Yesterday, I celebrated my thirty-third birthday.  I feel fortunate to have a comfortable life, an education, a healthy family, and to have experienced some of the most amazing places on this planet.  Yet, even after thirty three years, I’m surprised at how much I still have to discover about myself.  It seems that the best relationship I continue to form is with myself.  During the course of my life, I’ve known joy, love, and have sadly been confronted with loss.  I guess you could say I’ve lived a full life, and although I still have much to learn, I do know a few things without question.

Some of my most life-shaping decisions have involved not settling for ‘good enough,’ forcing me to go in search of ‘can’t live without.’  Never settle.  Keep looking for it, whatever it is, until you find exactly what you’re looking for.  You’ll know it when you find it.

For me, the wilderness has always been a place to heal, to recover from pain and loss.  For many of us, this is true.  If that’s the nature of loss, what then do we do to confront the loss of nature?  We have to ask ourselves this question seriously, and come up with viable, thoughtful, and long-lasting responses.  With each passing year, our time to provide a lasting legacy grows shorter.

Finally, a contemplative question.  Yesterday on Facebook, someone sent me a birthday wish that really caught my attention: “Don’t know you personally, but know you through your photos. Not much difference, I don’t think.”  I know that in my art, it has become increasingly important for my voice to be heard.  What does your art say about you?

I haven’t always been able to say this, but in my thirty-third year, I rather like the person I’m getting to know.

Sandstone Kaleidoscope, January 2012

The wind can be harsh, cold, brutal, and at the same time it can be life-giving, sustaining.  It shapes who we are, and what we have yet to become.  If you’ve lived with it for any period of time, you know what I’m talking about.  It may be much more tangible to see how the wind shapes the landscapes we love so much.  I’m excited to present four new images (See the portfolio here, as well as below) from two of our national parks–Bryce Canyon and Death Valley–that are devoted to the wind that shapes these beautiful, mysterious, and awe-inspiring places.

Bryce Canyon National Park is hugely popular, being part of the “Grand Circle” of the Southwest, and its no wonder why.  Bryce’s hoodoos–formed by the brilliantly colorful Claron Formation–simply glow like no other rock in southern Utah.  In concert with water, the wind shapes the hoodoos into various shapes–from hammers, to broken palaces, to entire cities.  Jagged and raw, Bryce inspires imagination and creativity, and as Ebenezer Bryce pointed out, “its a hell of a place to lose a cow.”

Contrast Bryce’s ruggedness with Death Valley’s seemingly endless sand dunes.  The wind shapes the sand into sensuous, almost erotic, curves that perhaps could be an abstract nude study rather than a grand landscape.  The light plays on the dunes on both a micro and macro scale, providing endless shapes and forms.

Bryce Canyon #1, 2011

Bryce Canyon #2, 2011

Death Valley #1, 2011

Death Valley #2, 2011

These images signify–in part–the forces that have shaped our national parks.  To help with the continued protection of our public lands, I’ll be donating 25% of the profits from the sale of these prints to the Wilderness Society, which works to make visits to our national parks more meaningful and inspiring.  This is not a limited-edition series of prints, and this offer doesn’t expire–I’ll make the donations forever.  Finally, I am offering special pricing for the purchase of all four of these prints, in any size.  Please visit my purchase page, or contact me for more details.

“The truest art I would strive for in any work would be to give the page the same qualities as earth: weather would land on it harshly, light would elucidate the most difficult truths; wind would sweep away obtuse padding. Finally, the lessons of impermanence taught me this: loss constitutes an odd kind of fullness; despair empties out into an unquenchable appetite for life.”   –Gretel Ehrlich

Ansel Adams said, “Twelve significant images in any one year is a good crop.”  I used to think this was ridiculous, but the more I photograph and refine my own style, the more I believe this to be true.  With Adams’ thoughts in mind, I chose what I believe to be my twelve most significant images of the year.  I hope you enjoy them!

Star trails in northern Arizona, August

Dawn, northern New Mexico, July

Late-day light, Mojave Desert, California, May

Greeting the sun, Grand Canyon National Park, May

Sandstone Seduction, northern Arizona, January

Intimate scene, Utah, July

Saguaro skeleton and moon, Arizona, January

Into the canyon, Utah, April

Dawn in the desert, Utah, August

Dried mud, Utah, April

Windstorm, California, December

Sensuous curves, California, December

In May 2011, Guy Tal relit the torch on an ongoing controversy over photographers “copying” each other with his blog post, “The Art of Copying.”  Why bring along another photographer’s photograph, seek out his or her exact tripod tracks and steal his exact composition?

Some photographers say they do it to learn. Some photographers do it because they like the photograph and want to make their own print without having to buy it. Some say it is more commercially viable to copycat; others are lazy, or greedy. I ask them and you, the reader if applicable, “Why do you copy other photographers? Do you feel it is ethically OK?”

Is it OK to photograph a similar image, but not exactly the same? How far do you go?

Back in May 2010, I wrote Greg Russell and suggested that his image of Mesa Arch, while well executed, could send people a message about his work inconsistent with his intelligent, experienced perspective on the subjects of place, landscape and wilderness.  Greg has mentioned his own process in photographing Mesa Arch, but did not purposely seek out another photographer’s exact composition. He made a photograph at a location that has been photographed many times and can no longer be claimed by one photographer. Can one photographer claim a location? Not the location, but the composition? Yes, no, maybe? Copyright cases in courts across the land have come to differing conclusions depending on the degree and intent of “copying.”

Plateau Edge, Southern Utah, 1964 © Philip Hyde (Used with permission)

A magazine years ago beat up Tom Till for photographing Mesa Arch with the sunrise like David Muench had. Now dozens if not hundreds of photographers have produced nearly the same image. A photograph of Mesa Arch at sunrise in a portfolio now says, “I am looking for commercial success more than establishing my own artistic vision.” I wrote to Greg that I hoped he would not take what I said as an attack, but as honest feedback and my own opinion that I did not want to hold back from a friend.

I said that I felt that his photographs of a Death Valley sand dune and of Yosemite Valley were strong, but if placed at the top of his blog with Mesa Arch, the group begins to look like the work of every other landscape photographer from the American West.

“Have you ever tried to sell either the Yosemite or the Death Valley image to magazines?” I asked Greg in my e-mail. “I think you might have a tough time. Not because they are bad photographs, but because they have been done before.” Galen Rowell called it “image maturity,” the concept that regardless of the quality of the image itself, editors may have originally perceived it as unique, but today enough images similar to it have been made that it no longer appears fresh and unusual.

“Look at your own portfolio,” I wrote to Greg, and now to you. “Neither your image of Mesa Arch nor your Yosemite Valley image alone would be damning, but paired together, they give the opposite impression from what readers get who dig just a little and see more of your photographs.”

You might say, “Who in the world is this David Leland Hyde guy to give advice?” You may have grounds for wondering. However, in making selections of my father’s photographs I have been talking to many of the top landscape photographers alive today, as well as some of the best photography galleries and museum curators too. I have learned that for the most part the selection of Dad’s work that will be accepted today is very different than it was 30-40 years ago. Some of his most known icons just don’t appeal today because too many other photographers have copied them since their creation.

I could fight this with a big protest such as the obvious fact that Dad made his images first, that his work is timeless and any number of other arguments, but most of it has to do with Galen Rowell’s concept of image maturity. Certain photographs are no longer as new and compelling as they might have been even 10 years ago. I feel we have done a great job with the Philip Hyde site, though there are a number of images on it now that I look at from time to time and realize that they too will have to be replaced by something more uniquely Philip Hyde. It is a difficult task, even a contradiction of sorts, to take a body of work that helped start it all 50-60 years ago, and only be able to use the images that everybody else did not emulate. Once in a while, sparingly, we will use some of Dad’s signature photographs that people are more likely to remember came first.

If you, as a landscape photographer, completely ignore what I have said here, I understand. You are the artist. Even if you agree with it, I wouldn’t necessarily change everything right away. Mull it over. Let it rumble around for a while. I hope it is helpful to you at some point. The rewards of finding your own great locations, of making your own tripod tracks, are far greater than the few dollars in monetary gain from photographs like many others.

I was relieved and happy that Greg responded with gratitude and appreciation, not because he accepted what I said, but because he took it the way it was intended, as honest feedback from a friend who wanted to help him improve the look and presentation of his blog to be more in line with who he is as a person and photographer.

My father said that finding one’s voice is the most important endeavor of all. He was able to make a full-time living as a landscape photographer, which itself was particularly rare then and perhaps will be again the way the industry is going. Most landscape photographers don’t get rich, though some do through extreme commercialization and the production of cliché. Dad would advise other photographers not to be tempted or to waver from seeking quality and the development of their own vision that comes from who they are and what they feel is important to convey about nature.

Mesas, Boulders, San Rafael Swell Utah, 2009, © David Leland Hyde (Used with permission)

In Colorado and many other states, people have little inherent fine art taste and have been marketed into thinking that mediocre over-promoted pretty pictures are the best photography. A certain top Colorado photographer has very little respect outside Colorado because his work consists of primarily post-card type images. He has a 5,000 square foot showroom in Denver, part of which is devoted to another big name from the Southwest. My father called this other photographer’s work “roadside landmark photography.” Many photographers today look up to this photographer as a role model. This shows how fine art standards have dropped. We need to take back photography from the hucksters. While certain photographer’s work sells like hotcakes in Denver, the nearby Camera Obscura Gallery devoted to the classic photography masters recently went out of business. Unimaginative work sells due to the public’s lack of art education. You can choose to either prey upon this ignorance or do your part to introduce quality. Every cliché photograph adds to the problem, and every image you or anyone else puts out that shows something unique and of artistic merit, helps to raise artistic awareness.

In my blog post on Galen Rowell and developing personal style, there is a bit of discussion on these issues in the comments where I mention the work of one wealthy photographer from Australia. If you look at his website, you will see that his images resemble the typical recognizable photograph from each top location, except that the saturation has been amped up and the drama has been increased. Contrast this work with say that of Eliot Porter, Philip Hyde, Michael Kenna, Brett Weston or Carr Clifton. The problem is that many times fine art prints are an impulse purchase rather than an educated purchase.

Any photographer whose website begins to look like they just went around to the “checklist” and checked off various locations will be passed over and dismissed by the best photo editors, serious collectors and the art museums. If your photograph of Mesa Arch is your bestseller, I would ask to whom is it selling? What is the buyer’s knowledge level about art and photography? This is actually a good gauge of your work: what kind of buyer are you attracting? Is your work representing who you are as a photographer, or is it merely what you think people want to buy? Asking these questions and considering your answers carefully can and will completely transform your portfolio and your work. Try it.

Original Ice Underneath, January 2011

The original scene stopped me because I liked the chilly feeling in the ice, and the way the light was reflecting off the walls of the canyon; the tafoni created an interesting pattern in the flowing rock wall.  In addition, I liked the sensuous line at the rock-ice interface.  However, mostly I liked the contrast between warm and cold tones.

While I was happy with the original edit of the image, I have recently revisited it in an effort to accentuate the feeling the original scene gave me.  With the current state of digital image processing, there are multiple ways to achieve my desired effect.  Guy Tal recently published a great article on understanding white balance; understanding that there can be more than one appropriate white balance within a scene has been immensely valuable to me as my own processing skills have developed.   Ultimately, I chose to use Nik’s Silver Efex Pro to give a slightly cooler color cast to the ice, thus conveying the contrast between warm and cool tones I originally envisioned when I was in the canyon on that cold January day.

Ice Underneath, rework, October 2011

While today’s cameras do an excellent job of capturing the “information” in a scene, there is still work to be done in bringing out the full potential in a scene during post-processing.  What are some of your favorite techniques in doing this?

Incidentally, my friend Guy Tal does have an excellent and in-depth e-book devoted to this subject; you can read more about it at this link.  Note that I’m not a member of his affiliate program, so I get nothing more than good karma if you purchase the e-book.

Rather than showcase all of my images, I’ve attempted to choose a few select images that truly are “mine.”  In that sense, Alpenglow Images is now a portfolio site, rather than the “stock” site it used to be.  Call me sentimental, but I haven’t been able to completely abandon my old format; you can still view it at this link.

There are still bugs to be worked out, and I’d appreciate hearing about any you find.  Many of them are simply due to my novice skills in coding a website, but I will try to get everything resolved in the next few weeks.  In the meantime, please take the time to look around and enjoy the images; they all foster in me a deep sense of connection with the land.  I hope they do in you, too.

I have to admit, too, that going through my image catalog, choosing these photos for my portfolio has allowed me to see clear themes emerge in terms of my style.  I think its an instructive exercise that every photographer should do from time to time.

Here’s to reflection and self-examination.

Self-portrait, August 2011

The holiday season is already underway, and these calendars will make a great gift, either for yourself, or for someone else who loves wild places.

Cover

January

June

September

The calendar is available for $27 (includes shipping); if you are interested in purchasing one, send me an email at:

alpenglowimages (at) gmail.com

or visit my purchasing page for information on purchasing.

In addition to my calendar, I’m very happy to offer a 10% discount on all of my photographic prints through December 25!  I’m appreciative of all of the visitors to my site, and would be honored to have my art hanging on your wall.

If you’ve been in the high country, you’ve probably already felt the first hints of fall: crisp evenings, the smell of dry leaves, and the slow disappearance of monsoons are all things that–for me–mark the beginning of my favorite season.  Some of my fondest memories in the mountains are at this time of year.  And, while fall hasn’t quite come to the deserts and canyons yet, it will.  There’s nothing quite like laying out on a sun-warmed slab of sandstone on a brisk fall day.  Autumn really is the best time to be in the redrock wilderness.

This month’s image celebrates the transition from summer to fall.  A golden cottonwood leaf rests on clay soil that’s drying after a summer rainstorm.

Transitional, August 2011

They say the sense of smell is mostly closely tied to memory.  For me, the smells of autumn are what mark its beginning.  How are your senses stimulated when the seasons change?

Dendritic Connections, April 2011

At the time I made the image, as well as now, this little pattern reminds a neuron–our brains are made up largely of billions of these cells, each one connected to the other by thousands (or hundreds of thousands) of other connections.  In this way, information travels in the form of electrical impulses from cell to cell.  While biologists understand the basics of how information is transmitted, they do not understand completely how information is perceived and interpreted.  It is clear, however, that perception is an incredibly complex trait.

Although the basics of perception are probably quite similar between individuals, we only have to look around to see that everyone is different–we’re all uniquely us.  As such, it is logical to conclude that our brains all interpret scenes, beauty, differently.  If you’re reading this, you probably agree that art is subjective, but rather than simply accepting it, I find great joy in knowing we all see the world differently.  There are so many ways of seeing; that’s a fact worth celebrating.

Indeed, its true.  It feels like just yesterday, we were celebrating the arrival of a new year, now, many of us are baking in summer heat, enjoying the cool climate of the high country.  Time does fly, but its been an incredibly productive year so far, not only photographically, but professionally; in addition, my year has been incredibly enlightening on a personal level too.

I’ve been taking the time over the last few days to review some of my images from the year so far.  There’s no real purpose for this, nostalgia I suppose.  However, in selecting my July image of the month, I decided to re-introduce an image that’s already been featured on my blog.  I know it won’t appeal to everyone, but I keep coming back to it as one that’s very special.  Its definitely one of my personal favorites.

Subtle Beauty, March 2011

As I said previously, the Paria is one of those rivers that isn’t for everyone, and its surely not as sought after as the Green, Colorado or Dirty Devil, but its gorgeous, and I think the simple beauty of it is what moves me so much.  Like so many of you, I feel safe and comforted when I’m in a canyon, and the way the walls of the Paria sweep overhead, sheltering the hiker, only adds to the effect.  Katie Lee describes a friend’s reaction to Navajo Sandstone (1):

I have licked sandstone so many times, just gotten on hands and knees and passed my lips right over the surface, either the smooth on narrow canyon walls, or the sandy-rough up on top.  And Navajo Sandstone…that rock has gotten inside of me…whales and thighs and water and moons.  MY GOD, ITS SHAPES!!!  SHOULD WE EVEN BE ALLOWED TO SEE SUCH THINGS?  I started using the word sensual all over the place.

Without getting too risqué (this is a family-friendly blog after all), I’ll agree with the author of that passage.  The redrock wilderness of the southwest moves people in special ways, and I think that’s why this image moves me so.  I hope you enjoy it too!

(1) In her essay, Sandstone Seduction.