But first, an oldies but goodie...
The very first trick I learned, when I decided to try to
take decent photographs, was to have two trees standing there to frame the
image I was attempting to capture, cause this just naturally makes things work.
Of course, the light has to be perfect, and sometimes that means you must wait
an hour, or several, or even come back in April if you want to get it right.
I was just sitting at the table in our trailer, and I grew
tired of staring at the magazine before me, even though it was a good magazine,
and my eyes went to the window, and the image was right there. The view had
been there all day, but with the descent of the sun into the west, the shadows
worked their magic, and what had been beautiful, but a bit flat, suddenly
emerged as breathtaking.
I used to wonder how folks could travel to wonderful places,
and then look at them through windows. In self-proclaimed moral superiority, I
camped out, using a tent only if sleeping under the stars was completely
intolerable. I wandered about, outside in the air and sunlight, amidst the
scents and sounds. But here I sat in the trailer, looking through a window at
all this beauty. Had I gone soft?
Well maybe, just a little. But since the wind had been
dancing through the campground with such enthusiasm that I hadn't seen a single
bird beat their wings once as they sailed by, I will chalk this up to survival.
Sitting outside on such a day could not be described as pleasant, while in the
trailer we had merely been “well ventilated”
A picture may be worth a thousand words, but my editor will
allot me only half that, and I have wasted most of those already. So listen
carefully.
The two trees were some version of cypress I think, with
many gnarled trunks and branches. Both had been modified by decades of wind
blast. They leaned a bit. The sand dune past the trees blocked my view of the
surf, but just a few degrees to the right the wind had charged the sea into
foamed fury that beat on the beach at the mouth of the creek. The dune had been
transformed by those aforementioned shadows into the image that so enthralled
me, and the waving branches formed a living frame. Usually I have to move
around to line things up, but this time it was simply perfect.
A bleached-gray wooden picnic table in the foreground lent
perspective and depth. And the April-green vegetation donated color, along with
the red leash we left tied to the table for tethering the dogs, even though we
never used it. I stared at the scene, finding myself awed yet again by a place
I have seen many times before. The raven that perched on the bush on the very
top of the dune, and cast the perfect silhouette against the blue sky, was
frosting on the cake. It was one of those take-your-breath-away moments that
make all the rest worth tolerating.
Now, I suppose I could have simply snapped the photo, and
sent it in instead of writing all that, but I kinda forgot the camera, so this
will have to do.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
I brought back this old column because I couldn't find the
other. That other tried to explain the difference between a picture, and a
photograph. In it I defined a picture as an image captured by a camera, most
any image. Such an image could be that of Aunt Eunice at the church social, of
the kids in the backyard, or those millions of memories from a million
vacations. I saw value in pictures, which is appropriate since I've taken my
share of pictures. More than my share.
A photograph on the other hand, had to be something better,
or different, or even inspired. It had to be a capture of exceptional beauty,
perfectly composed, perfectly lighted,,,,,,,exceptional beauty caught at an
exceptional moment. A photograph was a picture that made you say, “Wow!”
Back when I found the time to take many pictures, I
constantly aspired to capture photographs, and on occasion I did. Coming home,
I paraded them before my friends, and some brought forth the “Wow!”. And my
friends would ask, “Dude..... How do you take such beautiful photographs?”
Well, first you must travel to beautiful places.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Day three dawned quietly upon southern Utah. Twas hard to
imagine that the state could harbor any beauty that could trump the previous
day, but that piece of the Beehive State scheduled next would. I kinda knew
this, because I had passed through once before, some twenty years earlier. I
couldn't remember all the details, so there were moments that were as much a
surprise to me as they were to Joie. So I made sure my camera was handy, and
Joie saw that her phone was fully charged, for that is her camera of choice.
Two steps out of the motel room door presented a striking mountain range
catching dawn light to the north, and yet another red sandstone cliff to the
south. Here we go again.
We motored past pleasant small farms, with the green of
well-irrigated pastures and trees in autumn color. Streambeds glimmered with
willow and cottonwood. The mountains around were tipped in snow. And here and
there the exposed rocks of red, gray, and various purples poked their heads out
to watch us speed past.
Where we had looked down into Bryce Canyon and its
kaleidoscope of colors and shapes, on this day we looked up instead at the
gather of garishly painted cliffs and towers in Kodachrome Basin. Several
pixels bit the dust there.
We entered a sparse forest, leaving the colored rocks
behind. My memory blurred, and I stated that all we'd have for the next two
hours would be a pleasant cruise in the trees. My memory erred.
Shortly, large eroded cliffs and a curved canyon resplendent
in riverbed and golden leaves led to the huge reef near the town of Escalante.
Then we crested a ridge, and the viewpoint parking area beckoned. Pulling off
the road, we noted that the view indeed opened. It spread before us in a 180
degree, toe tip to horizon explosion of beauty. While the engine ticked quietly
behind us, we stood looking, silent, mouths gaping, forgetting to breathe.
Intense blue sky and fairy clouds. Hundred mile views.
Colored rock in cliff and dome, patterns in the rock, rock carved by canyons,
speckled with sparse green trees, the Grand Staircase lay naked in the sun. She
was beyond gorgeous. And I remembered none of this from my last visit.
Our road pierced this wonder, narrow and sinuous, with the
occasional guardrail when there was room, and else wise not at all forgiving of
the careless. The view was on both sides as we dropped into the place. Each
turn brought awe, ooo's and ahs, giggles. We each pointed out wonders at the
same time, on opposite sides of the vehicle. We laughed. We may have cried at
times. We lost our breath. Utterly spent, we followed the road as it climbed
out of this wonderland, and then crawled the spine of a ridge with merely
wonderful views that almost disappointed after that which we just left behind.
Neither of us had taken even one picture. The camera and the
phone sat unused. We openly admitted that they were not up to the task. The
place as a whole was simply too massive, too beautiful, too overwhelming. If we
had a year, and could pick the best pieces, a million photographs lay hidden in
the Golden Staircase for us to discover. But they would all be pieces rather
than the whole of the place.
So we'll just have to go back and do it correctly.....soon.
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