Color Me Red

Arch, Valley of Fire SP, NV (Color Version)

My good friend Steve Weeks – who accompanied me on this particular trip to VOF – has suggested that it might be a good idea to post the original color image of this arch (from which the black and white version was created).  So here it is.

 As I said in the previous post, it’s the color that draws your attention in this place.  Except for a minor contrast adjustment, what you see here is pretty much the way it looked.  I made no color adjustments to the RAW file – no vibrance adjustments, no saturation adjustments, no luminance adjustments.  There was a polarizer on the lens, but since the late afternoon sun was almost directly behind me, it had little, if any, effect.  Yes, the sky was actually that blue.  At least that’s how I remember the scene.  Steve can correct me if I’m wrong.

Did I see the detail and texture in the rock when I took the picture?  I was aware of it, certainly.  Anyone who walks through this place and gets up close to these formations can’t help but see it.  It’s one of the most fascinating places I’ve ever visited.  But again, the whole area literally screams COLOR.  The red rocks of Zion and Bryce have nothing on this place.  If you ever get to Las Vegas, put VOF on your list of  ”must – see” destinations.  Just don’t go there in the summer months (unless you enjoy walking around in the desert in 105 to 110 degree temperatures).

So is this a stronger image in color or in black and white?  My feeling (at this point in time, anyway) is that it’s more effective as a black and white image simply because it projects the extraordinary tonal range and texture better than the color version does.  The red rock and the deep blue sky in the color version tend to be overwhelming, I think.  It’s hard to get past the “omigod, look at the color of that arch” reaction.

It is, of course, a personal choice.  There is no right or wrong answer here.  Perhaps in 6 months I’ll change my mind again.  Anyway, who said that photographers can’t be “flip – floppers”?

The Seduction of Color

Arch in Valley of Fire SP, NV

During the brief time that we lived in the American southwest I took thousands of images.  I suppose that in each case there were multiple reasons for selecting what appeared in the frame but, in retrospect, there was probably one that tended to be the most “conscious” thought.  And that thought was color.  Prior to that period of time, my life was dominated by the blues and greens of the northeastern U. S. (except, of course, for those long winter months when the world turns white, gray, and muddy brown).  To say the least, I was not prepared for what bombarded my visual senses in places like Arizona, Nevada, New Mexico, and Utah.  I had simply never experienced the yellows, reds, and oranges that were now in front of me.  The result was nothing less than a  “seduction in technicolor”.

There’s nothing wrong with that, certainly.  Many of the color combinations found here cannot be seen anywhere else in the world.  Throw in some of the most remarkable skies and cloudscapes you’ll ever see and you have an easy formula for photographic inspiration.

In some ways, however, the incredible color detracts from the fundamental nature of this landscape.  While extraordinarily beautiful, the southwest can also be extraordinarily harsh.  Life is not easy here – not for the natural plant and animal life and not for many of its human residents.  This place is not just sand and rock and cactus.  It is filled with incredibly diverse forms of life.  In some respects, there is as much diversity and contrast here as there is anywhere.

It seems to me, then, that one way to express this photographically is to eliminate the distraction of color and to emphasize the inherent contrast monochromatically.  I don’t know if I’ll succeed in this little project, but I know for sure that I’m going to enjoy trying. 

Dying Young

 In a previous post (“Defining Moments”), I mentioned that my mother had fallen and broken her hip.  While it was certainly serious – requiring surgery – none of us thought that it was anything but a brief setback.  There would be physical therapy, as she learned how to navigate with her “new” hip, and some changes in lifestyle, of course, but she would, as always, get on with things.

It wasn’t to be.  First came the urinary tract infection.  Then the pneumonia and the discovery of two blood clots in one of her lungs.  At 91, it was all just too much for her suddenly frail body to deal with.  On Tuesday, June 16th, 2009, she passed away quietly in her sleep.

Afterward, we all joked about how prophetic she’d been before any of this happened.  She never trusted doctors or hospitals (I think the last time she’d been in a hospital as a patient was when my sister was born).  She was rarely ill and claimed that her good health was the result of diet and avoiding doctors.  She always said that if they ever got hold of her, she probably “wouldn’t come out alive”.  The doctors and nurses at the hospital (and rehab center), of course, were wonderful.  They did everything they possibly could.  Still, she was right.

Anthropologist Ashley Montagu once said, “The idea is to die young as late as possible”.

I think my mother would have liked that.  In her own way, she managed to stay “young” for all those years.  Although she hated technology (I don’t think she ever touched a computer and she absolutely hated cell phones), she was always closest to the youngest members of the family.  One of her greatest joys was to literally sit and play with her great – grandchildren.  I think her most prized possession was a small stuffed bear that one of her great – granddaughters had given her so that she “wouldn’t be alone”.

I will miss her.

Hitting the Wall

Sometimes when things aren’t going particularly well, my wife and I get the “flight syndrome” thing (you know, part of the “fight or flight” response that we all experience now and then).  It’s as if the road itself is sanctuary from life’s trials, which is kind of odd, I guess, since most people see “home” as a natural place of refuge.  Not us.  I suppose that makes us kind of weird.  If so, I can live with that.

This image was taken about 4 years ago in Stonington, Maine.  I still seem to revisit Maine images more often than any other group, especially now when I’m looking for photographs that might be more interesting in black and white.  Old boats in fog seem to fit that “mold” nicely.  Looking at this, I can not only feel the fog, I can smell it. 

The road beckons……….

Waterfall in Blue

In a recent post over at the Landscapist, Mark Hobson spent some time discussing the meaning of the “mind’s eye”, at least as it pertains to photography.  While we’ve all heard the term before, I have to admit that Mark’s post really got me to thinking about it.  He asked some pointed questions – none of which have easy answers.  At one point, he talks about using his own “mind’s eye” (while looking at the images of others, but not his own) and says:

So, that said, I definitely have a “mind’s eye”, in fact, it’s a very active one. It’s just that it goes to sleep when I’m picturing.

To me, that’s a very interesting personal observation about how one goes about making images.  I say that because I’m fairly certain that many photographers – myself included - would respond differently.  If we can define the “mind’s eye” as that personal set of biases we all carry around in our heads, especially when we’re looking for things to point the camera at, then it seems reasonable to assume that it would be wide awake and very focused while “picturing”.  What we “picture” is going to be consistent with how we view the world.  Or perhaps more correctly, how we would like the world to be viewed.

It’s possible, then, that the degree to which we allow the “mind’s eye” to participate in the creation of images determines the level of objectivity contained in them.  That is, if it’s completely turned off, then you can potentially achieve maximum objectivity (if that’s your goal).  At the other extreme – on and focused – you’ll get maximum subjectivity.  In between will be an infinite number of possible combinations.

A rough analogy might be the difference between fiction  and non-fiction writers.  Even though they may be making the same point, the styles will be vastly different.

Maybe that’s why we sometimes find it hard to understand or “get” someone else’s images.  If we’re at one extreme of this hypothetical spectrum and they’re at the other, we simply won’t “see” what it is they’re trying to convey.

To be sure, this is all “old ground”.  It’s been discussed many times.  But it seemed to me that Mark asked the question just a little differently.  And it got me thinking.

Waterfall in Black and White II

This can be a difficult waterfall to photograph.  It’s not that it’s hard to get to – it’s only a few hundred yards from a parking lot.  The problem is (or can be) wind direction.  If the breeze is coming off the falls and toward you, you’re going to get wet from the spray.  Not to mention your lens, camera, and the rest of your gear.  In this case, the breeze was blowing from right to left, so we all remained dry.

This, by the way, is the Upper Falls in Letchworth State Park (near Mt. Morris, NY).  Close by, not surprisingly, is the Middle Falls and a little further downstream is the Lower Falls, all part of the Genesee River and what has sometimes been called the Grand Canyon of the East.  That’s a bit pretentious, but the gorge is about 600 feet deep in spots so it’s not insignificant, either. 

The Genesee River also has the distinction of being one of the few rivers in the United States that flows from south to north (into Lake Ontario).  The river – and the surrounding Finger Lakes – were all formed by the retreat of the last great glacier some 14,000 years ago.  So it’s also much, much younger than the “real” Grand Canyon in Arizona.  If I remember correctly, some of the rock at the base of that canyon is over 2 billion years old.

Waterfall in Black and White

Waterfalls, it seems to me, are one of those subjects that look better in black and white than they do in color.  There is a natural contrast between the white water and the surrounding rock that is often “softened” when color is included.

This small waterfall empties into the Little River in the Smokies.  My guess is that it can only be seen in the spring (and perhaps in the fall).  Given its size, it probably dries up during summer months, as so many small streams in this area do.