cameras...and yes, the pictures I took were predictably not very good.  Late that evening as I was driving out, I encountered one of the most amazing sunsets I've ever seen.  The sky was lit up with every color imaginable, and the sharp ridges of the surrounding mountains and valleys were filled with blue light accented by reds and oranges...but alas, I had used up my allotment of film and simply watched in awe not being able to capture a truly magical moment.  (Shortly after that day I purchased my first SLR 35mm camera) .  But during that sunset, there came one moment in its timeline when the brilliance of what was there exploded...yet like an explosion, it lasted but a few brief seconds and was gone.

Last light of the day often is not associated directly with a sunset...but how the light of the sunset affects the things behind and around you.  As amazing as they are...sunsets are often very cliche-ish as just about every combination of them that can be imaged has already been photographed thousands of times.  Many times, I will turn around and look the other way to see what the light of the sunset is doing around me.  That warm glow will often fill the landscape with vibrant amazing light that adds character and subtle beauty to ordinary things.  It's just a matter of planning and anticipation.

To make big first and lasting impressions with your photography, use all the magic that is at your disposal during those magical times of the day called first and last light.

Keith

"...you know what i'm say'n"

There are times when people cross our paths and affect us way more than a simple chance meeting would otherwise dictate.  Oddly enough, some of the most profound impacts are caused by the least likely of individuals. A little over a year ago one such person came into our lives that dramatically changed our perspective on homelessness and addiction. His story evolved through a special friendship that warmed our hearts and challenged our emotions far greater than what either I or my wife Kris fully understood at the beginning.  His was a life of hardship that found hope yet a life that was tormented by the demons of addiction.

One Saturday morning on the downtown square in Bowling Green, KY, I met Greg, a large middle aged African American man about 6’4” and pushing 250+ lbs with massive hands and rough exterior to match his rough demeanor.  I was there to monitor a photography class field trip.  Having arrived early, few people were there except for a couple of individuals sitting on the park benches.

While I waited for the student photographers to arrive I spent some time taking some test photo’s of the park area when after a few minutes I heard someone yell…”hey you…you with the camera…come here!”

I looked up and saw that Greg, who I had never met until that moment, was calling to me…”come here…I need to talk to you…”

Greg was a large intimidating man, and I was a bit uncertain about approaching him, but something inside of me said…” it’s okay…go talk to him”.

As uncertain as I was, I approached Greg with a smile and a handshake, his massive hands all but crushing my office softened hands, asking him how I could help him.  His first question was very direct and caught me off guard, “You ever take pictures of homeless people?”

“Well…as a matter of fact I have,” I responded with a rather uncertain flavor as to why he would ask such a thing.

“You ought to take my picture…I’m homeless…you know what I’m say’n…there’s a lot of us homeless folks down here and nobody even pays us no mind…you know what I’m say’n…somebody ought to tell our story…we need some help…you know what I’m say’n.”

 That was the beginning of our friendship that developed over the next several months.  My wife oddly enough was searching for just such an opportunity, but did not want to do it for the wrong reasons.  She spent months praying about it asking God for guidance in her desire to interact with the homeless population in our community.  Unknown by me, she had asked God for a sign…something definite…something concrete that affirmed not only her desire, but her obedience to do what she felt she was being called to do.  When I told her about meeting Greg, it was like one of those God moments where all the uncertainty vanished, and her calling was affirmed with power and strength.  When she told me about her prayer…wow…what can I say, it was truly an amazing revelation.

Over the next few weeks she and Greg, who was sleeping in a storage shed at the time, sat on the park bench downtown while I or another person watched from afar,  and talked about his life…he even brought other homeless people to the park so she could speak to them. Occasionally I’d run into Greg myself and have a talk with him.  Through each interview a picture began to develop…a pattern of abuse, addiction, abandonment, and bad choices, all leading to the plight they were in.  Each story was different but followed a similar pattern…Greg described it best…”Chaos…utter chaos”.

Greg spoke of all the hurt in his life…about losing his daughter to drugs a few years previous, about his addictions and the consequences it produced.  Most of all he wanted to help others by telling his story.  You could see the searching in his eyes, the pain, the sense of despair and longing to reconnect with the world.  His past held him down, yet he wanted to use those experiences not only so others might benefit, but that others, like ourselves, would understand the other side of life we so often neglect and shy away from.  Our preconceived ideas about homelessness were shattered by his story.  Our hearts broke when he spoke about his own brokenness.

After a number of interviews with him, Kris began to share with Greg about the love of Christ, about a love that transcends any that we as mere men can comprehend.  She spoke about forgiveness and told Greg that none of us are worthy of such love, yet in God’s eyes, it matters not about our past, only our understanding of what our future can be when he enters into our lives.  She spoke of how Christ, came into this world to accept our penalty…to die for us so that we could live, and how he defeated Satan’s desires by doing so and rising again.  She spoke of letting go of the old life, and asking Christ to enter into our hearts to transform who we are…it’s a matter of faith…and that it is a free gift offered to all people.

On that day, Greg sat silent for a long time on that park bench, head bowed.  Kris said nothing and allowed the Holy Spirit to work on his heart. After several minutes, he raised his head, tears streaming down his broad face and said he wanted that…he wanted to know that it was real. He wanted that peace but didn’t know how.  Kris said, “I know how…” and prayed with him the sinner’s prayer that he repeated in his deep staccato voice.

A peace fell over this rough man’s face…this man who had lived in chaos all of his life, who had fought cancer and addictions, and who had suffered tragedy and pain countless times. Giant tears streamed down his face, a strong giant of a man who in the presence of my meek and tender wife, broke down all conventions and let his life change.  The Holy Spirit worked a miracle that day…there are still amazing miracles in this world. 

A few days later he asked us about getting baptized, and so Kris spoke with our pastor about doing so and he was delighted.  August 28, 2011 was the day and he was as nervous as a mouse…he said, “whatever possessed you two to think I’d want to stand up front of 600 or 700 people and do this…” We laughed and reassured him it would be fine.

When he stepped into the baptismal he towered over our pastor, who is no small person himself standing over six feet tall and played college level football.  You could see the power in Greg’s face as he began to comprehend what was about to happen.  After a brief few words from Pastor Jason, Greg knelt and was placed under the water…then his feet came up and he lost his balance almost pulling Pastor Jason in with him…but, he managed to right himself with Jason’s help…and when he stood up, something happened that I’ve never seen happen before.  Almost the entire congregation stood and cheered.  The noise was the loudest noise I’ve ever heard in a church building much less during a baptism.  It was truly an amazing moment and Greg seemed all but overwhelmed by the power of that moment.

In time with the help of others, we were able to get him out of that storage building and into a small apartment.  For several months he continued to go to church, began volunteering at Hope House, a job he loved, and spent time at the park where we’d run into him and have some great visits. And…in time…Satan began his attacks. 

Forty something years of abuse still held deep in his life, and he struggled with the addictions that held him captive. These were struggles that most of us simply cannot comprehend for he was pierced deeply with their sharp hooks and the effort required to remove them often proved more painful than the affects of the addiction itself.  Several times he lamented about how he hated what he had become, that we didn’t understand the grip that it had.  He was right…we didn't understand...even though we intellectually understood what he was talking about we had no idea the power of those addictions and the pull it had on his life.  In spite of his conversion, in spite of his changed life, slowly, those things that had held him captive for so long began to reattach their sharp hooks to his life.

Several times he begged us to help him…we tried, but society simply has little tolerance for someone with Greg’s background, and opportunities that should have existed for him to receive the counseling that he needed simply did not materialize.  Kris and I are not trained to deal with those things, but we tried to help him…we tried…but just didn’t know enough about how to get him that help.  Over the next several months his life began to spiral downward again, and there were times he would call us in tears because of what was happening.  He stopped going to church…stopped volunteering at Hope House.  We tried to maintain contact with him, tried to encourage him...but he cut us off from his life and we were forced to back away.  Several times we tried to reconnect, I spent one evening watching an NBA playoff game with him…others tried to help too…but he remained distant.

Most of the summer passed without much of a word from Greg, then he made contact again...that lead to us inviting him back to church and he accepted...he seemed genuinely relieved at having done so.  That Sunday morning we called to re-affirm our pickup time...no answer.  We drove over there anyway and found Greg recovering from a multi-day binge.  He was in no shape to walk down the stairs much less go anywhere.  We were disappointed...he seemed ashamed...asked us to pray for him again...and we did, then left him.

That afternoon, Kris received a call from Greg…he was sounding different…not at all like the Greg we had come to know. He made no sense in his ramblings…he asked us to pray for him again…we did…he called several times…and seemed disconnected with reality.  We decided to give him some space realizing that his old demon alcohol was again attacking him and in that state of mind most anything we would do or say would fall on deaf ears and even worse, a broken heart.

Two days passed when Kris received a troubling phone call from one of our other homeless friends…she said Greg had died.  We scrambled to confirm what we had heard and after contacting a friend of mine who had connections with the local hospital…we discovered the rumors were true.

I can’t tell you just how we both felt…maybe you can imagine, maybe not, but our insides wrenched with every kind of emotion…It seemed all too unreal, it couldn't possibly be true...yet it was very real.  Our friend, our special friend was gone...August 20, 2012...three days before his first spiritual birthday, God called him home.  

Kris felt drawn to return to his apartment…she discovered the door was open and she stepped in.  On his small lamp table was our picture, several devotional books we and others had given to him, the picture of his daughter, and his first communion cup.  On the floor was a binder with an Alcoholics Anonymous label across the front.  She opened it and read through some of the pages.  Inside page after page of testaments, from others who he had encountered along his struggles, that carried voices from the past.  They had come to know Greg the way we had.  They saw in him the same goodness we knew was there…a goodness that had been straggled because of addiction.  Kris left everything where it was and returned home.  Both of us seemed to stare into the void not wanting to believe what had happened...questioning what we did or could have done to have prevented this.

Greg had received medical help as EMT's administered to him early on that Monday morning...he was taken to the ER...then sent to a local addiction help service...who from the best I can gather basically sent him home later that morning...I don't know all the facts...where he died...alone.

…..I tell this story only because I can see more clearly now how God brought Greg into our lives.  In spite of his condition, we saw a change in him…we experienced the joy in his heart when he first turned his life over to Christ.  We saw him struggle, bounce back…struggle again.  He opened our eyes to another world that we only knew superficially…a world that is ugly, a world that traps people in a bondage that most of us can never really comprehend.  Through him we saw how life choices can have far reaching affects on others…how the absence of a strong father figure in someone’s life can lead to confusion of what it means to be a man of honor and courage…how abuse from an early age can alter a child’s vision of who they are…what their vision of truth is…a truth that is too often distorted and drowned in a bottle or fogged over by drugs.

Even though Greg found hope in Christ and that hope can conquer all things...the addiction he had was so strong, that without help he struggled to turn away from the things that ultimately destroyed his life.  Kris and I have great confidence that Greg's conversion was genuine...we saw the tears flowing down his face...experienced the joy in his eyes...that sense of peace that he showed even for those few short months...we cling to the understanding that God's timing is perfect and in spite of Greg's troubled past, God saw something in him that he knew would benefit others.  We feel honored to have been a part of that plan and know that he no longer is tormented by that addiction...that only peace and unrelenting joy is his where he resides now.

Homelessness is not pretty…simply handing out a meal or two once or twice a year, although a nice and warm gesture, often serves more to make the person doing it feel good than it actually helps those in need.  Getting involved in this kind of ministry is not about feeling good…Stepping in to help requires a commitment that often leads to pain and sorrow…sorrow that can stab straight to your core. 

I could care less about politics and even less about politicians whose praise of such things are used to buy votes or gain an artificial advantage in the polls.  If our politicians really cared, they would walk a mile or two or ten in the worn out shoes of a homeless person, feel the cold of a biting winter night…or feel the fear and anguish of someone addicted to alcohol and no where to turn…to give their hearts to a cause where the return is no real reward at all. To follow this kind of call is to follow what Christ spoke of….a life unfettered by personal gain or economics or any of the valueless things we are bombarded with daily from our society.  Most of all, it means to give of yourself from your heart at the risk of having that heart broken.

Homeless people are real people with lives of feeling...with histories of value...with fears and pain and trials that most of us cannot comprehend.  They often give up on themselves because society gives up on them.

Greg was my friend who died largely because our society shunned such people as himself. I’m not ashamed to say so…

”...do you know what I’m say’n?”

Keith

Strategic vs Tactical - A Photographic Process

The lack of a strategic and/or tactical plan in your photography can often lead to disappointing results.  Some years ago I made my first serious attempt at photographing Oklahoma’s Tallgrass Prairie.  How difficult could that be…it’s a beautiful location…lot’s of photo ops…great place to spend a day.  Thusly equipped, I arrived an hour or so after sunup and began photographing this wonderful landscape.  That evening after I downloaded all the day’s images I began to realize that I had made a serious mistake…all of my images basically looked the same…few of them actually captured the essence of this amazing location…they were…well, snapshots, and not very good ones at that.

As I pondered on what happened I began to realize my mistake.  My strategic approach to photographing this location was flawed…I had no strategy…and my tactical battle plan, or lack thereof, failed as a result.  What I failed to do was to understand what my opponent was in this adventure.  My lack of planning all but wasted a great opportunity.

The point I’m trying to make here is that I have learned over the years that great photographs don’t always just happen regardless of the location.  It takes planning and preparation.  When I made that adventure on the prairie, I just assumed the location by itself would provide those great photographic moments.  Granted, indeed there were some spectacular opportunities…it’s just that my timing was wrong…the light was wrong…I didn’t think thru the photographic process…and I didn’t visualize what I wanted to accomplish. I simply had relied too much on random chance and that randomness just did not work on that day.

Consistently great scenic or nature photography does require an element of strategy and effective tactical application.  On subsequent attempts to photograph Oklahoma’s prairie, I used this approach and the results improved significantly.  I studied the life history of the prairie…when do the spring flowers bloom, where do the buffalo herds spend most of their time, where are the best vantage points…some of the answers required spending time in the field…hiking across the rolling landscape…arriving way early and staying way late.

Before long, I was able to develop a more effective strategic approach to photographing this amazing landscape.  But, it required more than that…it required being able to identify specific photographic techniques to capture the essence of what is there.  Simply standing on the side of the gravel road and firing off a few snapshots won’t work.  I would use binoculars or even my large telephoto lens to locate specific locations at a distance, then hike over to them and physically check them out.  That’s how I found ‘Coneflower Hill’…a wonderfull knoll with a rocky outcropping on top whose western flanks were covered in acres of coneflowers and various other prairie blooms.

I found a location deep inside the preserve that few if any people ever visit that is characterized by a rocky canyon arroyo covered in spring blooms.  I’ve spent an entire afternoon in that arroyo on several trips.  It’s also a great location to greet the first light of day.  The idea here is to find locations that have a measured potential, then plan your approach to take advantage of that potential.  It may require getting up at 4:00am to be on location an hour or so before daylight to capture the subtle nature of the predawn light.  It may require waiting for a stormy day to take advantage of cloud formations and dramatic lighting.  As always, great scenic photographs depend on great dramatic light…what’s hard is timing your arrival to correspond with that great light.  On a place like the Tallgrass Prairie, it’s important to have specific locations identified to take advantage of those great moments of light.  That’s where the strategic application of tactical photographic skills comes into play.

Strategic vs Tactical…both are critical to successfully photographing great scenic locations.

Solving Visual Problems - Don't be Afraid to Let Go...

I learned some years ago, that one of the most important concepts about what makes a great a photograph is applying the idea of simplicity to your compositions.  Simplicity simply means that all the structural elements in the photograph are there for a reason, and there is nothing there that distracts from your story.  It does not necessarily mean that the image lacks for complex details...it just means that when someone looks at the image, they know exactly what the photographer was trying to do.

One of the hardest things a photographer has to learn when refining their craft is to not be afraid to let go. What I mean by this is that often we find ourselves so captivated by the whole of a particular scene or object, that we fail to recognize its most important elements.  When that happens, we also can fail to capture the essence of the moment.  Letting go means to look at your composition with a critical eye and to visually render the scene down to its most important elements...then concentrate on those.

Letting go in photography sometimes means we must toss aside preconceived notions, and look at the problem from a fresh perspective...after all...that is what we as photographers do...we solve visual problems.  This applies to every kind of photography whether it be nature and landscape, to architecture and portrait photography.  The problem we face is how do we capture what is really important.  Solving that problem often becomes a challenge because we tend to handicap ourselves by wanting to hold on to the parts of the moment that really don't add anything to the effectiveness of the photograph.

If we begin to look at the problem creatively, we will begin to recognize that something entirely different is what caught our attention...focusing on those defining elements is what helps us solve the problem of capturing the moments identity.

So don't be afraid to let go of part of the visual elements in your photographic attempts...most of the time those simplified compositions are the most effective and eye catching.

Keith