I've been exploring the iPhone 6's slow-motion video capabilities recently and enjoying the results. The leaves in this short piece were actually fluttering wildly during a strong wind and steady rain. This minute-long segment was the result of only a 15 second-or-so initial capture. The zen-like result left me inclined to slow down a bit myself, and try and appreciate the wonders of nature more often. The audio track was recorded shortly after and features the sounds of the rain and nearby wind chimes.
Nature's Night Lights
Been enjoying the evening firefly spectacle in recent days and have managed to capture a few frames of these fleeting, flickering little harbingers of summer. It's turned out to be a fairly challenging effort, but after a week's worth of trial and error I've caught a few decent images and learned a few lessons.
For the most part, there's about a 10-15 minute window a bit after sunset when the insects first begin their flirtatious flashing and there's still enough ambient light in the sky to offer a sense of the surroundings. I also find it much easier to track them at dusk as you're not stumbling around in complete darkness. Still, I find I'm stretching the medium a bit with camera ISO settings in the 4000 range and shutter speeds a 30th of second or less with the lens wide open. A macro lens is pretty key for close-ups, but there's a fine line between trying to get near enough for a good image and scaring the little buggers off.
The main barrier, though, to photographing them has turned out to be the mosquitoes. They've been fierce, and I try to make sure I'm pretty well covered. I did break down and tried applying insect repellent for one outing, but unfortunately, it did repel the insects, fireflies and all. Since you're usually shooting at very slow, hand-held shutter speeds, there are times when you might be contending with a fair number of them buzzing around your head and attempting to draw their daily ration from your face, neck and ears.
So, it takes a bit of patience and a whole lot of missed shots (I've probably taken several hundred frames and ended up with just a few decent ones) but they do offer a unique glimpse at this annual seasonal ritual.
On Shooting Stars
Capturing images of night skies has been a long-time interest of mine, and when conditions are right, you can usually find me making an enthused effort to pursue these rewarding, but sometimes challenging pictures. When things work out well, the resulting photographs might appear serene and peaceful, but a lot of times, I find that photographing celestial bodies can be a fairly demanding endeavor.
Surprisingly, one of the problems with photographing stars, planets, and the Earth’s sun and moon, is how fast they move through the sky. It doesn’t seem like it, but when you try to compose a night sky frame in a tight, aesthetically-appealing way, it becomes quickly apparent that our planet really is in constant motion, changing our perspective of the heavens every few seconds.
Some of my favorite night sky photos often offer a hint toward man’s relationship to the cosmos, so when I can, I’ll try and incorporate Earth-bound elements into the frame. In fact, I keep a mental roster of potential locations as options for future images. Sites looking west, east, north and south, sites high on hills, sites illuminated, sites silhouetted. Farmsteads, windmills, church steeples, weather vanes and cityscapes are all potential foreground elements.
I’ll track sky charts and space-oriented websites for potentially interesting sky events and I am usually generally aware of moon cycles and sunrise/set times. Over the years, I’ve had a number of successful efforts photographing eclipses, comets, planetary conjunctions, auroras and sun and moon events. Often, though, a preconceived idea for an image falls apart when I attempt to execute it. There are sometimes just too many unpredictable variables.
Through trial, I’ve discovered that long lens exposures of more than a few seconds will begin to result in motion blur from stars and planets. That means that every half-minute or so, the celestial elements of your photo may not be quite where you want it to be. Long exposures at night are a necessity, which means I’m constantly moving my tripod to keep the composition intact. Add to the equation rapidly changing light conditions and broad luminance disparities between sky and ground elements, there’s a lot of potential for things to get difficult. Mosquito swarms, city light pollution and even suspicious rural neighbors and their protective barking dogs can all be unique night challenges. Those wonderfully clear mid-winter nights can be brutally cold, and don’t even get me started on clouds.
At any rate, when things do work out and the planets metaphorically align, it feels wonderful to know you may be capturing a completing unique, totally spontaneous moment that can disappear forever in minutes. I was lucky to have that experience a few times last week, represented in the composite image above. The outer images were captured a several moments apart before a local fireworks show. A hot air balloon made an opportune appearance above the setting sun, and, shortly after I made the photograph of the same sun’s rays glinting off an adjacent lake. The inner images (Venus and Jupiter on the left, and the moonrise on the right) took a little more planning and some on-the-fly adjustments, but were taken within a downtown city block and 10 minutes of each other.
For a few other examples of my night and evening sky images, have a look at the Our World & Other Worlds gallery of the website.
Below: The light from a full winter's moon casts shadows under a backyard pergola.
Merging Muses
Most who know me well realize that as passionate as I am about photography, it still probably rates a close second to my love of music.
Had I been graced with a broader musical ability, I might have chosen a playing career over my present one, but unfortunately, it's probably not in the cards. Still, though, I’m steadily drawn to a diverse array of performers and performances, and admire the way accomplished artists are able to establish immediate and intimate connections with their audiences. Like photography, music really is a universal language and I’m envious of those who are able to communicate their craft in moving ways.
Not surprisingly, I enjoy opportunities that allow me to photograph musicians I respect and admire, and relish chances to bridge these two primary interests. When capturing images of musical artists, my hope is to convey the passion they have for their craft, and the good ones make that very easy.
Two performing friends of mine, emerging singer-songwriter Katie Scullin and seasoned blues guitarist Paul Filipowicz, may fall on disparate ends of the musical spectrum, but each harbor a distinct need to share their innate musical muses. Both are engaging, gifted musical artists, but I’m most drawn to their unbridled passion for their work. I’ve seen each perform many times, and it truly doesn’t matter if they’re playing to five people or 500 - you will get the same show regardless.
As photographers, we’re often able to shoot, reshoot, edit and re-edit in an effort achieve our desired results. Musicians on stage, admirably, share their craft without a net. When it works, in the hands of talented, committed artists like Katie and Paul, the results can be uniquely immediate, moving and rare.
On Firsts - Past and Future
Playing with some numbers and dates recently, I happened to discover that I was approaching a milestone event. As it turns out, counting Leap Days, today, February 7, 2015, marks my 20,000th day of Life.
Now, I know what most of you are thinking, "But, John, you hardly look a day over 15,000!" Well, I fortunately don't feel it either, but the math is what is and the revelation of my biological odometer flipping over has left me thinking about the past - and the future.
Feeling inclined to visually represent this span of time, I assembled an array of 20,000 points - 50 rows of 400 dots. I found resulting pattern kind of revelatory, if not a little scary. It's represented in the graphic above, although truthfully, to even begin to see each mark clearly (at least with 20,000 day old eyes) it's probably best viewed at letter size or greater.
I'll forgive myself for not remembering much about the first couple of thousand days or so, but the remaining rows, and points, are the ones that got me thinking.
I wonder which one represents my first day of kindergarten - the day I took my first, tentative steps toward independence amidst an imposing sea of playground strangers? Which was the afternoon I got my first really cool bike, which began to broaden my horizons even more? How 'bout that thrilling ride down the concrete toboggan run with my father, which left his knuckles a little bloodied but his demeanor ready for the next trip.
I remember family trips and school trips and my mother saying "Well, tomorrow's a new day" when things weren't going well. There were first dates, a first kiss, first car and first heartbreak. There was also the first time I saw the woman I'd marry, the beginning of a long run of many remarkable, treasured events. So many memorable moments, so many firsts.
All of which leads me to consider - what points might represent the days my children each began their evolving journeys? Blank slates ahead, a wonder, a gift. I remember once hearing that life's days go slow, and the years, fast. Yes. While we hope to make each day memorable, the truth is most eventually fade into a hazy, vague memory of faded impressions.
So, what about my own blank slate? Hopefully, many thousands of days still lie ahead. How will they be filled? What memories will future milestones conjure? Today's figurative turning point offers a unique chance to consider how I'll increase the value of each day to come. It seems a good starting point would be to up the ante on empathy and gratitude - important human attributes that sometimes get diminished in the day to day routine of our hectic lives.
So, here's to firsts - past and future - and the chance to remember what was, and consider what can be.
Black and White, 21st Century Style
There's been popular trend making its way around social media lately which involves a challenge between photographer friends to generate images in a monochromatic style. I hadn't intentionally shot in black-and-white since the start of my career, and it was a welcome reminder of those early days when my eventual life's passion was new.
While the capturing approach is decidedly different, the end result feels much the same as it did years ago. I can't say I miss the darkroom chemistry mess and the associated expenses, but I'm pretty sure I'll continue to venture into the monochrome profile on my digital camera a little more often.
