Infrared Learning Curve, Or, Let's Talk About Bonsai

This infrared work I've been doing recently has been very consuming.  In some instances it's like learning photography all over again.  I've commented before about slowing down and being more deliberate with my compositions, but there's a lot more stuff that happens before I press the shutter button.  For instance, I now have to focus twice.  Autofocus is awesome, but infrared light focuses at a different point than the normal visible spectrum.  That means, after finding a composition, you need to focus once for visible light, then make a manual adjustment for the IR light.  Not too difficult a task, but easily messed up or forgotten.  That's one of plenty of extra steps before making an exposure.  I have a list in my notebook so I don't forget them all.  Then there's a lot of decision making back in the studio.  That's what I'm going to show today.

Devil's Canyon

A mix of great spirits are whispering truths, their messages lay as the alpine snow.  Slaps from the wind call your attention to what's riding on waves and repeatedly carved into stone.

In The Last Of The Sun

Blackfoot-Pawnee-Cheyenne-Crow!

Ap-a-che!

Ar-ap-a-ho!

...sheesh!  If anyone reading this can remeber the post-punk, new wave song that chant is from, you're too old to be reading (or writing) blogs with fonts this small.  Anyway, whenever I venture to roam a bit in this Fort Collins Natural Area, that silly song pops in my head and won't leave.  Any guesses?  Here's a hint:  I'm adamant that in natue is the key to our survival.  Might even contain the fountain of youth.  Drink deep and howl into the night with the Kings of the Wild Frontier!

Gothic Mountain Scene, Plate 1

The view down Washington Gulch as a late summer storm brews.  I tried to balance the view between the two dominant subjects, the commanding mountain and the explosion of yellow flowers.

A Clearing Storm in Purple and Yellow

After two hours of duck drowning rain, the temperature lost twenty points, the humidity stayed at 100%, late season Arnica began their wither, and the sun gave a futile last attempt.

Not a Ramada!

Here's my excuse.  My escape.  My little birdhouse, tucked against a tree.  Branches and clouds and stars and mud.  I cannot get any closer to sharing with you, my love of being outside than this image.  Of course, I do a lot of crazy things outside, but being in the mountains, moving slow, watching the sky spin, is what I really need.  Maybe I'll fit some tent time in this weekend, too.  It's a work trip if I have the camera with me, right?

Have a pleasant weekend in your own little birdhouse.

Star Bombers

Trails in the SW sky, the Milky Way (center frame) remains visible above the Hayden Point forest fire. Compiles from seventeen four minute exposures.  These are the same trees and stars from yesterday's image.  Enjoy.

Staring Out, Again.

A two day storm blows itself out, revealing Hallett Peak, as seen from the easy, albeit windy, trail around Sprague Lake in Rocky Mountain National Park.  This iconic image can be easily captured by anyone with a camera.  I'm certain that anyone who might come to see it when it hangs in the gallery, might intend to go try for themselves.  I wonder why, though.  As an artist, I am compelled toward the expression of my own peculiar stories and ideas.  But what drives others out into the cold to chase an elusive quarry?  In the six hours I walked around the park chasing my own demons tail, my mind drifted back to the mornings I'd get up hell bent on reaching the top of places like Hallett Peak.  I think it was the post-holing hike with an incredibly heavy pack on my back that dislodged the ancient memory.  Maybe it was the very cold and humid spring morning air and wiping my nose on my gloved thumb.  Felt good to be out and alone, drifting with the low clouds taking pictures of trees being eaten alive by pine beetles, and rivulet streams flowing through troughs in the new snow.  Several months ago I hiked into Dream Lake at 4am for the usual alpenglow photos.  After that I hiked to Emerald Lake at the base of the mountain and climbed to a fantastic napping spot in full sun.  I didn't sleep so much as stare at the craggy face picturing myself somewhere up there lost in a shadow, perhaps staring back, but more likely staring into the distance, yet again.  When, on this snowy morning, the clouds lifted out of the valleys, I slowly walked back to my vehicle, groggy and cold, aging.  Something alerts in the trees and goes quiet, all you hear is wind and brushes of snow.  You've become increasingly aware in the hushed forest, moving toward the daydream, unknowingly lost, alone, and increasingly happy.

Teaser

I'm slowly catching up to the current photos.  Still about a week behind.  This one comes from the morning after our two day snow storm.  I was not feeling well (or motivated) when I crawled out of bed.  While I was making coffee a little sun beam started poking through the mini-blinds and into the back of my head.  If you're housebound for a two day storm with no sunshine, what are you supposed to do if it all of a sudden comes through the window?  Forget about how you feel, grab the camera and get to work.  Didn't last long after twenty minutes of plodding around in the foot deep snow, the clouds took over again.  Oh well at least the coffee was ready when I got back to the apartment.

Photo details:  Nikon D3, 24-120mm VR @ 40mm, 1/125@f/16, ISO 400

The Giving Tree

The tree above is a sort of hero for the photographers in the area.  It is easy to find, easy to access and better looking that most of us locals.  I've avoided shooting it for a long time for reasons too silly to list.  Last week my girlfriend and I drove by and I saw it off in the periphery without paying much attention, but it got in my head - big, lovely, alone in the field.  Of course, in my mind the surrounding city sprawl isn't a problem.  I see this tree existing in it's own world for no reason.  It's a tree, it doesn't need reason, or a photograph, or a "regional open space", to continue being a tree.  The tree in my mind is starting at me blankly, as if to say, "Well, whatcha gonna do now tough guy?"

Photo details:  Sunset.  Nine image HDR ranging from 1/20 sec to 8 seconds at f/16.

I chose HDR because the tree deserves the respect of the detail in it's trunk and leaves.  There are two choices to accomplish this, HDR or elaborate artificial lighting scheme.  You can see a few other images of this tree, including one other HDR, from a recent sunrise shoot using the flickr gallery on the right of this page.

My first title for this image was "Stand Against A Sky".  It's a blatant attempt to connect my ideas to this tree.  While writing this entry, I began to question my relationship to the natural world.  The title "The Giving Tree" is also a book which contains a simple demonstration of what it means to love.  Maybe I began this image feeling like Balboa, but after much time in the moment I began to understand the conversation.  I set out to capture the natural world's beauty in a photograph and return humbled by how much more I have received.

Moving On

This photo was the surprise of the trip.  All morning I cursed at the clouds which were obscuring my subject while I sat on a cliff that was bathed in full warm sun.  I wandered around making photos of bushes and glowing leaves and grasses, but what I wanted was dark as could be.  Until this little hole opened and suddenly this scene started happening.  It was a Rembrandt sun beam that was just magic.  Time to make some coffee and have a snack.

...and with that it was time to move on.  How did I know?  I didn't really know.  I had something close to the shot I came for and several others that I made while I was here, so that's it.  Pack up and go home.  Remember to put the notes on a calendar so you'll remember to come back at the appropriate time... Drive safely... Uh, what's the problem?

The problem is how could I be sure I got the shot I wanted without connecting to the thing I came to photograph.

From the notebook:

     Have to stop and eat more often.  Making bad decisions.  -SLOW DOWN!

Rushing down from the 6_3 camp and hunting for a spot put me in a situation to skip breakfast, sometimes not a problem, but this day I had to be energetic, hiking, climbing, scouting, and I was on a time limit.  The sun is coming!  I got lucky to find a spot that made a nice photo, and lucky to have had the forethought to bracket the hell out of it for an HDR (see this post).  But the rest of the photos from that morning are merely passable examples of properly exposed poor decisions.  But why would that stop me from leaving.  It didn't, but it should have.  Because even though I had the photograph, I didn't have anything else.  I didn't have a story to tell.  That was the lesson for the trip.   It is no longer enough to come back with that great photo, but there needs to be more to share.

Well, I didn't learn it sitting on the cliff that morning.  Not even on the drive home.  May not have learned it at all, and I probably won't know until my next portfolio trip.

Photo details:  Nikon D3, 24-120mm VR at 120mm, 1/80-f/16, -2EV

Palisade Dawn

Palisade Dawn
Originally uploaded by McF Studios

It's a fact that one can drive faster down a canyon road if one can't see what's over the edge.  The most unfortunate thing about this road is it's the only way to get back to those aspens.  But it's a year away and I might forget how bad the road is... probably not.
After the bouncing, i was scrambling to find a perch.  Spent most of the day before looking for evening shots with the full intent to shoot from the east rim in the morning.  Now that wasn't happening.  I remembered stopping at a place in the bottom of the canyon I camped above because the view of the Palisade was great. At the time it was noon-ish and something like f/78,000 on the face and f/-9 where I was standing.  Glad I stopped though, because it gave me my morning perch.  But I couldn't remember exactly how far up canyon it was.  Only that it was belos teh first switchback.  Honestly, it's not difficult to find in the daylight, but there aren't any landmarks in the dark.  Which means I drove the road twice in each direction.  As the sky started to brighten I could make out the face I wanted to shoot, so I parked and started grabbing gear.  My usual rig is the modular stuff made by thinkTANK.  It's good and does me well enough.  But I was standing at the bottom of a thirty foot slickrock wall.  So, now I'm going hands and teeth up a wall in the near dark with a camera store slung around me like Pancho-Somebody that outlaw guy all the while deflecting the swinging camera away from the rock with my elbows. Needless to say... when I go to the top I was a little winded.  Tripods, get a good one and strap it to you. (Oh yeah, I also had a tripod on me.  Everything is slung bandolier style - I'll get a picture of that someday and put it up here.)  So, I told you all that to intro this photo.  when I first started reading about this formation, this is what I saw in my head.  I had a topo map and a compass and an idea of what it should look like.  Enjoy.
     From the notebook:
Very good spot.  Leaving Gateway w/o coffee to check out the seep area, probably missed the good light.  Must return to that other canyon and get the hoodoos next summer when the sun returns.
Photo Details:  Nikon D3, 14-24mm @ 16mm, 5 stop HDR, f/16, caffeine free.

Cold Burn

Cold Burn
Originally uploaded by McF Studios

Way before dawn. Seems like an appropriate first image. This is from a recent portfolio trip to the Palisade WSA, on the western slope of Colorado. Chasing a notion that fall colour is peaking out there (it was past the peak), I packed and ran out of town for the week.
This area was mentioned in a book called "Colorado's Canyon Country", which suggested the photogenicty (don't bother looking it up it's not a real word, but "artistic license and such"). This was the view from camp on the first morning. After finding the Palisade, I got the map and compass out to find roads leading to the canyon rim. Found this spot down an old mining road with what appeared to be an old "Property For Sale" sign. These former pinon trees were once victim to a wildfire, but most of the ground cover had re-grown and you'll get to see some of that in future posts. No idea what plane that is, doesn't matter much I guess, since I don't have any immediate extraterrestrial photo plans.
I mentioned it's before dawn. For some reason I got up at 4am, even though I know the light wouldn't start until 6:30am. But there I was in a down bag staring at the stars and waiting. No complaints. I eventually started reading, since I was planning on shooting close to the Jeep.

     From my notebook:
blonde girl in jeep pulls / astride expressionless checks / me out I giggle

Leaving Fort Collins in a fog.
I consider the week ahead staring
bleary into the grey mourning.

ttfn-r.