Light on the Landscape: Photographs and Lessons from a Life in Photography

PREFACE

Welcome to my collection of photographs and essays on landscape photography! I look forward to sharing my thoughts with you on all aspects of the landscape genre. I’ve been at this job of being a full-time, freelance photographer for thirty-six years. Over that time I’ve learned a thing or two, and I wish to share those lessons with you.

The best way that I can think of to launch this book is to put forth the underlying motivation and inspiration for my photography. Any future discussions on light, or composition, or equipment, or technique will be based on this foundation. I am not one for learning an approach to creating images unless that route allows for a direct connection with the subject and helps me to communicate my own response to it. In other words, I keep my approach very simple and pragmatic.

The beauty of nature is the foundation of which I speak; it motivates and inspires my photography. When I stand before landscapes of silent rock, reflecting water, and parting cloud, I feel most connected to myself and to life itself. Seeing and feeling this beauty is more vital to me than any resulting imagery. Still, I am compelled to try to put out some visual representation of the sense of wonder I feel, and I suspect that you know that feeling!

We photographers tend to let the technique of photography get in the way. Ansel Adams often complained of the overabundance of sharp photos with fuzzy concepts! Unlike Ansel, I am not very technically oriented, but I do place a high value on making technically excellent images. As a beginner, I built a foundation of knowledge through college photo courses and a lot of trial and error, with an emphasis on lots of errors. As technologies have progressed, I have added techniques to solve problems I’ve encountered in the field. The arc of my life as a photographer began in the 1970s. I used 35mm and 4x5 film cameras until 2005, and then switched entirely to digital capture. You will notice some info about gear in my essays here, but for more details, please see the Photo Notes in the back of this book.

Within these pages are my ideas and techniques for capturing the light, designing what you include within your frame, and revealing your personal and creative way of seeing the world around you. I wrote these essays over the past two decades, and they summarize my forty years of experience making images. I discuss light and weather; composition and the environment; marketing; and a bit of philosophy, portfolio development, and sources of inspiration. Oh yes, Yosemite and Ansel Adams too. I even mention f/stops and apertures.

When I first started my journey as a photographer, I wasn’t interested in discussing the subject or writing about technique or my motivations for making my art. My father was a journalist, my mother an English major, and although they helped me learn to write while growing up, I didn’t want to waste my time writing when I could be out there in nature making images. I was twenty and impatient. After graduating from college, I had to start figuring out how to make a living. When I started teaching soon after arriving in Yosemite, I had to express myself through words, especially about technique. When I first began to teach, I was also able to attend workshop sessions and lectures by Ansel Adams, Joel Meyerowitz, Jerry Uelsmann, Ernst Haas, Paul Caponigro, Phil Hyde, John Sexton, Alan Ross, Robert Glen Ketchum, Chris Rainier, and many more. Listening to these masters helped me greatly to learn how to find and capture my vision.

During my early years of teaching in the field, I discovered that I had something to say. In 1985, I started writing articles for Outdoor Photographer magazine. Then in 1997, I began writing my On Landscape column for them. As of this writing, I’ve written 136 essays for that column. My main goal for these essays is to focus on the creative side of landscape photography. In each story, I describe my approach to finding inspiration, discovering my compositions, and how I realized my final result. This book is a curated anthology of those essays.

Because this collection spans many years, their themes are not laid out here in textbook type order. You can read the essays in the order in which they are presented, or you can jump in wherever you’d like. You can pick out topics or images that catch your eye as you work your way through the chapters. The Table of Contents is designed to guide you toward areas of particular interest. Each lesson is applicable to any photographer, regardless of whether you use film or digital to capture your images.

I’m always looking for inspiration within wild places and natural subjects near and far. I have been photographing the beauty of nature for four decades, and I’ve found my search for landscapes of my spirit to be an essential ballast in the storm of everyday life. Whether in the wilderness or my small patch of nature in the Sierra Nevada, I am continually comforted by the beauty that surrounds us every day, a comfort that calms my mind and lifts my spirit.

Although this book is not full of photo rules and regulations, I discuss many practical ways to improve your photography. I hope that reading it will help you discover your own voice and vision through the ideas and passion I have for nature and photography.

Dawn | Lake Louise, Banff National Park, Canada | 1995

LANDSCAPES FOR MY SPIRIT

WHY I PHOTOGRAPH

My evolution as a photographer is directly tied to my belief in the great value and need for the wildness and beauty of nature. This belief emerged from personal experience—the death of my brother when I was eighteen in the summer of 1972. That summer I happened to be working in Glacier National Park. My immersion in that landscape during a time of great personal distress opened my eyes to the restorative powers of nature, and led me to a life in photography. At a deep level, the beauty of my surroundings seeped into my subconscious—the lush colors of a meadow dense with wildflowers, the energy of a lightning storm, the clarity of a mountain lake. In an effort to capture and convey these life-affirming discoveries, I began to photograph as I backpacked throughout Glacier. Within a few years, all I wanted to do was make photographs!

Ansel Adams, in paraphrasing his mentor Alfred Stieglitz, used to remind his students that a great photograph was the emotional equivalent of the photographer’s response to his subject. Such a lofty goal is rarely achieved. We are all lucky if but two or three or four times a year we make an image where technique and emotion converge to create a transcendent photograph. I don’t mean simply a technically excellent and beautiful image. I mean a photograph that rises above your best and reveals a deeply personal and creative perspective. In this regard, I am not so sure that pros can claim to have a better batting average than the amateur given their relatively different expectations of their work. In any case, it is good to have reasonable expectations for your own progress.

Over the years, I have continued to search for imagery that, in the words of the great black-and-white photographer Paul Caponigro, can . . . make visible the overtones of that dimension [of Nature] I sought. Dreamlike, these isolated images maintain a landscape of their own, produced through the agency of a place apart from myself. Mysteriously, and most often when I was not conscious of control, that magical and subtle force crept somehow into the image, offering back what I had sensed as well as what I saw.

I think the photograph shown here, Dawn, Lake Louise, is one of those photographs Caponigro describes. Rising very early on a summer morning, I hoped for a dramatic and brilliant sunrise on Lake Louise and the glacier-covered mountains. Perhaps it was the two weeks of photographing in rainy conditions that biased my hopes! I waited patiently for sunrise, but my preconceived vision failed to appear as persistent clouds shrouded the mountains. It was a silent and mysterious dawn. I simply sat and soaked in the scene. Finally, I made two exposures, but expected little. I completely forgot about this session during the rest of my trip. When I saw the film after returning, I was stunned and thrilled. I had to think about when and where I had made this photograph. Unconsciously, but facilitated by my experience and instinct, the power and magic of that landscape, at that moment, had come through on film.

The Lake Louise photograph was made with my 4x5 view camera and a 150mm lens (45mm on 35mm). Due to the use of slow film, a small aperture, and low light, the exposure was about two minutes long. Of the two exposures I made, one was horizontal, the other vertical. The horizontal image looks much like the vertical, minus the rocks in the foreground. I often like to remove clues and context that show depth or scale in my images, and the horizontal exposure fit my standard approach. However, the vertical image has a stronger feeling of depth, and somehow this subtle sense of scale adds an essential dimension to the composition. Since the foreground rocks are underwater, and the long exposure also blurred their appearance, they add a little balance and mystery.

I had an idea of what I wanted to photograph at Lake Louise that morning, but when it did not materialize, I didn’t feel as if I had to make an image. The landscape itself presented another idea. When a concept for an image is forced onto film, creativity can be lost. By not needing to make an image, I found one. This lesson is encapsulated by my favorite quote from photographer Minor White: Be still with yourself until the object of your attention affirms your presence.

So wait, watch, and relax. It is these magical convergences of light and land and camera that keep us coming back again and again.

Sunrise on the Hana Coast | Koki Beach, Island of Maui, Hawaii | 1994

LANDSCAPE ESSENTIALS

MY TOP REASONS FOR PHOTOGRAPHIC SUCCESS

What are the essential ingredients for a great landscape photograph? While developing an online landscape course, I have been asking myself this question to help photographers improve their work. There is a list of key elements that make up any strong photograph:

An exceptional quality of light

Exciting and dynamic image design

Emotional content that engages the viewer

All of these factors serve to illuminate the subject and clarify the photographer’s intentions. Throughout this book, I will be illustrating these basic premises with various stories and photographs to reinforce these fundamentals.

Regarding light, it is the defining ingredient in most great images. Dramatic lighting conditions, such as rainbows or sunbeams through clouds, add excitement to an image. Soft light on a rainy day can emphasize every detail and the saturated colors of the scene. I often see photographs from students, taken in beautiful places, which were made in ordinary light. Once an effective composition has been found, the light must make it sing. At this is the point in time, waiting, returning, anticipating, and planning become skills as important as making the proper exposure.

Regarding composition, it is the foundation upon which the photographer defines what the viewer perceives. Image design can be strongly graphic, simple or complex, but ultimately it should lead the viewer toward an understanding, or serve as inspiration, or even prompt them to ask a question. Good composition requires the photographer to consider the balance of lines, shapes, and forms; the proportions and scales of objects; and most importantly, what is included within the frame and what is not. Including just enough information in the frame, without creating confusion or distraction, is a vital skill to develop.

As for emotion and passion, these are the final and essential ingredients for a strong photograph, and the most difficult to achieve. Even given a convergence of great light and excellent composition, creating a photograph where all the important factors come together is rare. Yet if we continue to cultivate the understanding of our favorite subjects, and immerse ourselves in the places that inspire us, our best work will follow.

For example, I have an overriding theme I call Landscapes of the Spirit. I used this phrase as the title for a book of my favorite landscape images, and I continue to add work to the theme. The image that opens this essay, taken in Hawaii, fits well into that theme. The light was remarkable and it was the reddest sunrise I’ve ever seen. In fact, I dialed back the color saturation because it was so overwhelming. I feel that the composition is well balanced and elegantly simple.

As for the emotional content, I can only speak for myself. The image reconnects me with the experience of standing in the surf, watching the early dawn light begin to glow and light up the clouds, and in turn, seeing the clouds reflect their color on the water. The long exposure (several minutes in length if my memory serves me) blurred the surf’s motion and created a watercolor palette of red hues.

Several years ago on a Memorial Day weekend I was visiting Carmel, California, for a family gathering. I brought my camera along, of course, although I wasn’t planning to have extended photo sessions. I went out for a few sunrise and sunset photo sessions, visiting some favorite locations in nearby Big Sur, and trying out some new ones. I have been making images in the Big Sur area for three decades now, and I am indeed passionate about the extraordinary energy and beauty of that landscape. I am so pleased with the results from my minimal efforts, and I got to thinking about why I had good luck on this trip.

Two Rocks and Surf | Garrapata State Park, Big Sur, California | 2008

In addition to the three key essentials listed above, following are additional reasons for successful landscape photographs. These reasons assume that the obvious technical concerns such as sharpness, exposure, and composition are in good order.

FAMILIARITY

When you get to know a place by returning there often, you gain invaluable knowledge about the light and the weather patterns. You learn what landscapes are best in different lighting conditions. You try out different compositions, or you return to favorite compositions in hopes of the perfect storm, where light and clouds and image design all come together. You add depth to your portfolio from that location. For the Monterey and Big Sur area, I have a mental file of many such sites—which landscapes are excellent when the fog is thick, which ones will have more potential if the sky is clear, and so on.

WILLINGNESS TO PLAY

Have you ever returned to a location so often that you realized that you’ve been photographing the same composition over and over? I think we all have. When I am drawn back to the same location often, and don’t want to repeat myself, I am more willing to experiment. If I have already recorded a reasonably successful image there, then there is no risk, no failure possible. If I make a fresh image, fine. But there is no pressure to succeed, no significant loss if a successful photo is not made.

VISUAL LITERACY

Being aware of other photographs that have the same themes as yours is vital so that you have a mental memory bank of what has already been done. Improve your photographic visual literacy in your field, and you are less likely to create clichéd work.

BASIC PLANNING

When I know I am going out to photograph, I plan meals and other activities around the best light. On this trip, I was out looking for images by six o’clock in the morning. I came back by eight or nine o’clock, ready for a big breakfast and a full day with my family. For good sunset photography, I often try to have an early dinner, especially during the summer, and then go out in the evening until dark. We were staying right near the beach in Carmel, so it was a short walk with no driving involved. My point is that with some basic planning, it is possible to strike a balance between photography and other pursuits to optimize your photo opportunities. I am not one to get carried away with a precise itinerary or with using a compass or GPS so I can photograph at some preconceived correct location. I simply need to get out there and see what happens, relying on experience and intuition.

PATIENCE

Remember how important patience is. So often, when we arrive at a new location, we are so excited that we work too fast and are too scattered in our focus. The energy of a new discovery is thrilling but also distracting. When you’re at a new location, slow down and take a deep breath (or many, if necessary) so you can see the landscape more clearly. A calm, meditative approach for connecting with your environment is a valuable tool, especially in new