Good things come to those who wait. That’s the mantra you used to hear from your parents, right? I hate to be the one who says this, but…. they were right.
At least in the photographic sense.
This is a photograph made at a Farm Museum in Littleton, Colorado. As I was walking around the museum, many different elements of this scene all caught my eye individually. The windmill, the barn, the fence, and (most importantly) the sky. Add to that, this scene is one that most don’t expect to see in an urban setting.
As a side note, for those who don’t know, Littleton is not exactly a rural part of Colorado as it is a major suburb to Denver. If I omitted to tell you where this image was made, I bet you’d never guessed it (some may not even believe it was in Colorado).
So all of these elements had caught my eye and I was looking for a perspective that could tie it all together. I found that angle (the one you see above), but there was one rather apparent problem… I visited the museum on a rather busy day. Busy day equals many people. People in this scene are not something I wanted. Therefore, I had to wait… And wait… And wait…
To add another layer of complexity to my diminishing patience was the clouds. The drama in the clouds is something that I really wanted as I think it adds a lot to the photograph.
So once again, I am all set up, with my camera on my tripod and waiting… Not only for people to be out of the scene, but also to wait for the clouds to be ‘just right’.
I will admit, I was beginning to question my sanity at points as I stood there waiting for two uncontrollable elements to play nicely with each other. Fortunate for me, after several hours, I got my chance... Everything was just right… The clouds? Perfect. People in the scene? Negative. And so, with the wind blowing through the scene, I got my chance. Windy Stillness is the result.
Alexandre Dumas Père once said, “All human wisdom is summed up in two words - wait and hope”. He couldn’t be more right. So yes, mom and dad, you win this one and thanks for the advice!
This image is available for purchase here.
In life, you sometimes have to jump off the cliff to see the ground below. This idea especially holds true in photographing the world around us. Perspectives are a key component of a good photograph. Show the world from a unique perspective and it forces people to ponder.
This photograph was made of the sun setting over the Hood Canal outside of Seattle, Washington. What I found interesting about this scene was the clear delineation of various ecosystems as they were painted under incredible colors of the evening sun. With that in mind, I headed down to the beach near where my wife and I were having dinner to capture this moment.
Most of the time, I can see the image I am going to capture by looking through the viewfinder on my camera. In this case, however, I was holding the camera so low to the ground, trying to get a unique angle, that I had no idea what I got until I examined the shots after. The camera was, literally, about half an inch off the ground and I was in a crouched position in attempts to keep the camera steady.
What made this image work was the identification of all the elements (the rocks on the shore, the water in the canal, the far shoreline, and the sky). I hoped all would come out well, but I was blindly pressing the shutter release and hoping for the best.
My hope with this image is the identification of how interlaced the worlds of nature really are. This is accentuated by the various elements of the shot leading from one to the next. Where one of these elements ended, another began.
Did I know how this was going to turn out? No. Yet if you take that leap and just experiment, you can leave the world of what you know and venture into worlds you do not. Sometimes the results are better than others. Nevertheless, you have to take that leap to even be in the game.
In this case, it was only after I leapt off the proverbial cliff that I could make out the ground below.
This image is available for purchase here.
