Perhaps it’s my panglossian nature, but in a last minute effort to make lemonade out of lemons, instead of the standard photographic tradition of a top 10 list, I’m going to identify 9 images from which I have learned the most or which will change and improve my photography going into 2021. And 9 has better mythical and mathematical credentials. Hopefully this will be more inspirational and informative than the standard photographers showcase of the 10 images they like the most. I would love to hear about your positive photographic take-aways from 2020 in the comments below!
Second Thoughts, May 2020.
On May 30th 2020, a “once in a decade” storm coming up from Oregon was making for some serious news footage. Any other May, I would have just thought “cool” and got my work done, but it was the spring of 2020 and COVID had me stir-crazy and a bit bored. Why the hell not! I downloaded a radar app, watched a few youtube videos (thanks Nick Page), put a cooler and stove in the truck since everything was closed, and hit the road.
Top 9 Takeaway #1: So many takeaways from this experience! A reminder of why Willecke’s First Rule of Photography is Show Up. I learned I love chasing storms—can’t wait for spring! I learned to do my homework—I had previously made myself a quick guide to lightning photography and saved it on my phone in case I ran into any lightning—that was useful:) Radar Apps are cool, and using them to chase weather is fun! Sandstorms are scary—see that red on the left side of the photo…sand. Probably from Oregon. Either way, it messed me up about 5 minutes after this photo was taken, when 80 MPH winds hit my truck as I fled west on Highway 26 out of the darkness. I kept waiting for a cow to fly by. I remembered that I like a good adrenaline hit from time to time, even if I am normally pretty even keel. Perhaps most of all, I am taking away a desire to witness more of the Awesome in nature, in the traditional sense of the word, Awe having originally included “terror” and its usage similar to Awful, which meant “full of awe.” In 2021, I want to witness the power of nature in all its forms more frequently.
Silver Linings, May 2020.
Taken two weeks before the Apocalypse above, this image was the result of one of several “COVID drives” around the great state of Washington. The yellow fields contrasted with the stormy blue sky was subject enough, and I was already at work on my tripod when a half a dozen deer decided to meander through the scene! This frame, with the solitary deer hiding in the tall grass, fit the mood best.
Top 9 Takeaway #2: Explore! In response to lockdown and not taking 4 trips I had planned for the spring, including Italy and Arizona, I was forced to explore my own locale—I know this is something many of us have discovered during the pandemic, truly a silver lining. And, practically speaking—always take a tele!
Young Pine Martin. (August 2020)
Pine Martens are rarely sighted in Washington—I saw not 1, but 2, both little guys, and who doesn’t like baby animals! The Martens played together, stopping periodically to stare are us (they were so curious!), and after way too many frames we finally headed off down the trail.
Top 9 Takeaway #3: Always bring your tele! I often don’t on backpacking trips because I’m already counting calories per ounce, and this was a 3 day through hike of Washington’s Goat Rocks Wilderness, but, as the name implies, goats are common in the area and haven gotten many great baby goat photos 2 weeks prior during a 4 day backpacking trip through The Enchantments, I brought the tele! Above is an image of both Martens, and a baby goat photo from the Enchantments. (FedEx interrupted the writing of this post a few minutes ago to deliver my latest ebay steal, a Fuji XF 50-140mm F2.8 ML OIS WR, so next time I will be bringing the boss tele!) I entered this image into the Washington Trails Association 2020 Calendar Contest and it took 3rd place in the Flora and Fauna category and was included in the Calendar. I don’t know that I am all about photo contests, but I did get a few nice notes from folks who know me and saw the image with my name on their calendars, and it occurs to me that, for 2021, I would like to find more ways to put my work out into the world, and perhaps more importantly, use it to contribute to good causes—trails being one that is important to me.
Earth, Water, and Fire. (August 2020)
Probably the most spectacular scene I witnessed this year, after the apocalyptic storm mentioned above, was this sunrise in The Enchantments, just beyond Aasgard Pass. The sun is rising to the left of the frame and lighting up clouds forming in real time as they rise up from below the cliff at the end of the valley—those two plumes are sunlit clouds and they were boiling up as I watched! I’ve never seen anything quite like it. This image is particualry good large, so click on it!
Top 9 Takeaway #4: It’s always worth getting out of bed! It helped that I didn’t bring my rain fly and had to jump in a friend’s tent partway through the night because, at nearly 8000 feet above sea level, The Enchantments make their own weather—it seemed rude to keep hitting the snooze bar:) Also, it was damn cold that morning—always bring Hot Hands, 1 set per sunrise, worth their weight in gold since I can’t operate a camera with gloves on. Of course, always bring your rainfly!
The Mask of Gloom. (June 2020)
I first discovered the way evening light revealed this forest fringe in layers on Christmas Eve of 2019, but either because the light wasn’t just right or I couldn’t put it all together, I didn’t get the photo in my mind’s eye. I drove by this scene many times on the way to another location, but it wasn’t until June of 2020 that I made it all work.
Top 9 Takeaway #5: For 2021, I want to remember that returning to a location is the other side of the coin of exploration. And that I love B&W!
Untitled.(July 2020)
My most recent edition to a body of work, heretofore unpublished but nearing completion, of the twisted nature of a particular forest, all done in black and white. These photos rely on shallow, but not too shallow, depth of field, and keeping most of the tones below middle, to convey the mood of the place.
Top 9 Takeaway #6: Projects are better than “greatest hits.” This lesson is also part of my above renewed commitment to revisiting locations. I’ve photographed in the same 30 feet in which this image was taken at least a dozen times, I have several images from right there that I love, but I never saw this one. Everytime I go, it is as if the forest has rearranged itself—Fangorn perhaps. Also, I love the 35mm focal length. My earliest photos in this project are mostly at 15mm, the last year or so, 35mm dominates. Increasing the focal length by 20 mm increased the intimacy (good or bad intimacy) and makes the viewer look more through and into than around—one wants to go into a photo taken at 35mm, and to back away from one taken at 15mm (at least in the context of scary forest photos). In 2021, I might pick up a 35mm equivalent prime and force myself to explore this more.
Mr. Rainier from Old Snowy Mountain. (August 2020)
About the time I intersected the PCT from the Snowgrass Flats trailhead I realized I forgot my sleeping pad. This probably occured to me about the time I notice it was already pretty cold and very, very windy. Crap. I decided to continue on and scramble up Old Snowy anyway, and then come all the way back out to the truck in the dark, about 17 miles round trip—not ideal, but better than freezing all night. Then I saw what the wind was doing to the clouds, the evening light starting to warm, and Mt. Rainier and an inversion layer and, well, up went the tent—sometimes you just have to suck it up. I shot this 10 feet from my tent—best single night in the backcountry I’ve ever had, hours and hours of changing clouds and light with Rainer and Adams visible from my campsite. 2020 wasn’t all bad.
Top 9 Takeaway #7: As stated above, sometimes you just have to suck it up to get the shot. And, of course, always bring your sleeping pad. And, buy your dog her own sleeping pad, so you can steal it:)
The Shadowy Seas. (Oregon 2020)
This photo, taken at Bandon Beach in Oregon, includes the iconic “wizard’s hat” rock on the left, but what I love here is that the icon is rendered as one of several rocks that collectively make the photo what it is, and that the image isn’t about the rocks, it’s about the space between them, especially the space just out of sight—it is about a place you could go, a journey you could take, possibly a dangerous one, but one you nevertheless are tempted to make. That’s my take on it anyway.
Top 9 Takeaway #8: I don’t take a lot of mid-range focal length images and I should—this is about 80mm in full-frame terms. Also, my favorite images are about a place, by which I mean they can’t be so “macro” that I can’t imagine being in the image or standing nearby and looking at the scene, but also not so “grand” that I am not “in” the scene, or the scene doesn’t present itself as a place I could wander off into. This is something I’ve been noticing about my “style” for a few years, but 2020 has driven it home for me. Also, I think I will try more purposefully to find non-iconic shots in iconic locations in 2021—the challenge seems to put me in the right frame of mind compositionally and that should carry over into non-iconic locations.
Sunset over Mt. Ballard. (August 2020)
On the first night of a through hike between Harts Pass and Rainy Pass in late August of 2020, this happened. 2020 was the best year I’ve ever had for cloud structures at magic hour, both in the mountains and on the coast, at sunrise and at sunset. I don’t know if that was luck or some kind of divine compensation for the shit-show that was 2020, but I’m thankful as hell. This sunset lasted for 45 minutes and the light in the other direction was just as amazing—I kept running back and forth across the ridge to shoot in both directions, laughing aloud at my good fortune, glad that nobody was watching. And a big thank you to my dad, who drove from Seattle to Rainy Pass to pick me up and drive me back to my truck parked at Harts Pass, and back home, at least 10 hours of driving!
Top 9 Takeaway #9: I tried a lot of panos in 2020, and failed at many of them—this one and the others I took at the end of August put most of these learnt lessons into effect! I learned to shoot vertical when I can, take the L-bracket, go easy on the polarizer, that a little extra shutter speed is worth the trade off anytime the wind is up, and to always overlap by 50%. This image and the others I took that night also reinforced a few lessons I had concluded from my 3 previous backpacking trips last summer: Plan hikes for interesting weather and always camp on the ridge tops. (and I did remember my rain fly, sleeping pad, and Hot Hands this time—old dog, new tricks).