Working Class Hero — 100mm | f/4 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/1250
Dutiful honey bee plying her trade. Drinking her nectar and loading her pollen basket, she works with intent. With energy and purpose she minds her craft. Even alone the hive is on the mind. Her community needs her; needs her singular focus to feed and to provide. To sustain the group. Bounding atop pistils by day, she works the land spending hours at the harvest. Undaunted she holds fast to her task. Mindfulness dams distraction. Even the focused lens of the observer matter little to our indefatigable worker bee. She need not pay us any mind—she strives for the hive.
As ever, thank you, John Lennon, for enriching our lives with joy. Thanks for your classic song connecting to this lyrically inspired photo. A working class hero is something to be(e).
The Technician — 100mm | f/4 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/160
Photo making is a task I invest significant time. 2020 marks year nine in my photography journey, and what an unexpected trip it has been. Beginning as a desperate distraction from depression, it has morphed into a real passion spanning the better part of a decade. I look back and ask myself what has changed since such a somber beginning? How has my perception shifted since my early days as a lost soon-to-be 30 year old with little clue how to use a camera?
For years I thought of myself as a technician. An individual proficient in making appealing photographs. Something of a process driven camera operator churning out landscape and nature photos per the rules. Viewing myself as a proper photographer, let alone creator, took many years of inner wrangling. I was a guy who followed procedure and protocols to produce a good clean image. There was nothing more to it. Follow steps one, two, and three, and a good photo you will be. As ever labels and semantics tripped me up, and I refused to think of myself as something more than a well trained individual who executes a task list. Anyone can do this, and creativity is no factor.
This view, pedantic and self-limiting, was a silly exercise. Over time I eased up on these pointless restrictions. Why put myself in a box? Or the better question, why exclude myself from other boxes? It’s foolish. After several years I grew inured to the photographer label. Being called a photographer didn’t leave me vexed and uncomfortable, with a furrowed brow looking over my shoulder for someone else with a camera . We must accept what is.
Fast forward to the past few years, and I finding growing comfort traipsing into creator territory. Might I be creative? That’s all cool and artsy sounding, so can it be true of a self-professed technician? Here I submit my writing as evidence. Even though my clear renown, such as it is, is as a photographer, it is my writing that brings the most intrinsic joy. This creative act is far less natural to me than making photographs. There is no technical process for me to follow. No clear roadmap for success. This is a wholly feel-based enterprise, and I am certain that leaves learned readers with a proper taste for grammar cringing.
English class was not my thing as a youngster, and this remained the case throughout high school and college. I showed neither promise nor interest in writing. And yet, for the past few years, it is far and away my favorite form of personal creative expression. The words I write to accompany each photograph I share means more to me than any photo I make. Do not get me wrong, it feels great to have a photo meet with broad community appeal. Those likes, shares, and thumbs up feel good! But nothing pleases me more than a person talking about what I wrote. This praise removed the technician from the uncomfortable box he placed himself in. So allow me a giant thank you to every one of you who takes time to read and resonate with my words. Your time and attention is a gift amidst this tripped up world, and I thank you all.
Courage to Grow — 100mm | f/3.5 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/250
Challenges move as a summer wind. Storm clouds smoke to the horizon. Roiling cloud tops bubble and push to the sky, a fierce beacon girded in unyielding white. It makes a stark contrast to the gray underbelly paved in turmoil beneath. An archetype of the inevitable, the storm will rise. The gust front heralds its great coming. A flush of wind and the onslaught gale meets to the crack of thunder, our souls left scoured in the windswept rain. Life and land buckles, the seas pick up, and our world holds fast.
And then, as if in an instant, the power yields. The wind sits, the clouds break, and the late day sun works through, driving a shaft of light to chase off the din. Passed is the storm; subdued fear left in its wake. The world wakes up—resilient and renewed. Bathed in rich light all is brighter, thoughts are clearer with purpose resolving in sharp contrast. Our spirit tempered and charged. Battered by the storm and buttressed by a resolve before unknown, left purified in the waters of renewal we find the courage to grow.
To remain upright in the best of times is not easy. To remain upright in the face of turbulent times is an imposing challenge. Besieged and bombarded our roots tremble as we hazard to withstand an unrelenting barrage. When little is easy stress takes hold in response to trauma and toxic stressors undermine our stability. Yet we must stand. We must challenge ourselves to dig in, to strive and overcome. To reject the convenient inclination to devolve to our base selves and turn on each other. In so doing turning on our better selves. Ask yourself, am I taking care to take care? What do I need to remain upright amidst 2020’s withering fire of such unrelenting fury—both natural born and self-inflicted? Let us stand together in mutual promise to fortify and support our better selves, and keep seated the scourge who lies beneath. In this way we stay upright together, leaning and holding our brighter selves as one. And if you don’t want to hear it from, well, listen to Bill and Ted.
No one needs me to explain how COVID-19 has left us homebound and siloed throughout much of 2020. Whether in isolation like me or hunkered down others, we’re riding things out void of the communal comings and goings we took for granted. Who would have thought sitting in cafe sipping on a fresh cuppa would no longer be a thing? Yet here we are. Chastened and changed, and I sincerely hope for the better.
All this time home has brought with it both new and familiar things. Each appreciated in their own special way. The principle return to past glory is coming in the form of macro photography. I’ve discussed here before how formative macro photography was to learning The Way of the Camera back in 2012. I unloaded thousands—tens of thousands of exposures on the plants and flowers hanging about my yard. Sure hope they signed those consent forms. Anyway…
All this time at the 2020 homestead is reconnecting me to my roots and my local plot of earth. I’ve lived in this home since July 1993 (bought it off my parents in 2009), and I am back exploring every inch of the property. If for no other reason than my own sanity. I use the term property loosely as it’s not a big yard by any stretch. Yet my parents being the hobbyist green thumb enthusiasts they are had this place teeming with extensive flora exquisitely maintained. I let it go over the years (understatement), but this year, banked by Covid time, I’ve been putting in work about the place. Setting to rights a decade of neglect. It’s still unworthy of its prime, but it’s no longer an unmitigated disaster and that is something!
With the cleanup has come better conditions for flower and plant life to thrive. Giving me ample opportunity to make beautiful photos without having to break any kind of social distance mores. Insert win-win corporate jargon complete with stilted laughter here. It’s been years since I have spent this kind of time with my trusted macro lens. The 100 millimeters that have been there with me since the beginning. This old friend helped see me out of a heinous depression, and I will never forget how she’s here for me once again in my time of isolation. Thanks so much for teaching me patience, peace of mind, and self-reliance. And of course the ultimate thanks for gifting me a passion that keeps on exploring.
Yet I cannot wait for my first real chase of a smoldering sunset out on the marsh. In its own way that, too, will be a trip home again.
On Dark Matters of Contrast — 100mm | f/3.5 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/50
Black, white, and all the shades of gray coloring the in between. Mix in a dash of soft focus and toss with a hit of certainty in a cauldron of abstraction and you have yourself a recipe for creation. While it may not jive with many folks, I love this kind of photograph; varied shades of grayscale values distilled down to abstract forms painting with light and movement.
In this photograph I am making creative use of daffodil stems. Photographed at close range, a distance of about 15 inches, with a 100mmmacro lens with an f/3.5 aperture. This arrangement allowed me to execute a shallow depth of field, juxtaposing the foreground of focused daffodil stems flowing free while rendering plenty of bokeh across the photo’s blurred background.
When I look upon this photo my mind sees the flowing movement of long grasses underwater. Submerged and swaying with the rush of the tide. It’s a balanced fluid motion, a soft rocking back and forth carrying us away to far off places. Relaxing spaces full of soft beds, kind hearts, and unbridled hope. Just because a thing is void of color does not mean it is void of life, energy, complexity, and passion. Let this be a lesson in all things.
I sourced this one to the people by way of Instagram story poll. A choice between black and white and color. For insight into my own proclivity, I immediately began hammering away a post built around the black and white theme. I did this despite suspecting color would would carry the day. As a humble yet unelected representative of the people I must render unto them that which their votes beseech. So hyacinth in color it is.
Followers of my work may notice my macro photography always features targeted areas of focus. What is a targeted area of focus? Areas of the photo that have sharper focus juxtaposed to the soft blurry areas—referred to as bokeh. By shooting close in on your subject at a large aperture your lens produces a shallow depth of field. Thanks, physics! What is an aperture? Well that’s the diameter of the lens diaphragm that allows light to pass through into your camera and onto your sensor or film. Larger apertures have a bigger opening allowing more light to pass through. The result: a faster speed, shallower depth of field, and softer focus. Great for producing dreamy flower photos. Smaller apertures feature the opposite: slower speed, deeper depth of field, and sharper images. Ideal for producing detailed landscapes with sharpness throughout the image.
Either your camera body or the lens itself features f/stop numbers. The lower the f/stop, f/2 for example, the larger aperture. Whereas f/22 is a very small aperture, something like a pinhole. Understanding this scale and building your feel for aperture and f/stops is essential to effective execution of your creativity. Now get out there and start experimenting with different f/stops. Even the latest smartphones allow you to do this. So next time you go for that banging selfie, lower the f/stop and achieve some of the algorithmically staged blur!
I don’t write much about that how-to of photography, but if you found this helpful let me know and I can work more tutorial type posts into the rotation.
There was much and more I did not know about yoga before standing on a mat at my first class in November 2017. Outside of its ancient roots blossoming out of India, its possession of spiritual essence, and lots of bending and stretching, I was wholly ignorant. Turns out I was wrong about what it was I thought I knew. Such is the joy in actually diving into a thing. The ebb and flow of learning and growth coupled with failure—necessary failure—the kind that leads you down a path of humility while bringing you back on the road of learning and growth. Yoga is an excellent roadmap for life. It has had millennia to perfect itself.
In any asana class, the kind where you work the body through physical poses in time with your breath, you know heart openers are A Thing. I did not know this of course, but learned quick. Heart openers are everywhere inside a yoga studio near you. Whether through back bends, twists, or folds, constant coaching and callouts to open the heart—your heart. Such a concept dovetails beautifully with dharma talks choosing to keep the heart at the center of everything: The center of your life, your purpose, your power, and your love. Heart open. Heart center. Lift your heart. Open your heart. Let your light shine on your heart. Feel your life toward the sky. Steady coaching and reinforcement connected to movement and breath work communicates the criticality of an open heart. Loud and clear it lifts a veil on both your physical and emotional being. It’s powerful stuff.
Soon you take this lesson with you off the mat. Focusing on your heart becomes A Thing. Cultivating it. Protecting it. Honoring it. You come to understand the importance of keeping your heart open for others and for yourself. This is the love that will save the world.
Spring Hyacinth — 100mm | f/3.5 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/125
The hyacinth. Flower of great name and striking beauty. A moniker worthy of bronze age stories first told millennia ago in far off lands. This spring flower is always well met.
Going back to childhood and my earliest memories the hyacinth stands out. Second only to the ubiquitous rose—a flower we seem to learn in utero—the hyacinth came to my consciousness early. Easter flowers is how my grandparents described them. Some of our first perennial flowers to blossom. Harbingers of springtime and warmer days, I thought. Beyond the history it was their color and form which always resonated deepest, well tuned with my small person soul. It’s a flower of imagination, fantasy, and hope. The kind of flower a concept artist would create when designing an idyllic alien world. I love them.
Of course when my one hyacinth bloomed up proper this year I found justification in my excitement. This was my first opportunity to photograph this flower since 2014. Quite a long time. And so it was, today was the day I made some time for my macro lens, my hyacinth, and me to capture its beauty.
Used in ancient Greece of a blue gem, perhaps sapphire, and of a purple or deep red flower, but exactly which one is unknown (gladiolus, iris, and larkspur have been suggested). It is fabled to have sprung from the blood of Hyakinthos, Laconian youth beloved by Apollo and accidentally slain by him. The flower is said to have the letters “AI” or “AIAI” (Greek cry of grief) on its petals. The modern use in reference to a particular flowering plant genus is from 1570s. Related: Hyacinthine.
Awesome. Love me some etymology, you guys. History and words. The best.
