The spires of Bryce Canyon make me think of the ruins of an ancient city. They feel timeless, their detailed pattern texture glaring into my eyes as they’re struck by the light. The place is absolutely stunning.
But it’s not simple. It’s vast and intricate, so bringing its sun-washed beauty into a two dimensional frame is a challenge. With this scene, the simplicity of a black and white image allowed me to focus on the study of line and tone, leaving the color we’re familiar with from the Utah red rock to be filled in from our own minds.
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 final rays of glistening sunset are often the most remarkable. Their golden glow flaring for a mere moment before dying into memory and waiting for another sunrise.
Next to the unimaginable vastness of the sky itself, the Grand Canyon is one of the largest most beautiful things I’ve seen. It’s views take the breath away and make me wonder at God’s creation. But as magnificent as it is, it’s a challenge to convey, as it seems that landscapes of this scale often fight against being pulled into the single, two dimensional frame.
Knowing the crowds would come, I set up at Yavapai Point nearly two hours early. I went to the overlook and set up my digital, along with my 4×5, claiming the space as my own and not moving. By the time the sun set, I was crowded in on every side. It was hazy, as often seems with the great distances across the canyon.
The walls that I planned to photograph did not respond quite as I had hoped. But just as the sun set, this side of the canyon walls came alive with color. I had been crowded in so much that I could not move the tripod even the two feet I needed. Frantically, I leaned over and rested the camera on the handle of my second tripod where the 4×5 sat. Then I made the frame that would become this image and preserve that fleeting light. In all my planning, I was still not fully prepared for the moment, but I made the best of it. This frame does not do it’s beauty justice, but it gives a tiny taste of my awe.
The night is intriguing to me as a photographer. Stars trail through the heavens, and branches rustle as winds sift through the darkness. The world turns unnoticed by most of its occupants, and yet it is not still at all.
Night photography is a challenge; I have to go against my natural preference to be relaxed comfortably in a warm house or trailer rather than standing in darkness often cold, wondering what made that cracking sound I just heard behind me. The next challenge is the technical difficulty of making the image and composition in darkness and having the patience for an ultra long exposure. This one was over 45 minutes.
At times like this one, I can set up the image and go back to said warm camper and family, as the faint light works its magic. At times, my night exposures do not come out as I expect, and some never see the pages of this journal, but as I further explore the darker side my craft, I find moments like this when the simplicity and natural beauty of the elements draw my eye and make me smile at the wonder of creation.
This image is not perfect, and I’m undecided as to whether it will make the signature collection, but I do enjoy it, and it has taught me much about light and shadow…
I’m right on the shore, the waves of the incoming tide lapping against the legs of my tripod, sometimes making me step back to keep my feet dry. The sun is just setting off to the right, casting an orange warmth on the largest of the rocks. The sky is simple, but it’s smooth, the gentle color soothing, and the lines and details on the rocks are mesmerizing in their intricacy.
California is a beautiful place. Due to its population and popularity, it always always the most east access, but if you get there and get settled it’s really breathtaking. There’s so much to see and so little time to get it done before rush hour.