Back in the days of Kodachrome 400 film I spent forty dollars on a workshop, Photographing Nature. It was at a hotel on the Plaza in Kansas City. I have forgotten the expert’s name and most of what he talked about was beyond my experience. I didn't have a darkroom so that part didn’t help me and correlations between settings were too much to remember, even if I did understand. I thought I’d take notes but that was naive of me. He had thousands of photographs and a Kodak Carousel projector that flashed images on the screen, one after another, on and on. They were awesome but he went too fast for me to appreciate the object lesson. My eye wasn’t seasoned enough. It’s notable how some sounds are so unique you never forget them. The projector was on a tall stand beside the podium microphone. Everything he said was accompanied by the sound of the cooling fan on the projector and punctuated by the anticipated, three syllable action of slides being changed and advanced. I can hear it inside my head now as if I had one here beside me.
In the end I absorbed a couple of good ideas which is pretty good for any workshop. Enough was getting through to keep my attention. When he finished there was an open ended, question and answer session. Someone noted that there was a particular tree that kept popping up in the stream of photographs. The photos were taken from different angles, different distances; some with the tree a lesser element in the design and others it was the main feature. Even I had noticed the frequent reoccurrence of that tree. Off the cuff he said he had noticed the tree in Jackson Hole, Wyoming in the 50’s. He kept taking photos of it over the years and it gave him a chronological index on the same subject where he could see for himself, how he was growing as an artist. That really resonated with me. It’s when I stopped thinking of myself as a man taking pictures and started thinking about photographs as an art form.
I began to think, ‘That’s what I need, a special place to keep coming back.’ Now, thirty years later, I have several favorite places that present wide ranges of opportunity and challenges as well. I keep coming back. Every time, there are changes in the landscape, different light, new angles and the camera sees with new eyes. I spend as much time as I can, reacquaint myself with the setting and look for compelling elements; lines, shapes and color. I don’t know how many photographs I’ve taken of the beach and lighthouse in Grand Haven, Michigan, or in the high meadow just north of Glen Arbor on Michigan Route 22. At Crow Agency in SE Montana, Little Bighorn Battle Field is a powerful place. I’ve only been there four times but it’s on my favorite list and I’ll be taking photos there again. Then in Alaska, where the road splits to either Seward or Homer, Tern Lake is a spot I can not drive by, I have to frame it through my lens, look for flashes of color, reflections in the water or a new array of shadows on the mountain side. I keep coming back.
North of the river in Kansas City I noticed a hillside that was groomed like a golf course with well spaced, mature trees but it wasn’t a golf course. Behind the hill was a seminary for wannabe preachers. I stopped and took photographs. That was three years ago and I now have a file full of those trees. The way the hill slopes in two different planes makes framing tricky. There is no horizon for reference and the tree trunks lean into the hillside; nothing vertical or horizontal to show level or perpendicular. The whole scenario changes from one extreme to another as the light changes, early to late. I went there this morning to get early morning light and late summer foliage. Someday I want to hang a grouping with that tree through the four seasons. Before I could get the first frame my socks were soaked and my shoes full of water. I made more noise sloshing than the traffic down on the street. Changing lens’ and shuffling things in and out of the camera bag was tedious at times but there were a few photos worth keeping and that’s a good start for the weekend. I be coming back again.
No comments:
Post a Comment