Welcome to My View

Welcome to My View for Friday, February 29, 2008

How often do we find ourselves struggling and fighting with life? How often is it that we keep pushing in one direction, no matter what? How often are we determined to control our lives — damn the torpodoes, full speed ahead!

Very often, in our determination to have things happen exactly as we want them to, we encounter endless struggles, banging our heads against the wall that always seems to be there. At times like these, perhaps it would benefit us to just relax, to surrender to what life just might have to offer us.

This image, taken in Death Valley National Park in 2005, serves as a reminder to me to get out of my own way at just such times and allow life to happen to me. It was sunrise in the Cow Creek area of the park. Not much was happening in the sky facing the east. I was struggling to try to make something out of very little in the way of a dramatic sunrise. Out of frustration more than anything else, I turned away from the east to catch a glimpse of the scene directly behind me. I barely had time to move, lower my tripod, change lenses and fire off a few shots before this amazing scene was gone. Rather than struggling so hard with what I thought I wanted to capture, all I had to do was stop, take a deep breath, listen to that small whisper of frustration and turn around to capture something far more beautiful than anything I could have captured with continuing my struggle that morning.

Your comments and critiques are always appreciated and welcomed.

Thank you for visiting My View.

“Let life happen to you. Believe me; life is in the right, always.” Rainer Maria Rilke

“Cow Creek Sunrise” Death Valley National Park, November 2005

Canon 5D, 16-35 mm 2.8 lens at 16mm; f/8.0 (combination of two images shot at 1/4 sec and 1/6 sec).

This post is a few days early this week because late Friday afternoon, I will be on my way to Las Vegas for the start of my spring photography workshop season. I will be teaching with Craig Tanner in Death Valley all next week. The post for My View for Sunday, March 9, will be delayed a few days.

Have a good week, everyone!

Hello and welome to My View for Sunday, February 24, 2008.

On Tuesday of last week, I returned to Atlanta from a week long trip to the cold, icy and snowy midwest to find the daffodils creeping up out of the soil, with tiny yellow heads reaching for the sun. This is a true reminder that spring is on the way.

Daffodils have no fear when it comes their time to bloom. Each spring, they slowly start their reach for the sun, then suddenly seem to rush to catch the warm rays, fully recognizing their opportunity to blossom, to shine.

We all have opportunities to blossom, to let our light shine. Too many of us never allow ourselves to grasp those opportunities because of our own fears — our fears of failure, of not being enough, of appearing foolish. Perhaps we should all be more like the daffodils. Once we are as sure of who we are as are the daffodils, rushing to catch the warm rays that present themselves to us is a most exhilerating, growing, and rewarding experience.

As always, your comments and critiques are welcomed and only help me grow.

Wishing you all warm rays of spring sun.

Thank you for visiting My View.

Stone Mountain, Georgia, 2007
Canon 5D, ISO 100, 28-70mm lens at 48mm , f/22, 1/3 second

A special thank you:

You will notice that My View has a different look. Thanks to Kelly Kyle of The Webbed Otter, who takes care of my website and My View for creating this look more in line with my regular site.

Hello and welome to My View for Sunday, February 17, 2008.

I’ve always loved the sunrise. Getting up well before dawn and venturing out to greet the world is a wonderfully refreshing way to start any new day. Perhaps this is something I learned from my grandfather. As a child and young teen, I spent lots of time in the summers on my grandparents farm in south Georgia. Every morning, I would go out with my grandfather to do the morning chores that are a part of farm life. We would always stop at the gate to a pasture near the barn. When I was very small, my grandfather would lift me up to stand on the top of the gate so that I could see the sun rising off in the east. We would just stand there in silence, breathing in the cool morning air, watching as the sun slowly made it’s way over the horizon.

There is something about a sunrise that represents a new start. It represents a physical, mental, emotional and, to me, a spiritual renewal every morning. No matter how much I might have screwed up things the day before, no matter how discouraged I may have gotten, no matter what happened, the next sunrise is a  re-awakening, a time to move forward with the lessons learned, the love given and received, grateful for all that has come my way, continuing on the path that I have chosen, moving on toward the dreams in which I believe.

May you be blessed with many sunrises.

I welcome your comments.

Thank you for visiting My View.

Jekyll Island, 2004
Canon 10D, ISO 100, 28-70mm lens at 35mm , f/22, 2.5 seconds

Hello and Welcome to My View for Valentine’s Day 2008

As it is that day of the year, I’m posting an extra image this week to wish you all a very Happy Valentine’s Day.

“The Heart of the Peony”

Canon 10D, 50mm Macro Lens, ISO 400, handheld, f/2.8 at 1/350 secs

As always, I welcome your comments.
Thank you for visiting My View and a very Happy Valentine’s Day

In the late fall of 2002, I was fortunate enough to be in Big Bend National Park. Big Bend is an amazing place for so many reasons, one of which is that is it the largest protected area of Chihuahuan Desert in the United States. It was established as a national park in 1944 and designated a Biosphere Reserve in 1976.

The agave lechuguilla is an indicator plant of the Chihuahuan Desert. One of it’s common names is “shindagger”. It has been reported to flatten tires and one woman had a tip of the spin in her leg for six months before it disolved. I had heard stories and been thoroughly warned about this plant.

Late one day, after shooting during the evening magic light, and as darkness was rapidly falling, I was scurring around gathering all of my equipment scattered around on the desert floor. I took two steps back, looking for some piece of equipment and suddenly stopped — uh oh! Without moving the lower part of my body and holding my breath, I cautiously peered over my shoulder to catch a glimpse of the image below. I very carefully took two steps straight forward, looked at the sight again, let out my breath, took in a deep one and —- of course, unpacked a lens, set up the tripod and tried to capture what I had just felt (my view) at the moment I peered over my shoulder.

Fortunately, no serious damage was done to the photographer.
I welcome and very much appreciate your comments on the image.

Canon EOS 1v mounted on a tripod, Fuji Velvia ISO 50 (scanned and converted to black and white), 100mm macro lens, f/2.8

Thank you for visiting My View.

Hello and welome to My View for Sunday, February 3, 2008.

This is the first of my regular weekly posts for My View. My plans are to post one image a week while this new journey is getting started. The How It Works section will be updated with any changes to this initial plan.

I suppose the image today should have been the first image I posted when this site was launched on February 1. In so many ways it represents the beginning of the change in the way I look at myself as a photographer, and as a person. Let me explain.

When I returned to photography in 2000, after being away from it for several years, I did so because I was searching for myself. I’d lost a lot of myself several years prior to 2000 and was searching for a way to get me back. Returning actively to photography put me on that journey. I enthusiastically traveled that path for five years, thoroughly enjoying all the workshops I attended, all of the instructors and photographers I met, and all of the new friends I made. Even though I was enjoying life more than I had in a number of years, I was still searching for something.

In September, 2005, I had the extremely fortunate experience of attending Craig Tanner’s very first Next Step Workshop. I had attended several of Craig’s workshops since returning seriously to photography, loved his teaching style and we had become friends over the years. When he told me about this “new and different” workshop he wanted to teach, I literally jumped at the chance to attend. My intuition immediately told me that this could be what I was seeking. And, so, on that auspicious Wednesday evening in September 2005, seven of us assembled in Savannah for an experience none of us could have anticipated.

The Next Step workshop has a powerful effect on each participant who has ever taken it. I am no exception. I discovered so much about myself as a person and a photographer. I think, for the first time, I realized that it was OK to be the photographer that I was, rather than trying to be the photographer I thought others wanted me to be. This was a significant revelation to me. That is was OK. I offered for class critique images that I rarely would have in other traditional workshops. And, to my amazement, they were well received. It was an extremely freeing experience for me. It was at this point that I stopped hiding many of the images that I thought were not what was expected and began to show more of those that I loved. And, for the first time in years, I stopped hiding me because of what others had expected me to be.

I discovered that it was OK to have a view, and voice, of my own. I discovered that it was OK to, once again, be the person that I was. These realizations started in the Next Step workshop. They continue even now.

This image was taken on a Saturday morning, just as River Street in Savannah was waking up. At the time, I called the image The Observer. But, in the years since, I think that it was, perhaps, my view all along. I welcome your comments.

After this, my weekly posts will contain more photography and fewer words.
Thank you for visiting My View.

Canon 10D, 16-35mm at 33mm, ISO 200, 1/90 sec at f/4, hand held