To understand the subject is to move beyond it being a mere object. On the other hand, a misunderstanding of the subject can, unfortunately, lead to treatments of beautification and decoration to fill that void.
To understand the subject is to move beyond it being a mere object. On the other hand, a misunderstanding of the subject can, unfortunately, lead to treatments of beautification and decoration to fill that void.
Like many landscape photographers, I spend a lot of time outdoors, surrounded by the beauty of our natural world. These experiences can be deeply moving and intimate, and when the conditions are right, even poetic. We attempt to capture these moments using the camera’s lens but sometimes images alone cannot convey the entirety of what we are seeing and feeling as the shutter is clicked. Recently, I have turned to composing haiku as a way to add depth and meaning to the images I shoot.
Familiarity may increase the probability of coming away with a “good” photo, but it can be the bane of creativity. By familiarity I don’t necessarily mean locations or subject matter. Rather, are you seeing subjects in the same familiar way and/or employing the same familiar techniques over and over? Are you seeing beyond what you’ve done in the past and imagining new ways of expression, or is it just the same old same old?
Photographing a place you frequently visit offers a unique opportunity for a slow approach. Whether it is a place near your home or one that you have come to know after repeated visits, developing a familiarity with it allows you to relax, explore on a deeper level, and discover perspectives and details you might have missed before.
Achieving representation in a saturated art market can be very difficult, and many photographers are left wondering how to get recognized in the tactile world of art, outside of the digital world of social media. To gain some insight on this, I recently had the pleasure of sitting down and asking some tough questions of two wonderful women who are forces in the art world: one an art gallery owner, the other a healthcare and corporate art consultant, both talented artists in their own right. Having worked with both for many years, I didn’t expect to learn as much as I did from this enlightening conversation, but I certainly was wrong!
Inspired by the work in our quarterly gallery, I went to work on this series of photographs. Processing them reminded me that it was an exciting set of images to capture. In this article, I’ll share how I ended up shooting bark on this particular morning, and the equipment and technical approach I used.
Our culture, while shifting, has traditionally valued nature photography that represents the daring, ostentatious, and conquering perspectives over the observant, nurturing, and subtle ones. When we use cameras in this way, the purpose of nature photography demonstrates the power we have over Mother Earth’s bounty and we miss opportunities to connect more deeply.
Looking back, I'm almost glad I had the walking cast slowing me down. I would not have captured these images if I had been out hiking and exploring at my normal rhythm. These photographs were possible because of a slower pace. It's a great reminder to take time and be present, rather than rushing through an experience to capture photos.
When looking for unique images, we often have to rethink our viewpoint; whether by looking closer, in unexpected directions, at details, at what’s under our feet, or in the corner of a reflection. Often though, and luckily for us, the simple act of changing your lens is all it takes to change your entire perspective.
Shooting at night takes me far outside of my comfort zone and provides unique and interesting challenges. The lack of sleep, the concentration on technique, the jumping at strange noises in the dark, all contribute to a powerful experience – one that I never regret.
Sailing downwind, our jib sail was on the starboard side. Our main sail was set to port. This sail set is called "wing-and-wing." We sailed Salty Paws, a 40-foot sailing catamaran and our home for two decades, to a dock in North Carolina. From there, we planned to sail to Canada. When you live on a boat, your home remains a constant as your surroundings change. Landscapes and fauna slowly transform as you make your way, and wildlife encounters often announce your arrival at a new region.
My attraction to waterfalls has intensified significantly since I took on photography, as capturing their magic can prove to be a real and energizing challenge. I’ve taken many waterfall photos that have fallen flat, despite being technically well executed. I have learned that conveying the experience of a waterfall through a still image requires a story-telling attitude and patience.
Every time I look at nature, whether it’s flowers in my backyard, a crescent moon in the sky, or old images on my hard drive, it reminds me that despite the global pandemic, Mother Nature soldiers on, and this is just a season we’re in. I find it strangely reassuring that our collective increased awareness of COVID-19 really ramped up and took off during the earth’s transition from winter, a season of dormancy, to the vernal equinox, the very season of rebirth and renewal.
I had been forced to slow down, first due to being heavily pregnant, and then by having a small baby in tow. This was when I started making images that were truly my own vision, and to which I feel much more strongly and personally connected.
I am particularly fond of special images captured in less than epic locations. They feel like bigger accomplishments, requiring more attention to your surroundings and heightened attention to details. Which, ultimately, may result in even better photographs than those captured in idyllic or mind-blowing places.
Photographing forests, woodlands, and trees is an exercise in patience, sorting through the compositional chaos of nature. It is, however, also massively gratifying when executed well. Enjoy the process and the journey, and allow yourself to embrace imperfections! Permit yourself freedom from iconic, grand vistas, and slow down long enough to revel in minute details of lesser known places.
Ultimately I have learned that the main reason I practice photography is personal growth. I have always held a deep admiration and envy of those who have a talent that stands out, especially in music. Photography has afforded me the opportunity to explore the boundaries of my limitations and strive to move beyond them.
One of the interesting outcomes of this venture has been its influence upon my artistic process. The subject matter of my work has not changed much over the past few years. That is, not much beyond the normal evolution of subject and approach typical of an artists’ development. What haschanged, however, and in a positive way, is the intent and motivation of my work.
Alex Noriega uses slow photography principles to create compelling imagery. I first met Alex a few years ago while photographing in Death Valley. Since then, we've had several opportunities to shoot together, and we have adventured in some unique locations out in the landscape. His imagery is the result of authentic connections, reading the light, and celebrating the smaller moments and details in the landscape. I recently sat down with him to ask him some questions on how he utilizes the slow approach in his photography.
I have been very pleased with not only the technical quality of the digital images I’ve produced while adopting a slow photography philosophy, but with the artistic quality. I feel that the images I am creating now even surpass those that I took with my large format camera. But there is something more that comes from adopting this philosophy: there is a freedom that comes from allowing yourself as an artist to become aware of where you are, and of what that place is saying to you.