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Saguaros in Sepia

Friday, February 4th, 2011

Hollywood and mis-informed artists.

Made the saguaro a Texas Icon.

But the saguaro only grows in Arizona.

Where people’ve got em’ out on their lawn.

The Reverend Horton Heat

Indeed, its true.  Often thought of as a symbol of the American West, the saguaro cactus (Carnegiea gigantea) is confined to the Sonoran Desert in southern Arizona, and southward into the states of Sonora and Baja, in Mexico.  However, despite its somewhat limited geographic range, the saguaro still symbolizes much of what we associate with the American West, like resilience and fortitude.  Saguaros can grow quickly, even in the hot, dry environment of southern Arizona.  On young plants, the spines can grow up to a millimeter a day.  In addition, they’re long-lived.  They don’t even start branching until they’re several decades old.

Even after their death, the skeletons of these magnificent cacti stand strong against the elements, preserved by the dry desert air.  I found a couple of cacti skeletons on a recent trip to Phoenix.  I thought the lines they made were artful, graceful, almost sensuous.

Saguaro Cactus skeleton located near Phoenix Arizona

Saguaro Skeleton I, January 2011

Detail of Saguaro Cactus skeleton near Phoenix Arizona

Saguaro Skeleton II, January 2011

Those who passed before me

Monday, January 24th, 2011

Have you ever imagined what the first people who walked into a place as grand as Yosemite Valley, or a beautiful remote canyon in Utah must have thought?  Unless they wrote their thoughts down, we can’t be sure, but I’d imagine it was something along the lines of “Holy Crap!”

Being the first person to see a place must give a grand sense of accomplishment.  But, similarly, seeing something grand for the first time–whether you’re the discoverer or not–can also be satisfying.  Perhaps you’re the first visitor of the season, knowing the canyon you’re in was left to the mountain lions, flash floods, and snowstorms for many months prior to your visit.  Or, maybe you’re witnessing your favorite peak after an epic summer storm being lit up by a fantastic atmospheric light show.  The sort of feelings and memories we take from experiences like this can easily leave us feeling like the most intrepid explorer.

As photographers, we try to make images of the places we visit as if we were the first to visit these locations.  We criticize an image if there are footprints in the dirt; I once saw another photographer carefully sweeping footprints out of the sand underneath an oft-visited arch in Utah.  Few photographers could claim theirs is the first image made at that spot (with the occasional very notable exception), but we want our image to look pristine, unvisited, wild just the same.

Alternatively, for me anyway, knowing I’m not the first person to pass through a place can be just as satisfying.  I made the images below at an intersection of two slot canyons in southern Utah recently.  (I think) the petroglyphs are from the Fremont period, from ~900-1300 AD (although if anyone could help me figure this out, I’d appreciate it); even if I’m wrong, these drawings have been on the wall of this canyon for many hundreds of years.  To me, being able to appreciate those who passed before me is just as satisfying as the idea of actually being the first to see an area.

This image may not be everyone’s cup of tea, and I understand that.  But, to me, its simple, telling, beautiful.  I hope you enjoy it.  Click on the image to see it big.

Petroglyphs located in Buckskin Gulch, Utah

Petroglyph Diptych, January 2011

Ice Abstracts

Wednesday, January 5th, 2011

Several years ago, Ernest Atencio wrote an essay called “Little Wild Places“  in which he talked about wild places–even the smallest ones surrounded by city–as locations where we can rekindle our relationship with the natural world.

On our recent visit to Wyoming, I was lucky to have a creek to walk near several times.  Deer visit the creek daily; raccoons, pronghorn antelope, grouse, several small rodents, and other birds are not infrequent visitors.  One afternoon on my walk, the abstract patterns of the ice struck me and I attempted to make some abstract images of it.

abstract image of ice on a creek in winter

Ice Abstract I, December 2010

While making these images, I looked up, briefly, and saw one of the creek’s residents–a small mouse–bolting back into the underbrush.  I think it must have been as surprised as I was–what a strange being it encountered on the side of *its* creek!

abstract image of ice on a creek in winter

Ice Abstract II, December 2010

If you’re interested, there was quite a bit of technique that went into making these images.  Each one is a composite of 9 separate RAW files.  I wanted to maximize depth of field, so I focused at three separate planes through each image.  Each of these was then combined in Photoshop to maximize depth of field (I’ve blogged about this technique in the past).  At each plane of focus, I bracketed the exposure to maximize the dynamic range that was captured in the scene.  Finally, I converted the image to monochrome using Nik’s Silver Efex Pro, and added a slight silver-blue tone to convey the sense of a chilled winter day.  So, I guess these are HDR, focus-bracketed ice abstracts.  Whew…what a mouthful.  I hope you just think they’re pretty.

I was thankful to have this little wild place to not only rekindle my connection with nature, but also to foster some creativity in my photography.

How do you use little wild places?

The Bone Yard

Friday, December 17th, 2010

Fire is a crucial element in southern California’s ecology and culture.  Every fall, fueled by the Santa Ana winds, fire descends upon the sage scrub communities, cleaning out the underbrush, allowing life to start anew.  The Santa Anas (and to some extent their homologues in other Mediterranean climates) have an almost mythical status, and are the subject of Crime Noir novels (The Underground Man, 1971) and even punk rock (Bad Religion’s Los Angeles is Burning).

I photographed this burn area last weekend (it burned in late July) in the–appropriately named–Santa Ana Mountains of southern California.  While life is starting to spring back up, the area is still largely a bone yard.

Burn area in southern California's Santa Ana Mountains

The Bone Yard, December 2010

In Remembrance

Tuesday, December 7th, 2010

We all know what happened at Pearl Harbor, HI on this date in 1941; the events of that day were a major catalyst in the United States’ involvement in World War II.  As a result of the Japanese bombing at the US Air Base in Hawaii, a hysteria ensued and  widespread distrust of Japanese-American citizens traveled across the country, leading to our government sequestering them in “internment camps” at various locations throughout the western US. Its amazing–almost unbelievable–what hysteria, distrust, and fear can lead people to do.

This memorial, made famous by Ansel Adams, marks the cemetary at the relocation camp at Manzanar, near Lone Pine, California, on the eastern side of the Sierra Nevada. Mt. Williamson is in the background.

Monument at Manazanar National Historic Site, Lone Pine California

Monumental, October 2010

Labyrinth

Tuesday, November 16th, 2010

Yesterday we returned from a weekend trip to Sequoia National Park.  While the standing trees are awe-inspiring and amazing to look at, the dried roots of the trees that had fallen were just amazing to me.  Looking *up* at roots isn’t something I’m used to doing.

Many of the Sequoias are 2,000-3,000 years old so those roots have been around through so many great events on our planet, and were there before many of those things even happened.  Its humbling to try to creatively photograph something that was already ancient when Christ walked the earth, or when the Roman Empire was the greatest civilization on earth.

While processing this image, I thought monochrome would work best in accentuating the shapes and textures in the wood.

Roots of a Sequoia tree in Sequoia National Park, California

Ancient Roots, November 2010

I have to admit, though, that I got a little carried away with Nik Software’s Silver Efex Pro.  The “Antique Solarization” treatment gave an interesting effect that really seemed to accentuate the shapes present in this image.  While it may not be your cup of tea, this image really is growing on me.

Abstract image of roots from a giant Sequoia, Sequoia National Park California

Ancient Roots II, November 2010

I’ll put up all of my images soon on a webpage for Sequoia National Park.  In the meantime, ponder the labyrinth of time!

Here There Be Witches*

Monday, October 25th, 2010

Although the main draw of autumn in the mountains is the beautiful show put on by (among others) groves of aspens, I think that bare aspens that have dropped their leaves carry a certain mystique as well.  Recently, while spending time in an aspen grove in the eastern Sierra, I noted this group of small trees that had already dropped their leaves.  I loved the interplay between the writhing tree trunks, the naked branches, and the shadows in the background.

A grove of bare aspen trees near Convict Lake in the eastern Sierra Nevada Mountains

Spooky, October 2010

To process this image, I manually blended two images: one to accentuate the bright trunks and another to close off the shadows in the background.  I further increased contrast during black and white conversion using Nik Silver Efex Pro and cropped a small amount of the grass out of the bottom of the frame.

*This is also the title of a book written by Jane Yolen; I just thought the image really screamed “spooky” and the name was appropriate.

A path into thin air

Thursday, October 21st, 2010

“In the high country of the mind one has to become adjusted to the thinner air of uncertainty…”–Robert M. Pirsig

Late last week, we decided to take a last-minute trip to the east side of the Sierra Nevada to visit the beautiful fall colors.  Having grown up in the Rocky Mountains, my wife and I both miss the crisp air and changing colors of autumn.  We arrived in Mammoth Lakes late Friday night, and I was able to photograph sunrise at nearby Convict Lake the following morning.  Not only are the fall colors at the end of this image beautiful, but I love the textures present on Laurel Mountain, which is at the western border of the lake.

Sunrise at Convict Lake with Laurel Mountain in the background

Laurel Mountain alpenglow, October 2010

After shooting sunrise, I walked over to the aspen grove you see in the above photo.  These days, it seems like photographers go hand-in-hand with aspen groves in the eastern Sierra.  Some people might argue that the photographers outnumber the aspen trees!  The beautiful thing about this aspen grove was that although small, I had it completely to myself.  I was able to walk through the trees in silence, enjoying their beautiful show.

This time of year, the blogosphere is flooded with beautiful images of fall colors, however I have a confession.  Photographing these aspen groves is difficult for me; while beautiful, Sierra aspen groves feel “chaotic” to me, and making an original composition is difficult.  However, the quote that began this blog post applies to my feelings on my “dilemma.”  One of the best lessons to learn as a landscape photographer, in my opinion, is to not force compositions out of the landscape, but rather to let the landscape guide you.  In other words, when I found myself in this uncertain, chaotic situation, I had to let the landscape guide me, thinking outside of what I normally would do; that’s when the true creativity began to happen.

A path leading into an aspen grove near Convict Lake, Mono County California

Autumnal Path, October 2010

How do you let the landscape guide you toward compositions?  I’d love to hear what inspires you in the comments…

Detail of an aspen leaf in the Sierra Nevada

Aspen Leaf detail, October 2010

Aspen trees and staying close to home

Wednesday, October 13th, 2010

“In the first place you can’t see anything from a car; you’ve got to get out of the goddamned contraption and walk, better yet crawl, on hands and knees, over the sandstone and through the thornbush and cactus. When traces of blood begin to mark your trail you’ll see something, maybe.”  –Edward Abbey

In my free time lately, I’ve been rereading Edward Abbey’s Desert Solitaire; if you haven’t read it, you should.   In going back through the book, I realize how Abbey looks at the whole landscape, not just the pretty view in front of him, but at every burr, thistle and spine.  He mastered the art of bringing the intimate landscape to life through his writing.

This weekend, while the hordes descended upon the “big show” of autumn color in the eastern Sierra Nevada, I stayed close to home by visiting a local aspen grove in the San Gorgonio Wilderness near Big Bear City.  To my knowledge this is the only aspen grove in southern California, and it brought a much needed respite to continued summer-like weather in the lower elevations.

We arrived early in the morning to a shaded canyon and very cool temperatures.  Walking down the trail to the grove, I could see the familiar golden glow Populus tremuloides ahead–a glow that brings memories of autumns in the mountains of southern Colorado back to the forefront of my brain.

Arriving at the grove, I took a breath of the sweet, familiar air present in an autumnal aspen grove and felt the cold bark of the trees.  ”Yes, indeed, I needed this!” I thought, smiling.

The grove in the San Bernardino Mountains isn’t large, and because of the relatively low elevation (7500′) and–I suspect–the latitude, the trees hadn’t fully turned yet.  As a result, I chose to focus on the unseen aspects of the grove: the fallen leaves, and the trunks of these gorgeous trees.

A grove of aspen trees (Populus tremuloides) in the San Bernardino Mountains of southern California

Aspen Grove I, October 2010

Black and white seemed to suit these images well as there weren’t enough fallen leaves to really make the forest floor light up.  Converting to black and white made the paucity of leaves really jump out.

A grove of aspens (Populus tremuloides) in the San Bernardino Mountains of southern California

Aspen Grove II, October 2010

While I didn’t come away with the striking, colorful, images people usually associate with aspens, I take some solace in knowing that I found some intimate landscapes that Edward Abbey may have written about.  Indeed, this grove warrants many, many more visits.

Incidentally, David Leland Hyde (The Landscape Photography Blogger) also blogged about Edward Abbey this week.  Take a few minutes and check it out; its a fantastic blog and you won’t regret it!

Aspen Trunk

Friday, September 17th, 2010

Recently, I noted this aspen trunk, and thought that it would make a good vertical panorama.  Converting it to black and white using Nik Silver Efex Pro seemed to give this already graphical image the punch it needed to stand on its own.

Click on the image to see a larger version!

Aspen Trunk, Populus Tremuloides

Aspen Trunk, September 2010