Into the woods

Shabbat for many Jews is both a place and a time - a portion of the week for rest, rejuvenation, family, friends, and unplugging. For some that means a day at Temple, for others it’s a dinner table with Roast Chicken or a walk around the neighborhood.

A hike in the Catskills in Autumn is like Shabbat on growth hormones for me. There is something magical about the area as trees transform and shed their leaves, the water from springs is crisp and surreally refreshing, and campfires lift up smells of burgers, beans, and marshmallows across miles of loosely populated towns and mountains.

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For over a decade, my wife and I have come out to the Catskills for a few long weekends during the fall. From our earliest adventures when we could barely start a fire to our latest where we know to cary an axe for making good tinder, some things have definitely changed. I once brought a 12 inch cast iron pan to try to cook rice over a dull campfire - a failed attempt whose crunchy, raw mash-up we dubbed “kosh mosh”. Now bison burgers and burritos are on the menu. Bougie, I know.

But I’ve also learned to see the forest in different ways with my camera. Many of my sketch photos are still cluttered - filled with unremarkable and indistinct patterns of nature. But I’ve learned that they’re part of the process of seeing. Part of searching for something that is worth capturing and sharing with others. And as I’ve improved how I see (and seek), I’ve also taken time to refine my craft - to embrace filters to better realize what I see before me in ways the sensor alone cannot. To push what I see to new creative bounds - playing with concepts of time and light beyond the click of a shutter.

I feel fortunate and incredibly grateful to live near such extraordinary natural beauty. I hope you feel some of what it has to offer in these captures.

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The Boardwalk

Walking off the Q train at 8am on Coney Island isn’t as funny a scene as you might expect. People are meandering to work. Some are certainly still coming home from the nights’ activities before. But generally, it’s quiet. Peaceful.

Turn a corner and there were 200 odd photographers and models gathered for a photo meetup. I’d never been to one. My own fear of being exposed as a fraud coupled with my dislike of meeting strangers in large groups meant this group looked twice as large as it was. But yea, it really was 200 people.

But once the initial ‘holy shit I’m here’ wore off, I began to wander around, get my bearings. I didn’t even know there would be models at this thing so I did what felt more comfortable - found a few ‘real’ strangers to chat with and photograph. See, my fear isn’t of taking strong photographs of people or talking to strangers. The latter part is still hard, but I do it. The former part I know I have so much work to do, but yea, I’ve got some chops. My fear is of showing up and not having the creative juices to impress other creative people. Everyone seemed just so on point. They said things like ‘Fire’ (and I wondered if that’s some new version of lit) and "whats your IG” (the new gram?).

I hadn’t gotten up at 6 and trekked out to Coney Island just to question myself though, so I joined the fray. Initially I was hesitant - crowding around the dozen or so other photographers all going paparazzi with the few models (the ratio wasn’t great). But then when the initial buzz died down, I found a few models kinda hanging on their own. I found my in. I didn’t have poses but asked them to tell me stories about the beach, the water, being at a theme park. I was grateful for every minute we had together and I learned so much in just a few hours working with these talented folks. I had never worked with models before and it was a good lesson in shared-space, creative collaboration, and humility. Knowing when to direct and when to back off.

I’ll be on the lookout for more.

The power of a walk

In the last few years I’ve read quite a number of articles about the healing power of nature. While this might be one of the least interesting ‘discoveries’ of the last decade, I’ve realized over the last few months it’s also easy to overlook. It’s not enough to just be in nature. I go to the park and gardens that are just a few blocks from my apartment several times a week. And yet, when I took two hours to walk around the botanic gardens alone when it first opened, I felt healed in a way I deeply needed.

And there’s no doubt - having a camera helps. It helps to slow down and notice the details that the landscape architects and nature worked hand in hand to create. The camera also helps me to look at old things in new ways - trees with deeply expressive faces, plants with rich vein structures, roses that are lonely and out of place.

So yes, it’s cliche. But find your nature. Slow down. Touch it, smell it, soak it in with all of your senses. And then maybe turn your aperture.

Learning from misses

I recently came back from a trip to Park City, Utah. It is unquestionably a beautiful part of the world and yet I wasn’t able to see it creatively on this trip. My photos felt more post card than personal. More expected than intentional. More travel website than something for my portfolio.

It wasn’t the gear. I had a great camera, two lenses - including a beautiful wide angle. I had polarizing filters. I had gloves that helped me take photos even in the deep cold. I tried to push myself to see things from new perspectives - snuggling a bush here, aiming for the back light there, waking up for sunrise another time (well, a baby helps with that).

I was simultaneously struck by the vastness of the place yet unable to really capture that. Everywhere I looked beautiful landscapes were pocked by roads, modern houses, and other signs of humans taking over. Perhaps that could have been the theme that I lacked but at the time, it wasn’t what inspired me.

Despite my hopes for stronger images, I was still grateful to have my camera. To slow down and ask the questions that helped me see my surroundings in a new way. To be grateful for what I did have - and the people I was with. That’s a lesson perhaps more important than any one my images could have taught me - its more important to be grateful for the experiences we have, and to really experience them through all of our senses and feelings, than to ‘get’ a great capture.

Market personality

I’ve always been fascinated by the stories of the farmers and workers who come to New York’s farmers gardens. From 3rd generation farmers to trust-fund distillers to passionate fish mongers, each little tent holds such a rich story beneath. In the winter months, when they haul out their goods to stand in freezing temperatures for hours after getting up at 4am, my reverence and respect for them increases in multiples. A few weeks ago, I spent some time talking with a few of the farmers who do their thing through sleet, rain, snow, and just about everything in between.

Kurt and his family are fishmongers who usually post up at the Union Square greenmarket but come down to Grand Army Plaza during the winter when the ‘regular’ fish crew travels south for the winter.

I initially asked this man if I could take his portrait and he said “no,” so I lowered my camera and said “sure, no problem.” He then asked, “why are you interested anyway?” I told him his expression was particularly vivid and he said he’d been asked by a few other people in recent weeks as well. We kept talking for a few minutes and as I was walking away he said, “hey, if you still want you can take a couple of photos.” Sometimes people just want to be seen and heard.

A kind subject

I’m grateful that my cats are patient subjects. While I’ve often used them as subjects when experimenting with different techniques and with different gear, recently I wanted to take a different approach. I tried to see the light first - its direction, quality, tone, and quantity. I wanted to be guided less by the moves and poses of my subject and more by how the light and my cat interacted. Patience. Waiting. A click here, a click there. The series that you’ll find below felt different yet more true than much of my work recently. With less overall exposure, more contrast, a more matte feel, and a narrow focus on the interplay between light and subject, I was OK ‘breaking’ other ‘rules’ of composition.

2018 - A Year in Review

2018 was a year that stretched my photography skills like never before. I began to use speed lights as my client work moved indoors. I re-learned to crawl with the best of them as my littlest clients (and son) got even younger. Perhaps most important, I tackled new challenges of time management as a new dad, team leader, and photographer. So, to kick off 2019, I’m sharing a visual recap of all that 2018 brought in.

There were events, family photos, and a few side projects. There were hikes, food projects, garden wanderings, and some street venturing too. From Brooklyn to St Lucia and a lot in between, my camera came with me as a trusted friend. Someone who challenged me, pushed me, but ultimately helped me be my best self and see the world in a new way.

Thanks to everyone who’s followed along the blog here and I hope you continue to join me in the months to come.

The surreal, ‘public’ beaches of St Lucia

The year began with a getaway. A pre-baby moon if you will but also a kind of trip Katie and I almost never take. Don’t get me wrong - we love a good beach and splash in the ocean, but rarely seek those features out when we travel. St Lucia was simply sublime. Cliche perhaps, but we leaned into it. Not as much as, say, our resort neighbors who got out their sun oil, cubans, and rum punch by 10am at the beach. But hey, to each their own.

The vibrant colors begin to take shape as a cold spring season begins at the Gardens

I spent hours - probably days worth of time - in the Brooklyn Botanic Gardens. I especially loved the early spring - as buds burst forth after months of careful cultivation from the fall by gardeners who could only hope that nature would partner in their designs. Each week seem to bring new textures, colors, and choices and for me, getting close or and playing with movement felt like the truest way to capture the feeling of being both big and small, rushed and frozen all at once.

The Japanese Gardens were a favorite - finding new ways to see them was a challenge

As spring turned to summer, walks in the parks turned up fun surprises that you only get in a city where it’s entirely possible that a dog’s wedding gown was more expensive than my own wife’s. This was one of my favorite street photos of the year and for me it captured much in what was changing in my photography. While many others turned their lenses on the couple, or even the dog while it was in their laps, I tried to position myself to where it was going to go - to create the juxtaposition of the two brides. Of course I got lucky, but I also set myself to maximize that luck too.

But May also brought us other surprises - and while I won’t be posting any photos of our son yet, the cake below was our first celebration of the incredible news. He has brought so much joy and happiness into our world and it’s hard to imagine life before him.

Even with our new addition, I made time to reflect and explore the gardens in new ways. From macro to blur, I wanted to tell the story of change without losing the importance of the individual elements. Some of what I created felt dull and unoriginal, but the creative constraint helped me develop both new techniques and perspectives.

The summer also began my first family photos of the year - this one with our neighbors who had a child only two weeks apart from ours. Watching them grow up together has been hilarious and illuminating and I loved working with our friends for an intimate session in one of my favorite spots.

I was also thrilled to work with my close friends when they had their second child. We’ve been through so much together - our early years of teaching, weddings, illnesses, and just about everything inbetween. We’ve toasted each other, cried on each others shoulders and I loved working with them to capture this precious moment in time.

One of my favorite client groups to work with are entrepreneurs who are seeking ways to capture the value of their work in distinctive ways. From events to editorial pieces, portraits and headshots, I’ve been fortunate to have worked with a number of clients this year who have exciting new businesses and a powerful story to tell. My goal of making high quality photography at accessible prices makes me humbled to work with such hard working, creative folk.

Callan from a Spark Collective

Larnell and Jonathan at a Soulful Experience

As fall rolled in we took a trip to Lexington, KY and had a chance to soak up the quiet beauty of the fields and farms. I realized how long it had been since I had been out in more rural country that seeing even relatively small farms triggered quaint (and naive) thoughts about life away from Brooklyn.

As the year came to a close I did a final gig with a family who we’ve been close to for over a decade - the couple that introduced me to Katie and with whom we’ve stayed close ever since. Sharing their joy as they welcomed their baby into the world was icing on the cake.

Thanks for reading and joining in a complex year filled with joy, new beginnings, new ventures, and new ways of seeing familiar sites.

The garden turns to summer

The crowds thin out as spring turns to summer at the Brooklyn Botanic Gardens - the peak of the blossoms has passed and the roses have moved on. The lilacs are gone and the blue bells look like weeds. But there's still so much to enjoy.

These two were overly patient as I got up close during their date by the pool.

The rose garden is already on the way out but a few bushes are blooming strong. Gardeners spend the entire year preparing for a little over 2 weeks of transitional bloom, all trying to time it to maximize the bloom during one week when the garden puts on Rose Night. It's a wild endeavor - they can't see the fruits of their work for nearly a year, have little ways to tell if what they're doing is making a difference, but combine technology, tradition, and art to make it all come together.

The crane only comes out for the evening crowds.

Contact Sheet: Blooms in Motion

Using just a bit of camera motion while taking a frame can send a photo in many different directions. From the mildly edgy to the wildly abstract, very small movements make a lot of change. Here my goal was explore the different ways that a little bit of speed and different approaches to focus and shutter speed affected the final image. 

One thing that became apparent is that showing just a little blur was much worse than going overboard - it looked more like a mistake of craft rather than an intentional artistic move. I also found myself enjoying those where there was more of a clearly defined single element around which the background moved. Achieving this is quite difficult because it requires keeping the camera at a very steady plane while rotating the camera and moving it through while hitting the shutter. But it was worth it to learn a new method.

Contact Sheet: Japanese Gardens

In these contact sheets I've tried to capture the harmony and serenity of the Japanese Gardens at the Brooklyn Botanic Gardens while cutting down the noise of the intense crowds that were only ever inches away. You'll see them in some spots, but my goal was to recreate the 'peace by design' that evolves throughout the seasons here.

Some are 'classic', some are experimental, but all try to build on the designs that the garden itself is built around: reflection, space, flow, and clean lines.

Contact Sheet: A Doggie Wedding

Contact sheets aren't common in digital photography, but they were a staple of the film days. They were an expression of a photographer's method and intent and a way to interact with editors and art directors. If you haven't yet discovered Magnum Contact Sheets, you are missing one of the most extraordinary treasure troves of photographic history and lessons. Go buy it.

But the most important lesson from using contact sheets and watching how masters went to work is how they approach a scene: deliberately, patiently, with a vision but intent to experiment. Maybe the sheets contained a portrait session with a few different moments and poses or very different perspectives on a march as it progressed down the street. Or maybe they told the story of how a photographer would take 'sketches' to understand the scene and then focus in on one element.

And so I've attempted to re-create a little bit of that "contact sheet" feel here with a series featuring a few different stories explored through different perspectives.

Rites of a Spring Deferred

Spring's clearest symbols for me have for years been budding blossoms, matzoh, and hiking without base layers. But what happens when snow comes and the boldest of the buds shrivel and die? Perhaps it was an opportunity for a more nuanced look at the transition into spring.

Roasted carrots aren't what I usually think about when thinking about spring but when I saw a recipe for a harissa aioli with rosemary over roasted carrots I knew I had to try it at the seder I was hosting. And a seder - that beautiful mix of pagan and Jewish traditions and stories - well, that's about as springy as you get.

Taking a break from passover brought me to the Brooklyn Botanic Gardens. While usually things are just starting to pop up this time of year, this was definitely a shivery time for the brave buds. Magnolias, Cherry Blossoms, and more are getting ready for the big reveal after nearly a year of sleep. These first ones are likely to wilt and fall away as the temperatures dropped away again but the warmth and with it, life, is coming back later in the week.

I chose to focus on the contrast of the few buds emerging from the wiry sticks and stems blending macro and extreme open apertures.

Beautiful Island. Beautiful People.

On our first night we walked down to the beach after a brief storm had passed through. That was the cadence of the week: sun, storms, sun. Within those moments though, were startling visions where the light would play in fantastic ways. 

Locals are used to the rain patterns - some keep umbrellas around, others ignore it. This man rocked a hat that was both functional and eye-catching. I had trouble understanding him but he loved being able to see his photo in the back of the camera.

The people on the island knew how to embrace color - young and old. Their houses were colorful; their clothes were colorful. They mimicked the vibrant colors of the nature surrounding them and it transformed people and place.

Religion plays a strong role across the island but everyone has their own version. These two women represented many of the different contrasts on how people practiced. More to come on photographing in sacred spaces - a topic that has been on my mind for years.

With thousands of acres of protected rainforest in the middle of the island, only a handful of towns and cities dot the coastline. It's an extraordinary place and each view is distinctively dramatic. One of the technical challenges of photographing the island was dealing with the haze - a wash of sand blown over the ocean from the Sahara. A polarizer helped but even after I worked hard to bring the image back to the emotions I felt looking out over the sea and land. 

A note about headshots

That's me. And it's a fairly terrible photo. You can barely differentiate my skin from the wood log in the back. My eyes are dark shadows hidden by my brow and my neck looks like a blob of black fuzz. But it also feels a bit like me. It's a genuine smile and there are some tell tale signs. More on this later.

That's my wife, Katie. She is extraordinarily photogenic and while we weren't planning for it, this works on a lot of different levels. Sure, there's a 'one way' sign going into her ear (not ideal but kind of funny if you think about it) but the time of day works in our favor and her choice of outfit and earrings really bring out the color in her eyes. This was actually a pretty spontaneous shot, but again, it works because you can feel she's excited for the night ahead.

That's my friend Callan who I worked with recently to create some headshots for her website. Here we were going for something specific - a reflection both of who she is and how she approaches her work as a coach. We wanted to balance a sense of confidence with an approach-ability and comfort. Humble yet wise. A get-stuff-doner but patient. There's a certain alertness and inquisitiveness in her eyes that's brought out by a slight lean-in. It's the subtlest of movement, but quite clearly there.

Sometimes the background adds significant value as well. Here my friend Makeda was getting ready to start a new job doing work with housing and community development and wanted to capture the spirit of that work in her portrait. While we fought the weather a bit, this more environmental portrait was integral for the look she wanted and the story she was telling.

My approach to headshots and commercial portraits have evolved over time but ultimately boils down to the same key elements: the best way to tell someone's story and make the viewer feel what they feel. In that way it's different from a lot of photography where the goal is to express more about what 'I' feel as the photographer. Here, it's to understand, extract, and capture that moment that's most revealing of what lies beneath.

Up close and personal with nature

Sprawling landscapes. Magnificent sunsets. Wild animals. Exquisite patterns and colors. Nature photography has a lot to offer. I've been trying to dig deeper and find new ways to understand both my love for nature and photography. Getting closer was certainly an option, and with the help of a macro lens, I've been trying to get even more in the weeds. Not abstract per se, just a deeper focus on the details that escape the eye.

I find myself drawn to interesting contrasts and odd formations that seem other-wordly. In the photo above, I have no idea what it is but it almost looks like a living animal - some sort of bug that's taken over the rotting stick.

Admittedingly, one of the challenges I have is how much to bring into focus. on the one hand one of the things that attracts me about macro photography is the ability to isolate from a noisy scene. But at wide aperatures, sometimes I feel like I overdo it. Always learning.

A Brooklyn Family Tale

When a friend approached me asking if I'd be interested in doing a photo shoot for their just-turned 1 year old, I told them I'd love to. Before we got started, I asked two simple question that helped me better understand how to approach the gig: why? why were you doing this and why me?

The first may seem like an obvious question - families get portraits all the time. And, as I mentioned here, finding a way to grab that fleeting moment as children age is a common desire. But each family has their own spin on the 'why', and when my friend and his wife explained theirs, I was on board.

Curious and fierce

But they 'why me' surprised me a bit and hints at the notion that sometimes you need other people to help see who you are. They said they loved how close and revealing my portraits felt of others - from strangers to clients - and wanted to really show off the personality of their one year old who was just beginning to show off her own stripes. I admit that's not how I would have thought about the session beforehand and the answer helped me better understand how my approach could work in family photography.

Timeless

As we went outside on a cold day, it was trickier to get those up close shots with more layers on, but more important to capture the family as a whole and how they live in their neighborhood.

Tears of joy (or cold)

And I'll never get tired of getting close when their eyes glow like that.

Sunstars

On a beautiful fall day after Thanksgiving I was tracing my steps in the woods where I had been dozens of times before. Looking for something new to focus on, I noticed how low the sun was already getting and how it would flicker through the trees. It was a ripe opportunity to try out some sun-starring. 

I don't usually like making sun starts the subject of a photo or give it this much prominence but loved the way the sun and glow of the leaves came together. Not thrilled with the composition of the first one but it began giving me some other ideas.

Dropping lower, I found I could capture more of what I was feeling with stronger foreground elements and a wider composition including two framing trees. I was also able to get a clearer sun star here with the help of a little deflection from trees in the distance. I made some editing choices to bring out the shadows in the tree and rocks and drop some of the sides down, but wanted to avoid an HDR feel. The multitude of sticks distract me but I like the composition better on this one. Improving one day at a time.

Point of View

I took lots of shots of that pumpkin. Maybe 20. But in the end, everything seemed boring in comparison to this one. I still don't love it, but as I moved around it I kept thinking more about the importance of how our perspective of the same thing changed by just a few inches can transform a scene. A metaphor for life perhaps. Or just a sage lesson in photography.

Sometimes you don't have time to try out different angles. You see (sense?) a moment unfolding and move quickly to capture it in a way that best demonstrates how you feel. I'm not in love with this photo, but I keep coming back to it because of the dynamism of the 3 different shapes in motion (friends to the left, child, and friends to the right). It comes together because the folks sitting on the steps are kind enough to stay put to add some contrast to all that movement.

Here I tried going way low, because, well, why not. For me, I was drawn to how the water seemed to flow from the rocks and snake through the garden almost as if it were feeding the trees in the distance (PS - it is. This is exactly what the Botanic Garden designed the water garden to do but it's pretty cool to feel that in one scene).

And 'underneath' too? Sure.

On the cusp of fall

Fall is trying hard. But 70 degree days in the middle of October make it difficult. It won't be long before the trees shed their green and yellow leaves. While leaf peepers will be disappointed, their loss is insignificant - pithy even. Hurricanes, floods, and wildfires around the globe tell a deeper story of destruction, neglect, death, and change.

Urban castles

While walking around the park I looked for lines, shapes, and light to tell a different story of a city in transition. Shifting to monochrome helped deepen the mood, focus on composition, while setting aside a color palette that betrayed its season.

Through the looking glass

A word on glamping

We're pretty anti-RV. It's not because we don't like the idea of it - it's that when we're camping and we see families roll up in their beasts, it's hard not to judge. Can you really unplug and connect with nature in the same way when you're rolling around in a 16-wheel portable home?

But glamping - or glamorous camping - is a Cerberus of its own design. We first experienced it on a safari in Tanzania (apparently this is also a thing in upstate NY). Tents with beds, chairs, and a potty! We thought it was a one time thing. But then we discovered Tentrr and decided to give it a chance. It was an inbetween - a few creature comforts but still rustic. 

If you've ever camped on a large campground before, you know that there's a strange comraderie that develops when you eliminate doors, fences, and any veneer of real privacy and protection. A thin sheet of plastic is all that separates you from not only your neighbors, but whatever nature has in store for the night. It's a powerful and humbling feeling.

So I was both amazed and surprised by the rush of emotions that I felt laying in a tent - yes, on a air mattress - surrounded by nothing. It was at first exhilarating and freeing. And then, just as we were becoming adjusted to our settings we encountered our other neighbors.

Bear poop is a funny thing. It's cute at first when you see the undigested berries and imagine a cute little bear nibbling on nearby plants having the time of its life. And then you remember the 'nearby' part.  From that moment on I was sorely missing my camping neighbors - even the ones with RVs.

What's odd about this particular experience is that we've been deep in bear country before. Not just in the Catskills with far less than a thick canvas tent to protect us, but in Grizzly country too. We took the typical precautions - singing silly songs, clapping, bear bagging our food - but it never really invoked deep fear. The one time we actually saw some bears I'll admit I did the stupidest thing possible and tried to get closer for a photo. So why did an unseen bear provoke such different reactions?

I think part of it is the pressure that being in a place that should be peaceful, meditation-friendly, harmony-bringing can also be straight up spooky. Seeing bear poop should also trigger some amount of reasonable fear. That's a good survival instinct. But ultimately it was the pressure to be at peace that made the adjustment so difficult. So when I awoke (and woke up my partner) at 5:30 fearful that something was outside, I realized I had a lot of work to do. It was hopefully the one and only time I was scared of the sun.