If photos could talk...

Installment #3:Lessons From a Wood Pile and a Paint Room

2010-01-25T22:21:00.005+01:00

I always thought it was a little odd that he would keep every little scrap of wood. They were little nubs or long thin strips, which, in my mind, were good-for-nothing pieces that should have been tossed directly into the fire. (Partly because I liked feeding the pot-bellied furnace.) But sure enough, against my wishes, great-grandpa, and later grandpa, would toss the scraps into the graveyard of useless wood.

There was also the cans. Shelves of partly used stains, paints, varnishes and other odiferous liquids, once quitessential to a project, now .... And from little hooks, there hung paintbrushes. Little, big, skinny, broad. Some bearing signs of previous use and others looking as if they came off the hardware store shelf just yesterday.

I didn't get it at the time. Why would you keep around these scraps, cans and brushes? I think I now realize what it was. It was the foresight to know that they might be needed someday. Why would you throw away perfectly useful wood or stain or brushes? You never know when you are going to need that same shade of green you painted on the chairs. Or a little strip of wood to shim a doorway. And, heck, it sure beats having to buy new supplies every time.

I think my generation misses it. They want the newest and trendiest. They think that something has become obsolete when it is no longer amusing or immediately valuable. I guess some might call it 'short-sightedness'. Well, whatever it is called, I think I would rather have my grandfather and great-grandfather's foresight.

The Wood Pile, Hoyleton, IL

The Paint Room

Installment #2: Mr. Fix-It

2010-01-14T11:53:00.006+01:00

Spring breaks weren't really a big thing in my house. We didn't take big trips or anything. It was mainly a time for us kids to not have to go to school...except for one spring break. I am not sure where my sister went, but my brother and I ended up at my grandparent's house for the week. We actually highjacked our passage with a truck driver from the company my aunt works for. (Josh, you remember taking the football to throw around in the back?) And after breaking a window in the rear of the cab of his truck, we arrived in sounthern Illinois ready to begin our adventure with our grandparents.

I have quite a few memories from that week: Being reprimanded for throwing a ball against a brick wall, missing television, being unable to eat all the food that we requested grandma and grandpa buy for us. But most of all I remember spending time with grandpa in his workshop. The big project was to craft a candle holder upon which the special Easter candle would be perched. This would be done for the Lutheran church my grandparents attended (any number of stories could be told about my time in those pews). Grandpa had been specially asked to do the job because of his skills as a woodworker. But as I got older, I realized it was because everyone knew my grandfather was the one who could craft or fix anything. I guess those years of being a woodworker's son and later an engineer came in handy to firmly establish him as Mr. Fix-It.

The final product was fairly simple. It was stained deep brown wood with four handles, if I remember correctly, and able to hold the substantial candle quite well. We were proud to see it in use later that Easter. The thing that really gets me is that it is still used to this day. Years later, when I was in high school, I remember seeing it go down the aisle one Sunday we were in attendance. And though Josh and I played a menial role in the matter, most likely slowing the process more than helping, I still felt a little pride well up in me because, if nothing else, I was there for its creation.

Even though the workshop has been out of use for years now, there are still a few things laying around that can make you feel like the band saw was fired up yesterday. The coffee mug in the picture that follows is fitting for so many reasons, but one of them is that my grandfather could fix, build, or draw up plans for anything, whether it was finishing a basement or building a wood candle holder.

Mr. Fix-It's Coffee Mug

Hoyleton, IL

Installment #1: Driving Into Town

2010-01-09T19:36:00.009+01:00

Family is hard to write about. The point of view is skewed, emotional, and is supported by old memories from childhood and not always fact. Yet I find myself compelled to share and write about a group of photos I took in my great-grandfather's old workshop. If memory serves me correctly, he passed away when I was 11 years old and after that I came to identify the workshop with my grandfather. It is a simple place; two stories connected by a wood set of steep stairs. The top floor, containing mostly old family relics or odds and ends, was the area I knew least of. The first floor contains the workshop, a paint room, and a barn area. It has been around quite a bit longer than I have and has the character to show it.

So trepidation aside, here comes a slice of my ancestry, family history, and childhood memories.

There were usually two times of the year that we would be guaranteed visits to Hoyleton, IL: Christmas and Easter. There were others, but these were the staples of connecting with my dad's side of the family.

Taking I-57 south to, what seemed like to my childhood brain, a labyrinth of state and county roads, we would then arrive on the north side of the tiny community of my dad's hometown. When making our entrance into the village (yes, that is its official classification), we would always pass by my great-grandfather's old workshop. A structure with nothing but a wood stove to keep the worker within from freezing during the winter. And until the age of 11 we would look to see if the light was on in my great grandpa's house, which was no more than 60 feet away from the workshop. It was one of the first landmarks which denoted our arrival. It was the first memorable sight for us kids as we came and the last one we bade farewell to as we left. And though I didn't grow up in that town and spend endless hours working in the workshop, it is one of the first tangible locations I can attach to the people from whom I came. So here is a simple shot of the front of the workshop; a common sight even today.

Great-grandpa's Workshop

Hoyleton, IL

In My Mind's Eye

2010-01-04T12:55:00.004+01:00

Of course everything else wasn't grey. What do we live in...a 1940's TV show? But when I walked into that little park at the base of the cable cars, it didn't take me long to spot the flowers, in blazing pink, resting amidst the otherwise seemingly drap backdrop of the French park. Colors do that. They grab you, bring your focus to a point and won't let you go. Who says you need to shout to be noticed. At times it is the quietest thing in the room (or the park) that can steal your gaze. This is just a photo that accentuates what took place in my mind's eye.

In My Mind's Eye

Grenoble, France

I haven't done much work on Photoshop before, so this is one of my first attempts at doing so. I am just teaching myself right now as time allows, so hopefully, you followers of mine (all 2 of you), will be able to see my work improve as time goes on.

Ayla Happy with Jo

2009-12-28T13:46:00.001+01:00

There is a sense of comfort being near your mother as a young baby or child. The closeness, knowing the care taken to keep you safe. At that age, you receive something from her different from anyone else in the world, even you father. A nurturing and familiarity. As if the outer world could evaporate away and you would be none the wiser. It can cease a crying spell or bring a smile to an otherwise mundane moment.

The best part of witnessing this take place with your own child is watching your daughter soak it up and seeing what it does to your wife. Here is one of those moments caught on camera.

One of Those Moments

Franklin, TN

Me, Dad, and a Blue Sky

2009-12-21T15:15:00.001+01:00

No one else really wanted to get up early that morning. Maybe it was the fact that it was vacation and you are supposed to sleep in, but my dad and I had other plans. Both being fans of photography, we knew the best light is in the morning and evening. But beyond that, I think we both knew it was the most dramatic part of the day as well. Like a symphony starting with a tap of the sun's wand on the pedestal. Then a slow addition of instruments as new corners of nature came to light with each wave of the conductor's arms. Why would we miss it for a few more hours of warmth and rest?

When we got on the road, we could see the sun was already on its way up, as if approaching the stage. So we took off up the mountain and when we realized we were high enough and the and sun was ready, we pulled off and gazed at the shadowed valley floor with the thin silver stream weaving like a serpeant toward the town below. The morning light peaked over the jagged horizon, catching a glimpse of who was willing to sacrifice their bed for the start of the show. And there we were, with no regrets for our beds, but enjoying a little father-son time...and the best show money can buy. I actually think I remember the rapping of the conductor's wand on the music stand.

The following picture is not the symphony, but two happy concert goers reveling in the brilliance of the show. And we weren't even thinking about our beds.

An Early Morning Symphony

Rocky Mountain National Park

They Were Simpler Times Back Then

2009-12-19T15:50:00.001+01:00

Ayla is coming up on one-year old and what better way to commemorate her birth by looking back at the first year. It is really bizarre to think about how much she has changed. She can roll over on her own, shoot, she can stand by herself too. She has 2 teeth, eats solid food and is can hold her liquor with the best of them. Just kidding. But all these changes, though they are good, makes life a little more interesting around the old homestead.

So I wanted to post a photo of when times were simpler. When she pull things off the shelves and follow us all over the house. A time when she wouldn't throw food off her tray. A time when the worst thing that could happen would be that she drooled like a...well, a baby.

Simpler Times

Franklin, TN

The Redemptive Chipmunk

2009-12-10T08:47:00.001+01:00

When we were kids, my family took a couple of vacations out west. But one in particular sticks out in my mind: we visited Rocky Mountain National Park. I was young and not the accomplished, world-class photographer I am now, and my dad let me try taking some photos with his camera. Now this was the fully manual kind. No auto-focus... or auto anything for that matter. And keep in mind I was young.

So as I was learning with my dad's SLR, I saw a chipmunk sitting right beneath me on a rock. I had him through the viewfinder, I set the exposure, I focused, I focused, I focused. I couldn't get what I thought was 'in focus'.
And then...he ran away.
I missed the shot.
What makes matters worse is that my sister has not let me forget about it for these almost 20 years.

But a couple years ago, I was back in Rocky Mountain National Park, with my own camera and quite a bit more experience.And what do you think happened to be sitting on the side of the trail? That's right, a chipmunk. (Probably a distant relative of the chipmunk of my childhood.) So what did I do? Did I panic and waste the shot? Did I break down and cry under the pressure? No, I snapped 20+ photos of that thing. And though my sister still likes to make fun of me every now and then...I have been redeemed!!

The Redemptive Chipmunk

Rocky Mountain National Park, CO

465 mm, 1/400 sec, f/5.6

Gawking Over Babies

2009-05-06T03:03:00.000+02:00

I love watching others look at babies. Don't get me wrong, I love looking at babies also, especially my own, but there is something that happens to adults when they get around newborns. There is always something that changes in the person. Whether it be because they loose inhibitions or get extremely uncomfortable, you cannot be around a baby and not alter your mannerisms in some way.

My wife and I are pretty free with letting others hold our child and so I have seen quite the gamut of reactions. There is the 'Am I Doing This Right?' reaction. This usually involves a timid hold, with questioning looks around the room to anyone who would know more than they do. And without fail, the baby starts crying, causing even more doubt in the holders mind as to whether they are the worst baby-holder in the world.

Other reactions include, but are not limited to, the 'This Child Only Understands High Pitch Squeals', 'Let the Child Cry for All I Care' and 'I Can't Help But Become Ultra-Animated'. Now I must say, the last one is my favorite to watch (also, I think I do this one the most). This is usually how it goes. The person gets the baby in front of them with some anticipation already built up, then peers deep into their glistening eyes and is swept up in the euphoria of being in the presence of such a magnificently innocent creature. They seek out the sheer joy of a smile or giggle. And they will use any means necessary to do so. For a short while they are transported to a magical place where they don't have to worry about a sharp retort to one of their comments or a malicious glance of the eyes. It is in this magical place that they find their own little time of childishness and freedom that often gets suppressed in the real world...or maybe being around a child brings out the child.

Happy Grandparents, Franklin, TN

Ignoring Us and Proud of It

2009-04-28T23:40:00.000+02:00

I am not one for approaching wildlife or bothering them in their natural habitat. In my opinion, many injuries to animals and humans are caused each year because someone really wants a great photo or says something like, "Honey, it's alright. Move in closer. I'm sure he won't charge at you or maul your face off.". This is usually followed by screaming, running or an emergency room visit. If you care to see the idiocy in action, go to Yellowstone National Park's Wildlife Safety Video's. They remind me of the time I saw a woman walk off a trail towards a feeding bear (not good to disturb a bear while it is eating) because her camera didn't zoom in enough. It was especially intelligent since her children were with her. But I digress.

During our visit to Rocky Mountain National Park last summer, we were driving on Trail Ridge Road when we saw a congregation of onlookers taking in the majesty of a herd of elk just off the road. So what was I to do, but hop out of the car, pop on my long lense and start taking some photos. Now before I get lumped in with the people in the Yellowstone videos, I was the mandatory 25 yards away from the wildlife and also, I was definitely not the slowest person there. I am sure I could get away before the guy next to me. (Sorry buddy)

The most interesting part of the whole scene was how sublimely unaffected the elk were by our presence. I think the constant human interaction has affected different animals in different ways. The animals in the videos were frustrated by the intrusion of the human vermin on their natural habitat, but the elk I saw that day had let it all go to their heads. They knew why people were stopping. They knew they were the center of attention and, consequently, figured they had the right to give everyone the cold shoulder as they basked in the mid-morning sun. Who knew the Hollywood mentality could creep into wildlife. What happened to the good ol' days of wildlife running off at the sight of men, or at least charging them.

Trail Ridge Road, Rocky Mountain National, CO

600mm, f/5.6, 1/500 sec

Ayla On the Thumb

2009-04-01T20:49:00.004+02:00

Babies are an interesting breed. All you have to do is meet their basic needs and they are as happy as a clam. Feed them, burp them, change them, put them to bed. This covers about 95% of their crying. The solutions are usually extremely simple. Their is no need to set up a three-ring circus for a baby because chances are they just want to be bounced or something. Take the picture of my daughter below. She is sucking on, what in her opinion, is a delectable thumb, and is as happy as a clam.

But at the same time, deciphering which of those simple needs is necessary at that moment is the difficult part. Does she need to be changed? Is there still some gas in there? Does she just want something to suck on or is she really hungry? And the worst part is that when you are in the heat of the moment and your baby is screaming, you tend to forget some of the simplest solutions such as swaddling your baby or holding her a different way.

And when you figure out exactly what it is that she wants, you move from absolute stress to a sense of accomplishment and pride previously unparalleled in your life. Because you know that you have met the needs of your child and, consequently, fulfilled the exact duty given to you through parenthood. I love that feeling.

Ayla on the Thumb, Franklin, TN
70mm, f/4.5, 1/30 sec

Sick for the Photo

2009-04-01T20:48:00.007+02:00

We had driven all night. Tired, cramped, and ready to arrive at our destination. So when we stopped for gas in Flagler, CO we needed a little more time out of the van than simply to fill up with gas. As we filled up, my brother wandered off down the road and found a little park down the road, which was about the only thing in that direction. So we loaded up in the van once more to experience the wonder of Flagler's city park.

It wasn't much to look at, but we were glad to be out of the van. There was a big, spiral slide, which we used for a family photo op, those metal horses that rock on springs and, my favorite childhood piece of playground equipment, the merry-go-round. So with camera in hand, I imagined a striking photo with a blurred background and an in-focus subject. With this in mind, my brother hopped on with me and the others started spinning.

At first it was great, I held up my camera with the aperture closed and the shutter speed slow, but as we spun around and around, I became less and less comfortable. My equilibrium was thrown off, my stomach turned, and this fun ride had to end quickly. When they had stopped us from spinning due to my shouts of distress, I jumped off and tried to stay as still as possible. I don't think I have ever been that close to throwing up and not doing so before or since. The worst part was I stayed sick for the next hour and a half, but I got a pretty good looking shot. It just goes to show, sometimes your personal well being might suffer a little to get a good shot.

On the Merry-Go-Round, Flagler, CO
38mm, f/29, 1/25 sec

What Has Been Keeping Me Away

2009-04-01T19:47:00.003+02:00

I realize that there has been quite a long silence between my last post and this one, so I feel it is only courteous for me to introduce her to everyone. This is my daughter Ayla Joy. She interrupts my sleep, sometimes screams without reason, perplexes me often and brings an incredible amount of joy to my life. She has flipped my world upside-down and I will never be the same because of her. She grows like a weed (already) and sleeps whenever she wants. And even though I could write about all of her little sighs, groans, cries and other noises, I realize that it would bore most people because she is not their daughter. And let's face it, many of those things are only interesting to the ones who also see the screaming, tears and fussing. So I will try to keep my musings about how darn cute my daughter is to a minimum. Instead, I will try to give insight to those who don't have children and a reminder of the wonder that accompanies kids to those who already have them.

This photo was taken just a few weeks after she was born. I can't go any further without thanking Rebekah Pope and Barbie Schwartz. I previously worked with both of them and they were kind enough to let me bring my camera during a photo session at Rebekah's studio. Be sure you check out their work.

Ayla in Her Mother's Hands

Wrapping Up the Day

2008-12-17T20:03:00.003+01:00

The stalls are empty and the gawking tourists have all headed back to their hotel rooms. The fish has been put away and there is no longer salmon flying from one end of Pike Place Fish Market to the other. Considering this is one of Seattle's most famous tourist attractions, it is eerily silent and abandoned. We had driven straight here from Oregon, but had not arrived early enough to see the daily festivities. So we took our time and looked around before getting back on the road and heading north.

One of the only guys left was on the other side of a gate which notified us to the off-limits areas of the market. I assume he was a security guard, most likely recovering from a day of watching for shoplifters and answering pesky directional questions of lost tourists. For the first time all day long, he wasn't surrounded by people and was able to simply look out at the water. The allure of the market had faded a long time ago, becoming a regular part of his day as opposed to fun stop during vacation. Sure there are thousands of people who travel to visit his workplace every year, but to him it is good to know his shift is about over and his tourism filled day is about to be over.

Wrapping Up the Day, Seattle, WA

Streams of Water

2008-11-06T00:05:00.004+01:00

I was a kid that day in Chicago, IL. It was a fun little day trip our family had taken. We took in the sights: Michigan Ave., Niketown, the Hancock building, and finally, Navy Pier. As we strolled back down the length of the man-made isthmus, we passed through an interior garden area. The plants were beautiful, but that was not what captured my attention. Arching over the pathways which crisscrossed the botanical floor were jets of water shot from one green island to the next.

What made these streams of water so interesting to me was their uniformity and compactness. It seemed to me that clear tubing was arching over the pathway and water was simply being piped through it. So what did I do? Touch it, of course. And what did I find out? That water, when interrupted from its original path, will spray in many directions.

I have pulled a few lessons from this. First, it is normal for children not only to watch, but also to touch in order to find out how things work. And second, water fountains are simple, but highly effective at captivating the attention of youngsters.

How is it that one of the most basic compounds on the planet can be so enthralling to wide-eyed children everywhere. Sprinklers, fountains, water hoses; there is never a sad kid in sight of these things. So when it gets down to it; who cares why kids are so happy about running through sprinklers in the front lawn. The real question is...why aren't we out there with them?

The following picture was taken in Charleston, SC. Though I am no longer a kid, I still enjoyed watching it.

18mm, f/4.5, 1/8000 sec
The Fountain, Charleston, SC

Streams of Light

2008-10-30T15:05:00.004+01:00

I enjoy photography while I am hiking. First of all, creativity seems to come a little easier for me when I am walking through woods where sound is hampered by the surrounding foliage. You can think a little more clearly and slowly than when sound is coming at you unhindered and from all sides. Another plus to the woods, is the lighting. The streams of light come down in sporadic places, ever changing as the sun progresses through the sky. So if you took a picture of the same location a few minutes apart, you would get a totally different lighting scheme to the scene. There have been plenty of shots I have missed because I didn't get my camera out quick enough. By the time I was ready, the light had shifted and the shot was gone.

In the shot below, you can see how a shaft of light has lit up my father-in-law's back while the woods just past him are completely black. I like the stark contrast of the picture and also the colors that are brought out by the direct sunlight. Thank goodness for the uneven light of the woods.

Light on the Back, Appalachian Trail, TN

A Day in the Park

2008-10-27T15:36:00.003+01:00

Even though the seasons are progressing and, in some areas, it might be a little too cold, I still offer my highest recommendation to go to the park. About a month ago, my wife and I went. The breeze was cooling and the sun was warming, it was the dual sensations I think that made it so enjoyable. Almost as if the sun and the breeze are competing against each other, but unknowingly complementing each other.

We were there for only a short while, but we sat, read, laughed, and talked about what we were reading, the rapidly approaching baby, or simply the fact that it was a very wise decision to come out that day. There was no agenda and nothing we had to race back for. We simply enjoyed ourselves and, when we were ready, packed everything up and headed home.

So today's post is not deep, but rather and exhortation. Get out, enjoy yourself, and leave your watch at home.

Soaking Up the Sun, Pinkerton Park, Franklin, TN

The Quiet One

2008-10-24T18:09:00.004+02:00

The van was packed with four adults and five children all on our way home from church. The adults were tired, four children were energized and one little girl was taking it all in. I don't know why she was so quiet, but I could tell she was entirely content to watch myself and my co-photographer snap pictures and entertain the other children with the immediate playback features of our cameras.

Then it came. A rare moment where the other children were distracted and she looked directly at me. Not posing, but rather happy to stare at someone new to her sphere of acquaintances. In that instance, the gleeful screams of the other kids and the reprimands of the adults all fell away. It was odd, we connected through the lens of my D70 for a 1/50 sec. and for once, the quiet one received the attention.

This photo was taken my senior year of college during my 'Social Documentary' class. We were assigned to photograph families' lives who were helped my a non-profit in town. We received Miss Ruthie and in doing so, came into contact with the beautiful children she cared for. It has been my favorite assignment.

The Quiet One, Jackson, TN

Viewing Through the Canopy

2008-10-22T23:42:00.003+02:00

I love looking at the stars. To quote Switchfoot, "when I look at the stars, I see someone else." I am not writing this to get into an evolution vs. intelligent design debate; I am simply stating the overwhelming effect of viewing the celestial bodies.

And it was no different this night, looking up at the expanse of darkness dotted with pinholes. It was the same as usual, except for the canopy of trees narrowing the viewing screen. The trees surrounding our campsite rose beside us, then leaned over top, claiming us as its inhabitants. And though I could have let it frustrate me, I actually enjoyed the combination of terrestrial and celestial creations from the same vantage point. It was as though the sky didn't want its expanse entirely revealed to us, as if it was holding back some of its treasures for another night at some other place. The trees, more than willing to fulfill the request of the stars, stood sentinel, illuminated by the campfire below.

That night, I gazed upward, through the small window allowed me. Even though I have viewed fully the array of stars in the heavens, my interests were piqued once more by the anticipation of what lay beyond those trees.

This photo was taken at Montgomery Bell State Park in Tennessee. My wife and I were enjoying the stars allowed to us and awaited another time to view the rest. (If your screen is too dark to view the stars through the canopy, try adjusting the brightness, you should be able to view them.)

18 mm, f/3.5, 30 sec

Stars Through the Canopy, Montgomery Bell State Park

Don't Take Yourself Too Seriously

2008-10-21T03:50:00.005+02:00

While my wife and I were still dating, we made a trip up to Bloomington, IL to see my family. While driving we talked, laughed, argued, sang and pretty much had an all-around jovial time. As is evidenced by the photo that follows, we were very willing to take silly photos and, strangely enough, are just as willing to broadcast it for all to see. This photo most likely does not mean much to anyone else beside my wife and me, but I wanted to display it simply for the reason that we should not take ourselves very seriously.

Most people I know, myself included, care a lot about their image. But why do we care? At the end of my life, I will not look back and wonder how cool someone thought I was, think about when we forgot that important person's name or wish we had won that argument with our spouse. We will, however, look back and consider what impact our lives made, if we loved our family and friends enough, or if our lives brought joy to others.

When our short existence here on earth is put into such blatant terms, I think it becomes clear that we are not as important as we think we are. Our daily troubles will cease to be so daunting, our arguments less pressing, and our worries less consuming. But on the flip side, our relationships will be more meaningful, our laughter more enjoyable, and love more intense.

This picture was taken on I-74 westbound in between Champaign and Bloomington, IL. My wife was laughing and I was happy. And when I die, I don't think I will be worrying about who saw it.

Silly Faces on I-74, Illinois

Homer Spit

2008-10-16T14:03:00.009+02:00

I could see how this landmark could be brutal at other times during the year, but at that moment, I couldn't think about the dark side of Homer Spit. The 4 1/2 mile strip of land jutting out into Kachemak Bay was breathtaking. It was more than we could have hoped for when we took the advice of a local Alaskan, "You might want to travel down to Homer. It is pretty down there." I don't know if I have ever witnessed to a bigger understatement.

We had arrived in Anchorage the afternoon before, and after a quick shower at the local university, we followed the advice of the aforementioned local and set out for Homer, AK. But we were unable to make it all the way there without needing to stop and rest. So we pulled over on the side of the road and fell asleep in our cozy Aerostar. In the lower 48, pulling over on the side of the road to sleep may have prompted a visit from the local authorities and a light shining through the window in our eyes, but there really isn't that problem up there. I guess because we were far enough from town that they didn't send the cops around to check on stopped cars. Or they figure that if you are brave enough to risk taking a nap on the side of the road, they don't want to mess with you.

In the morning, we drove a short way to the small town of Homer. It resides on Kachemak Bay nestled amidst picturesque mountains, green hills and a billowing sea. As we crested the last hill before town, we saw a sleepy town waking up to the early morning light, perched on the edge of a breathtaking, but untamed body of water. There weren't many places to go that morning, but the one spot we noticed from the top of the hill was a spit of land running out into the bay.

As we drove the slim strip of rock and earth, we noticed a small campground right on the beach. So we pulled over onto the rock parking lot and noticed a few tents spotting the landscape. We emerged from our own driveable tent to feel the blast of the autumn-like wind blowing off the bay. It would have been incredible to camp on that resolute little spit. That strip of land has seen portions of it covered by the waves and battered by the winds, but still stands, unwilling to give in. And all of this drama set against the backdrop of pristine mountains and clear skies.

We took in the scene as passers-by, unable to spare too much time in our whirlwind journey across the last frontier. We hopped back in our tent, wondering what new campsite we would step out onto next.

From the Back of a Pickup

2008-10-12T21:27:00.005+02:00

I had been in Argentina for a couple months by then and we were up in the northern part of the country. We were based out of a rural town and traveled during the day to even more rural towns. The people were always welcoming but, although I spoke Spanish fairly well, I had difficulty understanding their country accents.

On one specific visit, we drove to a town to hand out food and other necessities to its inhabitants. My job was simply to sit in the back of the truck, hand out the supplies and make sure no one took anything. Well it wasn't long before I became the focus of a group of young boys. I was blond, tall, crammed into the back of a truck. Plus, I had a digital camera in my hands, most likely a contraption these children had maybe seen a few times. Their lives were very different from mine. They were clad in hand-me-down clothes, owning maybe few extra sets at home, and the thought of going to a movie theater or a mall was incomprehensible to them.

So, without much else to occupy their attention, they stood at the back of the truck and willingly answered my unspoken request for them to become my photo subjects for a short while. In the end, I was able to take a few photos which they were then able to look at afterwards.

Whenever I look at this photo I think about how it would be easy to look down on them for having so little and being amused by something so simple, but I don't think that way. In the end, they did much more for me than I did for them. Sure, we gave them clothes and food, but I was able to come away humbled by the fact that they live with so little and still have the ability to laugh, while I possess so much and struggle to see the blessing around me.

Under Inspection, Argentina

My Self-Portrait

2008-10-09T15:36:00.005+02:00

It is a question as to how you wish others to view you. Because when you make a self-portrait, you have control of everything. How you look, what perspective you show, how creative the shot is, etc. It is no longer simply your image on the photograph portraying your personality, but also the photograph itself. So the image that follows is an attempt at a self-portrait. When I first took it, I don't think I put as much thought into the image as I am now, but I believe it still works.

First of all, it is not framed exactly perfect. The edges of the side view mirror are cut off in some places and the image of me that is in focus, is not in the center, but rather off to one corner. My hair is disheveled by the wind coming through the open window of the car and I have a somewhat matter-of-fact grin on my face. Also there are two perspectives of me, one, a little obscured by the other and out of focus, the other ever-so-slightly distorted by the wide-angled mirror. Granted, this photo does not encompass all of who I am (as rarely any one image can do for anybody), but it does give some insight into who I am and, sometimes, who I want to portray.

If you ask anyone who knows me well, they will tell you I am a little 'not in the center' and bearing imperfections. I enjoy many of the oddities of life and sometimes portray an oddity in and of myself. I enjoy the outdoors and would much rather have my hair somewhat blown about rather than perfectly and neatly combed. I am sometimes honest to a fault and every now and then reveal my lack of tact. The most telling portion of the image is the two images. When someone first meets me, undoubtedly, preconceived notions are formed about who I am, what I might be interested in or into which category of person I might fall. And though some of these impressions might be correct, I like to think there will reach a point in that relationship where I will reveal something about myself they did not quite expect or say something which makes them stop for a moment. I guess, simply put, I have tried to give myself enough depth to provide more than a two dimensional character. And I think this image conveys more than two dimensions.

Being 3-dimensional, Jackson, TN

Eating French

2008-10-02T21:19:00.007+02:00

Gaulart & Maliclet is a small cafe at 98 Broad Street in Charleston, SC and would be easy to pass by if you were in a hurry. My wife and I remembered the quaint restaurant from our honeymoon two years previous and enjoyed it enough to dine there again on our 2nd anniversary trip. We walked in, sat down and waited patiently for our waitress to come and take our order, all the while keenly aware of the laid back atmosphere, part of the reason we enjoy it so much. Our meal came out in due time and we casually savored our soups and sandwiches and finished whenever we were done. The food was not over-seasoned, but rather just subtle enough to appreciate the flavors.

Now if this dining scenario seems quite different from what you are used to, it might be because we were dining at a French restaurant. I have learned from my wife, who has spent 6 weeks in France, that the scene I just described is the norm rather than the exception for the French people.

So say what you will about the French, but I would much rather enjoy my meal at my leisure than scarf it down in the fast-food style we do as Americans. Now if only I could remember to slow down whenever I am not on vacation.

Eating French, Charleston, SC

Table 51

2008-10-01T21:18:00.007+02:00

In our haste to get out the door I had forgotten to pack the camping chairs. This is not a necessity, but is quite convenient, unless you have a strong desire to sit in the dirt. So, upon our arrival, we were quite relieved to see table #51. It was a nice distance from the fire pit to avoid smoke and there was ample space for camping supplies on its surface. It was exactly what we needed.

Throughout many stays at state parks around our country, I have noticed a decline in the basic care of the state park systems. One source of this issue is funding cutbacks. That leads me into a complaint I have pertaining to the Illinois State Park system. Governor Rod Blagojevich has decided to follow the example of crooked dealings and poor choices laid out for him by previous governors in his call to close state parks around Illinois.

One such park, Kickapoo State Park, is actually bringing in enough money to be entirely self-supported, but is still getting the ax due to dirty politics and irrational thought. The plan, as laid out by the governor's office, is to close the parks, build road blocks at the entrances and have policemen patrol the area. All of this would, ironically enough, cost more than keeping the parks open. Way to go, Rod!

So next time you visit a state park, be sure to take care of it and express your thanks for its existence. Or, if you are not a regular park visitor, head out and see what they have to offer. I think it will be worth you time.

This was taken at Montgomery Bell State Park in Tennessee after a blissful night's sleep under the stars. Thank goodness the Tennessee state government sees fit to waste valuable tax dollars on parks and picnic tables.

Table 51, Montgomery Bell State Park, TN

And All With a Leaf

2008-09-30T22:41:00.007+02:00

In Illinois, autumn is much more pronounced than in Tennessee. Growing up, I was used to trick-or-treating while light snow flurries drifted down from the pitch black sky. Nashville does not experience such a drastic declaration of my favorite season. In fact the passing of the first day of autumn (September 22, as marked by the autumnal equinox) was as un-noteworthy as a day could be. I felt no chill in the air, no insatiable desire to buy spiced apple cider, nor a sudden urge for pumpkin carving.

The herald of autumn was nowhere to be found. No signs nor exclamations of joy were proclaimed. The earth was preparing to enter into a deep and restful sleep without the usual pomp and circumstance. And upon noticing this, I was deeply saddened.

But wait...I saw something, something whispering instead of declaring. A lone, fire-red leaf lying on the grassy carpet below. Though it was alone, it was still doing its duty to share the wonderful news of autumn's arrival. And I was no longer saddened.

The photo below was taken the morning after my wife and I camped at Montgomery Bell State Park just north of I-40, west of Nashville, TN. I could almost smell the hot apple cider.

18mm, f/3.6, 1/400 sec
The Lone Herald, Montgomery Bell State Park, TN

Blue Highways

2008-09-29T01:37:00.007+02:00

Have you ever hopped in your car with a direction in mind instead of a destination. You know, instead of, "Alright, we are on the road to our vacation destination," you might say, "Let's get going, we are headed west." There is an endless number of possibilities to what you might encounter. You might find a restaurant along the way, or some interesting homeless man to buy a meal for, either way it makes for a good story.

Several years back, the book Blue Highways by William Least-Heat Moon was recommended to me by my friend Shawn Sechrest. I read it and henceforth had my eyes opened to a new world and way of seeing the country. The book is the story of a man who simply set forth on an adventure around the United States with nothing in mind, but a general direction and a desire to stay off the interstate as much as possible.

Highways are what existed and transported Americans around the country before the massive interstate network criss-crossed our nation. It is this, in some people's opinions, prehistoric road system that leads travelers through the hearts of small towns and away from the bustling interstate.

It is on these blue highways that my friends and I found some of our most memorable adventures. A snow covered Massachusetts town, a homeless couple we ate with, a cascading waterfall; we came across all these things because we took the road less traveled. So next time you are thinking about hitting the road, opt out of the normal, boring interstate and take a chance on the highways.

The following picture was taken while traveling down the road on vacation with my in-laws. That white car in the wheel of the semi is us.

Our Car, Somewhere in East Tennessee

Taking in the Moonlight

2008-09-25T21:21:00.004+02:00

I love the mountains and being a long way away from civilization. So even though I was around a small town in July of 2005, it was just about as far from civilization I could get. I was standing outside a little school house in rural Salta, Argentina. There was a little electricity, but I think it amounted to powering 4 incandescent bulbs in the entire town, all of which resided in the tiny school house. So even though there was electricity, I don't remember there being an electric hum.

It was in this silence that I was looking out at the mountains with a full moon in the sky. Without a need for a flashlight, I walked around outside and took in a southern hemisphere sky, which contained stars I had never seen from my northern hemisphere home.

Staring at the sky, I set up my camera on a pocket-sized tripod. And after trying out a few different exposures and ISOs, I felt like I had the image I was looking for. After a few more moments of silence, I packed up my meager camera equipment and headed back inside to sleep on the tile, school floor. The image that follows is what came from my moonlight photography.

29 mm, f/4.0, 30 sec
The Argentine Night Sky, Salta, Argentina

Ice on Kluane

2008-09-25T00:48:00.004+02:00

We were looking out at an ice-covered lake, stopped in the middle of the highway and it was 3 a.m. The odd parts were it was the end of May, there were absolutely no other cars on the road, and it was as well-lit as an overcast day. We were driving up to Alaska and were making a short stop to take in the pristine and silent landscape. There were no pull-off, but the scene was too incredible to miss.

It was Kluane Lake in the Yukon territory in Canada and at 3 in the morning there was still plenty of light to see. No headlights needed. With two of our friends quietly asleep in the back of the van, Luke and I decided to walk around and take in the world around us. There was no electric hum, no traffic, simply the sound of the cool breeze blowing by our ears and the feel of the crisp air on our skin.

As we drove further north, the nights became less like nights and more like days, sometimes too bright to sleep. We continued to see more sights that captured our attention. There were more breezes that filled our ears and a continued absence of the seemingly constant electric hum that fills our lives.

As we finished our tour of Alaska and headed back south on the Alaskan highway, we passed the lake one more time. But in the span of 5 short days, we found almost all of the ice that covered Kluane Lake had melted and the arrival of summer had come full circle.

Kluane Lake, Yukon, Canada

Lights in the Evening

2008-09-21T17:21:00.006+02:00

This entry is not going to be very poetic or introspective, but simply an explanation of one of my photos. I took this at night in our apartment complex when we lived in Dallas, TX. I enjoy nighttime settings for a couple reasons. 1) Not as many people are out and therefore, you have a little more freedom to set up a shot and not have to worry about someone walking into the frame. 2) You can do long exposures do to the limited amount of light. 3) There are different lights you can work with, all of which provide a different feel to the image. Flood lights, street lights, house lights, stars, the moon, etc.

In the photo of the tree, the last reason I just wrote really comes into play. In this image there are two different types of flood lights (fluorescent and incandescent), the lights in the sky from Dallas, and also a few apartment lights. When I took the image, I really wasn't sure how well all the lights would come together, but I liked the tree and just gave it a long exposure. Photography is simply the manipulation of light, so if there is ample light, you might as well see how it comes together.

The Complex at Night, Dallas, TX

18mm, f/8, 15 sec

The Necessary Elements

2008-09-19T16:20:00.005+02:00

It must have taken time to become so aged. Time and determination. It had survived when so many others had not made it. It was big to say the least. Not the biggest I had ever seen, though. But it had character.

I stood there and I stared at a beautiful, gigantic tree in the middle of the park. While taking in its grandeur, I couldn't help but wonder how many other trees like this one, once dotted the park's interior before being cut down to put in paths and grass lawns for picnickers. And why had this one survived out of all of them?

But beyond this question, I wanted to be like that tree. As I said before, it had character. A thick, sturdy trunk with roots wrapped around its base. A heavy layer of bark covered the flesh of the tree like the scales of a dragon. It had been beat up and weathered; experienced storms, rain, snow, sleet, wind. There were scars telling the tales of what it had seen over the years. As I stood there, I noticed other passersby were looking at it, enjoying everything it had to show for its battle against the elements. I wanted to be like that tree. Not because I wanted to go through hardship and suffering, but because I wanted to stand up underneath them and come out on the other side still whole.

Perseverance, steadfastness, and toughness are just a few of the words one would use to describe the tree. These are all traits I would love to possess and, to some extent, do possess traces of. But it is time that brings them to fruition. At one point, this great arboreal mammoth was a sapling; a weakling who had very little chance of survival amidst the giants surrounding him. But as the years passed by, it grew, probably with a longing much like the one I possess. And in the end, it was time and determination which allowed the desire to mature and the scars to tell the tale of who the tree was.

The Tree, Stanley Park, Vancouver, British Columbia

The One That Got Away

2008-09-17T22:32:00.000+02:00

As I have mentioned in previous posts, during college, my friends and I enjoyed taking road trips. We saw many noteworthy landmarks: Old Faithful in Yellowstone, the Golden Gate Bridge, the bright lights of Las Vegas, Downtown Manhattan. But there was one landmark that got away. The Grand Canyon.

It was on our 'West Coast' trip. We were driving straight west from Tennessee through Albuquerque and then heading north to the Grand Canyon. It was going to be our first major stop on the trip. Of all the places we had been, this by far was going to be one of the most anticipated destinations of all our journeys. But as we entered the national park boundaries, we noticed there was something wrong.

There was a thick fog in the direction of the Grand Canyon. Not just a fog you might see in the early morning before the sun burns it away, this was a fog that would stop traffic, flights, the docking of boats, you name it. But we forged ahead, thinking, "Surely it can't be this thick all the way along the canyon." Boy were we wrong. We drove along until we reached a pull out and saw a path that led onto a viewing area. As we walked closer to the edge, our hearts sank. The fog was obstructing all possible view of the canyon. It looked like we were in a blizzard it was so white. So after I took the following photo, we loaded back into the van and headed on our way, a little disappointed.

The photo that follows is not the greatest piece of photographic artwork in the world, but it is a constant reminder to me of how you can't control everything and how it doesn't always go your way. Just a side note, I did end up going back to the Grand Canyon a few years later and hiking it rim-to-rim.

A Foggy Day, The Grand Canyon

On a Dirt Road in Saskatchewan

2008-09-16T20:09:00.005+02:00

We had been driving almost non-stop from Fairbanks, AK and we were tired of the maroon interior of the van. The stench was reaching an all-time low and our diet of trail mix was catching up to us. All of this was no surprise; after more than 9,000 miles in a van with 4 guys, the quality of life is sure to be lessened.

So a few miles past Saskatoon on a flat and deserted highway, we thought a dirt road turn-off would be worth it. Simply letting the van air out was worthwhile. So we got out of the van and ran down the road for the sheer joy of movement and could not believe the blue sky stretching for miles over the green expanse of central Canada.

I still remember the sound of the dirt and rocks beneath my feet and the breeze blowing across those northern plains. It didn't have the striking features of a mountain range nor the beauty of open water like an ocean, but there was a simple beauty found in the flatness and unobstructed view of a prairie.

Featured in the picture below is a 1993 Ford Aerostar. The exact Aerostar that carried me and my friends to 49 states during our 4 years of college. It was captured in this photo shortly before its passing at over 280,000 miles. It lived a full life.

Our Van in Saskatchewan, Just South of Saskatoon, Canada

Waking Up in Appalachia

2008-09-15T18:45:00.006+02:00

Our cabin was right on the side of a mountain. Driving up the driveway was a thrill and nerve-racking at the same time. It was as steep as a ski slope, making part of the family queezy and the other part excited every time we revved the engine to make the climb. There were other homes within sight, but I don't remember ever seeing any neighbors. Along with the solitude of our home, there was an incredible view. Courtesy of the second-story back porch, we were able to see over the trees and across to the the next mountain. The weather, the natural beauty, the rising and falling light at the beginning and closing of the day was all visible to us.

Mornings were my favorites. My father-in-law would always beat me out of bed, but when I woke, I would sneak out of my bedroom, trying not to wake my wife. Then head down stairs, trying not to wake other family members, and fill my coffee cup. Finally, I climbed back up the stairs as silently as possible, once again attempting not to disturb the slumber of the others, as I exited onto the porch and found my father-in-law already enjoying the cool morning air.

With the early rays of the dawning sun and a warm cup of coffee, we would sometimes talk, sometimes read. There was ample time to gaze out at what the landscape wanted to give us. Providing some insight into itself that those who were part of the scene would not be able to appreciate. We were above it all and because of this, bystanders instead of participants.

This particular morning a heavy fog lay over the forest below. Obscuring our view, but enhancing it at the same time. Time slowed a bit, the fog adding something new to the landscape and providing a serene panorama to enjoy with our taste of Sumatra. So with the wind lightly blowing and the coffee steaming lazily, we chatted and discussed the finer points of life and whatever else came to mind.

Fog in Appalachia, Outside Gatlinburg, TN

Unafraid Over Breakfast

2008-09-11T18:40:00.004+02:00

As mentioned in a previous blog, A Morning With My Dad on the Mountain, my dad and I arose early one morning on vacation and set off in search of photographs, wildlife, and breakfast. As we reached the western side of Rocky Mountain National Park, we decided to search around the back roads of Grand Lake, CO. In theory we were searching for moose, but I think we both knew it was futile. So we went on another little side adventure, unsure about what exactly we were going to find.

As we turned around a bend, we were no more than 5 feet from a deer standing beside the road. Now remember, we were in a 15-passenger van which is neither quiet nor calming to wildlife. So I was shocked to see the deer stand perfectly still and gaze at us with indifference. It seemed we were just another couple of mildly annoying observers who stopped to gawk at her enjoying breakfast.

While staring at each other, I was able to take a few pictures, actually having to zoom out a little because we were so close. When we had our fill, we drove on discovering a dead end and nothing else very eventful. I am not a biologist or animal psychologist, but I thought about that deer as we drove back over the mountains to our cabin. Maybe she had become accustomed to people, maybe they had fed her before, or maybe she was simply fearless. Either way, this deer was no longer frightened by 15-passenger vans and men with zoom lenses.

But it was peaceful, the light was still soft, backlighting the deer as it munched happily on grass. So with pink ears and deep brown eyes, the deer enjoyed her breakfast with a little entertainment for her viewing pleasure; us. There was nothing but the soft hum of our engine even though houses were within viewing distance. There were no lawn mowers cutting the grass, no passing cars in the early morning, and no dogs barking. We simply had time to enjoy nature and one of God's creatures close up.

To get this picture, I used my Nikon VR 70-200mm, f/2.8 lense with my Nikon teleconverter TC-20E II. Even though the teleconverter stops down the f-stop a few notches, it was much cheaper to purchase than another telephoto lense with a longer focal length.

320mm, f/5.6, 1/800 s
Deer In Morning Light, Near Grand Lake, CO

Using One's Hands

2008-09-10T21:09:00.002+02:00

My great-grandfather was a carpenter. I don't use this title as someone who frames houses (though there is nothing wrong with this), but rather as a true woodworking, build-anything carpenter. In fact, before he passed away, he was the last person alive in Illinois who could make a wagon wheel. This blows me away. I think the only thing I could make from wood is a spice rack.

I tell you all this because I have noticed that trades involving the skill of one's hands is on the decline. There used to be a time where people lived on a trade and in order to become accomplished at that trade, they became an apprentice under a master of that trade. Blacksmith, carpenter, printer, etc. But in this age of office jobs and corporate ladders, the simple art of working with one's hands and creating something has lessened in its use.

So I was pleased when I went to Gatlinburg with my wife's family and found Alewine Pottery in the Great Smoky Arts and Crafts Community. Walking through their building was like taking a step up into a mountain community. Wood floors and a banjo/bass duo out front gave the place an earthy feeling you don't get amidst the bright lights and cheap novelty shops of downtown Gatlinburg.

As I was perusing the pottery-lined shelves, I saw another area with large glass windows to view the potters at work. It was not a high-energy show, but rather a display of creativity, art and skill, often absent from our everyday lives. So I stood there, watching and taking pictures of an artisan at work and not once did I wonder why he wasn't doing it more efficiently through mass-production.

A Potter at Work, Alewine Pottery, Gatlinburg, TN

Being Pregnant

2008-09-09T16:24:00.004+02:00

Being a man, I do not profess to know everything about being pregnant. I have never and will never have a child growing in my womb. And, most likely, will never know the pain and effort it takes to push that little child out of my body. That being said, I do know what it is like to have a wife who is pregnant. So, to this I will try to offer my humble opinion.

Having a pregnant wife is an incredible experience because I see someone I love so much, grow and nurture a child I have never met, but already love and care for. It is hard to watch my wife be in pain or uncomfortable or nauseous or any number of things that happen to her during pregnancy. I almost feel guilty because I don't ache the way she does and therefore can't fully identify and understand what is happening to her body. It is exciting to feel our daughter kicking and punching and moving around inside my wife because one day she will be in my arms kicking and punching and moving around. It is like standing on the edge of the unknown; not knowing what it is like to have a child of my own to care for and nurture. One who needs me and my wife to survive. How else is the baby going to bathe and eat and find shelter and relationships. It will be utterly helpless and depending on us. But finally it is one of the most amazing things to ever happen to me. Because when it comes down to it, all those emotions and feelings are what make it unique, memorable, exciting, and even a little scary.

The following picture was taken on a swinging bench on a dock in Charleston as my wife and I were talking about our daughter and what to name her.

Pregnant on the Dock, Charleston, SC

You Can See It In the Hands

2008-09-07T18:54:00.003+02:00

There is something about looking at someone's hands. They seem to tell a story about the individual that no other part of the body can. On close inspection, you can see the lines or scars that went previously unnoticed. And of all the body parts, the hands seem to be the most unable to resist the wear of time and beating that we put our body through.

The photo that follows contains hands that can tell many stories. Stories of prayer, travel, child-rearing, preaching, counseling, and a battle with cancer, just to name a few. These are the hands of my grandfather-in-law. They are now at rest, but when the picture was taken he was in the midst of that battle previously mentioned. But it was Christmas and he was with family. I know he was tired. He took a few more naps than usual and there was a clear expression on his face of the exhaustion felt in his body. But all his sons were home and nothing was going to keep him from experiencing one of his final family gatherings.

I took this picture as he was sitting in an armchair, surrounded by the family he loved. It was low-light, but luckily his hand was directly under a lamp. It was simply one of those photos that you were glad to capture and knew would be looked at for years to come.

Papa's Hands, Alabama
Nikkor 70-200mm, 170mm, f/2.8, 1/80 sec

Mountain Gazing

2008-09-04T17:05:00.005+02:00

The following photo, besides being found here on my blog, can be found resting in a frame on top of my brother and his wife's television in their living room. It was a wedding gift from me to them. It wasn't entirely a surprise because they had told me they wanted some of my photography, so I printed a few of my favorite photos and put one in the frame. So there it sits, reminding me of a road trip and the vast distance between me and those mountains.

When my friends and I started road tripping during college, I had half seriously/half jokingly thrown out the idea of driving to all 49 driveable states. So during our first road trip freshman year, the idea was somewhat laughable. But as college progressed and we drove to more and more states, the idea became a possibility and then a reality.

In setting out for our final voyage, we had already seen a lot up until that point. El Capitan in the midst of a snow-covered Yosemite, the giant Christmas tree in Rockefeller Center, and our nation's capital building in Washington, DC. But I don't think we really knew what to expect on our final drive up north. We had no idea about the moose, buffalo and bighorn sheep who grazed alongside the highway as if watch passing cars was watching their favorite primetime show. And we certainly didn't know about the constant and casual appearance of no-name mountains that would garnish well-known names if they were in the lower 48.

I guess that is what makes this photo so impressive to me. It wasn't a well known mountain. And even though it is quite majestic and noteworthy, as far as I know it doesn't even have a name. It is just another one of the many striking, precipices along the route to the great white north. I have to admit that while taking that last college journey, I found myself gazing absentmindedly at the mountains we drove through. They captivated my attention even when I didn't know it. It was in those moments that I wondered whether or not those who lived there even noticed them anymore. Had they become desensitized to the grandeur out their back door, or did they catch themselves gazing in wonder at them the way I did?

I love Ansel Adams and I guess this photo is my small tribute to his influence on my nature photography. Though he has left an indelible mark on my photos, I actually took this from the inside of our van as we were driving 70 mph down the road. I think he would heartily disapprove. And who knows how much better the shot could have been if I simply had gotten out of the van. Que sera, sera. I guess that's what you get when you road trip in fast forward.

No-Name Mountain, Yukon, Canada

A Little Change In Perspective

2008-09-03T15:29:00.005+02:00

Someone's perspective can change a lot. Often it is simply a change in perspective that brings understanding between two people who share nothing in common. Other times, it can turn resentment into sympathy or anger into love. I think the problem is that we (as humans) tend to view situations in light of how they affect us. In other words, it is our perspective which gives us a frame of reference to interpret what happens to us. For example, if an acquaintance walks by us in the hallway at work, but does not even look at us, our first reaction might be that they are angry with us. The truth might be as simple as they are having a bad day and there is something on their mind. We probably had nothing to do with it, but our perspective makes us think we did.

My point is, there are many times when we just need to change our perspective to see the truth of the situation or, even better, the best in someone. There have been any number of arguments between my wife and me that could have been avoided if we simply assumed the best about what the other was trying to say. If it can work in my marriage, I am sure it could work in other relationships.

Changing perspective in photography can also be powerful. In fact, it is the most impressive photography that can take a normal object and show it in a completely different light. These are the photos that make you stop and look instead of just flipping past. The photo that follows is one of those where I tried to change the perspective a little. My wife and I were sitting on a bench swing on a dock in Charleston, SC when I took this photo. The scene before me was nothing really impressive, but I thought it might be worthwhile to try something different. I set the camera to 18mm and set the focus to about a foot. I held the camera down by the nail head and just snapped away. Voila! I hope this can more than anything, be a reminder to change your perspective every now and then.

The Dock, Charleston, SC
18mm, f/3.5

A Morning With My Dad On the Mountain

2008-09-01T15:31:00.004+02:00

The day before, the whole family had decided to get up early to try and spot wildlife. We were awake before sunrise and set our sights on Bear Lake inside Rocky Mountain National Park. It was great to get up there before the crowds flooded the paths and cluttered the otherwise pristine landscape. But in the end, we did not spot any wildlife. Everyone was a little disappointed, but spirits were still high and we all enjoyed ourselves. In our hurry to get to the lake, we had passed up photo opportunities of incredible views in the emerging sunlight. So my dad and I decided it would be worth another pre-dawn excursion to catch these images we missed the first morning.

Alone in our enthusiasm, we hopped in the van the next morning, while the rest of the crew continued to slumber. We set off with a specific picture in mind. There was a valley on our side of the mountain that would be perfect as the sun rose just behind it. After reaching our destination and snapping as many pictures as we could rattle off in the the rapidly brightening scene, we realized we were plenty awake and already halfway toward the other side of the mountain. So we took the opportunity to travel over Trail Ridge Road, into the western half of the park. We wanted to try and spot any moose that might be lingering around the marshy area outside Grand Lake, CO. And even if we did not see any moose, we figured breakfast would be a great consolation prize.

While driving over the mountains, a large group of elk distracted us for a short while. Being up so early, traffic was slow and we were able to take our leisure in admiring the landscape and the elk herd. The photo that follows is a picture of my dad taking a picture of the elk. In the background you can see the mountains, almost eye level to us.

I know that the picture below will not win any photo contests and there is nothing extremely striking about the scene, but it is still special none the less. You see, to me it is not just a man sitting by the side of the road taking a picture. To me it is a reminder of a morning spent exploring with my dad. In this picture, I see a man who, like myself, was enjoying the morning sun, the solitude of nature, and the joy of capturing the landscape and moment around us. My dad and I are alike in many ways, as is evidenced by the fact that we were the only ones willing to sacrifice sleep to look at the mountains. And that morning was a time of sharing in the experience as much as anything else. These times have become more important as of late because they are actually soon going to be very rare. In the not too distant future, my wife and I will be moving out of the country for several years. We won't be making any trips to see family over Christmas or Thanksgiving. No extended weekend trips for family get togethers. And simple memories like a morning drive over a mountain and searching for moose will be much more precious than others might be able to understand.

Dad on the Mountain Top, Trail Ridge Road, Rocky Mountain National Park

Looking Out My Window

2008-08-29T21:53:00.004+02:00

If anyone reading this has ever traveled to Colorado, you will admit, as I do, that it is a beautiful state. So while vacationing in Estes Park with my family, one of the main things I enjoyed was the scenery. The towering mountains against a blue sky with a forest at their base. It is majestic to say the least. I was also pleased with the location of our cabin. It sat just outside of the busy area of Estes Park up on a hill so that it was away from the noise and above the lights of the town.

Our days were usually packed full activity. So naturally at the end of each day, I would crawl into bed and enjoy the comfort of a good night's sleep and a soft mattress. It wasn't until about the third night that I looked out my window at the starry scene. It was incredible, a starry sky set against dark mountains with a few lights emitting from the houses below. It was as if someone had make the scene to fit the window. So from that night on, I would, if nothing else, glance out my window before nodding off to sleep.

I didn't realize this until later, but I had subconsciously sectioned off when the good views and and landscapes would be. I guess I thought it was only when we were out and about. I had almost forgotten that the beauty was right outside my window the whole time.

The Sky Through My Window, Estes Park, CO
Nikkor DX 18-70mm, 18mm, f/3.5, 30 sec

Quit Reaching?

2008-08-28T15:01:00.006+02:00

When I was about 12 years old, I was helping my dad work out in the garage, when a big hot air balloon glided low over our house. I knew it was about to touch down, so I grabbed the first bike I could find and raced off down the road to see it close up. Sure enough, it landed in a field and I spent a couple minutes talking to the driver and watching them deflate it. When I had my fill, I rode back home, just then realizing that I had left my dad in the middle of our task. As I came into the garage where he was working, he asked me,"Did you see it?" I was a little taken back. So I sheepishly said, "Yeah, but I am sorry for leaving in the middle of work." But my dad never missed a beat. "You don't have anything to be sorry about. I want you to feel free to explore."

There is no end to the joy it brings a child to hear that from a parent. Because it is in our nature from birth to observe, test, try and ask questions. Every child is enthralled by what is new, which is just about everything. But most of the time, they don't simply ask about it, they want to touch it. I lovingly refer to it as full contact learning. And it is the best way to learn, in my humble opinion. Don't just tell me how to do something, show me and then get out of the way because I want to try.

The danger is when we lose this. The desire and willingness to learn and explore. It is easy to become stagnant and quit asking questions; to quit reaching. When I took the picture of the boy below, I was simply watching him while the rest of the family was in the other room. He was waddling around the kitchen when something caught his eye. Something had glinted in the light, maybe even winked at him to get his attention. Now some lesser child may pass this off as nothing, but not this boy. He had to figure out what it was. As he approached, he saw that he might just be able to reach it if he stretched. So he came up alongside the towering wall of appliance and reached out his hand to touch the unknown, shiny object. And with that, he was introduced to the buttons on the dishwasher.

It might seem a little exaggerated, but I don't think so. Maybe some of us could do with a little more wonder in our lives. A little more exploratory adventure and a little more desire to reach for what we might not be able to touch. I know I could.

Reaching for the Shiny Button, Jackson, TN

Running Water

2008-08-27T14:59:00.005+02:00

There is a picture my dad took of me when I was 5 or 6 years old. I am running directly at the camera in the middle of summer, hair bleached white by exposure to the sun, and have the biggest smile a 6 year-old can muster. But what was bringing me such unquantifiable joy? The answer was, I was running through a sprinkler. I am not talking about one of those sprinklers that rotates or oscillates. It was a plastic base with about 10 plastic tubes spraying water sporadically out of the top, flopping around wildly in all directions. Even though I am almost 20 years removed from this image and don't really remember the event, per se, I remember the feeling of it. I remember laughing and screaming, wanting to get in the water, but at the same time, not wanting to feel the iciness. It was wonderful.

As I took photos of a friend's child playing in the water in the front lawn, I was inexplicably drawn back to my childhood; one without worries besides whether or not we were going to be able to play in the water. And as I snapped away with my camera, I saw her doing the exact same thing I did as a kid. Screaming for joy, but also having a simple dilemma. 'Should I touch the water? I know it is why I am out here, but do I want to risk getting wet?'

But just like myself, the outcome is always the same. After exhortations of parents and the curiosity inside her own head, she runs into the water and begins enjoying the watery relief from the summer heat. And like my father, I am glad to be there to capture the elation on her smiling face.

This photo was taken as most of my photos of children are taken: while they are simply being kids. It is much more natural to work around a child and catch exactly what they are feeling than to try and convince them to smile while sitting nicely in front of a background. I don't think kids are meant to sit for very long.

Child in the Water, A Summer's Day
Nikkor 70-200mm, 200mm, f/2.8

Out of the Concrete Jungle

2008-08-25T18:44:00.004+02:00

If I had my druthers, I would not personally choose to live in a large city. I know that some people wouldn't think of living anywhere other than a city, but not me. Now before I launch into the benefits of fresh air, rolling hills and open fields, I want to say that I am not someone who says cities should be destroyed and everyone should live out in the country. There are benefits to cities, but I would like to make a case for at least some exposure to the world outside the 'concrete jungles' of metropolitan areas.

After a time of being inundated with traffic and white noise, there is something almost otherworldly about nature. Whenever this change in scenery happens for me, I begin by noticing the complete silence of my atmosphere, wondering how I could have ever put up with the noise. And then after a little while, you begin to pick up on the little sounds around you. Almost as if your senses have had time to recover and sharpen. You hear the birds, the rustle of the leaves and the wind blowing past you. A new world, previously unnoticed is revealed little by little.

Currently, outside of my window, there is construction taking place. A jackhammer is pounding loudly away, sometimes pausing for directions to be shouted from the foreman to his workers. And I understand the necessity of this. Buildings and roads need to built and maintained, but if one's life is only filled with this, then there might be something that is lost in the noise.

The following picture was taken on the Appalachian Trail. Over tree roots, stones and an uneven, unpaved path winding along the Smoky Mountains, I never once missed the sound of traffic.

The AT, Smoky Mountain National Park

Sunrise

2008-08-23T15:41:00.004+02:00

There is a chill that settles over Texas in the beginning of fall. It doesn't last long. But each day, there is a window, starting late at night and ending early in the morning where the temperature has dropped several degrees and you are reminded that the blazing summer does actually have an ending. It is as if this little glimpse into cooler weather is the testimony to the 'winter' to come. (Although in my opinion, it is more like an extended fall than anything else)

I enjoy this time of the year mainly because I like the changing of the seasons. I grew up in Illinois where we get all four seasons and I have become kind of spoiled in that sense. So it was a little difficult for me to get about 3 1/2 seasons while I lived in Dallas, TX for two years. So, in my opinion, the best way to experience the change of seasons is by waking up in it.

The plus with Texas in the fall is that it does not rain nearly as much as it does in the Spring. So my wife and I were free to sleep without the rain fly on our tent and enjoyed a beautiful, clear night sky as we drifted off into slumber while camping one night. As the sun rose the next morning and the yelling of the teenagers from the next campsite had blissfully died away, we awoke snuggled in our bags and enjoying the little sounds being made by the wind and the birds.

We emerged from our tents, looking over the pristine lake, catching the glare of the orange morning sun. Not many words were spoken. There was simply a silent understanding between the two of us that this morning was a nice repose from the Texas heat and we were happy to be experiencing it, instead of waking up in our apartment, oblivious to the crisp morning air.

Sunrise, Lake Mineral Wells Texas State Park

Fidelity

2008-08-21T17:39:00.004+02:00

All right boys and girls, the word for the day is 'fidelity'. Can everyone say it with me? I think I was first introduced to this word (actually a variant of this word) by a Dashboard Confessional song. I think the lines went, "Your hair is everywhere, screaming infidelities..." I didn't know what it meant at the time, but I think it was a little telling that I heard the negative form of the word before I had heard the more positive, and in my opinion, rarer form.

For those of you who don't know, the word actually comes from the latin word meaning 'faithful'. In its antiquated form, it is used in the popular Marine phrase,'Semper Fi' or 'Semper Fidelis' meaning 'Always Faithful.' But today I want to get to the meaning of this word as it pertains to relationships.

Whenever I am out and about, I love watching others. I guess some would call me a people watcher. My absolute favorite thing to see as I watch others is couples holding hands. I am not talking about the young teenagers holding hands because they think that is the next step in their relationship. I enjoy the scene of two people who are holding hands because that is what they really want to be doing at that moment; as if that is the thing that is paramount on their list of priorities. And it puts it over the top for me when I see two elderly people, walking at their own pace, holding hands and enjoying each others company. Because I know that they have stuck together over time and this outward expression of their affection is something that has stood firm.

Saying this brings me to the image below. I was on vacation with my wife's family in Gatlinburg, TN and we decided to walk up to Clingman's Dome. As we walked up, my wife and I were ahead of the rest of the family and I looked back to see my in-laws holding hands. It hit me the rarity of the scene and what made it more special, was, having caught a glimpse into their lives over the past several years, I knew that it was real and time-tested. An expression of their fidelity.

Nikkor, 200mm, f/2.8, Clingman's Dome, TN

The Road Most Traveled

2008-08-20T02:48:00.004+02:00

A couple years ago, my family and I were on vacation out West. We started in Flagstaff, AZ and then spent a little time around the Grand Canyon before finishing with a few nights in Breckenridge, CO. During our time in Flagstaff, we made two trips to Grand Canyon National Park, the final one to start off a rim-to-rim trek. During our journeys to and from the park, few of us spent much time looking around at the landscape which, truth be told, was not overly impressive. It was simply what we had to drive through to get to our destination. And then it struck me how many other people most likely have done the same thing.

I am guilty of this. (i.e. - missing the journey for the destination) During college, my friends and I made several road trips that totaled all 49 driveable states. And there were many occasions where we simply drove non-stop over hundreds of miles because we were trying to get to another destination. (Sorry Kansas and Nebraska!) But looking back some of these stretches of road were the most memorable. If we had not opened our eyes to what laid around us we would have missed out on the small, snow-covered towns of northern Massachusetts or beautiful expanses of the plains.

So in my more aware moments, I am able to stop, look around and take in what has been laid out before me. Sometimes I catch the little eccentricities of towns, landscapes and other people. But, sadly, much of the time I am too self-involved or busy to catch the life that is passing me by.

On a more technical note, this shot was taken on one of those drives to the Grand Canyon in the summer of 2006. I was riding in the back seat of our 15-passenger van and decided to experiment with longer exposures of the highway. I thought there were great colors and lines with the blue horizon, the black pavement and the yellow lane markers. I think I took just over a dozen shots and this is the one where everything kind of came together.

18mm, 1/6 sec, f/16, AZ-64, Northbound

A Cranky Morning of Breakdowns and Dew

2008-08-19T02:39:00.007+02:00

If I remember correctly there were quite a few of my family members who were cranky that morning. My dad and I (but mainly myself) had convinced, maybe even guilted, the rest of the family to get out of bed early in the morning. We were staying in the beautiful, but much under-visited, paradise of Pagosa Springs, CO. My parents had decided to come out here and listen to one of those time share sales pitches for a free weeks' stay.

Now typically on family vacations, I like to try and get up early in the mornings whenever I can. The sun is coming up and the animals are out early before it gets too warm. I love catching the beautiful landscape before anyone else is up. When I expressed my desire to get up early and check out a waterfall just outside of Pagosa Springs, there were some that wanted to go, but others who were more than happy to stay curled up in their comfortable beds and catch up on their sleep.

After a little discussion and some clashing opnions, everyone decided to go along on the outing so as to not miss out on anything, desiring to be all together. So before the sun rose, we clammered into the 15 passenger van, headed out from our time share, and spoke very little. As the path ahead of us turned from well-paved highway to poorly maintained back country road and finally to dirt road, the van began to utter noises and, much to our dismay, started smoking vigorously. As we pulled over on the deserted road, miles away from town, out of cell phone service, we all reacted in our own special way. Thankfully, all reactions at least carried a trace of humor.

While waiting for the eventual arrival of the tow truck, which was graciously summoned by our soft-spoken cowboy friend, we wandered down the road to see what laid around the next bend. (Don't worry, the story of cowboy John will most assuredly appear in a later post.) Outside of more bends, there was not much else on the road. But it was cool, the sun was rising and there was a luscious, green landscape laying ahead of us.

I noticed this scene below as we were walking through the countryside. The side of the road was lined with a muddy ditch that gave me a good opportunity to get eye level with the dew-glistened blades of grass. As a few of us continued down the road, our wanderings overextended themselves and in a short while, we were greeted by the rest of the family crammed into the cab of the tow truck. We were carted back into town to get a $10 piece of plastic replaced so our van could take us to attempt the drive again the next morning.

Nikkor VR 70-200mm, f/2.8, Pagosa Springs, CO

Take Me Out to the Ballgame

2008-08-14T01:03:00.004+02:00

I have loved baseball ever since I was a young boy. I still remember throwing the ball with my dad in the back yard, and the times we played sockball until after the sun went down. (Who knew sewing a few socks together into a ball would produce so many hours of fun?) Consequently, whenever I go to a baseball game, I get the feeling of being a kid again.

So as my wife and I went to a minor league Ft. Worth Cats game last year, I was a little giddy about being in a baseball stadium. The cheers, the sound of the bat on the ball, and children carrying around their baseball mitts just in case there is a foul ball or home run: these are the memories that linger in my mind.

When I went to baseball games as a kid, I always had my glove and in the back of my mind, disregarding the improbability, expected to see a foul ball coming straight at me each time I attended. So as I spotted these would-be outfielders with the same mindset I had at that age, I couldn't help but smile. It gave me such pleasure to know the next generation of kids can have the same experience and level of expectancy I did.

There is just one problem with photographing children: You never want to look like a creepy guy taking pictures of kids in public. So with total discretion and firing from the hip, I squeezed off a few rounds as a little boy gazed longingly over the outfield fence to view the grassy wonderland known as right field. He was so enthralled by the scene laid out before him that he didn't even realize he had dropped his glove on the aluminum walkway below. It didn't even matter. He had been swept up into a world that many young kids have known: dreams of becoming a major league ball player, making the diving catch, hitting the game winning home run, or striking someone out for the win.

After a little more gazing, the boy reached down and picked up his mitt and ran back over to his parents. And I was left with my childhood dreams of one day making the diving catch, hitting the game winning home run, or striking someone out for the win.

Ft. Worth Cats baseball, Ft. Worth, TX

Shining Brightly

2008-08-13T02:48:00.005+02:00

I felt like it would be a good idea for vacation. A photo assignment each day. So I asked my wife to give me a daily word to capture with an image. Even though it only lasted for two days, I did get one good image out of the experience. Today happened to be 'light'. That seemed easy enough. There was light all around me. And simply put, photography is the manipulation and proper use of light. Everything in photography involves the use of light.

So as my wife's family and I set out to hike through the forest surrounding Gatlinburg, TN, I underestimated the task that lay before me. Sure I could take a picture of 'light', but I wanted something that would pop. So as I walked through the boreal wonderland of Eastern Tennessee, I focused on the light around me more than the beauty. Then I saw it. A single ray of light shooting through the canopy falling on a lone leaf.

The others, being anxious to move down the trail, left to me my own schedule to get the photo I wanted. Even after I snapped the picture, I wasn't sure the image would be that great. But after viewing it on the playback screen, I knew there were definite possibilities. As a side note, I know there are some photographers who are die-hard film users, but I admit, the benefits of digital photography have made me a believer.

The thing that still strikes me about the situation, was not that the surroundings were so dark, but that the leaf was shining so brightly. Because of the direct sunlight, everything else paled in comparison.

VR Nikkor 70-200mm, 200mm, f/2.8

The World is Brand New

2008-08-11T20:51:00.007+02:00

I love babies. Not so much the poopy diaper side of them, but among other things, the newness of them. They have just been brought into a world that they know nothing about. They have never seen a person, heard a dog bark, felt the wind on their face or even the touch of another human hand. Nothing is old hat to them, even hearing people talk.

You see, for most of us, we walk through our day not even noticing the majority of what goes on around us. The sounds of birds in the trees, the electric white noise, and the sound of passing cars are all things we have grown accustomed to and therefore ignore. But this isn't the way it is for a baby.

They look around them constantly, soaking everything in. Something as minuscule as a person walking can enrapture a babies attention. They are even still getting used to their own body. I can't imagine what it would be like if all the sudden, I had hands for the first time in my life and previously had no concept of what they are or how to use them. I would think they were odd and interesting and look at them over and over again trying to figure them out. I would grip little things just to grip them. And the world around me would be something I could touch and feel and hold.

Nikon D70, VR Nikkor 70-200mm, f/2.8

The Leisure and Economics of Camping

2008-08-09T15:54:00.006+02:00

I recently went on a camping trip in Rocky Mountain National Park with my family. For some families, this is a regular thing they do. Everyone enjoys it, the tents go up quickly, no one is stressed out. But for part of my family, camping is more like getting a tooth extracted. They know they need to do it, but aren't really looking forward to it. And the reason they feel the obligation to go is me.

As we were planning this vacation, I couldn't help but dream about the opportunity to go camping in the Rocky Mountains. And, with a little bit of politicking, I was able to convince everyone (even my mother) that it was going to be a fun and enjoyable excursion for all parties involved. Now instead of launching into the story of this last camping trip, I am simply going to take this post to talk about a few reasons why camping is so enjoyable.

Leisure: You can wake up in the morning and not have to worry about anything. You have no schedule. Leave the watches at home people. In fact, you could successfully lose your watch and not have a problem. When else can you say that. The sun becomes your alarm clock and you can take as much time relaxing over breakfast as you want. This is what people pay thousands of dollars for in a vacation. Which leads me to my next point...

Economics: The economics of camping are incredible. Unless you stay at a KOA or something, the cost of each night of sleeping under the stars is fairly minimal. This comes in handy when you have limited funds, but also for those who do have a little extra dinero. Wouldn't you rather take those dollars you saved on a campsite and go out to a nice dinner or spend it on some cheesy, touristy souvenir that will get lost in your closet immediately after vacation? How about using it to support the National Park Service, or any number of things. The possibilities are endless.

Just a little word to wise: If you borrow a tent, be sure to set it up before you leave to go camping. It might just save you a gigantic headache.

Mother Neff Texas State Park. Experiencing the benefits of
camping leisure and economics.

Walking in the wild

2008-08-08T05:36:00.000+02:00

We had already been in Alaska for two days now, sneaking a shower in a janitor's locker room, but had not really experienced the Last Frontier we had imagined. But now we were in Denali National Park. One of the wildest national parks the government has made in the National Park System. Maintaining this feeling by a limited road system and a mandatory bus system, Denali N.P. has done what many other parks are either unable or unwilling to do: i.e. - providing access to the public, but protecting the animals and their habitat. And I found it fit me.

I have always enjoyed the outdoors, having early exposure to the mountains from Western states vacations as a child. There was a mystery and ruggedness attached to them that I couldn't find in the flatlands of Illinois. So as my friends and I walked down the road in Denali National Park, I was once again enraptured by the majesty on the horizon.

I still remember the cold, crisp air on my skin and the sound of the wind in my ears. We had hopped off the bus and decided to experience the wilderness without the metallic, protective shell of a tour bus around us. So as the bus pulled away, beyond the next bend, we were left to our own thoughts and conversations, nothing to remind us of the white noise or car sounds of civilization.

A park ranger added to the mystique of our circumstances when he pulled up in his truck and told us of a mother grizzly bear and her cubs up a ways on the road. But he reassured us that we were still safe, just wanting us to be aware. So as the next bus came up from behind us, we hitched a ride, being catapulted out of our little haven and back into the world we knew.

Driving in the Wild

2008-08-06T19:40:00.001+02:00

I went on a recent vacation with my family to Estes Park, CO, which, much to my enjoyment, lies right on the border of Rocky Mountain National Park. Being from Illinois where the majority of wildlife is either deer or robins, we were excited to see some of the inhabitants of the area. Black bear, elk, moose, bighorn sheep...we couldn't wait. But after several excursions into the park, we were left with a multitude of elk sightings, but not much else. I was starting to get a little discouraged, to say the least. Why was it so hard to find wildlife? I think the answer can come from that great business mantra...'Location, Location, Location'

In college, some friends and I decided to undertake a mission. The mission was simple: we had 4 years of college to travel to all 49 driveable states using my parents 1993 Ford Aerostar. So as cheaply as possible, we drove. We drove thousands of miles with several days containing only driving. And amidst all the driving, we had the same outcome as my family did. Very little wildlife. That was until the last road trip.

This was the culmination of our college education. Forget final papers, exams or projects. It was our drive to Alaska. The zenith of my life's accomplishments. We had no idea what lay in store. And we didn't find out until we were driving through the Yukon territory in Northern Canada. It was incredible to animals we say. Bighorn sheep, moose, buffalo, elk, black bear. It was all there. And the wildest thing about it was...we never had to leave our car. All these animals were right on the side of the road, begging to be gawked at.

So if you are really desperate to see wildlife, don't look for it where everyone else is, but rather take a turn north. You never know what you might find.