Sea Otter (Enhydra lutris) - Elkhorn Slough, CACanon 7D, Canon 300 f2.8L IS, Canon 1.4x converter: 1/500 @ f4.5 — Sea Otter *(Enhydra lutris)* - Elkhorn Slough, CA
Canon 7D, Canon 300 f2.8L IS, Canon 1.4x converter: 1/500 @ f4.5

Zen and the Art of Contentment

April 19, 2014 in April 2014

“When you are content to be simply yourself and don’t compare or compete, everybody will respect you. Lao Tzu”

A photographer friend messaged me two weeks back about a great horned owl nest in a nearby nature center. He sent a few photos of the mother and owlets, and I knew I had to check it out. Although I was buried in grading by the “A-job,” I dropped everything, grabbed my pack, tripod and sped off to see the owls. I arrived anticipating there would be a few photographers, but was shocked by the spectacle. Sectioned off by yellow crime-scene tape, a mob of three-legged platforms supported giant eyes that pointed uniformly towards a nest in the distance. Most of my colleagues were shooting with optics that made me look as if I was part of the amateur hour. I squeezed myself between two 500mm lenses and shot with the knowledge that nothing new would be photographed today. I was destined to repeat the work of others, and felt burdened by “inadequate” equipment. Plagued by a desire to distinguish myself from the masses, “the urban wildlife spectacle” is now neatly penciled between root canal and marathons on my list of things to avoid.

Who is my audience and why do I pursue this craft?

These poignant questions pop into my head like a compulsion to check the stove before leaving home. When I compare my work to the masses, I see an inadequate hodgepodge of photographs that say little more than, “this is what I saw.” Yet, I am mature enough to recognize that my self-deprecation is the normal response of a perfectionist that cares too much. The library of images I have cultivated say far more than the words I write, and these photographs reflect both the art and reality in the life I have lived. My critical flaw is that I seek validation for work that is meaningful to me but meaningless to others. Such measurebating is a poison, an impish urge that frustrates the creative that lurks within.

So here lies the dilemma that challenges my rational and empirical mind. I don’t sell many photographs, I no longer pursue publications and my stock images lack value in a world where “free” is the new norm. Despite these realities, I continue spend countless hours chasing wildlife and investing my hard-earned salary traveling the world in search of brilliant light. My behavior is perfectly irrational, yet the compulsion to make images has never been stronger. This “work” I do is a mode of self-expression, a release and a vacation from the constrained realities of daily life. To compare and compete taints the experience and restricts the opportunity to be content.

Utterly Otter Art (Enhydra lutris) - Elkhorn Slough, CATopaz Black and White II - Diffusion w/ color — Utterly Otter Art *(Enhydra lutris)* - Elkhorn Slough, CA
Topaz Black and White II - Diffusion w/ color

Tools or Toys

April 12, 2014 in April 2014

Not to judge, but let’s face it, photographers can be divided into opposing camps, those who shoot and those who collect. No doubt there is a bit of geek and a bit of artist in every shooter, but many tend to favor one over the other. Like most dichotomies, it’s challenging for the true partisan to understand the other point of view.

Gear heads are enamored with form and precision of cameras and rarely take their toys far from home for fear of the inevitable blemish or scar. Satisfied to own the best copies of a lens and the highest resolution sensor, these folks will gladly shoot targets and tree bark just for the bragging rights. At the other extreme is the abuser for whom dents and scratches are worn like badges of honor. Astonished by the resilience of the tools, these photographers push their gear towards the breaking point.

As I get older and work harder to convey my vision through photography, I have abandoned my fear of loss. These days I think about the shots I’ve missed and the ones I want rather than the equipment I use. The precision of fine optics continues to fascinate, but it is the product of this precision that I now choose to celebrate.

The accompanying image was photographed near Rincón de la Vieja National Park in Costa Rica. I used my tripod to get a low, a cable release to minimize vibration and a variable neutral density filter to create a long exposure. I began my hike down to the river floor at 5:30 a.m. where I positioned the camera and lens in the darkness of the morning. I waited 30 minutes for the sun to move just high enough to produce a bit of reflected light. Careful framing and pre-planning allowed me to take only three pictures before catching this “keeper.”

Black-handed Spider Monkey (Ateles geoffroyi) - Guanacaste National Park, Costa Rica — Black-handed Spider Monkey *(Ateles geoffroyi)* - Guanacaste National Park, Costa Rica

Make Luck Happen

April 04, 2014 in April 2014

Want to see a look of consternation, say the following to me...

“You must have a good camera.”

“That’s a lucky shot.”

First, I do have good cameras, but I’m confident that I can be as productive with “entry-level” gear as I am with my current line-up. I began shooting in the days of film and manual focus, and only embraced digital cameras in 2004. Prior to the switch, I employed a variety of technologies that included autofocus 35mm cameras, panoramic rangefinders, and 6x6 reflex system bodies. While I am certain that I was as lucky then as I am now, I also know that I practiced using my cameras just like I do today with my current stable of digital SLR’s.

The “lucky shots” definitely have an element of good fortune, but this luck is cultivated. I deliberately put myself in the right place at the right time, know my lenses and understand exposure theory. Recognizing what the meter says, the “best” AF-mode and where to put my body when “luck” happens, is as much about practice as it is happenstance.

Today’s post is a spider monkey (Ateles geoffroyi) caught traveling between forest fragments. Minutes before the picture was made, the entire troop was moving through the woods at a distance. The pace of their journey was fast and furious, so I watched the troop behavior with curiosity as my students and fellow travelers took off in attempt to catch the action. I remained patient, and at one point noticed that a juvenile had become separated from the group. Having seen this before, I knew that an adult would change its trajectory in an attempt to retrieve the stranded companion. This is when I began my move as well. Watching the monkeys traverse the trees, I recognized that there was only one path back to the larger group. With the forest bisected by a clearing, the gap was the one place I could catch a clean shot. Despite being in the right place, I managed to take only four pictures as I slowly panned the gap between the branches.... I’d say that this was just another “lucky shot!”

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