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Make Your Own Tripod Tracks by David Leland Hyde

Monday, December 19th, 2011

I am really happy to have David Leland Hyde of Landscape Photography Blogger as a guest author today on my blog.  David and I struck up a friendship via our blogs a little over a year ago and I’ve grown to really appreciate his advice and commentary, through his blog posts and emails, on life and photography.  His essay today is inspired by conversations he and I have had over the last several months.  Also, today, I’ve concurrently posted an essay entitled, “Moving Past the Repertoire,” on his blog.

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

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 and Boulders on the San Rafael Swell, by David Leland Hyde

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.

Happy Thanksgiving

Thursday, November 24th, 2011

In the U.S., we’ve taken the day to give thanks for all the things in our lives–material and non-material things that bring us comfort and happiness.  If you’ve turned on the radio, opened the newspaper, or watched TV at all, you are well aware that there’s no shortage of opportunities to obtain happiness from material goods (rock bottom deals, starting at 10pm tonight!!!).  However, I sit here tonight thinking that the old cliché holds true–the best things in life are indeed free.

I spent the afternoon walking with my family in Zion Canyon, fallen cottonwood leaves littering the ground, the smells of autumn in the air.  As the sun went down, wild turkey, deer, and a grey fox graced us with their presence.  It gave me an opportunity to reflect on the things I’m thankful for; a few things are:

  • My capacity to feel love, and the people in my life who bring that out in me.
  • The fact that we have wild places to escape to.
  • My son, who’s curiosity, enthusiasm, and perception of the world always remind me to keep an open mind.
  • Good beer.  🙂
  • The ability we have to visit places (wild or not) that inspire us.

I won’t bore you with a long list, but those are a few of the things that come to mind at this instant.  If you’re celebrating Thanksgiving today, I hope you’ve had a wonderful day connecting with friends and family…what are you thankful for today?

A cottonwood in fall colors along the Virgin River, Zion National Park, Utah

Happy Thanksgiving!

Overland Flight

Wednesday, October 26th, 2011

As we board the homeward bound flight, the sun is setting over the Rocky Mountains, reminding me of my early childhood years living in Denver.  The sunset becomes more intense as the plane is pushed onto the runway, and takes off, leaving Denver International Airport behind.  The beauty of flying westward into the sunset is that it lasts longer–the earth’s shadow and Belt of Venus seem to be eternal, keeping me company as I daydream looking out the window over my sleeping son’s head.

Below us, lights from the small towns of the West are starting to come on.  I wonder what’s happening in those towns on this Friday night; people are relaxing at the bar after a long week of work, teenagers are cruising Main Street looking for something to do.  Despite that, its the empty spots, the growing blackness, that capture my imagination.  I’ve been a passenger on this route enough times to know what’s below me: the foothills of the western slope of the Rockies, the Green and Colorado Rivers, the white rim of Canyonlands, the Grand Canyon, the Mojave Desert.

Its quite possible there’s not a whole lot of unexplored areas left in the West, but part of me wants to hang on to the notion that there is still some “out there” left out there.  David Roberts recently had a thought-provoking op-ed piece in the New York Times arguing that with 21st Century technology, there’s not a whole lot of wilderness left.  That hopeful naïveté I cling to wants to disagree with him–that possibly there is still an unexplored canyon, or at least a hill which offers a great view of this everlasting sunset–that has yet to be enjoyed.

Aldo Leopold wrote,

To those devoid of imagination a blank place on the map is a useless waste; to others, the most valuable part.”

Tonight, sitting on this jet with a bird’s eye view of the West, I have to wonder where my imagination would wander if there were no blank spots on the map.   As a photographer, I have been thinking a lot lately about documenting these wild lands–what is my responsibility as an artist, my obligation to protect these lands?  If those peaks and mesas are leveled, if lights begin to dot the landscape, these places will change forever.

Where does your imagination wander?  None of us would argue over the value of those blank spots on the map, but what do you think–is there a fine line between artist and activist, or are they one and the same?

Sunset and moonrise at Thousand Island Lake, Ansel Adams Wilderness, California

End of the Day, July 2010

Big changes for Alpenglow Images

Monday, October 17th, 2011

For several months now, I’ve been contemplating a change in the format of my website, one which speaks more to my evolving style and vision as an artist.  Over the course of the last few weeks, those changes have taken form, and I’m proud to announce the release of my new website.  Please take a look, either at this link, or by using the tabs you see to your right.

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.

A hiker stands in Capitol Reef National Park in the early morning, just after dawn

Self-portrait, August 2011

A wonderful notion

Thursday, October 13th, 2011

Have you ever noticed how our opinion of whether we own something affects how we act toward that object?

I ran across a study (read the PDF) in the journal Developmental Psychology this week that has some interesting findings on how our sense of ownership develops. The researchers found children–as young as three years old–feel that although man-made objects are owned (like a stuffed animal), naturally occurring objects (like a rock or pinecone) are not.

The management and use of our public lands seems to be an endless debate (e.g. this link), not only within Congress, but in many other arenas as well.  Although their name–public lands–would lead us to believe the collective people have a say in these matters, experience suggests this might not always be the case.  While to some extent, we’ve all outgrown this notion that the natural world isn’t “owned,” perhaps the world would be a better place, and we would be better stewards for the the land, if we thought like a toddler from time to time.

Early morning light on Boulder Mountain near Torrey, Utah

Children, backpacking, and photography

Friday, September 9th, 2011

A couple of posts ago, I wrote about our son, what we can learn from children, and most importantly, that he was “training” for his first big boy backpacking trip.  This past weekend, we visited the Cathedral Lakes in Yosemite National Park, and although a trip like this with a small child had the potential to turn out really badly, it ended up being very enjoyable.  The success of the trip was due to quite a bit of luck, planning, collaboration between my wife and I, and as I wrote last time, a new way of seeing.

Reflection of Cathedral Peak in Yosemite National Park, California

Cathedral Peak, September 2011

Ever since Owen was a small baby (even before he was born), he’s been in a walking family.  When my wife was pregnant, she walked about 8 miles a day, and since then we’ve walked with him.  For almost 2 1/2 years, he rode in a baby carrier (even on his first backpacking trip).  So, leading up to the day he finally hiked by himself, he understood what hiking was about.

Still, children are anything but fast on the trail, so a reward system for small accomplishments was key.  My wife carried a sticker book and let him choose stickers as rewards often.  Although the pace probably felt rushed to him, to an adult, it can feel slow–glacially slow.  For all but the most patient individual, it becomes easy to let frustration with the pace creep in.  To help avoid that, my wife and I took turns hiking ahead, just to feel like we were making a little faster progress.  That said, the most important lesson learned here is to enjoy the journey for its own sake.  The day’s endpoint is not the goal–not by a long shot.

You might remember my post from a year or so ago–Range of Light–in which I described Owen’s first backpacking trip.  As a parent, you can’t take this sort of trip lightly.  In a sense, this is “make it or break it” time–during these formative years, you have the opportunity for your child to forge a connection with the wilderness.  To say that wilderness is our heritage may be cliché, but it is the greatest gift we can leave future generations.  Perhaps even more important than fighting for it, we must teach our children to be stewards for the land.

To this end, a trip like this isn’t about you, its about your kids…the future.  As a result, the photographer in you may find you get as much time to scout locations, and set up as you’d like.  Although my wife is incredibly accommodating, with a 3-year-old in camp, there are chores to be done, and they take longer than normal.  I found myself rushing out of camp as the light changed, shooting for 30 minutes, and coming back to check on the family.

The more I contemplate the motivations behind my own photography, I become more and more convinced that understanding my own sense of place is crucial.  As a result, emphasis shifts to the experience rather than the image harvest–I have never understood the idea of taking 1,000 frames in a weekend and taking 6 months to process them.  Spending time with my family in the backcountry–letting my son establish his own sense of place–and making a few quality, heartfelt images along the way seems to be the way to go.

A small child enjoys the yosemite national park backcountry

Contentment, September 2011

Little Mentors

Monday, August 22nd, 2011

“The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes.”  –Marcel Proust

Ask any parent, and they’ll tell you that every  day is a new adventure, especially with young children.  So its been with my son, who is now three.  Our newest adventure has been to get him ready for his first “big boy” backpacking trip by taking him hiking often.  Prior to this, he had always ridden like a little prince in a backpack, but as he’s grown heavier and more independent the shift to having him walk was inevitable.

I opened this post with a quote my best friend recently sent me.  Proust’s words caused me to take pause for several reasons; from a photographic point of view, I think there is significant meaning here, and hiking with my son helps to illustrate that.  Toddlers are anything but fast.  Every 20 feet or so, we have to stop and go through any myriad of activities: digging in the dirt, touching every flower on a bush, sticking hands down animal burrows (yes, I put a stop to this very quickly!), etc.  Progress is, needless to say, slow.  But, its a process that’s helped me to see with new eyes.

Go go go, hurry hurry hurry.  Get up, fix breakfast, go for a run, shower, out the door, sit in traffic, work for 8 hours, sit in traffic, eat dinner, do dishes, go to bed.  How many of us can relate to that?  Even with photography, can you relate to that?  I’m sure, on some level, you can.  In the timespan of a 2 mile walk with my son, he managed to show me some interesting tracks in the dirt, a really cool scorpion exoskeleton, and a rock that looked “like a pair of sunglasses.”  In other words, I saw things I normally would have walked by, or ignored.

In a world where we drive blindly between scenic viewpoints as if someone is telling us what’s worth seeing, and we rush between items on a to-do list, do you think we have something to learn from a 3-year-old who is discovering the world around him?

Father and Son hiking at Crystal Cove State Park, California

My new mentor and I, August 2011

A recommendation and invitation

Friday, August 12th, 2011

Last spring Gary Crabbe published an essay (read it here) that has really stuck with me.  Our own perception and preconceived notions have such a profound effect on the situation.  Sometimes this impact is positive, but it can be negative as well.  As a result, Gary’s thoughts have kept me cognizant of this, and I’ve learned to remember to break free from my own self-imposed constraints when looking at a situation and shift my viewpoint.

Often that makes all the difference in the world.

If you’re a regular reader of my blog, you’ll know that I’ve taken a great interest in the idea of “sense of place” over the last year.  While I’m still fleshing out much of what this notion means to me, knowing where I am (and who I am) has had a positive impact on my creativity and photography.

This is short notice, but I’ll be talking about sense of place and photography at the Lancaster Photography Association’s monthly meeting this coming Tuesday, August 16 (6pm at the Antelope Valley Senior Center).  The LPA always welcomes guests at their meetings–if you’re in the area, it would be great if you could come by.

So, check out Gary’s blog (always worth a regular read–he posts some great images and thoughts), and come to the Antelope Valley next Tuesday.

You can look at the PDF of my Powerpoint slides from the talk by clicking here.

The Henry Mountains and rainbow as seen from Capitol Reef National Park, Utah

Shifting viewpoints, July 2011

Till Death

Friday, July 22nd, 2011

Not to sound too sociopathic, but death has always interested me.  Perhaps its the remnants of a childhood curiosity, but when I’m out and I see a dead animal I always stop to look at it, and if I have my camera handy, I often will photograph it as well (see here and here).  I guess, on some level, I feel there’s a very distinguished beauty in death, the ability to rest in peace, returning to the earth, and photographing it is my way of honoring the cycle we all will participate in.

Last week, a Cooper’s Hawk (Accipiter cooperii) turned up in my yard; it had been completely consumed by another predator (another hawk, I assume), leaving only the legs, wings, and tail feathers.  Before picking up the carcass, I made sure to make a few images of it.

Cooper's Hawk (Accipiter cooperii) talons

Talons, July 2011

Wing of a cooper's hawk (Accipiter cooperii)

Flight pattern, July 2011

The Gloaming Hour

Friday, July 15th, 2011

“The grand show is eternal. It is always sunrise somewhere; the dew is never dried all at once; a shower is forever falling; vapor is ever rising. Eternal sunrise, eternal dawn and gloaming, on sea and continents and islands, each in its turn, as the round earth rolls.”

–John Muir

 Not many people can say it quite like John Muir.  It wasn’t until I read this passage years ago that I’d even heard about gloaming–that time right before dawn or after sunset in which light present in the upper atmosphere illuminates the earth, which is not lit directly by the sun.

During the gloaming, one of my favorite atmospheric events occurs–the earth’s shadow can be seen on the horizon.  The dark blue band at the horizon is the shadow of the earth as the sun creeps nearer the horizon.  At this time, another phenomenon can be seen; the Belt of Venus is the pinkish band in the sky above the earth’s shadow.

Hoodoos during the gloaming hour in the Bisti Badlands of northern New Mexico

Gloaming, July 2011

There’s a lot of emphasis placed on capturing the sweet light as the sun rises or sets.  Indeed, it is sweet…long light on a mountain peak or on desert red rock almost always makes for a pretty photograph.  But, one of my favorite times of day is the gloaming hour, when there’s a subtle, but just as grand light show occurring.

What’s your favorite time of day for photography, or in general?