Here is a humorous look at the top idiots we often encounter at crowded tripod holes!

Here is a humorous look at the top idiots we often encounter at crowded tripod holes!
The connection between photography and music has always fascinated me. Like many, I was deeply exposed to music growing up. As a child, I learned how to play the piano by ear, often reconstructing complex melodies in my head…
“If all your life means to you is water running over rocks, then photograph it, but I want to create something that would not have existed without me.” ~Minor White…
The cowboy vigorously runs his wire brush across the leather tail of his thickly braided bull rope—a small halo of dirt disperses into the late afternoon sun. He breaks apart a tiny chunk of amber rosin on the metal bars of the bucking chute before placing some into the palm of his leather riding glove…
So what exactly is the secret to telling compelling stories in a single image? Before I can answer this often elusive question, it’s important to have a better understanding of cinematography and how it specifically relates to still photography…
As a keen observer of human behavior, I’ve also seen the uglier side of photography rear its ugly head on more than one occasion…
When you’re first starting out, you always pray for sunny weather. It’s not until you’ve clocked in a few forest or waterfall shoots do you come to the conclusion that shooting during sunny conditions is less than ideal. As a matter of fact, it’s downright challenging…
For the kind and hard-working people of Piccadilly, it’s really more about celebrating the craft and paying tribute to the time-honored traditions that run deeply through their veins. They won’t make a ton of money doing what they do, but will be rewarded with the richness of experience and bond of family friendship that can only come from living the life of the traveling artist gypsy…
1974—Burtonsville, Maryland. If I close my eyes, it all comes rushing back…Johnny Cash playing from the cheap am radio resting on the shelf next to the Barbicide; the happy ring of the old-fashioned National cash register as it gladly accepted my Dad’s worn singles; the Dum Dum lollipop jar that marked my rite of passage at the end of the haircut when the barber was finished brushing the hair off my neck and unsnapping my smock…
Intuition, resonance, vision…the decisive moment. These are the goals the mindful photographer strives for in their unending and almost mythical quest to move beyond looking into seeing…