Here are some of the questions I asked myself on the way to taking some of the photos you see accompanying this column:
• How am I going to find a father and son trekking through snow?
• How long is this fog going to last?
• Police tape? What’s police tape doing here?
• Is this rain ever going to stop?
A recent shoot offered a spectacular setting, cooperative subjects, wonderful lighting, great colors, a number of advantageous positions from which to shoot—and a challenge for a travel photographer used to roaming cities and countryside in search of images.
The Canon Digital Learning Center is now offering free tutorial videos hosted by world-renowned bird photographer Arthur Morris. Arthur demonstrates which techniques, gear and settings he uses to create artistic photos of birds and other wildlife.
As a child, I clearly remember my father taking Kodachrome images of my sister and I in the snow. I always associated childhood winter 35mm slides with the blue cast they possessed. Not understanding color temperature, I assumed photos were always blue because it was cold outside. Summer images were understandably warmer looking.
There’s no reason to pack your photo gear away when the first snows of winter start to fly. Winter photography presents some of the most wonderful opportunities to capture stunning subject matter that is not available during other times of the year. With the ground enveloped in a blanket of white snow, even familiar surroundings will take on an entirely different perspective and serve as the background for new and exciting images.
Not too long ago we received these notes from photographer Daryl Hawk about his April, 2014, journey across the kingdom of Ladakh:
“Traversed the entire region from the Pakistan border in the west to the Tibetan border in the east…crossed the Khardung pass at 18,380 feet on the highest motorable road in the world…lived with both nomads and residents…explored 25 ancient monasteries and fortresses…tracked snow leopards, discovered petroglyphs and sacred lakes…had a meeting and interview with the King of Ladakh.”
[Column Note: Most people come to professional photography by traveling a familiar route: from an early fascination with cameras, to photo classes and courses, followed by assisting a pro to gain some real-world experience. Then comes striking out on one's own as photographer, which, if all goes well, is followed by the frequent printing of invoices. Others, however, arrive at a pro career sideways—that is, coming at it from another occupation. The stories these "second career" pro photographers tell tend to be quite interesting, even inspirational. And those stories are what this new online column, titled Going Pro, is all about.]
“It was a two-month expedition, and it had taken weeks just to hike into the area and weeks to get to this point on the mountain,” photographer Tom Bol recalls about the above image.
The beauty and artistry of the natural designs found in rocks and minerals rivals the most expensive abstract paintings you might find in an art gallery. Some of them are truly breathtaking. Of course, not all rocks are created equal. Some are boring and not worth a second glance, but others are works of art and, if you were to print the images very large and frame them elegantly for your home, people would think you paid thousands of dollars for such a visually compelling piece of art.
For centuries, scientists have labored to understand the nature of light. Some ancient Greeks believed that light was emitted from the eyeball the same way a bat sends out an echolocation chirp which allows him to determine his precise position in physical space. Understandably, there were problems with that hypothesis. Other theories followed. Those who embraced the wave theory were right—mostly. Light behaves like a wave up to a certain point. Similarly, those who professed the particle theory were also correct—partly.
According to a photo industry writer I know, I do something that’s a bit unusual: I freely admit that sometimes I’m too close to my own photographs to judge them objectively, and because of that, I ask for help.
Carleton Watkins was perhaps America’s greatest 19th century landscape photographer yet today he’s largely unknown. His breathtaking landscapes of the Yosemite Valley were instrumental in preserving the valley for future generations and paving the way for both the National Parks system and the environmental movement.
In May, 2010, during one of his many trips to Tanzania, Norton was informed by local Maasai tribesmen of government plans to build a highway bisecting the northern part of the Serengeti, the storied 5700 square-mile national park listed among the 10 wonders of the world.
I recently received a copy of the University of New Hampshire Magazine and was immediately struck by the cover image of a rock climber dangling from a cliff over water. I not only noticed the storytelling aspects of the image but, as a photographer, that this guy hanging from his fingertips was somehow lit from some unseen light source. My first reaction: how did he do that?