Photographic Journey to the Center of a Frozen Waterfall

Clutching my yellow waterproof Pelican case in one hand and my ice-cold tripod in the other, I slowly lumbered my way through the knee deep snow, doing what I could to stay upright.  Imagine carrying a 100-pound barbell on an ice rink wearing only slippers, and you’ll get a sense for what I was experiencing.  I had frequented this river trail many times before during the summer and fall, and was intimately familiar with its challenging terrain.  Frew Mill along Slippery Rock Creek (in Western Pennsylvania) is treacherous even when you can see where you are walking.  I suppose they call it Slippery Rock for good reason.  Now add in over a foot of heavy snow blanketed on top of sharp uneven rocks, deep ditches and tangled roots, and you’d wonder why I chose to come out here in the first place.  After all, it was Super Bowl weekend and the “call of the couch” was stronger than the “call of the wild.”    But snow storms like this don’t happen very often—and the thought of capturing some photographic winter wonderland magic was just too compelling to ignore.

After about a quarter of a mile of vigorous slogging and many falls or near falls, I reached a point on the trail that was situated along a dangerous slope overlooking a rather steep drop off to the swirling semi-frozen river below.  Who was I fooling to think that I could actually traverse this spot given the perilously icy conditions.  Galen Rowell I am not.  And to make matters worse, the fact that I was carrying heavy gear not only threw off my balance, it tied up my hands—preventing me from grabbing hold of anything for additional support.  Playing out like a scene from the ice climbing movie “Vertical Limit,” I soon found myself desperately grasping onto a root to save my life, as my body and gear slowly started drifting down the slope.  With one raw hand clinging onto the stray root and my right boot barely keeping my tripod and case from going over the drop off, I somehow managed to get my gear and myself back onto even footing.  I was exhausted, wet, and my numb fingers burned like a cookie-sheet out of a hot stove.  But I was OK.   “That’s it” I said to myself.  “It’s just not worth killing myself over a picture or two.”  So I reluctantly headed back.   It’s hard to become one with nature when you’re constantly worried about ending up at the bottom of a frozen ravine.

Intent on getting one good picture out of my little winter adventure, I decided to visit the waterfall that I frequently photographed during warmer months.  It was on the way back anyhow, and I figured I had nothing to lose.  When I finally made it to the waterfall, I was surprised to find two local teenage boys just hanging around.  From where I was standing, it didn’t look like anything spectacular on the outside, just a large voluminous and mostly featureless white sheet of frozen ice.  Although the boys seemed to be fascinated with it.  One of the boys yelled over to me, “hey if you really want some neat pictures, check this out.”  They then proceeded to show me a small manhole-sized entrance on the side of the waterfall beneath a large rock overhang that led into a hidden inner cavern behind the frozen waterfall itself.  I thanked them for tipping me to this great location as they went on their merry way in search of more unique places to explore.

I carefully wormed myself and my gear through the narrow crevice, effortlessly gliding on my back along the frozen ice floor like a car mechanic’s creeper.  Once in the ice cave, I could not believe what I saw.  Looking like Superman’s Fortress of Solitude, the place was otherworldly and strikingly beautiful.  A sea of large ice stalagmites hung down from the roof of the cave, and very interesting naturally-occurring ice sculptures of varying shapes and sizes covered much of the floor.  Because the inside of the cave was somewhat warmer than the outside, a steady stream of water and mist was streaming into the cave from the ceiling, making it a constant challenge to keep my lens and camera dry.  I had to wipe the front of my lens multiple times to prevent those foggy water droplets from forming on the front lens element—which would affect the image.

Aside from the Martian-like interior, what really made this spot interesting was the unique “glowing” light cast through the translucent frozen walls from the outside, which illuminated the ice and cave interior.  As the outside light changed, so would the colors on the inside, providing me with a constantly changing kaleidoscope-like show of subtle tones and colors. 

One of the biggest challenges digital photographers have is how to successfully deal with the wide range of shadows to highlights in any given scene (called dynamic range).  It’s no surprise that our eyes can see and adjust to a much wider range of light than our cameras can.  While I did manage to take a few photographs using only one exposure, many of my cave photos utilize a technique called HDR (or High Dynamic Range).  Basically, you take multiple shots (brackets) of the same picture at different exposure values (some really dark and some really light), then you combine/merge them into one photo which more closely represent the full range of light that our eyes and brain can see. 

Aside from my cave photography, the experience of just being there in the moment was surreal and highly enjoyable–although I will tell you that frostbite on the fanny is no laughing matter (luckily, there was no irreversible damage in this department, although I don’t think I felt my backside for about 24 hours afterwards, lol).  I guess this is what they mean when they say, “freezing your rear off?” 

But seriously (no pun intended), famous commercial photographer Joe McNally tells us to “get our cameras in a different place,” which is certainly what I did when I took this series of images behind a frozen waterfall.  While my initial journey was somewhat harrowing, this trip did ultimately end up paying off in a big and unexpected way—which only underscores how important it is for photographers to never give up. More times than not, our best shots are not the ones that we originally set out to take, but the ones that happen when we open ourselves up to any and all possibilities.   While we can’t expect to find Superman’s Fortress of Solitude every time we go out to shoot, there is a wonderful and unique world just waiting to be discovered and explored by those of us who are willing and able to take the journey around the next trail bend.  The first step, is to just get off the couch.

*For larger photos, please visit my website: www.danielstainer.com

Inside a Frozen Waterfall (HDR)

Frozen Water Bubbles - Nature's Art

Inside the Cave (HDR)

Ice Jewels (HDR)

Icicles

“Picture This: How Pictures Work” by Molly Bang (Book Review)

Picture This: How Pictures Work

Very few art and photography books have had a profound effect on my photography education.  Some titles that immediately come to mind include Galen Rowell’s “Mountain Light,” Brenda Tharp’s “Creative Nature and Outdoor Photography,” David duChemin’s “Within the Frame,” and an understated art instruction book called, “The Simple Secret to Better Painting” written by Greg Albert.    Now, I can proudly add Molly Bang’s “Picture This: How Pictures Work” to my list of game changing books. 

Weighing in at a mere 96 pages and looking like something you’d pull from your child’s bookcase, “Picture This” is deceivingly simple, yet absolutely brilliant.   I first became aware of this title after reading about it on Thom Hogan’s website.  Now I can clearly see why he strongly recommended it.  Dare I say that this book should be required reading in any formalized photography curriculum.  The ironic thing, is that it really isn’t even specifically about photography—although the concepts and ideas are extremely relevant. 

Written by Caldecott Honor Award-Winning illustrator and author Molly Bang, “Picture This: How Pictures Work” uses the popular children’s fairy tale of “Little Red Riding Hood” as the visual backdrop and illustrative premise behind this ingenious book.  While this book may not give you the “Answer to the Ultimate Question of Life, the Universe, and Everything,” it does intelligently answer some pressing questions about how we emotionally perceive shapes, colors and other compositional elements within a scene.  But more importantly, how we perceive them within the context of our own experience.  In many ways, this book helps provide clarity to the often polarizing question of “what is art,” because it speaks directly to how people will emotionally perceive and react to our photographs at the most basic instinctual (and universal) level.    

Using a few easy-to-follow principles demonstrated through the story of “Little Red Riding Hood,” Molly Bang shows us how different arrangements of shapes and colors on a page can be used to help build powerful, emotionally charged visual statements.  In the process, she helps answer questions like, “Why does a triangle make us feel stable, while diagonal lines make us tense?”; “How can the arrangement and size of shapes be used to create a sense of depth?”; “How do certain colors or color combinations change the way we react to an image?”; and ultimately, “How do the compositional choices we make affect how we feel about an image?”  

Molly Bang takes this analysis one step further by delving into the psychological implications and impact of these compositional choices, even going so far as to include the insights of renowned art psychologists.  In one such passage, art psychologist Rudolf Arnheim writes: 

“What is…so special and striking about the style of your book is that it uses the geometrical shapes not as geometry, which would not be all that new, not as pure percepts in the sense of psychology textbooks, but entirely as dynamic expressions.   You are talking about a play of dramatic visual forces, presenting such features as size or direction or contrast as the actions of which natural and human behavior is constituted.  This makes your story so alive on each page.  It gives to all its shapes the strength of puppets or primitive wood carvings, not giving up abstractness but on the contrary exploiting its elementary powers…You are (also) taking the prettiness of the nursery out of the fairy tale story and reducing it to basic sensations, taking the childlike-ness out of it but leaving and even enforcing the basic human action that derives from the direct visual sensation.  It is what remains of “Red Riding Hood” if you take the prettiness out of it and leave the stark sensations we experience when we rely on direct and pure looking.” 

After reading “Picture This,” the only question that remains is, “How do the concepts illustrated in this book apply to my photography and composition?”  I suppose to some degree, this depend on where you are in your photographic evolution.  Undoubtedly, those with some foundational background in art design will find many of the concepts familiar, yet will appreciate how Molly Bang cohesively ties them all together in a way that is both illuminating and thought provoking.  Those who are new to photography will probably gleam some nuggets from this book, although they probably haven’t had enough field experience to truly apply these concepts to their own compositions.  I think the sweet spot target audience for this book are those photographers who already understand how to use design constructs like lines, shapes, forms, textures, colors, tones and perspective to enhance their compositions.  They already know the “how.”  Now they just need to understand the “why.”  

At the end of the day, one of the biggest challenges of photography is to translate the three dimensional world using an inherently two dimensional medium.  Through a better understanding and mastery of the emotional impact of shapes, colors and all the other compositional choices we can potentially make, we increase the likelihood that we’ll be able to compose with more intent, and do it in a way that not only makes for a more compelling photograph that directly speaks to our vision—but one that strikes a universal emotional chord among our viewers. 

I have always said that photography is a somewhat different beast than painting, in that painters have the luxury of rearranging any given scene on a blank canvas to better suit their artistic vision.  Photographers are often forced to work within the confines of the scene as presented.  We may not be able to directly change a shape or color to elicit a different emotional response, but we can certainly utilize a variety of methods in order to present the strongest way of seeing—whether through lens selection, vantage point, scene extraction, subject prominence, depth of field, or even the time of the day we shoot (and the color/direction/intensity of the prevailing light).  Understanding the core emotional psychology that drives these compositional choices can only make us more effective photographers.

“Highly Recommended”

ps. This book is currently very hard to find and is on backorder in many places, although new paperbook inventory is expected from the publisher in 2-3 months time.  If you visit Molly Bang’s website, she still has a few hardcopies for sale–although her quantities are extremely limited.

Do You Have Obsessive-Compulsive Photography Disorder (OCPD)?

Do You Have OCPD?

Obsessive-Compulsive Photography Disorder (OCPD) is characterized  by perpetual thoughts about photography—when you are driving to work, when you are at work, when you are driving home from work, and even when you are lying in bed preparing to go to sleep.   The symptoms of OCPD range from repetitive cleaning of one’s camera equipment (even when not dirty) and extensive hoarding of newly purchased gear (otherwise called NAS/CAS, or Nikon/Canon Acquisition Syndrome) to an obsessive preoccupation with where and when your next photo trip is going to take place.  Individuals with this disorder will often walk or drive around aimlessly looking for any and all photo opportunities—even if it means lugging a 30 pound pack and tripod through a snow storm.  

For those with OCPD tendencies, photography has most likely shifted from being just an avocation or casual pastime, to an unequivocal part of their identity and psychological makeup.  Individuals with OCPD no longer look at the world through normal eyes, but as if they are peering through a camera viewfinder all the time—always in search of fresh perspectives and unique subject matter to capture.  And irrespective of what subject is being discussed, individuals with OCPD will always find a way to relate any topic back to photography.

These symptoms may be alienating and time consuming (especially to your significant other who often does not understand your disorder), and may even cause severe economic loss—especially when that new VR lens makes its way onto the B&H website. 

The typical OCPD sufferer performs photography-related tasks, or compulsions, to seek relief from obsession-related anxiety.  Within and among individuals, the initial obsessions, or intrusive thoughts, can vary in their clarity and vividness.  A relatively vague obsession could involve a general sense of tension and imbalance, accompanied by the belief that life cannot proceed as normal unless our fingers are firmly planted on the shutter and we are actively engaged in the process of taking pictures. 

In extreme cases, an individual who engages in compulsive hoarding of camera equipment might even be inclined to treat their gear as if it had the sentience or rights of a living organism.  This will often manifest itself in the form of a nickname for our cameras, or otherwise assigning a gender reference, such as “she or her.” 

While some with OCPD perform compulsive rituals because they inexplicably feel they must, others act compulsively so as to mitigate the anxiety that stems from not being able to take pictures all the time.  Compulsions include counting specific things (such as pixels, frames per second, focus points, f-stops, number of lenses/camera bodies in one’s collection, etc.). For some people with OCPD, these tasks, along with the attendant and continuous thoughts about photography, can take hours of each day, making it hard for the person to fulfill their work, family, or social roles.

According to University-lead psychiatrists who have coined the term, “shutter therapy”—just going out and actually taking some pictures, rather than merely thinking about taking pictures, should be regarded as first-line treatment for OCPD.   The occasional gear purchase can also help in managing some aspects of the disorder, although this is often a temporary solution.  Winter can be a difficult time for OCPD sufferers, especially when stuck inside for any prolonged period of time.  Often, these individuals will resort to taking pictures of meaningless and often uninspiring inanimate household objects (including but not limited to their cats) in order to satiate and quell their photo-related anxieties.  Do You Have Obsessive-Compulsive Photography Disorder (OCPD)?   Well, I think you know the answer to that question…

The Zen of Photographic Seeing

“Seeing is saturation of awareness that grows out of a quality of emotional knowing.” – Galen Rowell quote, original author unknown

I wanted to take a moment to explore the philosophical side of image capture.  Call it the Zen of photography if you will.  Having spent a great deal of time around fellow photographers, I’m convinced that there are really two philosophical methodologies to taking pictures. There are those photographers who are technically focused and then there are those who take more of an emotional and spiritual path to image capture. The technical folk are less concerned with the feeling and emotion behind photography.  For them, the experience is less important than the final result—and image capture follows an almost formulary approach.  And of course, there are those who are emotionally rooted.  These photographers tend to let their experiences validate their images, rather than their images validating their experiences.  For these photographers, it’s about tapping into a profound sense of deeper meaning—not only in how the subject is interpreted and communicated, but in the process itself.  Like shaman on a mystical journey of self discovery, these photographers seek to channel their deep understanding and feelings about the experience (and location) in a way that will hopefully translate into a compelling photograph with a strong emotional message.  Often times though, it may be moving for them, but will fall flat for the viewer and fail to resonate in any meaningful way.

But let me be perfectly clear, no matter how profound or lofty our personal vision; no matter how connected we feel to our environment or the subject–our photographic ideas won’t be fully realized if we lack sound technical aptitude and good design sense.   It’s hard to transcend what’s beyond our lens if we don’t fully understand how to fluently speak the language of our camera. Whether it’s an understanding of how to reign in extreme dynamic range, manipulate depth of field or harness drama through creative use of shutter, we must instinctively learn how to master the technical craft first and foremost.  And in doing so, we will hopefully free ourselves to focus on more artistic and philosophical virtues.

From technical mastery is born artistic awareness and design intent.  Here, we learn the many facets behind compelling composition–foundational design constructs like line, shape, form, tone, texture, perspective, rhythm, energy, balance, color, and of course mastery of light.  But as much as we attempt to utilize these compositional building blocks in our photos, they will lack context unless we can interpret them in the emotional sense.  For example, the technical photographer will look at lines like a mathematician looks at a geometry problem.  Yes, there is symmetry in lines and it is certainly a powerful design element used to lead the eye into (or out of) a scene.  But if we look closer, a line can reveal much more (as do other elements like color, texture, etc.).  For example, we know that horizontal lines have a calming effect, whereas vertical lines have more energy—even more so for diagonals.  We know that thick lines have more strength and thin are more frail.  We know that curved is sensuous and straight is rigid.  What can we learn from these hidden meanings?

I think the question that really needs to be answered is, “What are we really trying to say with our photographs?”  And ultimately, how do we move beyond literal labels so we can capture the core emotional essence, personality and mood of our subject?  For those photographers on a spiritual mission or vision quest, it’s not necessarily what they’re looking at in the literal sense, but what they figuratively see and feel as viewed through the window of their soul.  This is something that can only be answered by digging deep into our own psyche and life experience.  For some, a tree is just a tree and is photographed as an exact representational mirror.  For others, it’s a cliché on a common theme such as loneliness.   But, is it our own loneliness we’re trying to project, or are we merely emulating what we’ve been told we should feel when we see a lone tree sitting in a field?  Is this our unique vision, or does it belong to someone else?

Essence of Autumn

Maybe this tree is where we kissed our first love and it represents innocence lost?  Maybe the tree was where we spent countless summers swinging into the river on an old tire swing and it represents the joy of living in the moment?  Maybe the tangled knots in the tree represents the turmoil in our lives—past or present?  Maybe the changing Autumn leaves represents Father time and the wisdom that comes from gracefully growing older?  For every subject, there is our own interpretation.  Sometimes this interpretation is so personal, only we get it.  And sometimes, we strike a chord that resonates universally–even if the viewer’s interpretation is slightly different than our original intent.  Either way, these are the photos that move us on some personal level, even if we don’t fully understand why.

If you are to realize your own vision, it must come from deep within your own soul.  Whether this vision is highly original, artistic, abstract; whether it focuses on pain, beauty or ambiguity; whether it is literal or interpretive; black & white or color—is not nearly as important as being truthful to your own soulful interpretation. If you don’t feel emotionally connected to the subject, neither will your viewers.  Finding the poetry and music in a scene can never come from only looking through the lens or technically manipulating the camera dials. Rather, it comes from looking deep inside yourself.  Only then, are you truly seeing.

“The bird’s song would then strike our retina as a pageant of color; we should see the magical tones of the wind, hear as a great fugue the repeated and harmonizing greens of the forest; the cadences of stormy skies.”  ~Author unknown

Highgate Cemetery…Bram Stoker’s Kind of Place

Well, it’s been a while since I last blogged, so I figured I was way past due.  Actually in my defense, I’ve been out photographing—spending some time in England, and most recently this past weekend in West Virginia freezing my rear off in unseasonably bad weather trying to capture iconic autumn images.  The colors were not great this year, but those complaints are best left to another blog posting. 

As a follow up to my last post about Little Gracie Watson at Bonaventure Cemetery, I wanted to share a recent experience I had a few weeks ago while visiting London’s most infamous cemetery, Highgate.  I promise my next blog posting will be a little lighter. 

Highgate is widely considered to be one of the spookiest Gothic Victorian cemeteries in the world—with a colorful past that is rumored to include occult ceremonies and even sightings of the alleged Highgate Vampire.  Bram Stoker was reportedly inspired to write Dracula after visiting.  Hidden behind a tangled web of overgrown ivy and briar, where even the light gasps to find air, I can only imagine what Stoker must have been thinking as he quietly sat among the eerie Gothic monuments, vaults and catacombs strewn throughout the dark forests of Highgate. 

Highgate is not only one of the world’s most notorious cemeteries, it’s also one of the most exclusive—especially if you are a photographer.  The more ominous West Cemetery can only be accessed through guided tours, and tripods are strictly not allowed—which can be extremely challenging in the dim light conditions (the East Cemetery is self guided and much more accessible to the general public).  After weeks of back and forth email correspondence and much pleading, I was able to secure exclusive permission to photograph on the west side.  As an aside, I did provide a donation to the cemetery historic trust, which I was more than happy to do to help maintain this storied landmark. 

While I was only able to visit for two hours, it was an amazing experience—conjuring up my imagination in so many ways.  I’ll admit that the spooky aspect of the cemetery was one of the reasons I wanted to visit Highgate in the first place.   Yet despite its colorful past and almost mythical outward facade, I could not help but think that there are real people with real stories buried in this cemetery—families, fathers, sons, daughters and lost loves.  There is a certain tragic irony in only looking at a place as a distorted caricature of itself.  But underneath the thick overgrown ivy, hides the true essence and poetry of this place—visible to those who are able to see its rare beauty.

Entrance to Egyptian Avenue

The Boxer and His Loyal Dog Lion

Circle of Lebanon

Egyptian Avenue Tombs - HDR

Tomb Door

The Haunted Tale of Little Gracie Watson

Behind every photograph, there is a story. 

In 1993, Savannah Georgia photographer Jack Leigh was hired to photograph an image for the cover of John Berendt’s book, “Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil.”  Leigh’s photograph of the now famous “Bird Girl” statue became an immediate publishing sensation and put Bonaventure Cemetery on the map.  Soon people began flocking to Bonaventure Cemetery to see the sculpture. Due to concerns about the amount of traffic at the grave site, it was removed from the cemetery and relocated. Supposedly, Leigh spent ten hours in the darkroom dodging and burning the photograph to impart a moonlit feel while accentuating the halo around the statue’s head.  Leigh died in 2004 and was buried at Bonaventure, which I find poetic. 

Bonaventure has a strong reputation as being one of the most haunted locations in the United States.  Unquestionably, I felt a strong spiritual vibe and energy as I leisurely walked around the cemetery grounds looking at the various historic gravestones in search of a suitable photographic subject.  While I was disappointed that the “Bird Girl” statue had been removed, I happened upon a gravestone statue that I felt was equally as powerful, if not more so.  Her name was Gracie Watson.  And I was moved to be in her presence.  Maybe it was because she was the only child buried in this hauntingly beautiful cemetery?   Or maybe it was the tragic quality of her life and death and the fact that I have a young daughter of similar age?  

The inscription on her gravestone reads, “Little Gracie Watson was born in 1883, the only child of her parents. Her father was manager of the Pulaski House, one of Savannah’s leading hotels, where the beautiful and charming little girl was a favorite with the guests. Two days before Easter, in April 1889, Gracie died of pneumonia at the age of six. In 1890, when the rising sculptor, John Walz, moved to Savannah, he carved from a photograph this life-sized, delicately detailed marble statue, which for almost a century has captured the interest of all passersby.” 

According to local folklore and legend, Little Gracie Watson is among the most haunted spirits residing at Bonaventure and in Savannah.  Visitors will leave toys for her to play with, and some claim she will cry tears of blood if her playthings are removed. There is always a collection of toys near her grave area, especially around Christmas, but no sign of tear stains running down her porcelain “doll-like” marble face.  There is also a belief that if you place a quarter in Gracie’s hand and encircle her statue three times, the coin will disappear.  Like the “Bird Girl” statue, little Gracie Watson has become very popular, and the grave is now fenced off in wrought-iron to prevent further damage. 

Pulaski House Hotel was frequented by Savannah’s elite, and Little Gracie Watson often played the role as hostess at the various high society parties that were held by her mother.  Gracie quickly endeared herself to Savannah’s elite, and loved being the center of attention. When she became bored,  she would often retreat to play underneath the back stairwell of the hotel.   After her death in 1889, her mother and hotel staff claimed to be able to still hear little Gracie laughing and playing underneath that stairwell.  Although the hotel has since been torn down, the location of the original hotel still boast many haunted sightings.  The haunted echoes of Little Gracie can still be heard laughing and playing where the old staircase would have been located.  And some people even have reported seeing a small girl run past them in period dress. 

To this day, my visit with Gracie is still strongly etched on my soul.  For hours and without any other interruptions other than the humming sound of a distant lawnmower in the background, Little Gracie and I bonded.  Like a father to his precious daughter, we shared many conversations and moments, and I shed tears for her.  While her beautiful young life was cut way too short, she left her mark in the physical world—and now leaves her tiny footprint in the spiritual one.  The world is a better place because of Little Gracie and I am honored to have met this young lady on this one particular and mostly uneventful quiet Spring day.

Little Gracie Watson

Gracie Watson: 1883-1889

Gravestone at Bonaventure Cemetery

Statue at Bonaventure Cemetery - Savannah, GA

Photographing for Realism or Creative Interpretation (Which is Better)?

There are really two camps in photography:  raw realism and creative interpretation.  There are those who aspire not to use any filters, in-camera techniques or post processing manipulation as a means of communicating or enhancing a mood or idea.  These are the people who aspire to capture a scene in its rawest form at the height of natural activity.  Often, this heightened activity will manifest itself as a rare weather event or some other fleeting magical display of light.  While I often take creative license with my own photos, I too prescribe to this philosophy—especially if this situation presents itself.  But like many, I often don’t have the luxury of returning to the same location over and over waiting for the decisive moment to occur.  But when it does, It can be a very rewarding experience.  

Just two weeks ago while photographing the Nags Head Fishing Pier in Outer Banks, NC—I was greeted with one of the most dramatic sunrise displays in my life.  Other than using a graduated neutral density filter and very minor contrast and crop adjustments in post processing, what came out of my camera was very much a realistic capture of the scene as my eyes saw it.  Granted, there are techniques that fine art photographers will employ to increase their potential for nailing the shot right out of the camera—such as exposure bracketing and hyperfocal method.  Certainly, these will increase your chances of capturing something special devoid of any digital trickery. 

This “real versus creative interpretation” topic has been debated to no end on photography forums, and is somewhat polarizing.  While creative technique in and of itself should never be a replacement for good composition and artistic intent, I am of the belief that it can be used effectively as a means of communicating one’s unique vision and voice—even if this vision is not an exact representation of the scene as presented.  Just look at the photography of Dave Hill (www.davehillphoto.com).  It’s not overly realistic in the traditional sense, but it sure is creative and original (although everyone is trying to emulate his style nowadays).  More importantly, behind the flash and sizzle of his creative post processing and lighting techniques, are inherently good photographs with compelling subjects and themes, thoughtful lighting and artful composition. 

I can’t tell you how many rookie photographers rely on the HDR (High Dynamic Range) technique to support their entire image.  While HDR certainly has a unique look that can turn a drab subject into something that sparkles (while managing the extreme dynamic light range found in high contrast scenes), it is not compelling in and of itself.  While capturing scenes in raw realism is always my preference, it is not always practical.  On my same trip to Outer Banks, I visited a place called Elizabethan Gardens.  The light was absolutely horrid, harsh and unforgiving.  Rather than walk away with no shots, I opted for creative interpretation (in the form of impressionism/multiple exposure).  Even if the light were perfect, I still may have opted for creative interpretation—if for no other reason other than the fact that I am always seeking to express my inner voice in unique ways.   This is what makes photography such a personal and subjective experience—and one that should not be tethered to any preconceived notion about “what is or is not” the right way to capture a scene.  This question is best answered by the photographer themselves.

Elizabethan Gardens Impressionism

Elizabethan Gardens Impressionism

Epic Dawn Light at Nags Head Fishing Pier

Was doing some additional photo editing tonight and came across yet another version of my sunrise at Nags Head Pier shot.   Sunrise shots are supposed to be about tranquility.  But not this one, which has an ominous yet intriguing quality about it, especially with the triangular cloud structure. Very little post process editing was done to this and my other beach shots, other than some crop and contrast adjustments.  When and where possible, I always try and nail the shot in the camera itself.  Editing done using Nikon Capture NX2.

*To view a larger version, visit: www.danielstainer.com

Epic Sunrise at Nags Head Fishing Pier

* all photos are copyright protected.  Daniel Stainer (C) 2009

Landscape Photography in Outer Banks, NC

This is my inaugural photography weblog post and am pleased to be joining the Web 2.0 Internet revolution.

I just returned from a glorious week in the Outer Banks of North Carolina.  While it was mostly a family vacation, I did manage to sneak away here and there for some rewarding photography—much to my family’s chagrin. These brief excursions were usually timed around some undesirable “stay-at-home” meal, like bland grilled chicken breast with generic BBQ sauce.  Seriously, I’ve been visiting this location for about 10 years and am quite familiar with the best locations.

While there is much to see and do photographically, the biggest challenge when shooting in a beach location is undoubtedly the light—which can be harsh and unforgiving to say the least.  On a typical sunny or partly sunny beach day, just about everything is highly reflective—from the specular water hotspots to the bright sand.   Highlight blowouts are a huge problem—and many of your photos will look hazy and washed out, even when using a good polarizer filter and lens shade.

So my advice is this…spend time with your family during the day…and only concern yourself with sunrise and sunset shooting.  Which brings me to my last and final advice, which is to purchase a good set of Graduated Neutral Density Filters from the fine folks at Singh-Ray (www.singh-ray.com).  If you’re serious about landscape photography and want to control the extreme dynamic “highlight to shadow” range found in most high contrast scenes (like the beach), than these are a must.

Above are a few iconic beach images from my trip.  I also had an opportunity to experiment with multiple exposure impressionism techniques—which have been perfected by master landscape photographer and fine artist Tony Sweet (www.tonysweet.com).   Tony is a Maryland boy like me, and has been an inspiration for me photographically and artistically.  One of these days, I hope to attend one of his seminars.

More of my images can be found at: www.danielstainer.com.   Thanks for looking

Pre-Sunrise at Nags Head Pier

Sand Dunes at Jockey's Ridge

Dusk at Jockey's Ridge

Elizabethan Gardens Impressionism I

Elizabethan Gardens Impressionism II