Some fun details and shapes in the second-tallest set of sand dunes in the United States, located in Death Valley National Park.
A peaceful spring scene in one of the several fantastic state redwoods parks of California's far north coast. Del Norte, Prairie Creek and Jedediah Smith state parks were formed prior to the creation of Redwood National Park, and the four parks are a patchwork whose boundaries owe more to history than geography.
I've been thinking about planning another trip up north in the next two months, but hope to wait until the area has had a bit more rain...
Strange patterns in the surface ice of Öxnadalsá in the north of Iceland a few years back, I assume some sort of eddy in the water helped create the rhythmic patches here. This makes a remarkably lovely print on matte paper.
Mono Lake and the surrounding Eastern Sierra are a photographer's paradise at any time of year, but winter is particularly special, even if unpredictable. Storms, amazing sunrises and sunsets, and breathtakingly quiet "pogonip" ice fogs complement the often-quiet lake and alien tufa formations.
This year I've also timed the workshop to coincide with the full moon, and, conditions permitting, we will be including, for the first time, a moonlight photography session in the itinerary.
Today, the Mono Lake Committee has open registration for my Winter Mono Lake workshop in January 2016 to its committee members. While registration will open for non-members in theory on November 1, the degree of interest I've seen this ear, combined with the size of the waiting list we had last year, leave me to believe that it might be wise to join the MLC if you'd like to attend, it is quite possible that registration will fill quickly. You should, the Committee has been and is a tireless and effective force for the restoration and preservation of the Mono Basin.
Workshop registration is $250 for members, $275 for non-members, and you can find more information here.
Register now by calling (760) 647-6595 or at the MLC seminar registration page.
Winter sunrise conditions really flatter these geothermal steam vents east of Mývatn in the north of Iceland.
I recently commented on Facebook about just how much technology has "moved the bar" of what is widely considered to be acceptable technical quality in an image, and I mentioned I'd been looking at a particular image, this is it. I'd been preparing to shoot away from where I expected the sun to rise, and had to quickly regroup when this sun pillar appeared in the other direction.
I had no idea what I was looking at at the time, this sunrise led me to investigate all sorts of optical phenomena, and the amazing ways they're created, I still have my copy of Rainbows, Halos and Glories by Greenler, and understanding some of the crazy stuff that happens to create a vertical pillar of light in the sky, for me, makes the whole thing even more amazing, rather than less.
The resolution of the high-end drum scan I had made of the slide is not, on the face of it, that different in resolution than what my D800E produces today, but the level of film grain seems pretty bad today, more like I'd expect at ISO 6400 than ISO (err, ASA) 50. A pixel-peeping inspection also shows that my optics today are a lot nicer than what I was using at the time.
Still, I doubt that really will change most people's enjoyment (or lack thereof) of this image, technical standards come and go, but images are so much more than technical minutae.
In 2008 I was artist-in-residence at Petrified Forest National Park, and while many of my favorite images of that time were vibrant and often stormy sunset images, I was also taken by the gentler light outside my cabin on sunnier mornings. This small telephoto extraction looking to the east captures the soft feel of that light well.
For all that I was originally drawn to the broad natural landscape, I have found that many of my favorite images have proven to be details and moments of a much smaller scale. This image from a decade ago was taken downstream of a waterfall in Glacier National Park, the wide-ranging colors of the geology there are incredible.
An array of color from a quieter sunset along the south shore of Mono Lake. With my upcoming Eastern Sierra workshop next month, and planning just beginning for the very exciting Winter workshop I'll be giving at Mono Lake, it's hard not to go back and look at all of my many years of Eastern Sierra work, I'm guessing you'll be seeing a lot more of it in the next month...
bands of differently illuminated cloud and a thin line of sunlit sea in this image looking south toward, but still quite far from, mainland Norway. It's no surprise that I do feel inspired by the minimalists, I guess!
In some ways more remote than the primary islands in Svalbard, Bjørnøya (Bear Island) sits alone halfway between the northern tip of mainland Norway and Spitsbergen, and is rarely visited. I got a single quick visit during my 2012 trip through Svalbard and Norway, largely getting drenched while actually on-island. Still, some formations at the south edge of the island were quite beautiful. (Note: If you think you see dust spots, those are birds.)
More or less as shot out of the camera, which should provide a big hint as to what the new gear is.
Using the EVF/Live View for focusing, never the standard OVF and AF, that's going to be a little bit tricky, too. Short of genetic alterations I don't think there's a good alternative.
I do miss Velvia some days!
I'd have to look up the particular year for this, I'd been having some weird medical problems (later resolved) and my buddy JD kicked my ass into joining him on a photography jaunt around the north coast redwoods, a kick I sorely needed. This little cascade was one of the highlights of the trip, I remember spending a good bit of time trying out different angles and positions, and trying to not fall on the very slippery rocks. The nice combination of fall yellows with the redwood forest's greens and reds made this one of my most successful early images.
I love the shapes formed by the sides of this bit of calved ice and their reflections, and the wonderful blues that peek out from within the ice. As is so often the case, I have to forcibly resist the urge to reduce the saturation of the incredible colors of glacial ice.
This was probably one of the larger icebergs we encountered across the North Atlantic in 2006, probably 60-80 feet tall. Probably for the best that we kept distance, there's a fair crack that comes up from the top of that arch, and when that iceberg eventually split..
There's also a bird skimming in the very lower-right of the image, but I doubt it's large enough to be seen well even in a moderately large print.
I am so looking forward to seeing polar ice again next January!
A remixed oldie--I'd always liked the color image well enough, but the colors were just not interesting enough to carry their weight. This image was taken at Searles Dry Lake, near the Trona Pinnacles in California.
A classic image style of the post-sunset twilight wedge at Mono Lake, which seems to excel at them. This was taken from a bit west of the usual South Tufa shore almost ten years back, and again the absence of wind creates surreal and nearly perfect reflections.
(One thing I don't miss about the "good old days" was sensor dust, this particular image was a good bit of work to clean up. Thank goodness for the march of technology!)
Continuing yesterday's theme, but this time in muted but fantastic color. I'm hoping to hold a very peaceful mood here, the park was dead quiet that morning.
The Badlands of South Dakota take on a different mood in fog, dusted with snow.
A sunrise silhouette from one of the most famous avian photography locations in the US. Bosque is a chilly but terrific place to visit in January or so, just remember to bring some very long glass...