Photo Couch is the companion podcast of Gavin’s f164 project. Sort of an audio journal. Nothing fancy here. Just short musings, tips, and thoughts on photography. You can listen below, or subscribe for free and get all the latest episodes. If you want more, you can also check out Gavin’s full podcast, Pro Photo Show.
The water of the rainforest always seems to be moving,. Running, drizzling and dancing over the ground. Dosewallips falls rolls down a face of stone into the gathering pools below, overflowing them and running on towards into the deep forest, making a journey to the larger streams and rivers, then finally to the sea. It’s a mesmerizing dance of water set in one of the most beautiful places and is something to stop and look closer at.
We spent the past few days in the Olympic forest and as beautiful as the it is, I find it can be complicated. There’s so much to see that it can be a challenge to covey simple beauty in a single frame. Part of that challenge is deciding what element best conveys the feeling the the place when the image is initially made.
I found myself looking closely at the stream below the falls, all the rocks and paths the water had made. But I stopped in this one. It’s shape and line telling a story of waters journey in a simple scene. There’s a lot of little details here, but you have to take the time to look for them. It’s simple, but complex in it’s own way and as always, I am mesmerized the the subtle complexity and beauty of creation.
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Photo Couch is the companion podcast of Gavin’s f164 project. Sort of an audio journal. Nothing fancy here. Just short musings, tips, and thoughts on photography. You can listen below, or subscribe for free and get all the latest episodes. If you want more, you can also check out Gavin’s full podcast, Pro Photo Show.
The Pacific Ocean mesmerized me as we drove, trailer in tow, along Route 1 this Spring. It’s so vast, an endless expanse peeking through the passing trees. I spotted a large pull-off along the winding highway, so we stopped for the view and a trailer break. Cyrus and I looked over the edge, seeing the waves strike against the rocks below. Soon I found myself setting up, adjusting the composition and then capturing frame after frame. I was entranced at how each and every image could be so similar and yet so different, the patterns and tones of water combining in endless ways along the rock, though all going to the same place.
Normally, I’m all about a single frame, but it was too little here. Sometimes I break my own rules, and, after a lot of consideration, I really felt this sequence worked. I spent hours finalizing which final images would go into it, and how I could best present them. Then weeks went by as I rethought, making sure I could do nothing to make it better. I’ve also made some test prints, and I plan to release it as a single triptych print and perhaps a few as three separate images (kept together, of course).
Due to the computer’s insufficiency at conveying a wide image, I’m also adding the individual frames from the sequence below so you can take in a bit more detail. Just bear in mind; they will be presented as the triptych above, not separated by themselves. I hope these waves mesmerize you as much as they do me. Enjoy…
Water. Once we sink below the surface of its shimmering waves, we enter a foreign world of untold beauty. A silent land of bending light, murky depths, and unknown dangers…
Whew, did that sound enough like a nature show for you? Good, now let’s move on. Seriously, though, I working with water and I loved making portraits under it. I did it for the first–though probably not the last–time during a portrait commission for Jenaia. I learned a lot about working in the water, and we brought her home some beautiful images, but this is my favorite piece.
It took some trail and error, but my visualization was a calm ethereal portrait, and I think I managed it. I love the color hues and the way the light streams from the surface. We’re in a lake, not a pool, and it’s around 1500 feet deep, making the light fade into infinity. Just don’t drop anything that doesn’t float, or it’s gone for good. I lost a fin during the project, and once it was out of sight, there was no way I was going after it. It’s truly dark down there.
While my fin has joined the aforementioned murky depths, I’m very satisfied with this work. It taught me a lot and it helped make Jenaia’s portrait collection a real success.