Into the woods

October 22, 2019

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.

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.

The garden turns to summer

July 3, 2018

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

May 10, 2018

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.

Rites of a Spring Deferred

April 16, 2018

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.

Up close and personal with nature

January 26, 2018

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.

Sunstars

December 5, 2017

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.

On the cusp of fall

October 24, 2017

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.

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.

A word on glamping

October 17, 2017

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.

Slowing down with nature

September 5, 2017

I find there is nothing better than a walk in the woods to settle and orient. Whether its because the woods harkens to our inner forager brain or because noticing the small things can help distract from the big ones - I don't really care. A walk in the woods can rejuvenate, replenish, and refill.

But do you notice how easy it is to walk without noticing? For me at least, a camera in my hand significantly shifts the level of detail I see in the world. It opens me to see opportunity in a snapped branch or a flower saying farewell to the summer. The dials and knobs are reminder of my creative capacity, the eyepiece a hint at the power of imaginative composition.

Over the past year I've attempted to see and photograph nature as a portrait photographer would. To sense its emotions, build a connection, find the right moment, and open myself to new angles of perception. From mountain silhouettes to intimate flowers, the various guises of nature present a continuous challenge. Not just to photographers but to all - to be able to see them with fresh eyes, to visit the same place week after week with an ever growing sense of possibility. It's hard. It takes discipline. And a lot of the time I suck at it - my memory card filled with nothing but the same but in different shades of flora.

There were no gems on this walk. No photographs I'll print or hang on my wall. But the walk itself was all I needed. And sometimes that is the point.

Garden in flux

June 6, 2017

One of the wonders about the Brooklyn Botanic Gardens is how quickly it morphs from week to week. In late May, the Cherry Blossoms steal the show and by the time mid-June rolls in it's the Rose Garden that gets the spotlight with many cameos from other blooms in between.

I love watching plants in transition, like the rose above, with some buds just making an appearance as others are in near full bloom. Some plants shine for only a week while others last nearly the whole season. And behind the scenes is a team that has to think and plan through this change, letting some plants come and go naturally while replacing others seemingly overnight.

The Botanic Gardens does more than tell the story of seasons changing. It also brings out the lives of those who come to the garden. From your day-dreamers to your artists, from bird-watchers to photographers and everyone else in between, the Gardens offer a respite from the city that simultaneously celebrates its urbanity (if that's a word) and connection with the ecosystem.

Cherries Arrive

April 25, 2017

Across the East coast, the arrival of the cherry blossoms harbor the beginning of something special - spring, with its festivals, outdoor eating, picnicking and more is here in earnest.

Well, that's the idea anyway. When the Brooklyn Botanic Gardens opened their doors to members last week for a special 'pre-viewing' of the cherry blossoms, they looked almost comically out of place. As though, like a bear popping up too early from its hibernation, they shriveled up and cuddled close to stay warm.

This weekend - when the BBG hosts its annual Sakura Matsuri festival - the weather should be great and I have little doubt that the cherries will find a way to rise. But I couldn't help but feel as we walked around the garden last week that they wanted a little more time to sleep, a little more time to dream of better times.

Vancouver

March 6, 2017

When snow-capped mountains meet rain forest, nature expresses itself in dazzling arrays of emotions, sounds, and sights. Where fresh fish, local and sustainable cooking, artisanal craftsmanship, and heavy Asian influences mix, food is distinct and memorable (huzzah sriracha maple bacon!). And when Canadians are Canadians, they'll climb over ledges of snow to save sunglasses for you.

For my first visit to the Pacific Northwest, I had no idea what to expect and Vancouver opened my eyes to a culture connected to nature in ways I've never encountered before. I go to the Catskills, Hudson Highlands, and Adirondacks often and love the hikes whose trail heads spawn just a few hours from New York City. But that connection is different. It's in everything from the prevalence of bike lanes to how the city gets its electricity. It's about the size of the parks and commitment to land preservation. It's about sustainable development that's good for both the city and in reverence for the land around it.

From our first day out on the rocky beaches of the shore to exploring Vancouver island, I was struck by the lush greens and moody sprawling skies. For those of us used to the muted palette of the east coast mountain ranges, this was like walking through an enchanted forest. Old growth forests protect a vast ecosystem of moss, lichen, bulbs, and so much more. Even a little mountain lion pee.

Canada Geese in their natural habitat before getting bundled into jackets

As I tuned into the subjects and light that drew my eye, I realized that being present meant more than communing with the Earth. As I slowed down to take in different vistas, I also began to tune out those around me. I love how photography has made me more aware of my surroundings, but as I went deeper into composition I also lost the main reason I was out here in the first place: travel with my partner and friends.

I'm still learning how to strike a balance - one where I can be attentive to and embrace my love of photography but also where I'm fully present with the people I love. Maybe it's about making clearer distinctions about when I'm in the "photography zone" or setting aside specific times of the day for it. Clearly something to work on. But I learned over the trip that as much as I love photography, the greater need is to be fully with the people I love. For while these moments and memories give me real pleasure, it's the moments with people that cap them all.

Snow hiking

February 28, 2017

After my trip to Montreal I realized that I wasn't particularly good about working in the snow. I love hiking in the snow, and I've sometimes brought along a little point and shoot on excursions, but the snow adds both some technical and compositional challenges that in the past I had just kinda ignored.

Exposure, white balance, contrast, and visual weight all act totally different when whole scenes are covered in white. Instead of getting technical, I'll share more about how a few hikes in Vermont helped me use the snow constraints to take stronger images.

Depth of Field in the Snow

While there's no 'right' way to shoot a landscape or nature, many photographers and most guides you'll read nudge toward near-infinity focusing. I'll often take this approach with a wide shot where I want the details and textures to pop, but with snow you lose so much of that. I took a different tack on these trips - aim small with a wide aperture.

I found this approach helped me focus more on choosing strong foreground objects and also pushed me to take more extreme angles. More importantly, it helped me see the nature around me in new ways, slowing my eye and pushing me to stay in the moment.

Post Processing Matters

While Fuji JPEGs are great, the snow requires a more nuanced approach. In particular, I knew the dynamic range of my camera is pretty solid but once highlights are blown there's no bringing them back. So in almost every case I underexposed a bit so that I could pull up the parts of the scene that really drew the eye - that conveyed the story I wanted to tell.

There are probably other ways to do it, but for me this was the best way for me to be honest about what I felt. Paradoxically, that 'honesty' required a bit more post-processing work but I don't think that's a bad thing. I've learned to embrace the approach that post-processing is part of the workflow that takes your intent and turns it into art. My favorite photographer and author on this subject is David duChemin and I highly encourage you to take a look at his work.

And of course kids in the snow are extra cute.

The bad stuff

February 13, 2017

That's a bad picture. There are many things wrong with it - the composition, the focus, the perspective. But there's also one big right thing about it - it was an attempt. You'll never get a good photo if you don't pick up the camera and shoot.

It's one of the earliest digital photos that I have in my storage drive from a shoe-string trip my wife (then girlfriend) took to Ecuador in 2006. I don't really know what I intended to do with the photo - I think I was intrigued by the way the dew played off the colorful flower petals balanced by a strong green background. But I would approach this very differently today were I back in the same scene.

And that's what this post is about - the value of looking at your bad stuff and why you shouldn't get rid of it.

The bad photos are helpful because they show what you were interested in but where you missed artistically. They show the moods you were trying to convey, the things that drew your eye, but maybe you failed to pull into a coherent and strong story.

The photo above is a lot stronger, but still misses on some important marks. Perhaps most important, it pulls out emotion and tells a story. The letters on the bench hint at a welcoming area or port and the seals taking their nap hint at the whole oddity of the islands. It's "cute", but it also draws out a laugh, a smile, a hint of curiosity, and feeling of playfulness and serenity of nature mixed with people.

But again the composition is weak. The seal's face is cut off and when their connection is one of the most important parts of the scene, that's a big miss. Everything is super centered which requires the viewer to use a lot of energy to move eyes to the edges.

Good colors and a feeling of peace? Sure. Everything else about it is crap. But I know I'm drawn to sunsets (so original, right?) and being at sea so I'm continuing to explore ways to explore that scene with greater creativity and technical skill.

If you take the time to back-up and store your images in a way that's easy to retrieve them (think cloud services), I strongly recommend you spend some time in your archives and look for the bad stuff. It's so valuable as a learning tool.

Reframing Nature

October 18, 2016

Expression can be found everywhere - in the lines of our neighbor's face and in a fading flower's bud. I hadn't thought about plants, landscapes, and other stills in such a 'personal' way before but it became ever more clear to me as I learned more about composition and explored my own voice and vision.

Was there a coherent theme behind the stories I was trying to tell with my portraits as well as my nature, landscape, and urban photography?

For much of my work the answer was no. But that was because the photographs themselves were crap. My best work shared consistent themes across the pieces, whether it was the rush of a creek, the wry smile of a stranger, or a bicycle abandoned on the street - stories, strong composition, and a certain something unexpected.

I mean that last part literally. Especially with the proliferation of Instagram and friends we've taken photos of just about everything. What remains, and David duChemain has said this much better than I will here, is art. In some ways it's like when the French remade their cuisine post WWII with the scraps of food around - essentially what became the hallmark of Western cuisine for a century. The basics will be remade over and over, but our job as photographers is to find not just the 'best' expression of it, but 'ours.'