On the Cover Again

I shared with you a few weeks ago about a photo of mine that was going to be featured on the cover of a local magazine. It's certainly not Vogue or National Geographic, but I'm flattered nonetheless. In an age of the instant gratification that LCD screens, computer monitors, and the Internet can bring, there's something very special about seeing your work in print, especially when it's a stack of magazines. Jones Living is a publication of the Jones County News, my hometown newspaper. It's a great local newspaper and a really well done magazine, even if my photo is on the cover.

Opportunites for photographers to see their images in print magazines and newspapers have plummeted in recent years. Since 2008, nearly a thousand U.S. based print magazines have either folded completely or gone to a Web only presence. That's a tremendous number of product, glamour, fashion, landscape, and photojournalistic photographers looking for somewhere else to sell their services. One of the latest is U.S. News and World Report, once the third largest news magazine, which will cease subscription sales in December 2010. And since 2008, 166 U.S. newspapers have ceased printing.

But while more and more content has either gone online or dark altogether, I do think there is a place for print journalism to survive. Local newspapers and magazines offer unique coverage that metropolitan, regional, or national news outlets, whether print or electronic, will rarely, if ever cover. And personally, I enjoy the tactile feel of a magazine in my hand. And, of course, I enjoy seeing my images in glossy print.

Happy Thanksgiving

I’ve been unbelievably negligent in both photography and blogging in the last month. Things have been hectic in most every regard. It’s so amazing how life comes crashing in at times and creates frenzy and chaos that consumes hours and drives out opportunities to stop long enough to contemplate what we have. It’s Thanksgiving morning, and I had a chance to get out and walk the forest. I was alone but surrounded—squirrels and wild turkey were all around. As I stood in the falling leaves and soaked in the solitude, it was easy to realize what the noise of the last few weeks has obscured. I have a lot to be thankful for. We all do. A kind and generous God. A loving family. Great friends. A good job. God given talent to create. A country where freedom is still celebrated. And a group of soldiers I’ve never met still willing to fight to keep it that way.

I wrestled a Sunday afternoon away from the hubbub recently to go shoot some autumn leaves. And for the therapy of looking through a camera lens. One of my favorite places to photograph near my home is a giant slab of granite (think part of Stone Mountain big), a creek, and a series of small waterfalls. It’s out in the county, lost in hundreds of acres of forest. Unfortunately, the water in the creek was very low, so the usual waterfalls were minimal. To get this shot, I had to lower and spread my tripod as far as it would go and submerge it in the shallow creek, with only the ball head and camera above the water. It’s a 1.3 second exposure at f16. As you might image, I got wet and muddy. But with any luck, this shot will end up on a magazine cover in the next month, my fourth cover in the last two years.

For all of you who find yourself on this blog, Happy Thanksgiving. I hope you can find some quiet time to contemplate what you and all you have been given. And if you’re consumed by the photography bug like me, find some camera time soon.

Savannah Sunrise

I've often written about Savannah, Georgia. The place simply oozes history, charm, and character. There are many wonderful places to stay and an extraordinary array of great restaurants. But one of the most awe-inspiring scenes is the parade of massive container ships that navigate these waters. The Port of Savannah is a tremendous economic engine for the southeastern United States. Day and night, these colossal ships come and go, and the sound of a tugboat horn sends me scrambling for my Nikon. I'm just a sucker for the power of the river and these ships. And this behemoth could have just delivered my new flatscreen TV. After all, Christmas will be here before you know it.

I took this shot early one morning a couple of weeks ago while standing on my hotel room balcony. In fact, it was the morning of my birthday. Despite a very late night of music and "networking", I managed to rise early enough to see this container ship slipping out of port into the rising sun. Getting the image sharp was easy, as the sun was far enough up to force a quick shutter speed (1/500) while allowing a tight aperture (f11) to capture the industrial facilities on the horizon. The challenge was not overexposing the sky while trying to pull some detail out of the silhouetted ship.

Rest in Peace, Larry

Last week, I had a request for a copy of a photograph of a couple I took for a corporate newsletter in August. That part seemed fairly routine. What caught me by surprise was the reason. The husband in the shot had passed away two days after I took the photo. My image was the last photograph of him. I was a little shaken by the news—this was a first for me. I had only met the gentleman—his name was Larry—just that one morning of the quick shoot. But he seemed like a really nice man. Without hesitation, I quickly ordered a set of prints from my favorite lab and burned the image to disk for Larry’s wife and family.

Ironically, I read last week where an Annie Leibovitz image of John Lennon and Yoko Ono is going to be auctioned in October. The image was taken by Leibovitz in December 1980 for the famous Rolling Stone shoot. Leibovitz wanted to photograph Lennon alone, as no one wanted Ono in the images, but Lennon insisted. Just hours after the session, as he and Yoko returned from dinner, Mark David Chapman gunned Lennon down in front of his building. Leibovitz’s images were the last taken of John Lennon alive. Another image from the shoot, one of a nude Lennon with his body wrapped around a clothed Yoko Ono, graced the cover of Rolling Stone’s tribute to the murdered star. That magazine cover has been ranked as the top magazine cover of the past forty years.

I don’t for a second pretend that my image of Larry and his wife is in the same league as Leibovitz’s shot of Lennon and Oko—or that it’s even art. But I’m honored to have taken the photo and to know that it might serve in some way as a legacy for their family. And I think about the weighty responsibility of photographers who take critical images, often of others final moments—war correspondents, photojournalists covering atrocities around the globe, or those snapping images of the World Trade Center after the first jetliner impact on 9/11. It puts a different perspective on everything when you peer through that lens.

Rest in peace, Larry. It was truly an honor to have met you.

Product Photography Revisited

This past weekend was a cornocopia of football here in the southeast. There was Dodge County High School, my beloved University of Georgia, and of course the Sunday fallback Atlanta Falcons. And none of them scored a touchdown, let alone won. So I was forced to throw myself at work... and photography.

I was challenged recently to create a photo for the cover of a corporate annual report. I needed to tie some repetitive graphic design elements, in this case an electric outlet, to something modern. Since the body of the document was to discuss smart meters and other high-tech, innovative issues and gizmos, I wanted to have a look and feel that emphasized technology.

I settled on using a photograph of a smart phone, in this case an iPhone, displaying a screen with smart meter data. It would have been much easier to photograph the phone and electrical receptacle and the screen shot seperately, photoshopping them together later. But digital photography gets a bad rap because we so often think, "I'll shoot it like this and just fix it later," instead of doing it right the first time. And I've got a heathy dose of Don Quixote in me, so the hard way was the only way.

Part of the design also required a high key, glassine effect for the image. I wanted the reflection of the phone and receptacle as part of the image. So I took the shot with the phone and receptacle sitting on a pane of clear glass between two supports. I had a softbox in the background and two gridded monolights on either side for some rim-lighting on the phone and to light the receptable. I quickly discovered that getting a proper exposure for the phone screen while achieving a high key effect on the rest of the image was a challenge. In the end, I had to slow the light down by using an aperture of f7.1 matched with a shutter speed of 1/6 second. Needless to say, a tripod was required.

Ironically, insisting that I shoot all of the required elements in one image without any compositing resulted in more trial and error than I had imagined. As a result, the battery in the phone ran dangerously low. I didn't think the red low battery symbol in the top right corner looked good for an energy company, so I had to photoshop in a green battery meter from another image. So much for idealism, huh?

I think the effect turned out rather nice. I guess time will tell as I get to see a printed copy of the report. Until then, I'd really appreciate any feedback.

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Here's another of the shots I took while touring New Orleans a couple of weeks ago. I can't explain why. There's just something very captivating about New Orleans' street cars, especially the St. Charles line. I wish I could go back in time and see and shoot the Desire line, which ran up Bourbon Street and through the French Quarter to Desire.

This was a fun shot. I got down on the ground in front of the approaching streetcar right on top of the rail and waiting until it got close. I'm sure the driver didn't care for my technique. Then I tried the zoom blur throught the shutter. I topped off the effect with Alien Skin's Exposure 2 TRI-X 400 emulation. I really like the grain and the depth.

I'm excited that fall is near. The weather has cooled off, the humidity has dropped, and college football is finally here. Early Happy Labor day wishes to everyone. And if you dig my streetcar shot, please let me know.

In the Big Easy

I visited New Orleans last week. The big easy is a melting pot of cultures and offers so many of my favorite things—great food, history, and an incredible variety of musical genres and artists. Despite three days of muggy August heat and on and off rain showers, I managed to skip just enough of my conference to see some of the gritty, palpable texture and cuisine that makes New Orleans so special.

Who can deny the influence of the distilled spirits in New Orleans. The debauchery of Bourbon Street is an institution to itself, and a trip to Pat O’Bryans was unavoidable, but thanks to the suggestion of a friend, I ate at the Napoleon House, a 200 year-old landmark and one of America’s oldest and most historic bars. The building’s first resident, Nicholas Girod, New Orleans mayor from 1812 to 1815, offered his home Napoleon during his exile in 1821. Napoleon never made it, but I thoroughly enjoyed a leisurely lunch in the cozy courtyard of this New Orleans icon. And it would have been wrong of me to not try the Pimm’s cup and muffaletta. Right?

In a place somehow more oft associated with bead-happy exhibitionism, urine and vomit scented gutters, and Katrina and an oil soaking from BP, art seems a distant concept. But along Rue Royale and St. Charltres, I found a number of excellent galleries. I haggled with the director of the Sutton Galleries over a wonderful oil painting. I met Joe Dunn, a talented landscape photographer, and his wife. Joe suggested a visit to A Gallery for Fine Photography—what a treasure trove. On the walls of this well-stocked gallery, owned by Joshua Mann Pailet, I found gelatin silver prints by Helmut Newton, Ansel Adams, Henri Cartier-Bresson, and Herman Leonard, just to name a few.

Finding inspiration for shooting is tough when the heat index is pushing 110 degrees. But a trip to New Orleans was just what it took to send me home ready to put the Nikons to work.

Reviewing the Aquapac

While getting ready for a vacation, I spent some time researching underwater housings for cameras. I knew I couldn't afford a housing for a DSLR, since they often run as much as $2,000. But I thought I might be able to afford a housing for a point and shoot, which run considerably less for smaller, less complex cameras. That's when I ran across the Aquapac waterproof bag. For only $39, it seemed worth a try.

The Aquabag is a simple design... a plastic bag with one open end that is closed by tightening two plastic cams. It has thicker plastic around the edges and thinner, transparent panels on the front and back for shooting and viewing the camera's LCD. The only problem was the extension of the camera's lens, which pushed the bag's thichness to it's limit. Sensing the resistance of the bag, the camera would pull the lens back in and give a lens error message. But by holding the plastic out with one hand while turning the camera on with the other, everything then worked fine. If your camera's lens extends more than an inch and a half, this bag probably won't work for you.

I dragged a Canon point and shoot camera in the Aquapac for several days, snorkeling, diving, kayaking and playing on the beach. Using the lanyard provided, I strapped the Aquapac to my wrist and dove dozens of times, as deep as ten or twelve feet, without a hint of a leak.

The image quality through the Aquapac was far better than expected. Despite bad water clarity, the bag worked well. In most cases, visibility in the ocean here was limited to two or three feet at best, a poor test. The bag did extremely well out of the water or right at the surface. I can't wait to try the bag in better water clarity or in a swimming pool. It's not a sexy solution, but it gets you and your camera off the beach and out in the action.

North Captiva Vacation

Finally, a week to just relax, read, soak up some sun, and occasionally take a few photos, if the weather will cooperate. North Captiva is not far from the Everglades, so the afternoon storms build an come across, making a nice repast from the heat, but making sunset photos a hit or miss prospect. But I have worked on my tan, my Frisbee skills, my snokeling, and my uncanny knack for lying in a beachchair, reading, and watching the ocean.

Here's a shot from the backyard of our house on the beach. A short path through the seagrapes, palms, and sea oats leads to the Gulf of Mexico. Hopefully, a few great photos will emerge from the week. Stay tuned.

More From Lake Michigan

I finally found a few minutes to sort through more of the photos from my Wisconsin trip in June. Despite the relentless overcast skies and rain, a few opportunities did emerge. I absolutely adored Sturgeon Bay. The red lighthouse on the breakwater was captivating, which probably explains the large number of frames I took of this iconic landmark.

There's something about lighthouses that I have always loved. A long time ago, I played in a band called Lighthouse. And if there's a lighthouse in driving range, I've got to see it--and photograph it. These landmarks have a mysticism and aura of a bygone age that may not have a modern equivelent. Let's face it, Loran or GPS can't quite do justice to the feeling sailors must have felt when an expected light emerged from darkness or fog. And I guess all of us are seeking a glimpse of our own light on the horizon.

Enough waxing philosophical. I've only got about two hundred more frames to go through. I hope you enjoy these shots.

Happy Fourth of July

It's a bit late, but Happy Fourth of July. At least I took this photo on July 4th. It was a fun afternoon spent with family in my old home town... Eastman, Georgia. This small town fireworks display takes place at the high school, same as it has for decades. I considered just leaving the Nikon at home and enjoying the show, but I had taken a couple of weeks off without a single photo and that just wouldn't do.

Fireworks are pretty easy to capture if you have a tripod, a locking shutter release cable, and even decent glass. This image was a seven second exposure at f7.1. I shot it at ISO 100 with a 24-70mm f2.8 lens. The only problem with this slow shutter speed is the blurring tends to make the burst look a little plastic. But it is a necessary evil to capture the action from ground to sky.

I tried several different compositions, including closeups. But my favorites all seemed to be images that captured the flight of the shell from the ground and the starburst at it's peak. Call it storytelling, I suppose.

It would be so wrong of me to not take advantage of my tiny platform here to offer up my thanks to the men and women serving my country at home and abroad. And to pause to remember those who sacrificed so much for my freedom. Happy Independence Day.

Patience

I’ve been away from civilization for a few days—no cellphone service and no Internet—which explains the prolonged vacuum here on the blog. I spent a couple of days last week touring Door County, Wisconsin. It’s not a place you happen through, but rather a destination that requires some determination. It’s also a quiet, outdoor recreation vacation destination for Midwesterners. There are no large hotels or amusement parks here. But a scattering of quaint towns, small hotels, and beautiful parks ring a peninsula otherwise filled with agriculture and nature.

I spent the night in Sturgeon Bay, which is one of the prettiest, cleanest, and friendliest towns you will ever encounter. With less than 10,000 residents, Sturgeon Bay is a shipping town on a canal than connects Green Bay with the open water of Lake Michigan. And since I’m a sucker for a lighthouse, the breakwater light at the end of the canal was a must-see for me.

Within five minutes of getting out of the rental car at the Sturgeon Bay breakwater, clouds covered the sun. I found a couple of ideal compositions, but the flat lighting from the dark clouds made for very uninteresting lighting. Off to the west, there was a tiny gap in the clouds, slowly moving my way. So I did what my photography experience taught—I struck up a conversation with a fisherman at the end of the breakwater and waited. Thirty minutes later, the gap came close enough and warm, diffuse late afternoon sunlight streamed down on the lighthouse. Two minutes later, it was gone. But I had my shot. Six days have gone by and I have not seen blue sky or a sunset or taken a photo that didn’t involve clouds or rain. But in my mind, I got my shot. And like a growing collection of photo destinations, I will be back.

Ghosts of Another Century

I spent the last three days at an economic development conference and stayed at the Jekyll Island Inn. This century old historic hotel was once the Jekyll Island Club, a millionaire’s retreat on a private island. The club was started in 1888. Names like Vanderbilt, Rockefeller, Carnegie, Pulitzer, and Morgan fill the rolls of the 100 members who paid $600 each to join this ultra-exclusive club. But thanks to the Great Depression, World War II, a condemnation by the state of Georgia, and a conference rate, I stayed there for just $139 a night and didn't have to join anything.

There is something special about staying here. The Queen Anne architecture and turreted tower make the buildings distinctive. And you’re not apt to find a crocket court on the front lawn of a Motel 6, but that’s what greets you as you pull beneath the Spanish moss draped oaks lining the driveway of this one-of-a-kind destination.

Jekyll Island is one of Georgia’s twelve barrier islands, four of which you can drive to by car (St. Simons, Sea Island, and Tybee). But as the current head of the Jekyll Island Authority put it, this Island is different from the others. Since being purchased by the state of Georgia from the club’s remaining members for $675,000, Jekyll has been an accessible and largely undeveloped place.
The Jekyll Island Inn just oozes history. The club was a place of significance. The U.S. Federal Reserve was supposedly created during a meeting here in 1910. If you close your eyes and use just the slightest bit of imagination, you can see and hear the great industrialists, politicians, publishers, and financiers of a bygone century, strolling these grounds. And according to legend, some of them apparently remain. The main hotel and the Sans Souci building are reputed to be haunted. In fact, the San Souci building, which was built in 1897 as America’s first condominium, is said to be haunted by J.P. Morgan, the industrialist who created U.S. Steel.

I didn’t see any ghosts during my Jekyll Island stay—instead I had a chance to catch up with friends, some way-too-distant, and drink in the atmosphere of this great hotel. But I’ll be back, hopefully with my Nikon. Maybe I’ll reserve Mr. Morgan’s suite and together we’ll watch the sun rise over the river together.

Full Moon Euphoria

There’s something about cemeteries that fascinates us—the older the graves and monuments and the greater the history the better. So when I heard that the Historic Riverside Cemetery Conservancy was holding “Full Moon Euphoria”, a chance to photograph one of Macon’s oldest and most picturesque graveyards in darkness under a full moon, I jumped at the opportunity. The gathering produced a fun group of photographers, amateurs and professionals alike, and I had a great five hours of shooting.

I have always enjoyed shooting long exposures. So many wonderful things can happen when you leave the shutter open for a long time; in the case of this night, from fifteen seconds to over four minutes. With a shutter locked open, movement can create interesting blurs and virtually imperceptible light can fill in with dramatic effects. But in the darkness, while shooting statues and monuments over a century old, the long exposure reduces photography to it’s purest element—capturing light. Using a speedlight or a flashlight, or both, I was able to explore the best way to illuminate these stone edifices to show the things that make them so beautiful.

My favorite part of photographing these monuments was trying to capture their depth and texture. Weathering, broken limbs, and a healthy coating of moss and lichens made them much more interesting. Finding angles to show off these textures was challenging and great fun. And it’s no surprise that the same principles that create great lighting in a fraction of a second in the studio carry through to exposures of stone sculptures greater than three or four minutes.

Unfortunately, the moon that so beautifully lit this serene setting also made some aspects of the shoot virtually impossible. I really wanted to freeze some of the monuments against the blur of rotating stars in the sky beyond. But the moon, coupled with the light pollution of Macon, made the sky very bright. I want to go back to Riverside soon in complete darkness and try those shots again. Until then, you can see a few of my favorites from the night here.

Living in a Shrinking World

A good friend and I played golf in Hilton Head, South Carolina yesterday. We were paired up by the starter with Clive and Gwen, a nice married couple from Toronto. And they convinced me that it really is a “small, small, world.”

There was a time when foreign countries, like far-off and exotic Canada, might as well be alien worlds. And expeditions into remote places like the Arctic, the Amazon jungle, Mount Everest, or the African wilderness were major and significant events—think Columbus, Sir Edmund Hillary, David Livingstone, Ernest Shackleton, or Bear Grylls from Man vs. Wild. Weeks or months later, the explorers would emerge, or not, bearing tales or images of strange lands, exotic animals, and bare-breasted natives. Today, it seems that all the bare-breasted natives are wearing Gap clothes and have probably been witnessed to by enough missionaries to fill a decent-sized Methodist Church. And millions of people now know how to bait a crab trap in freezing Alaskan seas or learn just what truly creeps out Mike Rowe. And that’s where Clive and Gwen come in.

Throughout yesterday’s round of golf, which stretched to four-and-a-half hours, Clive and Gwen were amazed by the critters around the course. Despite National Geographic Explorer and twenty-four hours of Animal Planet, seeing an alligator live was captivating. I'm sure I would have felt the same way if a moose had come leaping out of a bunker. They took more photos than a busload of Japanese tourists. And then asked, “Do you watch Dirty Jobs? Have you seen the episode with the alligator farm? Has Mike Rowe ever been to a town near you?”

Seconds later, Clive and Gwen found out that Gray, Georgia, my home town, was the home of Old Clinton Barbecue, the restaurant where Mike Rowe cleaned the smoker in the 2008 season of Dirty Jobs. It’s a landmark. And it has the best barbeque in Georgia—at least that’s what the sign says, and I believe everything I read. Don’t you?

I took this shot of Old Clinton Barbeque last year for a community brochure. I’m sharing it with you so that like Clive and Gwen, you too can relive the memories of Mike in the smoker. It will probably never make the pages of National Geographic. But thanks to the internet and modern explorers like Mike, the world seems just a little smaller.

Augusta National

I spent Thursday and Friday in Augusta, Georgia at Augusta National, home of the The Masters. Augusta National is incredibly well manicured in a way that can only be understood by witnessing it in person. The dramatic elevation changes, the perfect fairways, the $2.50 Master’s club—yes, the sandwich, not a 3 iron—and the understated elegance of a place that oozes history and leaves the thousands of “patrons” awestruck, no matter how many times you’ve visited. The grounds of Augusta National are inspiring. But it is not the golf that was the greatest inspiration. Instead, The Masters reaffirmed another, more powerful passion.

Early Thursday morning, soon after settling into our official “Master’s” chairs near the #2 green, I spotted two photogs among the patrons less than fifty feet to my left. Both were shooting Nikon D3s on monopods, with the sun at their backs. One was shooting a 600mm, the other an 800mm. Very quickly, I realized that I was watching the players, who came through in groups of threes, and trying to compose my own images. And very quickly, I was jealous.
Like most PGA golf tournaments, The Masters enforces a strict “no camera” policy during the four rounds of play. Cameras are encouraged for practice rounds. But I wasn’t there for a practice round. What an ironic juxtaposition.

There were photo opportunities throughout both days I was there. It started with honorary starters Jack Nicklaus and Arnold Palmer opening the tournament. The view of a dozen mowers cutting the fifteenth fairway in perfect synchronization was captivating. And the three turtles that crawled out of the pond and onto the bank just below the sixteenth green with no less than ten thousand cheering spectators surrounding them would have made a great shot, especially each time a wayward shot found the bank beside them. And at one point, Tiger Woods played a bunker shot with the flagstick framed perfectly in the foreground between us. It would have made a splendid shot—if I had a camera.

Passion seems to be a constant theme lately. Finding it must be priceless. Maybe in the same way we seek passion in relationships or careers, I see something beautiful, different, or dramatic, and I long for a camera in my hand. Most every golfer dreams of playing Augusta National just one time—and so do I. But I also dream of shooting this spectacular cathedral of golf as a credentialed photographer, free to roam these grounds seeking feed one of my greatest passions.

Dogwood

I've written before that I really don't care much for flower photography. And I don't. But, it was a tough winter and the flowers have burst out in impressive fashion this spring. They seem to be exuberantly celebrating warmer weather with the rest of us. Spring is an interesting dichotomy to me. Do the blooms of spring occur because of winter's pruning? Is life springing forth in the void left by death?

I have a pink dogwood tree in my front yard. It's something of a survivor. A big limb fell out of a nearby pine tree last year, breaking the top out of the dogwood and leaving it mangled and misshaped. But I don't have the heart to cut it down.

I shot this image with my 105mm macro at f4.5 at 1/100. I love the bokey and the narrow depth of field. The early morning sun fringed the blooms and leaves with golden light. And if you look closely, you can see a whispy tendril of a spiderweb in the bottom-right corner.

Balloon Glow

Since getting serious about photography, I have wanted to shoot a balloon glow. Saturday, there were no gigs, no high winds, no rain, and no other reasons to keep me away. A delay because of winds did keep the balloons from launching on time, so there was limited time with a dusk sky. And I discovered that the limitations of the Nikon D200 in lowlight are significant at ISO 400, something I already knew, but seemed to forget.

I was also suprised by the large number of people with nice cameras and really expensive glass. There were pro-grade lenses left and right. I've searched the Internet to find shots from others, but have had little luck. Of course, not all great images are shot with great gear, and certainly not all photographers with great gear shoot great images. I regularly prove that constant.

The setup for Macon's balloon glow isn't great. The balloons are set up in a bottom, most of them inside a track at Macon State College. Capturing the setting sun and dusk sky is made difficult because of the surrounding hills, buildings, interstate, and significant light pollution.

Now that I've had a taste of shooting a balloon glow, I want more. I can't wait to find an opportunity to shoot a bigger event with more balloons and perhaps a better setting. For now, I have a few noisy shots (see the entire set) to remind me of the lessons learned and the desire to shoot them again.

One From the Archive

I was going through some old shots that I had never processed and stumbled across this one. Despite fog and cold, this was one of those opportunity of a lifetime moments that will go with me forever. I desperately want to return to this spot, hopefully on a day when the weather is more cooperative. Thought I’d share it with you.

I’ve always loved a good quote, especially one I can throw out in a presentation. I ran across these this week and couldn’t resist sharing them.

“So the writer who breeds more words than he needs, is making a chore for the reader who reads.”

“Don't cry because it's over. Smile because it happened.”

“Be who you are and say what you feel because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind.”

“You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself in any direction you choose. You're on your own. And you know what you know. You are the guy who'll decide where to go.”

The first one fits perfectly with my philosophy on writing. It sounds a lot like something Mark Twain once said. Can anyone tell me where this image was taken and who said each of these four quotes.

Camelia

I had a few moments after work today to grab the Nikon and take advantage of some great late afternoon lighting. It's been so rainy lately--I'm ready for springtime. The camelias are blooming in my yard. Typically, I'm pretty averse to flower photography. To be appealing, it has to be something different or inspiring. And I'm not really big on lots of Photoshopping images either. But today, I broke both of those practices. I shot this with my 70-200mm, f2.8 to create a nice narrow depth of field image. And what emerged is a high contrast, hyper-saturated and cross processed photo. It is quite a departure from the norm for me--something we can all use from time to time. Relish in the glow of sunshine on these pink petals and bright yellow stamen. Tomorrow is supposed to bring a high of 45 degrees and rain.

Little Ocmulgee State Park

I spent the past weekend at Little Ocmulgee State Park in McRae, Georgia for a church family retreat. I’m embarrassed to say that I was too busy setting up PA equipment and musical instruments to take any photos of the snow, which for a few brief hours made the park quite beautiful before quickly melting. But in the few hours I had of down-time, long after the snow was gone, I discovered some interesting facts about the middle Georgia park that struck a chord with me.

Little Ocmulgee is one of Georgia’s state owned parks, one of eight with lodging and seven with a golf course. It’s definitely not luxurious. And compared to others in Georgia, it’s not even that picturesque. But for some strange reason, I keep finding myself back at this site. From lazy afternoons here from high school long ago to community planning retreats and Leadership Georgia, this park holds many memories.

The land for Little Ocmulgee State Park was donated by businessmen from nearby McRae. In 1937, the Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC), built the first structure in the park and dammed the Little Ocmulgee River to create the lake. Shingles for the visitor’s center, which is still in use, were cut by hand from the cypress trees removed by the CCC workers to create the lake. The CCC, which employed over 80,000 workers throughout Georgia, built lakes, ponds, and lodges, and planted millions of trees throughout the state. Many of the structures built during the great depression are still standing today and still serve the citizens and visitors of Georgia.

In contrast, today is the one year anniversary of the passage of President Obama’s American Recovery and Reinvestment Act. President Obama claims the unprecedented expenditure of $787 billion has “saved or created” two million jobs. Strangely, these jobs have been calculated by the Office of Management and Budget. The Department of Labor, which tracks all other labor statistics, has no means of estimating or tracking “saved” jobs. Are they a fabrication? Who knows. I don’t know a single person who’s job was either created or saved by stimulus funds. And I know of not a single project that has been funded by the ARRA. Instead, these funds created massive debt while being used to shore up collapsing state governments.

J.W. Fanning, a pioneer of leadership and community service in Georgia, once said, “The greatest use of life is to invest in something that will outlast it.” Georgia’s facilities created by the CCC, including Little Ocmulgee State Parks, certainly meet that test.

The Day the Music Died

On February 3, 1959, a Beechcraft Bonanza carrying Charles Hardin Holley, P.J. Richardson, and Ritchie Valens crashed soon after takeoff near Clear Lake, Iowa. As a musician, it’s tough for me to let today go by without noting the anniversary of "the day the music died.” Richie Valens, who was only 17 when he died, definitely left an enduring mark on music. Richardson, who’s stage name was “the Big Bopper”, was just a pretty small blip and a footnote next to a Don McLean song. But Buddy Holly was different. Like Otis Redding and Jimmy Hendrix, he was ahead of his time and died before reaching the megastar status that he was capable of acheiving. And he changed the face of rock and roll forever.

I’m don’t carry a great amount of stature as a music historian or critic, but I’m smart enough to know that when the greats of rock and roll pay homage to you with their words and their music, you forever influenced the rockers who followed you. The Beatles were named, in part, to honor Holly’s band, the Crickets. Keith Richards and Bob Dylan both saw Holly live and went on to credit the Texas guitarist with influencing their work. But Bruce Springsteen, a man known for understanding his rock roots, perhaps gave Holly the greatest compliment. In a 1978 interview, “The Boss” told Rolling Stone, “I play Buddy Holly every night before I go on; that keeps me honest.”

Holly played guitar, piano, and violin. He was one of the first rock musicians to write and produce his own music. And many of his arrangements, voicings, and vocal techniques were groundbreaking. He is credited for creating the standard of a lineup of two guitars, a bass, and drums. And certainly, he was responsible for giving Gary Busey a chance at one serious movie role.

I also have to wonder whether I would ever consider touring on an airplane if I make it one day as a rock and roller (don’t worry Vegas, those odds are too huge to calculate). But when you think of the talent that has been lost in small plane crashes, perhaps the John Madden’s, “I only ride buses” approach can’t be too bad. Consider this small sampling of a long list of plane-crash victims: Patsy Cline, John Denver (did he really run out of gas?), Otis Redding, Ronnie Van Zant (yes, I know it was a helicopter), Glen Miller, Jim Croce, Rick Nelson, and Stevie Ray Vaughan. What if Otis Redding or Buddy Holly has seen age thirty? What if?

Thanks in part to Don McLean, today commemorates the “day the music died”. I don’t think I own a copy of La Bamba or Chantilly Lace, but I’m pretty sure I’m going to listen to my Buddy Holly playlist on my way to a rehearsal tonight.

Long Creek Falls

There’s something magical about the North Georgia Mountains. The color of fall’s leaves bring visitors to the Blue Ridge Georgia area in droves. And summers in the mountains offer a multitude of outdoor activities—kayaking, rafting, and hiking the Appalachian and Benton McKaye Trails to name a few. But this weekend, I had a chance to spend a winter weekend in Blue Ridge and photograph one of my favorite waterfalls.

Long Creek Falls is a short climb off of the Appalachian Trail in the Three Forks area, just a half-hour drive from Blue Ridge. For the past two years, north Georgia has endured a bad drought. But now record rainfall has filled the creeks and rivers, giving a new look to familiar waterfalls. Unfortunately, the mountains were above the clouds this past Saturday. A heavy fog hugged the trees, making the thick forest was very dark and ensuring that every shot was taken from a tripod, some as long as sixteen seconds.

Blue Ridge and Fannin County is a great place to visit and a wonderful jumping-off point for so many great outdoor adventures. And the quaintness of the small town is wonderfully understated. In my opinion, they do tourism right. Do yourself a favor and visit this great town and the mountains all around soon.

Brrrrrr. Is That a Technical Term?

Southerners don’t know what to do with ice. It’s just a fact. For a week and a half, it’s been cold. If I had three dogs, it would be time to pile them on the bed. It’s hard to complain about temperatures in the teens every night when it’s below zero in places like North Dakota. But doggone it, they’re used to it and they choose to stay. We’re not. There were snow flurries in Orlando, Florida over the weekend. That's just not right.

There’s a little-known series of waterfalls in the county where I live. I knew that days and days of temperatures in the teens and twenties overnight and highs barely above freezing would probably create accumulations of ice. Today, I took the time to drive out and see what I could find. Sure enough, spray from the waterfalls had made some amazing formations of icicles, sheets of slick ice, and heavy coatings on branches and rocks.

It was too dark for handholding much--the camera, that is. And with a coating of ice on most of the rocks, footing was treacherous. At least once, my feet went out from under me, leaving me desperately trying to fall gracefully while holding a Nikon overhead. I figured I’d heal faster than the camera.

I got some interesting shots. Unfortunately, many of the places I wanted to go were too icy and dangerous to reach without risking life, limb, and camera. Even when I could find a place to stand, the tripod simply wouldn't sit still on uneven rocks covered in an inch of ice. I’m a little jealous of those photographers who get to shoot icy waterfalls often. But not enough to move there. Serious winter has visited for far too long.

Ironically, I found out tonight that my parent's cat died yesterday. He broke through the ice on their pond and disappeared under the water. My Dad saw it happen and tried to reach him, but it was too late. I spent all of last winter wishing for spring. Guess I'm still there. Damn ice. Damn winter.

Happy New Year

Another year has passed by—2009 is gone—and I can’t say I miss it much. If you often frequent Through My Eyes, you probably noticed my conspicuous absence. Hopefully someone noticed anyway. Not totally without joy, the last year was nonetheless complicated, stressful, and busy. And December seemed worse. I found little time for photography for me or for blogging and even less mood for Christmas.

Even as a child, I had a hard time finding “the Christmas spirit”. Three decades ago, the commercial clutter of the holidays left me burned out on Christmas long before December 25th arrived. There was a time when the Sears and Roebuck’s Christmas Toy Catalog brought great joy and hours of excitedly studying its pages, but before long, I realized that for much of the world, Christmas cheer was way too connected to the jingle of cash registers. Pretty pessimistic for a kid, huh? Well, I can’t say I’m any better as a forty-year-old.

Our church, Riverside UMC in Macon, has a three-night drive-thru nativity complete with multiple scenes and lots of live farm animals. On a recent December Saturday night, I stood in a cold rain, acting out one part of the original Christmas trio. Dressed as Joseph, I watched over a rubber and plastic baby Jesus, as a cold, steady rain fell. A Duraflame log struggled to burn in front of us as a steady stream of cars passed by our Bethlehem. In the darkness and relative quiet, it was easy to imagine what that first Christmas might have been like. Aside from the fire, there was no central heat. There were no street lights. There were no doctors or delivery nurses. No microwave to warm the Chinese take-out. And there was no crowd and no fanfare. The son of God, who would bring change to the world unlike any other human, had crept into the world in a whisper.

So I suppose it’s no surprise that I find “Christmas” and "joy" in the quiet stillness. When the world is calm and asleep—when it’s dark enough that the stars are the only light—that’s where I hear and feel Christmas.

So for those of you who missed me in December, I’m sorry. My 2010 resolution is to find more of those quiet moments—I don’t have to wait until December to find them. And to find more time for photography, for writing, and for me. For art—for sanity. And I might even find some time for post-Christmas shopping. Who knows… I bet I can find a great deal on ShamWows, Snuggies, and Tiger Woods Golf for the Wii.

Happy New Year everyone.