Click for Larger Image - Frozen Bubbles, Split Rock Lighthouse State Park, MinnesotaWhile it usually is (and has been for me) an undertaking of great joy, attempting to seriously pursue art-making can also be a rough road at times. There's the constant expenditure of energy, the need to maintain focus and drive while maintaining day to day living, the seemingly constant doubts and misgivings, and the never-ending stream of unanswered questions. 2009 proved to be a year for reflection and self investigation. As the year progressed, I found myself increasingly uncertain of my direction on multiple fronts. Instead of being able to find a job in the field that I've been formally trained for (I only just graduated from college in December 2008), I found myself in a completely different line of work in order to make ends meet. Simultaneously, I have found myself increasingly unhappy with my color photography - right on the heels of finishing my first color photographic project. Ironic.

One thing I have learned, is that my gut instinct is usually right when it comes to my photographic endeavors. I tend to make mistakes when I listen to my head rather than my heart. So, the decision has been made. For the entirety of 2010, I will be photographing exclusively in black and white. No more slide film, no more conversions from color. I'm jumping in with both feet - or perhaps doing a wild belly flop. I don't know where this will lead; if it's a total disaster, I can move back to color in 2011. That said, in my heart of hearts, I don't think it will be. So far, my results have been very promising and I've been really enjoying the greater opportunity for interpretation in the printing process. Here's to the future.

Now just to figure out how to approach at-home film developing...



Click for Larger Image - Sunset, Ahsub Lake, Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness, Minnesota

You will need Adobe Acrobat 7.0 or higher. The ebook is best viewed in full screen mode (it will ask to go full screen by default), and can be easily navigated by clicking your mouse, rolling the mouse wheel, or by using the arrow keys on your keyboard.

If you are interested in viewing the portfolio, you can click on the "ebooks" tab at the top of my web page, or use the hyperlink provided here:

Two Thousand Nine - A Photographic Year in Review

Click for Larger Image - After the Rain, Temperance River, Minnesota“Are you waiting for the light?” A voice said from behind me.

I turned and saw the fisherman I had passed a few minutes ago, further down the river. He seemingly hadn't noticed my passage, being fully engrossed in his task. Apparently he had decided to try his luck on a different pool.

“Yes. It was perfect when I set up, and then of course, these clouds rolled in.” I said with a grin, pointing at the rain clouds, now almost overhead.

“Hmm,” he muttered with a chuckle, “What were you hoping for?”

“Well, I visualized the scene as being shaded by the clouds, but still having blue reflections on the rocks from some open patches of sky. The image is going to need some color contrast to hold together in my opinion. But so it goes. How's the fishing been? Catch anything”

Large raindrops began to fall around us. Instinctively I capped my lens.

“It's been more casting than catching, that's for sure.” He replied. “But this is a beautiful river, and I'm more than happy to spend a morning here, no matter what happens.”

“Indeed, I oftentimes feel the same way with what I do. Thankfully there's fulfillment in the process, and it's undoubtedly a privilege to simply be out here. This is truly a beautiful place.”

He nodded knowingly and glanced back at the sky. “Well, I guess I'll leave you to it. Be patient. Things will work out as they're meant to.”

“Thanks, you too.” I said, eying his fly rod. “Enjoy the rest of your time out, and good luck.”

With a smile he walked on, leaving both of us to continue searching the dark pools of the Temperance in our own ways.

I eyed the scene before my lens, now a muted gray and dripping wet. On the far horizon a hint of intense, robin's egg blue was barely visible above the tree line. The light I had been hoping for? Perhaps. The sun was behind me and the clouds seemed to be moving in the right direction. There was nothing to do except wipe some of the water off my field camera and wait.

Soon, the rain stopped and it became apparent that the clear portion of sky was actually moving in my direction. I realized that the rain drenched rock would act as even more of a reflector than I had originally envisioned. Excited, I doubled checked the focus and loaded a sheet of film into the camera. Lens closed? Check. Aperture set? Check. Shutter speed set? Check. Shutter armed for firing? Check.

I breathed a contented sigh. Usually it seems that when an image isn't going to work, it lives up to that expectation. As such, it's always good to have a reward every now and then. Morning sunlight began to appear on the trees along the far ridge opposite to me. I was ready. The window of transitory light, caused by clearing cloud cover oftentimes is only a matter of seconds.

Sunlight began to trickle into the scene, slowly at first and then with seemingly increasing speed, warming the light and adding dimensionality to the elements before me. Closer and closer. Now! Carefully, I squeezed the cable shutter release. Quickly, the sheet of film was sealed back into its packet and removed from the holder, a secondary sheet was then placed back into the holder. I fired it was well, though I realized the quality of light had already change in the time it had taken me to change film. Then, it was over. The clouds moved fully past the sun, and the entire scene became intensely lit.

Click for Larger Image - Predawn, John Lake, Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness, MinnesotaNot long ago, I was engaging with a friend in some of the stereotypical gear talk that we photographers so frequently find ourselves amuck. The banter was of the usual stuff: lenses, filters, sensors, camera bodies. As someone who virtually never works with 35mm digital (or 35mm film), I admittedly hold a bit of an outsiders perspective, even though I am usually very much up to date regarding “gear”. Generally these talks are cheap entertainment, but I was a bit caught off guard this time around. What struck me during the conversation had nothing to do with the gear itself. Instead, I found myself increasingly aware of the other photographer's belief that a new gear purchase would somehow throw wide the floodgates of creativity, unleashing a new era in their work. In other words, the notion that if only they had a different tool, they could actually begin making significant photographs.

This belief is nothing new. It has however been pushed heavily by the marketing departments of various equipment manufacturers. Photography is big business. If you don't believe me, go take a look at the most recent issue of virtually any mainstream photographic magazine and decide for yourself. We're up to our necks in gear talk. All the while, the creative process, the place where the proverbial rubber actually meets the road, is almost never discussed in any depth. Admittedly, it's easy as a photographer to become emotionally attached to our gear. After all, we depend on it for our images, and we want to believe we are working with the best that we can afford. We don't want to be “held back”. This is as true of large format photographers as it is of 35mm photographers.

So does an available focal length range of 14mm-500mm make for a more creative photographer? I have yet to see evidence that it does. On the other hand, I have seen evidence that it makes for a more conflicted photographer. There is a creative freedom to be found within accepted limitations. By using less gear, we can oftentimes let the periphery of the tool we use fall by the wayside and concentrate on what's before us. Photographic history certainly attests to that. At some point, any photographer worth their salt stands up, dusts themselves off, and gets on with the real work: image making. Furthermore, it seems wiser to invest time out in the field discovering one's personal vision, than it does to save that same money and buy a new lens. No piece of camera equipment is inherently creative, large format or otherwise. We must find that within ourselves. Creativity is to be discovered, not purchased.

Click for Larger Image - Thimbleberry Leaves, Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness, MinnesotaIt suddenly dawns on me that my back aches. Instructions to self: step out from under the dark cloth, straighten back, stretch, breath. The brightness of the light outside of my little isolationist chamber blinds me for a moment and then begins to feel normal. Now standing straight, I gaze down at the thimbleberry bush in front of me. The color temperature of the light has changed since when I first began composing, and I glance down at the watch I use to time my exposures. Over half an hour has past; a long time to be staring at a few leaves. Within my realm of perception it has felt like only a minute or two, but I know that the watch isn't lying. The sun is beginning to set. I oftentimes find myself in this sort of dream state when composing. Time looses all meaning as I study every minor change in camera position, a quarter of an inch can oftentimes make all of the difference. This seems especially true of close up compositions. The simple reality is that everything included and excluded from a photograph matters.

Composing a photograph is a process that I greatly enjoy, and using a large format camera has been highly supportive of this pursuit. A great deal has been written about composition, the rules, the regulations, the expectations, the cliches. The list goes on and I have no intent of rehashing what has already been stated ad nauseum. In all honesty, for me, composition has become a matter of feel rather than a matter of applying rules or formulas. I now see shapes, lines and values more than I see my subject. The only rule I hold is that a composition needs to work in the manner that most directly communicates the desired intent of the artist. Period. Personally, I like highly intentional compositions, compositions that are well crafted. One of the downsides I've sensed with the current trend of ultra wide lenses, is that many photographers have forgotten (or perhaps they've never discovered) how to be specific or how to see graphically. Instead they strive to show everything, relying on heavy handed color use for impact. Furthermore, I've noticed that the best ultra wide landscape compositions still are extremely selective in their imagery.

Once again, everything in the frame matters: where it's placed, its color, its luminosity, its size, how it relates to the foreground, the background, the midground, the artist's intention. Does it add to the scene or detract? Does it's form work in harmony with the rest of the composition? Large format has offered me the opportunity to study these things in depth. The larger viewing screen magnifies minor adjustments to the point that they no longer are viewed as “minor”. One soon realizes that finding the ideal camera position is virtually never an act of chance. Instead it is found through a process of careful selection, experience, intuition, and heartfelt passion for the subject and scene.

Can passion for a subject be communicated through composition? I believe it can and is, just as much as with lighting, value and color. It also strikes me as one of the most personal aspects of the photographic process. Rarely do I experience the centering I find when composing during my day to day life. In composition lies great joy. The art of composition has become increasingly intuitive as time's progressed. Obviously not all scenes can be stared at for significant periods of time, in fact, most can't. Evanescent events in nature surrounding light make this impossible. As such, time spent with more contemplative subject matter, such as a few thimbleberry leaves, offers the opportunity to fine tune one's sensibilities. So that when the time comes for fast action – and it will come; one can react without hesitation or doubt, instead working in accordance with their personal vision.

Click for Larger Image - Northwoods Forest, Early Morning Light, West Pike Lake, Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness, MinnesotaIn November of 2005, I had a particularly memorable experience; an experience that changed the course of my photography and working methodology in ways I never anticipated. On a cold night late in the month, my camera, lenses, and all of my photo accessories were stolen. For some, this wouldn't be that big of a deal. Irritating perhaps, but not a major roadblock. I was in a different position however. Twenty-four at the time, I had just graduated from college. Consequently I was making very little money, and knew that I couldn't purchase a replacement any time soon. I still distinctly remember the sinking feeling when I had upon walking out to my vehicle to go to work; my Mamiya RB67 medium format system and everything with it was gone. My stomach became an empty pit as I stared in shocked disbelief. To make matters worse, I was largely to blame for leaving my camera backpack in the backseat of my car. And, I was not insured! Trust me; I've never made those mistakes again.

Things happen and life moves on. How we confront the situations life hands us define who we are. I had just started photographing seriously about a year prior to that happening, and hadn't invested an enormous amount of time and resources into the pursuit yet. My work wasn't very good and I was just beginning to trudge up the never ending learning curve. It would have been an easy point to call it quits. Yet to my benefit, I still had high hopes of creating images that communicated the experiences I had when out with the land. Somehow I knew I could create images that would demonstrate some degree of consonance, given time, commitment and hard work. Nevertheless, a photographer needs a camera. I had two primary options: hang up the pursuit of photography, or find some way of getting back on my feet. Needless to say, I chose the later. It's been a decision I have yet to ever regret.

During my first 4-5 months of shooting I had used a 35mm SLR. Upon switching to medium format, I knew, even that early in my photographic journey, that 35mm film couldn't adequately communicate what I wanted to say in my photographs. Fate would have it that early that summer, I made a number of photographic book purchases from artists who used large format cameras. The images weren't necessarily dramatic or glamorous, but had a textural and precise quality that was apparent even in small print sizes. They somehow felt very real and intentional to me. Instinctively, I felt this tool offered a new path.

So the decision was made: I would take a temporary break from photography in order to save for a large format camera and a couple lenses. I took up a lousy second job at a grocery store, and began saving my pennies. As winter progressed, a kind and supportive photographer from St. Paul Minnesota contacted me and allowed me to borrow an older 4x5 monorail camera that he wasn't currently using. I still remember my first excursion with that camera. It was clumsy, awkward, and difficult. It was also exciting. I stuck with it, and it slowly got easier. Later that spring, I was able to finally purchase my own 4x5 field camera. I chose a Tachihara for it's light weight and price. It's been my primary camera from that point forward. Virtually all of my photographs have been made with that $700 camera.

In the following weeks I will offer some lessons I've learned from large format photography.

Click for Larger Image - Rapids, Spring Reflections, Kettle River, Banning State Park, MinnesotaClick for Larger Image - Overhanging Birch, Kettle River, Banning State Park, Minnesota

On occasion I've been asked why I would bother going back to the same places time and time again. What else could there possibly be to photograph that was missed during first pass through? The simple reality is that my productivity increases the more familiar I am with a place. Landscape photography is a time intensive process, extending far beyond simply combining pleasing subject matter and light. The more time I spend at a place, the better my images become. Furthermore, nature is always in flux from day to day and from season to season. I find returning again and again to be extremely rewarding in and of itself; far more so than simply going to a spectacular place with a preexisting idea of what image I will make before hand. Discovery is of great value, and landscape photography encourages it. The attached images were both made earlier this spring at Banning State Park, probably my best known location as of right now. It's amazing that I continue to find images there that excite me.

Click for Larger Image - First Light, St. Louis River, Jay Cooke State Park, Minnesota

On the plus side, I was fortunate enough to aquire a very nice used copy of Fujinon's 400T lens (thanks Rick!). The 400mm focal length on 4x5 is one that I've been interested in for some time. However, my Tachihara camera will only accept a non-telephoto lens up to around 300mm. Telephoto's tend to be pricy and difficult to locate in the used market. So, I was quite pleased to be able to purchase the lens locally at an affordable price. It's the older version of the lens (single coated), but I haven't found the coating to be problematic in any way. The additional reach has allowed for some new creative possibilities. I always like isolating elements of a larger scene, and this lens has proven to be great at accomplishing just that. Attached is one of my first images from the lens, photographed at Jay Cooke State Park, earlier this spring. Enjoy.

Click for Larger Image - Illuminated Ice, Stoney Point, Minnesota

Dreams of spring camping trips, waterfalls and wildflowers have been running through my head as of late. Soon enough, the trees will begin to display a hazy shade of vernal green, the forest floor will awaken, and the world will seemingly explode with life. Six months of winter make this time of year all the more meaningful and compelling. New photographs will be created in due time. Until then, I've been getting things ready for the coming rush of activity. My car has been packed for camping, and I had some necessary maintenance done. My stock of 4x5 sheet film has been replenished, trips have been planned. Now it's just time to take a breath and wait.

In lieu of new images, I offer you yet another photograph I made during one of my winter day trips. Despite it being midday, I found this pocket of light along the icy shores of Lake Superior to be quite fascinating. Strange blue and violet hues result when shade and direct lighting colide. When I first processed the film and scanned it, I wondered if the film was playing tricks on me regarding the color. Another visit to the big lake a month or so later proved that the film was indeed correct given the lighting. It's amazing how trained our brain is to "color correct" what we see. Within the context of the larger scene, the subtle violet coloration is almost unnoticable. It's hard to get bored when moments like this are always waiting to be discovered.