being a photographer

I am thinking tonight about how lucky we all are to have our sight.  Photographers use more than just their physical sight to “see” a photograph.  But tonight I am thinking about this because my father is having eye surgery Tuesday to correct a blown retina after cataract surgery.  A visual artist who may or may not get his full sight back.

It takes a lot of emotional courage to be an artist. Remembering this, I picked up a favorite book again tonight, Art & Fear: Observations on the Perils (and Rewards) of Artmaking by David Bayles and Ted Orland, and found this quote to share… “In the ideal – that is to say, real – artist, fears not only continue to exist, they exist side by side with the desires that complement them, perhaps drive them, certainly feed them.  Naive passion, which promotes work done in ignorance of obstacles, becomes – with courage – informed passion, which promotes work done in full acceptance of those obstacles.”

The photo above is of aspen trees on the shore of Grant Lake in the Eastern Sierras. Clicking the thumbnail will bring up a larger image for closer viewing.

refining your vision

This afternoon I’ve been editing images to a batch limit of 20 of my best to prepare for printing a portfolio that will be reviewed at an upcoming photography workshop.  This is a difficult task, editing your own work.  But it’s something very valuable.  As I was looking through past images to see if anything caught my attention, I found a color version of this image with a little more reflected sky on the top edge.  And Bruce Barnbaum’s words came back to me… review your images over and over again if something tells you that you have something there.  You might not see it today… you might not see it tomorrow.  In this case, I didn’t see it until 2 years later.  But I finally saw what I intended to share.  Not because my digital darkroom skills are much better than 2 years ago, but because my vision, my way of seeing is becoming clearer to me.

So enjoy this abstract arrangement of rocks from the shores of Jenny Lake, WY… even if it took me 2 years to share it with you.

Winter is here

This past week I visited Harriman State Park in NY for some photography during some really chilly weather.  The week prior the east coast had a really great snowstorm and I was looking forward to some snow pictures in this area.  But most of the snow was gone and what remained what lots and lots of ice.  Ice on the seven lakes there, ice on plants and ice on outcrops. The plants seemed happy to have their protective coating of ice on this 19F day… glistening forms of spring hopeful.

During this time of year there are very few people in the park; I ran into four people hiking the entire day.  But during the warmer months it’s obvious this park is trampled by crowds from nearby New York City, day visitors and group campgrounds filled to capacity.   This day I found solace in the sounds of wind and cracking ice shifting on the lakes.  Stalactites of ice forming from a shelf ice balanced between two rocks on the edge of one of the lakes brought me back to childhood wonder and amazement… how?

Time behind the camera

This time of year when I have less light to work with at the end or start of the day (having a full time job that I enjoy sometimes gets in the way of photography!),  I am reminded of how much time behind the camera is special for me in so many ways.  Not only am I able to create my best images when I don’t have a schedule to keep, but the entire immersion is therapeutic and spiritual for me.

This image was taken at Promised Land State Park in Pennsylvania this autumn when Joe and I were able to take an entire day to wander the park at our own pace.  It speaks to me of life and death, joyful transformation and the mysteries of life.