The Way We See It

Saturday, January 23, 2010

Trumpeter Swans... A Success Story & a Lesson about Light

When I moved to Minnesota in 1990, every trumpeter swan I saw was sporting a little extra gear. Looking through a pair of 10X binoculars, you might have been able to read the large red and black numbers on a neck band. These birds were a rare siting, and nearly every one bore some kind of tag or band.

By the mid 20th century, the trumpeter swan population crashed as a result of poorly regulated hunting, development, and lead poisoning. Fortunately, the diminishing populations were acknowledged before it was too late. Today, trumpeter swans are a protected species throughout their range, and they are making a comeback in the lower 48.

Relying on the stock of swans that continued to thrive in Alaska and Canada, the trumpeter was reintroduced to the slow moving rivers and lakes of the Midwest. Today, it is even possible to find migrating and non-migrating swans occupying open waters during a Minnesota winter.

All of the swans pictured here were captured along the Mississippi River during January 2010. A program of regular feeding by citizens living along the river has created an unprecedented opportunity to see and photograph these majestic fliers during bitter winter days.

Trumpeter swans are large white birds and capturing them with a camera might appear to be a simple task. In fact, although their bodies make for a large target, their rapid flight and bright white plumage can even challenge good photographers using sophisticated gear.

In the days when we were all shooting slide film, the professional community learned how to expose for whites, blacks, and contrast. While the digital revolution has had some definite benefits, it has left many photographers with little knowledge about light how a camera “sees” it.

In general, the camera meter attempts to make all exposures neutral. This neutral exposure is standardized to “18% gray.” For a reference, 18% gray is approximated by the color of the following TEXT. As a result, your meter tells your camera to make blacks lighter (gray) and whites darker (gray). When photographing white or black subjects, the thinking photographer needs to take their camera off “autopilot!”

To achieve beautiful whites that preserve detail, “add light.” Specifically, set your camera to manual exposure or use exposure compensation with your “Auto” setting to add light.

Adding light does not mean using a flash! Adding light refers to adjusting your shutter to a slower speed or using a wider (larger) aperture than the camera recommends.

For example: If your camera is set to “evaluative” (Canon) or “matrix” (Nikon) metering and the meter suggests that correct exposure is 1/250 and f/5.6, you can add light by changing your shutter to 1/125 or aperture to f/4. Doing both adds two “stops” of light, while making a single change adds only one stop. Too much light will result in over-exposure and loss of detail while too little light will result in under-exposure and muddy shadows.

For the above image, I looked at my evaluative meter’s suggestion and added one stop of light by adjusting my aperture from f/5.6 to f/4. Doing this allowed me to preserve my fast shutter and reduce the chance of capturing blurred wings.

More on exposure, shutter speeds, apertures, and birds-in-flight in the future. For now remember the following... “A Light to White!”

Tuesday, January 12, 2010

Shooting When it's Cold

Ok... I lied.

I cannot “embrace the cold;” prolonged periods of sub-zero temperature bring me down.

I am the antithesis of a Minnesotan. I was not born here, I am not Scandinavian, and I do not take pride in my suffering. I like to complain about the weather, I say what I think, and I detest a passive aggressive attitude. I am a New Yorker, I am a Californian, and I live in a very cold place.

So, what is a New Yorker - Californian Midwest transplant to do when he is burdened by the frigid conditions?

Suck it up!

It was -24 degrees F when I left my home Saturday morning. It took 30 minutes to dress, but it was worth the effort. My survivalist buddy, Brian, collected my sorry ass around 7:00 a.m. and we headed south of the “Cities” to photograph ducks and geese. After a short hike through a foot of snow, we made our way to the efflux of the NSP power plant. Warm water flowed from the turbines into the Mississippi River watershed. The discharge produced pools of water surrounded by heaving shelves of ice, a waterfowl paradise for the non-migrants trapped by the heavy hand of winter.

Photography in these conditions presents unique challenges; even simple tasks, like breathing, require mental energy. In the bitter cold, breathing preoccupies the mind. The cold dry air freezes the moisture at the base of the lungs with each breath. Don’t inhale too much as your cough will be dry, hard and painful. As I approach my camera, I need to take in a deep breath, hold it, and shoot. If I exhale, I fog the viewfinder and ice from my breath crystalizes on the camera body and LCD. It is no trivial task to produce an image when it is 20 below.

The lubricants in my tripod have frozen in the cold. Although I wasted the energy hauling it into the field, it is nothing more than a brick to me now. These legs that I usually carry and call my burden, are now a real burden.

The longer I exposed myself to these inane conditions, the more my muscles cramped. Deep chills caused tremors in my body that felt more like quakes than shivers. To alleviate camera shake induced by my spastic muscles, I knelt into the deep snow. While it may sound counterintuitive, the snow began to insulate my body from the biting breeze that threatened my exposed skin.

To make art under these conditions requires a deliberate focus to the task. Rather than hurrying through the moment, I allowed the cold freeze time. I abhorred the cold that encased my hands, but I exposed them to the elements nonetheless. My paper thin skin gripped the camera and lens in an attempt to achieve critical focus. It is at this moment that I force myself to inhale the bitter cold, trap the breath, and squeeze the shutter.

When shooting in these conditions, layer up, keep hydrated, be patient, and expect to hurt.

Friday, January 1, 2010

Embrace the Cold

Even the most zealous photographers are challenged by the cold. While the majority of my cognitive effort is devoted to teaching biology, the noise-free parsecs of my thoughts are immersed in photography. As December approaches, I begin to think about my winter break and the winter photographic opportunities. The winter opens the door to unique landscapes and wildlife opportunities that are just not possible during any other time of the year.

However, these same winter conditions are physically and emotionally draining. The cold wind rips through the warmest clothes and leaves you feeling as if you were exposed in a meat locker. The frigid air bears down on your skin and face, and freezes the snot in your nose. A Minnesota winter demands respect and unless it is given, a price of pain will be due.

I am off this week and I hoped for a gentle holiday season, but wishes this time of year rarely come true. With a high of 5 degrees, I am faced to make a critical decision: hibernate or celebrate. My first instinct is to stay in bed, sit by the fire, or drink hot coffee. Unfortunately, the empty parsecs of my thoughts call me to the out of doors. I can hear my sub-conscious scream, “you are a sniveling wimp...” and...“you call yourself a photographer.”

At some point I recognize that only the stupid would crawl out of bed at 5:00 a.m. and humiliate themselves in the face of these frigid conditions. I am the idiot. I stretch expedition weight thermals around my scrawny legs. I layer my body with a t-shirt, fleece, and down. I stretch two pairs of socks over bunioned feet and cram them into Sorrel boots. It takes a half hour to dress and less than three minutes to feel ice crystals hanging from my mustache. I hate the winter but love photography... is it sadomasochism?

Saturday, December 5, 2009

Graphic Elements

I see my photography as being a type of vision quest. I find peace in the quiet of early mornings and use that time to make myself whole after a long work week. As a teacher, some might assume that I am an extravert who thrives on interpersonal interactions, nothing could be farther from the truth. In my head,... I am an introvert.
I live in an overstimulated world, work in a boisterous environment, and instruct within a hive of activity. This working life is a stark contrast with my id. I would rather study a rookery of arctic birds in the solitude of a hide, than be the center of attention. I walk away from crowds, seek a deep dark wood, and sooner spend a quiet night in a tent than flirt with the glitz and glam of the Vegas Strip.

Once a week I must go on my vision quest. I’ll take a long drive to catch first light or hoist my photo-pack on my back and walk. There are many days when the camera stays put, unused and untouched, but, on occasion, I will relax. I will take a break from my work, I will leave the noise, and I will cling to a brief moment of peace.

Tuesday, November 24, 2009

On the Origin of Species

One-hundred and fifty years ago, the seminal theory that unified the life sciences was published on this day. The author, Charles Darwin, outlined his basic theory twenty years prior to its formal publication. His deference to the scientific process and the norms of his time stalled the presentation of a remarkable idea that changed the way we now understand life on this planet. While many in history contemplated the connectedness between living organism, nobody but Darwin could provide a mechanism for evolutionary change. It took Darwin two decades to assemble the evidence and refine his original hypothesis. Today, this theory is fundamental to our basic understanding of biology.

What is most remarkable is that Darwin had the forethought to describe an evolutionary mechanism prior to the development of genetic theory and molecular inheritance. To honor this remarkable idea, I offer you a photo essay juxtaposed with the closing paragraph from “On the Origin of Species.”

“It is interesting to contemplate an entangled bank, clothed with many plants of many kinds, with birds singing on bushes, with various insects flitting about and with worms crawling through the damp earth, and to reflect that these elaborately constructed forms, so different from each other, and dependent on each other in so complex a manner have all been produced by laws acting around us. These laws, taken in the largest sense, being Growth with Reproduction; Inheritance which is almost implied by reproduction; Variability from the indirect and direct action of the external conditions of life, and from use and disuse; a Ratio of Increase so high as to lead to a Struggle for Life, and as a consequence to Natural Selection, entailing Divergence of Character and the Extinction of less-improved forms.

Thus, from the war of nature, from famine and death, the most exalted object which we are capable of conceiving, namely, the production of higher animals, directly follows. There is grandeur in this view of life, with its several powers, having been originally breathed into a few forms or into one; and that, whilst this planet has gone cycling on according to the fixed laws of gravity, from so simple a beginning endless forms most beautiful and most wonderful have been, and are being evolved.” Charles Darwin, November 24, 1859.

Sunday, November 15, 2009

Fall is Over

It is November in Minnesota.

With the loss of fall color, I have become a pattern seeker. These are challenging months for my type of photography. Spring and early fall are a cornucopia of color and life; the period between often seems stark and dead.

While I love the rich colors of spring and early fall, November forces me to be a better photographer. I now must focus on the little details, contrasting themes, and directional light.

Whenever possible I search for color in the ambient light with the hope that I can soften the stark pre-wintery landscape. Barren trees are a favorite winter theme especially when I can place them against a pastel sky. November challenges me, but it also offers me the opportunity to see familiar things in novel ways.

Wednesday, October 21, 2009

Filtered Fall

Bayfield is a tiny port town on the south shore of Lake Superior. Located about three hours east of our home in Minnesota, it is a wonderful weekend getaway. Much like many tourist towns in the Midwest, Bayfield closes its doors when the weather gets cold and the tourists head south. We quickly discovered that our trip was the “final weekend.” Neon posters with claims of fifty-percent discounts or modified menus were plastered to store windows, and crowd-free streets made for a peaceful calm throughout the town.

We spent our evenings in a bed & breakfast near the salmon and trout hatchery just east of downtown Bayfield. The Artesian House is an “A” frame style home situated on twenty-five acres of north woods. Al, the owner and “innkeeper,” purchased the former apple orchard and has nurtured the restoration of his land. The Artesian House proudly boasts a “Wisconsin Travel-Green Seal,” and the B&B relies on solar panels for heat and an artesian spring for water. Needless to say, it is a lovely spot to capture a bit of fall.

Unfortunately, the bad weather continues follow us like a dirt-cloud on Pigpen, and our trip to Bayfield did not break the trend. Rather than give in to the cold and precipitation, I tried to make the most of the light and fall color. I knew that grand scenes and brilliant color was not in the cards on this weekend. As such, I shot with my black & white eyes knowing that a bit of filtration would build up the contrast and accentuate the patterns. In the end, our filtered fall made for some decent photography, good eating and a peaceful break from work.

Sunday, October 11, 2009

Going, Going, Gone!

It was fall yesterday and now it’s winter. The snow wouldn’t be a surprise on a January morning, but it’s October 11th. Fall is our fleeting opportunity to absorb nature’s technicolor, and the photography community waits with baited breath for the big show. This year the show was a “B-Movie...,” bizarre, entertaining, and disappointing. A cool dry summer was followed by a hot dry September. When the rains finally came, they were followed by high winds and a frosty cold snap. As summer waned, the moderate temperatures of fall were brief and so was the “show.”

Rather than dwell on what could be, I offer you a chance to glimpse at what is. The cottonwood pictured above is one of my favorite subjects. This venerable old tree has the character of a wizened face. The wrinkled bark with deep invaginations unveil the scars of winter while its leafless asymmetric limbs suggest a better past. I love this tree and I love to watch it change with the seasons.

In contrast, the images below reveal fall in all its glory. To make these images, I looked for patterns of shape, texture and color. These leaves are the show, they reveal the potential of a camera on a fall day.

Sunday, October 4, 2009

The Great Transition

We have just entered the great transition.

Having grown up in Manhattan, I know and understand winter. New York City has winter. January streets are dreary and gray and yellow cabs streaked with dirt soak pedestrians with the ubiquitous slush of water, drainage and dog shit. I loved winter in New York. I still remember standing over steamy manholes while chewing on a warm vendor pretzel.

Having left “the City” for SoCal during my teenage years, I learned to forget seasonal transitions. We traded in the mixed precipitation and windy streets for sunny days, comfortable nights, and climactic stability. Snow was that stuff in Big Bear and Arrowhead... it was in the mountains, if you could see through the smog. To the denizens of SoCal a seasonal transition was an excuse to buy a new car.

Today Tamy and I live in Minnesota...

I thought I knew winter, but that was just a lie. On September 25th the temperature kissed 80 degrees, ten days later we struggle to hit 45. The cold is on its way and the landscape is beginning to change. We have entered the great transition. Fall in Minnesota is beautiful and painfully brief. Leaves begin to change in September and their delicate petioles cling to caring branches as relentless winds howl from the North. The locals who seem to trace their ancestry back to the dawn of humanity embrace the cold and treat it like a friend. It is no friend to us. We shiver and whine as the temperature dips... fall foreshadows and pain will follow.

As green is replaced by orange I try to capture one last moment of sanity. Our photographs are a record of what could be, and they are a reminder of better times. We are in the great transition and I’m afraid to sleep... winter may arrive tomorrow.

Sunday, September 13, 2009

Gallery at the Daily Grind

On Saturday September 12, Tamy and I hosted a display of images from our travels to Tanzania. While I realize that a 14 day safari doesn’t a gallery make, our limited days in Tanzania resulted in more unique photographic opportunities than our twelve weeks of travel to Costa Rica. During our trip to Tanzania, we spent nearly one hundred hours pursuing unique destinations, wildlife and landscapes. Africa was a transformative experience for us, and we felt the need to share it with others.

We hung a total of twenty images on the “Grind’s” gallery wall and displayed twenty unframed pics throughout the coffee shop. This was also an opportunity to share our self-published book “Jambo Tanzania,” which can be purchased here from Blurb books. This book includes more than 80 photographs, discussions about ecology, and stories about our travels to Africa.

So why do it?...

We don’t make a living taking pictures... as a matter of fact, we make a living so that we can take pictures. With over 100,000 images saved to hard-drives and another 30,000 slides in storage, what are we to do with it all?

Photography is about sharing one’s vision and experiences. While some photographers strive to share their work via published media, others prefer the intimacy of a gallery. I love the gallery format! Galleries allow us to interact with others, tell stories, and experience our work from another’s perspective.

During our brief two hour opening, we shared Tanzania with more than fifty people. We waxed poetic about elephants mudding at watering holes, aggressive lions, and the safari experience. It was a lot of effort to make our gallery happen, but it was worth all of the time and energy we invested.

“Jambo Tanzania” will be on display at the Daily Grind Coffee House in Stillwater, MN through the month of September. See our work there, enjoy a latte and go on Safari.