Category Archives: Essays
You cannot change what you are, only what you do. – Philip Pullman, The Golden Compass
In a commencement address to the graduating students of Stanford University, Steve Jobs recalled a quote he first read when he was 17.
“If you live each day as if it was your last, someday you’ll most certainly be right.”
He went on to say that the quote stuck with him though most of his adult life and that he would look himself in the mirror each morning and ask himself, “If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am about to do today?”
If the answer was “no” for too many consecutive days, he knew it was time for a change.
So after waking up too many mornings with a resounding “no” reverberating through my own groggy and tired head, I drove down to the office and promptly terminated a successful corporate career. My own. It was January 14, 2003 – eleven years ago to this very day – which also happened to be my birthday.
Photography was a serious hobby with occasional financial rewards, but not nearly rewarding enough to pay for my lifestyle at the time – not even close. Photography and travel were excellent ways to spend money, not make it (That’s still almost entirely true, by the way). Still, I was determined to give it a go, even if I really had no idea how to get there. The only thing I knew for certain was that my talent and energy were being atrophied as I counted down the days to each bimonthly paycheck.
This was new to me. I was a rationally thinking organism with an economics degree who always made decisions with cold, hard logic and yet there was nothing rational about this line of thought. In return for a six-figure salary, benefits, and financial security, I was getting what exactly? No salary, no plan for getting any income in the near future, no benefits, no financial security? On its face, it was a no-brainer, yet my intuition and heart told me otherwise.
Wilderness and wild places were my passions in life. Capturing and sharing my experiences in these places were what inspired me to get up each morning, not my 9-to-5. It was the first thing I thought about each morning and the last thing each night before drifting off to sleep. If I were going to preach that you had to do what you love to truly be successful in life – as was my mantra to my employees – I would have to buy into it myself and not look back. I was only willing to accept excellence in myself and I could only achieve excellence by doing what I loved and was truly passionate about.
Throughout the transition, I received a tremendous amount of emotional support from family and close friends. I’ll always be grateful for that. Some were genuinely concerned and that was certainly understandable. Others thought it was only a phase I was going through – a mid-life crisis, perhaps – that I would eventually outgrow before crawling back to the real world again. At least no one told me to grow up, get a haircut, and buy a weed wacker.
“But taking pictures isn’t real work,” some would say. “You’re just running off to pretty places and having fun.”
“Right,” I would answer. “So what exactly is your point?”
You see, I never considered being nature photographer as an occupation. The word occupation is derived from the same Latin word that spawned the word occupy, essentially meaning, “to take up space.” That little phrase should paint a vivid enough word picture to illustrate precisely what I’m trying to convey here.
Vocation, on the other hand, comes from the Latin word, vocare or “a calling.” If throwing away a “successful” career and financial security – not to mention rationality – in order to chase down one’s dream and passion in life isn’t a calling, then I’m not sure what is. Being a nature photographer is my vocation. It’s not what I do; it’s what I am. There aren’t very many people who can say the same about their occupation.
So after eleven years of traveling the world, chasing down magical light, and capturing as many unrepeatable moments in the wild on film and digital media as possible, I’d like to think that I’ve achieved a modest amount of success as a professional photographer. But what is a “success” anyway? By one yardstick, I already was a success ten years ago.
But if living an inspired, passion driven life doing exactly what I feel I was meant to do – while managing to live financially comfortable as well – is another yardstick with which to measure success, well then I guess I’ve achieved something after all. It’s also the greatest birthday gift I could have ever given myself.
Enjoy this post? Please leave a comment or Subscribe to Earth and Light!
January 14, 2014
Ed. Note: Portions of the post were published in December 2012 on the Earth and Light Blog
Often I’m asked what a typical day is like for a professional nature photographer. I do my best to explain that it’s nearly impossible for me to answer since each day is unlike any that preceded it. In other words, there are no typical days. If I’m in the right mood, I might attempt to outline what I do and how my time is actually spent, which is usually met with disappointment and disillusionment by the questioner. It’s shocking to know what percentage of my time is spent actually creating images, in addition to how spectacularly unglamorous this whole business really is.
So here is a glimpse into my world, if for only a day (and it’s one of the better ones) and which also happens to be exactly one year ago today. The place? Cold, snowy, dark, northern Iceland in mid winter.
December 12, 2012. Akureyri, Iceland
9:10 am: Just waking up and getting out of bed. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know 9 am is embarrassingly late for a nature photographer but please consider the circumstances. First, my body and circadian rhythms are still attuned to Eastern Standard Time. So if you subtract the 5-hour time difference, I’m really getting up at a much more respectable 4:10. Does that make you feel better? Besides it’s still dark outside so I’m not exactly missing out on much.
10:00 am: After a shower and a few returned emails, I am out the door and looking for a quick lunch in town. There’s an intense red glow on the southeast horizon but the sun still has quite a way to go before it makes a proper appearance. I scarf down soup and salad at the Greifinn and drive toward Vatnsskarth Pass for some photos ops. It’s uncharacteristically cloud free. No clouds? This is new.
12:17 pm: I can now finally see visible sunlight as the snowy mountaintops are bathed in a beautiful pink glow. But without any clouds in the sky, I’m just not jazzed about anything. I take a few obligatory images and shrug. Well I am here so what the hell?
12:50 pm: I slip on my snow boots and a down jacket to hike and scout some locations for the evening. I find some rare open water for possible aurora reflections but I’m not entirely crazy about the composition. Yet at night with the aurora overhead, it might not be terrible. I make a mental note of some nearby landmarks so I can find the place later in the dark.
3:05 pm: Back at the car and I’m changing back into my regular shoes after nearly backing the car into a deep ditch. The huge, clunky snow boots I was wearing wouldn’t allow me to step on the gas pedal without also catching the brake. And when I try to depress the brake, I also get the gas pedal or clutch. That almost cost me a hefty towing bill. It’s already nearly dark.
3:44 pm: At the apartment again and it’s time for a nap. What is it about these short days that make me want to sleep so much?
6:25 pm: Sitting on the sofa in my underwear looking over my images from Godafoss yesterday. They don’t suck too bad so I’m somewhat pleased. Next I check the weather and aurora forecast for tonight. Promising. The world news? Wish I hadn’t even looked. I’m bored. I’m hungry.
7:40 pm: Dinner at a downtown Akureyri restaurant. Worst lasagna ever. Not surprisingly, Icelanders don’t do Italian food very well.
8:55 pm: I slip into a nearby bar (Sorry I didn’t remember or write it down) for some local color and a cold Viking brew. The bartender tells me that over half the people here on the island believe in elves. This is my fourth trip to Iceland and it’s not the first time I’ve heard this. I nod knowingly.
9:31 pm: After belting out an inspired rendition of Girls Just Wanna Have Fun on karaoke, I bask in the polite applause of the two German tourists in a dark corner. I’m so outta here.
10:10 pm: Driving out of town and scanning the sky for any sign of the aurora when I am startled by the brightest, most brilliant shooting star that falls slowly toward the northern horizon. It’s so bright and brilliant, in fact, that I reflexively duck my head. This is only one of several dozen I would see tonight as I am to find out later that the Geminid meteor shower is just starting.
10:46 pm: Back at Vatnsskarth Pass and it’s really cold and really dark. There’s no moon and the aurora is looking spectacular – intertwined ribbons of light stretching across the sky from east to west, horizon to horizon. Sometimes the large ribbons morph into smaller strands that slowly dance side to side, intensify, fade, before returning again stronger than ever. It’s easily the best display I’ve seen since arriving here in Iceland last week. The problem, however, is that the aurora has moved further south than the previous nights and the composition I scouted earlier in the day just won’t work. Back to square one.
11:40 pm: Driving north along the Eyjafjordur toward the coastal town of Olafsfjordur when the aurora forces me to pull the car over. I turn off all the lights and begin taking a series of continuous 30-second exposures with the pale, eerie green lights over the mountains. Its not the type of image I had envisioned, but this is the big aurora display I had come here for. I spend the next two hours talking and shouting to myself (I tend to do that when I’m out alone). “Holy #%&@! This is #^&@ insane! I can’t feel my #%&@# fingers!” You know, that sort of stuff.
I mentioned earlier how little of our time as nature photographers is actually spent behind the camera creating images, as a percentage of our time as a whole. But for all the long silences – the travel, sitting around airports, driving, scouting, hiking, waiting out bad weather, just waiting in general, getting skunked, cold, wet, stuck or lost – the punctuated moments of pure magic like these are what we live for. Literally.
3:25 am: Back at the apartment. I drop everything in the middle of the floor and stagger toward the bedroom, zombified. I’m sleeping in, damn it.
If you’re interested in seeing and photographing Iceland in more favorable conditions (think summer), I’m taking a group of lucky photographers there in July and there’s still a few spots left. Epic Iceland with Richard Bernabe
Enjoy this post? Please leave a comment or Subscribe to Earth and Light!
December 12, 2013
When returning to the United States after an overseas trip, the first required task ahead of you – prior to going through customs or baggage claim – is a screening at the U.S. Customs and Border Protection Agency’s passport control area. Think long lines and a pod of glass encased booths with unsmiling border agents. The purpose of this formality is to have your passport and documentation checked out as well as having agents possibly ask you a few questions about your trip. For me, that sometimes includes an inquiry as to why I was visiting the country from which I am arriving. This always irritates me a little. Why? If it’s legal, it’s none of their damn business. You just can’t say that.
My reply is always truthful, yet vague. If you offer too much information it only invites a more intrusive set of questions that feel like a dangerous game of “gotcha” even though you have nothing at all to hide.
Then again, you can’t be too vague either. An answer along the lines of, “because I felt like it” will likely land you in a small room, under a hot lamp with a few stone faced, humorless inquisitors and a missed connection to boot.
“For photography,” I say and this reply satisfies quite often enough. I might even get a genuinely friendly response such as, “Oh I imagine (insert country name here) is a beautiful place for that” or something along those lines.
Upon arriving from Bogota, Colombia that answer left the Miami agents less than convinced.
“Photography? You mean, like taking pictures?”
This calls for mucho self control on my part.
“Yes, exactly like taking pictures.”
They then want to know of what and where I was practicing photography; if I know people in Colombia; how did I come to know these people in the first place; did I buy any photo equipment there; if not, what did I buy?
I can’t tell you how tiring and banal these overtly loaded questions are, not to mention slightly insulting. We are all aware of Colombia’s mostly unfair reputation so why don’t we avoid any further delay and just ask where I’m hiding the blow?
Then again, their lack of good faith could rightfully be forgiven seeing that not too many gringos travel to the Land of El Dorado for the sole purpose of photography. But that could be changing soon. Photographers can draw inspiration from a varied set of natural environments and climate zones: the Amazonian rainforest with it’s dizzying array of biodiversity; the snowfields and glaciers of the northern Andes mountain range with the highest peaks reaching over 18,000 feet; the tierra caliente of the lowlands and tropical Caribbean islands; and the wet Pacific coastline. This makes Colombia one of most naturally diverse countries on the planet, ranking third in the entire world in the number of total living species and number one in bird species.
So I arrived in Bogota with high hopes after receiving and accepting a speaking invitation and separate weekend teaching assignment with La Bloom Photo School, where a group trip to nearby Chingaza National Park was planned. But first, I wanted to explore the city and countryside and I allowed an extra week on my own for this purpose.
After checking into the hotel, I took a leisurely walk around the block to get a feel for the sights, sounds, and rhythms of this new place. It didn’t take long for me to notice that something was obviously wrong here. The armed guards at nearly every intersection and restaurant didn’t give me much pause at first but the explosive-sniffing dogs at the entrance to each hotel, parking deck, and government building was, I admit, a bit unnerving.
I tried to have a taxi take me to Bogota’s historic city center right before sunset for some twilight and long exposure photography. When asked for a destination, I just said, “oh, just drop me off anywhere here” as I pointed to a location on the map I was holding. He refused, for my own good. My Spanish comprehension is at best passable, but I know a good scolding when I hear one, no matter the tongue. It was beyond foolish to be downtown at night alone, was the message in so many words. Yet undeterred, I tried another and was refused once more.
On my return to the hotel, I was struck by a man on a small motorcycle while crossing one of Bogota’s chaotic streets. Famously chaotic or not, he shouldn’t have been swerving through and around stopped traffic at an intersection and then fail to stop at all once he arrived at the light. For this, he paid dearly as the forward motion of his bike was immediately arrested by contact with my body while he, now separated from said bike, continued airborne in that same forward direction unabated until terminal impact with the pavement.
This traffic-stopping scene drew many awed looks from nearby drivers and pedestrians, as I stood over the wreckage virtually unscathed. He was okay as well, just bloodied up a bit, but still was taken to the hospital in an ambulance as a precaution. After a very short interview with police, I continued my walk back to the hotel, all the while mulling the inauspicious start to the trip.
Enjoy this post? Please leave a comment or Subscribe to Earth and Light!
September 20, 2013
A significant portion of the work I did during my recent trip to Namibia was wildlife photography, a favorite genre of mine. While doing some research on the wildlife of Africa, and Namibia in particular, I was struck by how boring most of images really were – apathetic, dumb-looking animal staring blankly into the camera, bird on a stick, etc. As a result, I strived to come up with unique interpretations of these species we’ve all seen so many times and know so well. I came up with five unconventional tips – some less conventional than others but still concepts to keep my images from being boring like the others. Now I’m sharing them with you.
The examples here are not all African wildlife, obviously. I’m still trying to wrap up some writing and administrative duties before I can really begin processing most of the images from that trip. In the meantime, enjoy.
1. Use Back and Side lighting
Most wildlife shooters and photography instructors opt for front lighting when encountering wildlife. “Point your shadow at the subject” is their mantra since they can be sure that in this way, the bird or animal will be evenly illuminated. In other words, it’s easy. I’m not saying that shooting with the sun at your back is a bad thing; I do it all the time. But limiting yourself to only this option certainly is a bad habit.
Side lighting can reveal texture and add depth to an image while backlighting is incredibly dramatic, if not conventional.
2. Long Exposures
Animals on the move and birds in flight present great opportunities for slow shutter speeds and camera panning. Freezing action shots with fast shutter speeds has its place, but sometimes its better to just go with the flow! Start with 1/15 second and experiment from there.
3. Go wide. Show the environment
When shooting wildlife, the photographer’s initial impulse is to use the longest lens in the bag and go in as tight on the subject as possible. Resist this urge and try a wider perspective instead. Show some of the animal’s environment and surroundings, which helps tell more of a story about the place and species you’re photographing.
4. Show behavior and interaction
Too many wildlife images show a static image of an animal or bird looking directly into the camera. Boring, boring, boring. Showing how these animals interact with one another, play, mate, or hunt for food is much more interesting. That instant is akin to Cartier-Bresson’s decisive moment. Don’t be content with a boring wildlife portrait. Wait for something special to happen and then be ready!
5. Use elements of visual design
Employ the same compositional tools for wildlife as you do for other genres of photography. Wildlife photography is sometimes fast-paced and you don’t have time to think things through completely but still try to think abstractly about shapes, lines, balance, and flow and let go of the literal. Your wildlife images will have a much greater visual impact as a result.
Next week I’ll begin sharing many other images from Namibia so stay tuned.
Enjoy this post? Please leave a comment or Subscribe to Earth and Light!
June 13, 2013
The image above was taken in April of this year in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park in Tennessee. This is an excellent example of what I try to teach my students when photographing waterfalls: We are not taking a portrait here. We are creating a landscape image with a waterfall as one of the elements. Walking up on the rocks and filling the frame with the waterfall would have been an easy thing to do but the end result would have been boring and banal. This composition includes the waterfall as a crucial element – as well as the primary focal point – but the image has an elegant visual design that goes beyond being just a portrait or documentary photo. Primarily, the flow of the stream and the placement of the rocks below the falls gets the eye moving back and forth through the frame giving it a dynamic quality that a static portrait would lack.
Speaking of workshops, there are two new workshops listed for the first quarter of 2014. For the 4th straight year, Ian Plant and I are leading another tour to Patagonia on March 10 – 19.
For the very first time, I am offering a Winter in Yellowstone photo tour and workshop in February that will combine the very best winter landscapes with wildlife photography. Jackson Hole professional wildlife photographer, Jared Lloyd will be my partner on this trip.
I’m sorry to announce that Arches and Canyonlands, Utah in November is now full, as is Acadia in October. Joe Rossbach and I still have a few openings for the Tetons in September so let me know if any of you have questions about this trip.
Last week I was listed as one of the top 100 travel photographers in the world for 2013 by ChiliSauce, a travel blog in the United Kingdom. When I made the announcement on Facebook and Twitter, as a courtesy to the the owner of the blog, I made the announcement with a controversial preface: the words, “For whatever it’s worth…..” This was met by more than a few emails and private messages by annoyed fans and followers. Most began with a mocking, “For whatever it’s worth….” and eventually got around to making the point that I was not being grateful or gracious about the “honor.” For whatever it’s worth, you’re acting like an ass.
Look, this is not merely false modesty on my part. I do appreciate being listed with at least 99 other very accomplished photographers. But the list is just one person’s opinion and there are some very conspicuous names missing as well as some people I’ve never even heard of. So that’s what it is, one person’s opinion and that’s about what it’s worth. Sorry to offend.
So now I’m off to Africa for two weeks. I’ll try my best to post some crappy phone images here as well as a report or two on how I’m doing. Be sure to Subscribe to Earth and Light to keep up with my latest travels realtime.
May 13, 2013