Topophilia

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House on Fire ruin–a vertical panorama

Monday, February 8th, 2010

In my last post, I discussed a few techniques that can be used to effectively shoot panoramas.  All of my examples were of grand landscapes, and they were all landscape-oriented panoramas.  I want to use this post to point out another time you can shoot panos to yield great results.

Last November, we visited the Cedar Mesa area near Blanding, Utah.  Since we were limited on time, we chose to visit a familiar and often photographed Ancestral Puebloan ruin that’s been nicknamed the “House on Fire” (also called the Flaming Roof ruin).  I blogged about that visit here, in November.  While at the ruin, I envisioned someday wanting to print it very large, and wished I had a medium format camera with me.  Additionally, I really wanted to emphasize the “flames” exiting the roof of the ruin.

So, I took 3 landscape-oriented images, but rather than putting them next to each other, I stacked them on top of one another,  thus producing a larger image.  If you click on the image, you’ll see a larger version–the detail is amazing!  That said, it would look even better printed on canvas over your couch :)

A view of an Ancestral Puebloan ruin near Cedar Mesa, Utah

"House on Fire" vertical panorama, Utah, November 2009

Book recommendations

Saturday, January 16th, 2010

As a teacher, my spring semester doesn’t begin until February 1, so I’ve had time to do some reading.  I’ve recently finished 2 books that I found fantastic, and would like to recommend them to you.  A little over two months ago, I wrote about how I seem to have been stricken with a bad case of Topophilia.  In trying to reconnect with southeastern Utah, two of the books I’d like to recommend are by David Roberts.

The first book, In Search of the Old Ones: Exploring the Anasazi World of the Southwest, takes the reader along on his 20-year journey through the Southwest and he recounts the history of the discoveries, the appalling thefts of artifacts, the cave paintings and his own transcendent experiences in stumbling upon some vestige of this lost civilization.  His awe and reverence are contagious.

In Search of the Old Ones by David Roberts

Click the image or here to purchase this book from Amazon.com.

The second book, also by David Roberts is Sandstone Spine: Seeking the Anasazi on the First Traverse of the Comb Ridge. Fueling both my Topophiliac tendencies and my desire for adventure, this book describes–as the title says–the first traverse of Comb Ridge, which runs almost all the way from Kayenta, Arizona to Blanding, Utah.  Its a fantastic, fun read.

Sandstone Spine by David Roberts

Click on the photo or here to purchase the book directly from the publisher, The Mountaineers Books.

Finally I have an unsolicited, but heartfelt recommendation for a photography guide.  On July 10, 2006, on my first trip to Yosemite National Park, I purchased Michael Frye’s The Photographer’s Guide to Yosemite and have found it to be a continued valuable resource.  Buy it and study it; most of the locations are easy to get to, and the superb advice will have you there at the right time of day.  You can click here to see some of the images I’ve made in Yosemite using this book as a reference.

Michael Frye, The Photographer's Guide to Yosemite

Click on the image, or here, to purchase this book directly from the Yosemite Association.

The Rise

Monday, December 14th, 2009

Today’s post comes from my new friend and fellow photographer Jay Goodrich.  After reading my post on Topophilia, Jay contacted me with his interest in contributing a story about how the landscape of southern Utah has touched him.  You can read his story, The Rise, below, as well as enjoy some original images from Jay.  Additionally, make sure to check out Jay’s photographs here, and subscribe to his blog here.  Thanks Jay!

The Rise © Jay Goodrich

I stand in the middle of a valley surrounded by rock formations. I can not see any of them yet, but I know they are there. It is so dark that I can not even tell if there are any clouds lingering to add to the drama of photography this morning. Red earth all over my shoes, my clothes. It is in my hair, my nose, my ears, and even my eyes. It was a little windy yesterday. I look to where I think the horizon is but I see nothing but a big black void. There is not a soul around, it is completely silent. I am for once, early. I head to the back of my truck to grab my backpack and my tripod. The rear bumper is covered in a layer of red powder about an eighth of an inch thick. I write “wash me” in it. As I open the door the dust stirs into little tornados before it falls back to the earth. My pack and tripod have traces of the deep maroon powder all over them as well. I stumbled upon this place yesterday afternoon.

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I am a bit tired. I spent the evening shooting star trails only to realize that morning was going to come way too soon. There is a crispness in the air, it tingles as it enters my nose. It reminds me of that sound you hear when a person bites into the perfect fall apple. A little pop, followed by a sweet aroma; I can just taste the explosion of flavor. Vapor crystals leave my nostrils and mouth and scatter as far as I can see. I hope that my mission is going to yield imagery that ties over my soul for awhile – this is my last day here.

I pull the Petzl lamp out of my pack and wrap it around my head. I turn it on, throw the pack onto my back, adjust the straps and buckles, sling the tripod onto my shoulder with one hand, and close the truck door with the other. More dust scatters. I start to walk into the belly of monuments and darkness. I am now the only light source.

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As I stumble to my location, a calm comes before me. It was like I donned that old comfortable shoe that was completely molded to the contours of my sole. I began to run on auto pilot. The light was starting to fill the sky. At least, enough that I could see those rock formations. They were looking a little pink. This place is so magical. I knew that would change as the sun began its race to the other side of the planet. It always starts as pink, or tan, something very subtle and muted, pastel. And depending on the atmosphere, the day could become, gold, yellow, orange, red, crimson, maroon, or any variant there of, a perfect contrast to that deep blue fall desert sky. The formations – sharp and jagged to smooth and bulbous. Why this place over any other? The mountains are my home, but this place speaks to me like no other.

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As the sun begins to come up there is a slight breeze. It is the souls of those rock formations coming alive, they are looking for warmth as am I. The hair on the back of my neck stands on end, like it does when I feel the gentle kiss of my wife. My pupils dilate. I feel the eye muscles tighten. The sun is showing her face ever so slightly. The warmth begins to bathe me and all of my surroundings. The crystals from my breath fall away closer to their origin. I quickly realize It is going to be a golden rise. Everything is covered in hues of yellow and orange. I look through my viewfinder one last time. God I love this place. And click.

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More images from Cedar Mesa

Friday, December 11th, 2009

I’d like to share a couple of more images from my recent trip to Cedar Mesa, in southeastern Utah.  The first one is an Anasazi, or Ancestral Puebloan, granary that’s immediately adjacent to the more famous Flaming Roof Ruin.  I love the way the doorway has “shaped” itself over the years into a unique symmetry, and you can still see the same patterns on the roof of the alcove, giving it a “flaming” appearance–maybe this is Flaming Roof Ruin II?

Anasazi Granary II, November 2009

Anasazi Granary II, November 2009

In addition to being impressed with the entire structure, the masonry work itself is also very interesting to look at, and I thought a detail of a granary wall would make an interesting photograph.  These structures were likely abandoned around 1300 AD (perhaps earlier), and they’ve managed to survive 700+ years in good shape.

Granary Wall, Detail, November 2009

Granary Wall, Detail, November 2009

Cedar Mesa, Utah

Sunday, November 29th, 2009

We just returned from my parents’ house in New Mexico, and in classic Topophiliac fashion, I made a quick day trip to the Cedar Mesa in southern Utah.  As a best estimate, it had been 9 years since I last visited this area, and returning only confirmed for me that it really is one of my favorite places to be.  Since I only had one day, the locations I visited were a little cliché and iconic, but it satiated my soul.  

I made my first visit to the ruin known as “Flaming Roof Ruin” or “House on Fire Ruin”.  It really is beautiful, and humbling, to be able to spend a couple of hours in such a historic location.  

 

Flaming Roof Ruin, November 2009

Flaming Roof Ruin, November 2009

I’ll have more posts from this amazing ruin, as well as other locations on my day trip in the next few days.  Getting to spend the day on Cedar Mesa with my Dad was one of the many things I was thankful for this last week.  I hope you were able to celebrate everything you’re thankful for this year…

Featured Photographer–Bret Edge

Wednesday, November 18th, 2009

Bret is the third featured photographer in my series on Topophilia, finding your sense of place in the canyons of southern Utah.

As I mentioned in a previous post, one of the reasons photographers seem drawn to southern Utah because of the solitude.  According to the US census department, the population density in San Juan County, Utah in 2000 was 1.8 people/square mile.   Parts of southern Utah have some of the darkest night skies in North America.  So, that solitude isn’t an illusion–you really can be the only person for miles.

One of the reasons I admire Bret Edge’s photography so much is that he has a knack for capturing that  vast solitude without making you feel lonely.  A look through his portfolio has many images that interpret the expansive landscapes of southern Utah in a very real and tangible way.

I first met Bret late in 2008 through interactions on Naturescapes.net; he offered a ton of helpful advice as my wife and I planned a short trip to Moab after Christmas.   Since then, I’ve appreciated his honest, thoughtful and constructive feedback on my own and other photographers’ images.  Although not a Utah native, Bret has the pleasure of living in Moab, and by his own confession, he is practically addicted to the area.  He and his wife moved there almost 4 years ago, and have embraced the landscape (he proposed to his wife under Delicate Arch!)…and its embraced them.  Bret says, “Funny how Moab and the Southwest just kind of grabs hold of you and doesn’t let go.”

From his home base in Moab, Bret offers dynamic workshops and photo tours (which you can read about here) in the Moab area and beyond.   In addition to registering for one of his workshops, make sure to subscribe to his blog for trip reports, new images, gear reviews and workshop updates.

Canyonlands Sunrise by Bret Edge (used with permission)

Canyonlands Sunrise by Bret Edge (used with permission)

Featured Photographer–Guy Tal

Friday, November 13th, 2009

Guy is the third featured photographer in my series on Topophilia, finding your sense of place in the canyons of southern Utah.

In my next post, I’ll be writing about the grand, wide open landscape that draws tourists and photographers to southern Utah.  However, if you look closely, you will also find an intimately beautiful landscape–one that is not immediately apparent, but if you take the time to find it is equally rewarding.

Working on these posts, I’ve enjoyed getting to know my friends a little bit better.  I respect all of their work immensely, and aspire to have as breathtaking a portfolio as any one of them.  Over the course of my photographic career, Guy Tal has inspired me in many ways, but one that stands out is his expertise in bringing the intimate landscape of southern Utah to life.  Whether you’re in Utah or Ohio or Alberta, Guy’s images are a reminder to stop and look at the details.

In his comment on my first post in this series, Guy said:

“This place does something to you. I couldn’t rest until I managed to make a home here, and no other place ever felt more like home to me. More amazing is the fact that I keep discovering it over and over in deeper and more profound ways every time I step out the door.”

Guy’s thoughts crystallize for me the most salient theme in this series of posts: that, in a very real way, going out is really going in.  I have heard that several times throughout my life, but until you actually experience that idea, they really are just words.  I feel fortunate to have a group of colleagues (in other photographers) who feel the same way.

 

Monets Valley by Guy Tal (used with permission)

Monet's Valley by Guy Tal (used with permission)

You can visit Guy’s website here, and subscribe to his blog here.  In addition, Guy leads photo workshops, with the most recent one being in Capitol Reef National Park.  You can read about them (and sign up for one!) here.

Featured Photographer–Varina Patel

Tuesday, November 10th, 2009

Varina is the second featured photographer in my series on Topophilia, finding your sense of place in the canyons of southern Utah.

In asking other photographers about what draws them to southern Utah, a theme that runs through their answers is the solitude.  During my exchange of emails with Varina Patel, she said it very well:

“Can you think of a spot where you can stand for an hour, and not hear a single car pass by, a single plane fly overhead, or another human voice besides your own? You can find countless spots like that in Utah.”

I think many landscape photographers need that solitude as surely as they need oxygen or water, and they begin taking images as a way to search out and capture that feeling.  Perhaps that’s why so many of us feel at home in southern Utah.

Much of southern Utah is located on the Colorado Plateau, which was uplifted during a series of relatively violent geologic events.  Despite the nature of its creation, the landscapes of southern Utah are amazingly elegant.  That elegance is what drew me to Varina’s photography.  Her compositions are simple, with brilliant lines and colors, and are technically perfect.  Her photos draw you in, letting the lines lead you through the frame, inviting you into the landscape.  Looking at her portfolio, it is evident that Varina–like many other photographers who have fallen victim to the landscapes of the Colorado Plateau–feels a deep connection with the earth.

Varina, with her husband Jay, run multiple workshops, including day workshops on a method of post-processing they have dubbed intelligent HDR (or iHDR).  The idea is to process the parts of the image that actually need an HDR treatment, rather than the whole frame.  The latter has a tendency to make an image look garish or unnatural.  Her expertise in post-processing is evident in looking at her images, and I hope I can achieve that level of understanding…someday!

Like Scott Bacon, Varina told me to choose which image of hers I would like to display.  I chose this image, taken in the Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument.  Varina gave me a fantastic description of the image, and of the landscape.  Rather than me try to butcher her words by paraphrasing, I’ll share her sentiments:

“…this is a spectacular location. It’s in the Southwest region of Grand-Staircase Escalante National Monument. The Native Americans called it ‘The Land of the Sleeping Rainbows.’

The first time we visited this location, we stopped near this spot, and got out of the car. We stood there in awe of the view. Those bands of color you see in the mountains stretch for miles in every direction… and the landscape here is completely unpredictable. We’ve visited this spot several times now, and we’ve only explored a small piece of it. I think I could shoot here for weeks on end, and never get tired of it.

On this particular day, we arrived in time to scout locations before we set up our cameras. We could see these storm clouds rolling in, and were pretty excited about the prospect for some nice shots. The storm clouds were moving fast, and the light was incredible. I found a patch of cracked earth, and used that as my foreground – in an attempt to give the viewer a more intimate view of the location… as if they could step right into the photo.”

 

by Varina Patel (used with permission)

You can visit Varina’s website here, learn more about her workshops here, and subscribe to her blog here.

Featured Photographer–Scott Bacon

Sunday, November 8th, 2009

Scott is the first featured photographer in my series on Topophilia, finding your sense of place in the canyons of southern Utah.

I’ve only discovered Scott’s work recently, but am very happy I did.  His work conveys to me a simple beauty, one that is achieved when one feels a close connection to a place.  The first images of Scott’s that drew me in were, of course, his photos from Cedar Mesa, in southern Utah.  Upon viewing them, I was reminded of several backpacking trips with my dad growing up in canyons like Slickhorn, Owl, and Fish.  These canyons are densely littered with archaeological sites that–whether pictographs or ruins–draw you in with a sense of reverence.

According to Scott:

“There are countless remote canyons containing treasure troves of land forms, flora and remnants of past civilizations just waiting to be seen. For me, there is no better feeling than slinging my camera pack and walking off into discovery. And the experience of solitude in these wild places simply fulfills me like nothing else.”

He asked me to choose which image of his I’d like to feature, and my choice was easy.  I chose his image of Slickhorn Kiva, not only because its very well executed technically, but because it conveys the spirit of the Old Ones–the Anasazi who lived in the area–and reminds me why I love this place.

 

A kiva located in Slickhorn Canyon, Utah

Slickhorn Kiva, by Scott Bacon (used with permission)

Please visit Scott Bacon’s website here, and make sure to subscribe to his blog here.  In addition to these stunning photos from southern Utah, he has beautiful images from the Rocky Mountains, focusing on his home state of Colorado.

Topophilia

Friday, November 6th, 2009

Hi, my name’s Greg and I’m a topophile.

That statement almost makes me sound like I need to check into rehab or begin a 12-step program.  As it turns out, its a good thing to be a topophile.  What the heck is a topophile?  Anyone who has a strong sense of place or identity is a topophile.   Although I have never lived there, I have always felt a strong sense of place in southern Utah.  Having grown up in a home where I was taught to enjoy the outdoors, I do not feel out of place when I am outside anywhere, but I feel especially at ease when I visit southern Utah–its almost as if I’m going home.

When I was 6, my parents moved from Denver to the northwestern New Mexico (the Four Corners area).  I remember a lot of day trips and overnight trips to the La Plata and San Juan mountains, as well as places like Chaco Canyon and the Bisti Badlands.  However, it wasn’t until I was in Boy Scouts (age 12?) that I visited Moab, Utah for the first time.  We went on a mountain biking trip on some local trails, and on the way home stopped at the Needles District of Canyonlands National Park.  To say I was blown away was an understatement.  After that first trip, I couldn’t wait to get back.

My dad, friends, and I had many more trips to Canyonlands over the next several years.  I was not drawn only to the topography and landscape, but also to the archaeological richness of the area.  In some areas, every rock outcropping held a new treasure to see, and to force me to imagine what the ancient peoples thought of this land.  We backpacked in the Dark Canyon Wilderness area, as well as several trips to the canyons of Cedar Mesa, a place I cannot wait to get back to.  Since then, I’ve had the opportunity to explore many of the technical canyons in Zion National Park as well as in the Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument.

For me, its not so much that southern Utah offers so much in the way of natural beauty, but rather that I feel connected with the land in a way that words cannot really describe.  I’m honored to be able to visit and photograph this place often, and I hope that when my son gets older, my wife and I can instill a sense of place in him (wherever it may be) that my dad helped to instill in me.

Over the next weeks/months I’ll be featuring some of my own photos from southern Utah, as well as other photographers’ work who I really admire.

Today’s photo is of Castleton Tower, near Moab, Utah…where it all started for me.

Castleton Tower, Castle Valley, UT, December 2008