Adrian Scholes

Falling for Black & White

One of my favorite photographers, Jeff Damron, recently posted an excellent commentary about capturing fall colors in black and white. In it, he writes “Fall can be a time of conflict for a black and white photographer.  The very definition of autumn seems to be the vibrantly warm reds and yellows of the foliage.  The temptation, at least for me, is very strong to capture the colors.  In fact, I inevitably do just that…”.

I was immediately struck by the “conflict” observation, and he is absolutely correct. Any other time of year, I alternate my picture taking between color and black and white – depending on the project. But when fall reaches New England, I’m suddenly stuck in a mode of shooting color.

Well, that was last fall. This is now. Thanks to Jeff, I’ve been forcing myself to think not in terms of crimsons and golds, but in shades of gray. It’s not easy, but that’s what I love about photography. Sometimes the greatest challenges are the most obvious.

I’m definitely falling for black & white  …again.

Looking Through the Camera

I’ve been lucky enough to get out and photograph on a regular basis these past few weeks, and I’ve noticed an interesting development in the way I photograph; or, more specifically, in the way I use my camera.

I’ve known for a while that I never produce my best work in the first few minutes of photographing a location. I need to give myself time to settle down and think about the images I want to capture. That doesn’t mean I ignore the camera. Quite the contrary. I tend to snap away, knowing I’ll almost certainly disappointed with those first photos, but also knowing it’s essential for me to get into a rhythm.

Now that I’m photographing a few times a week, I’ve noticed this ‘settling down’ process is getting shorter, and this morning I realized why this is happening.

There’s a lot to think about with a digital SLR; from setting the right aperture to making sure the ISO is appropriate, and a bunch of other decisions in between. When I haven’t picked up the camera in a while, I find myself thinking through these decisions. I have to get comfortable with the ‘tools’ again, and remind myself where things are. I’m looking at the camera not through the camera. It’s a subtle distinction that makes a big difference.

I’ve read of photographers who regularly practice at home, so they can ensure success in the field. I used to think that was taking things a little too far, but I now appreciate the benefits this can bring.

For now, though, I’ll be using these regular photography trips to practice looking through the camera.

Staying Local

I was in the field for sunrise again this morning, visiting the Ordway Reservation in West Newbury. This remarkable ECGA property is adjacent to I95, but the roar of traffic immediately fades as you step into 55 acres of open fields and upland forest. This is the New England of an earlier age, with classic stone walls marking the boundaries of once-cleared land.

As I walked the trails, I thought of the similarities between this place and other locations I’ve photographed; many of which involved an obscenely early start and a long journey to my destination. In comparison, this morning’s drive was less than 20 minutes. I arrived in time for that golden transition of twilight to sunrise, enjoyed a productive hour of photography, and was home to begin a normal day by 8:30am.

Over the years, I’ve read numerous variations of a learning assignment that recommends spending some time limiting your photography to a confined space – such as no farther than 50 feet from your door. The intent of these exercises is to enhance our ability to see. On the other hand, photography magazines and books constantly wow us with images of majestic mountains reflecting in glass-smooth glacial lakes. These grandiose photographs are often what drive us to purchase our first camera and spend hours attempting to recreate the something similar.

The images I’m seeking nowadays are very different. I’m not sure if what I’m experiencing is a kind of photographic maturity, but the idea of thinking in terms of a project - revisiting a place, exploring every corner, and returning in different conditions - has been a sort of photography rebirth for me. Rather than the one-hit wonder, I’m there to document a location's character, and communicate a sense of place to my viewers. My hope is they will be inspired to visit and explore these wonderful locations themselves.

And best of all, I’m learning I can do all this by staying local.

Mirror Mirror on the Mountain

I was chatting with a Verizon rep at the house yesterday. Actually, I wasn’t so much chatting as saying no thank you to the myriad service options he was attempting to sell. But I digress. In the midst of the small talk that is the calling card of every good (and bad) salesman, he said something I found rather fascinating.

I have no idea why, but we were talking about losing weight. I mentioned how much I like comfort food, so winter is always the wrong time for me to think about shedding pounds. Mr. V. responded that he always finds it easier to lose weight in the winter because “I can spend hours in the gym”. He then went on to rationalize that summer is “much too nice to spend time exercising”.

What I found fascinating is that myopic suggestion of exercise consisting only of pounding the rubber mat of a treadmill or throwing around sticky dumbbells while listening to old Journey songs (yeah, I joined a bad gym).

A quick look at an online dictionary defines exercise as physical activity or a cardiovascular workout. How sad to not think of either of these in terms of a hike up a nearby mountain or exploring local back roads on a bike. I know I’m biased, but I also know there’s something wrong with driving a car a couple of miles to a gym, in order to run a couple of miles on a treadmill.

Of course, there on no mirrors on those mountains or back roads…

Curiosity and Conservation

One of the many pleasures of photography is the search for new and distinct photographs, which naturally leads to the discovery of new and distinct locations. Curiosity lies at the very heart of photography. It drives our 360 degree vision as we hike trails. It encourages us to return to the same location at different times of day and in a variety of weather conditions until we get the images we see in our minds eye. It inspires us to learn more about our subjects. What was that flower? Who lived above those ruined foundations? Where is the source of that river?

Visiting an interesting locale for the first time is a fabulous experience, especially when it’s on our proverbial doorstep.  I called on the good people at Essex County Greenbelt Association (ECGA) today, and learned of a few such places; all of which are less than 25 minutes from the house. I’ll be exploring every one of them in the coming weeks.

I began this evening, with a visit to the ‘Riverbend Conservation Area’ in West Newbury. Not marked on any map I own, I’ve driven past the area many times. An abandoned and much deteriorated town road has recently been cleared by volunteers, and now provides access to more than 4 miles of trails. Following one of these trails alongside the Merrimack River and through woodlands sprinkled with the crimson and gold of a New England Fall, I was reminded once again of the vital work carried out by conservation groups around the region. This trail system is a particularly good example, resulting from the combined efforts of multiple organizations. Even the local Boy Scouts played a part; marking the trails to help folks like me to find our way around.

I arrived a little too late to explore the complete property, but saw enough to know this is a location worthy of many more visits. Once again, my curiosity has been sparked and I will be back.

Ten Easy Steps to Having Your Own Thoughts

I’m a big fan of technology and innovation, but a couple of related experiences this week got me thinking about how so called ‘progress’ is not always for the best.

First came the news that I will no longer be able to visit, browse, and purchase from the magnificent collection of photography books that Timothy Whelan stocks in his Rockport, Maine store. Yesterday, after ~18 years, he closed up the store that, as Ashley Gilbertson describes in this excellent and moving interview, “is known as one of the finest of its kind in the United States”. In the interview, Mr. Whelan discusses the economic difficulties of running such a store, especially in this age of Amazon.com and the internet. It’s impossible to compare the experience of thumbing through beautifully printed books by some of the best (and little known) photographers on the planet with a quick browse through the thumbnail images on Amazon.

Today, I popped into a local Barnes & Noble to grab a coffee and spend a few minutes answering some urgent emails. As with every visit, I first wandered over to the photography section to get my browsing fix. Only, there was no photography section; at least not where it’s been for the past year or so. In its place were dozens of book covers extolling the wonders the author could work with my window treatments and interior décor, if I would only give them a chance.

After wandering up and down a couple of aisles, I found my missing photography section. Actually, ‘section’ is an exaggeration. What I found was a meager collection of maybe 20 books covering the portfolios of well-known photographers such as Ansel Adams and Henri Cartier-Bresson. Not to take anything away from these masters, but these are the same few books we see in every store; nothing new or different.

The reason was clear as I moved a few aisles over and found the section titled “Digital Photography”, which is apparently a very different animal to just plain old photography. Here, I could learn the “Ten Shortcuts to Mastering Photoshop”, how to “Manipulate Skin”, “Hacks That Every Digital Photographer Should Know”, and “Digital Photography in 24 Hours”. Nowhere could I actually pick up and browse the portfolio of a photographic artist, examine and enjoy his or her work, and simply lose myself in their art. Oh no. That would involve reflection, contemplation, analysis, and generally using my own brain to draw my own conclusions. In fact, I’m sure someone’s written a book entitled “Ten Easy Steps to Having Your Own Thoughts”. If they haven’t, I have first dibs.   

The Fruits of Manual Labor (or, Say No to Automation)

I keep my camera and lenses set to manual. That doesn’t mean I won’t switch to auto when appropriate, but I’m often shooting in low and challenging light or photographing a subject with little or no contrast, such as moving water. These conditions will play havoc with auto focus, causing the lens to rotate back and forth as it searches for something to lock onto. There are other advantages too. Landscapes frequently call for maximum depth of field, and I like to manually set my focus point as I’m composing, rather than hoping one of the built in focus points will be in the right place. I can focus, compose, set the aperture and shutter speed, and fire the shutter in one easy sequence.

Focusing manually takes practice for it to become second nature. My technique is simple. I start with the subject (or the point I’m using for correct depth of field) blurred, turn the focus ring until it looks good, and – this is the tip -  keep turning until things start to blur again. Then I bring it back. This way, I know I’ve nailed the focus to be exactly where I need it.

Although this is a simple method for focusing, it’s a philosophy that can apply to the complete process of finding and taking the photograph. It’s easy to spot a subject, point, focus, and click. But, why not keep walking? Go past the first spot you find, walk around a bit, and come back. Blur the lines, break the rules, and view it from different angles. And never forget to turn around. A couple of years back, I was photographing Bass Harbor light in Maine. After a few shots, I turned 180 degrees to see an enormous pink moon hanging just above rocky coastline. It remains one of my favorite photographs, and 5 minutes later it was gone.

Last week, I stopped at ‘The Basin’, a well known tourist spot in Franconia Notch, where I93 cuts through the White Mountains of New Hampshire. I watched carloads of visitors climb out of their vehicles, walk the hundred or so yards to the basin, snap a picture, and head back.  If you keep going past the falls, you’re on the Cascades Trail, one of my favorite hikes in the Whites. For approximately a mile, the trail follows a rocky stream and a succession of waterfalls, varying in height from small cascades to the more significant Kinsman Falls and Rocky Glen Falls.

I’ve also followed the trail until it eventually meets Lonesome Lake, where you can loop around and follow a different trail system back to the Basin. It’s a 5 or 6 mile hike that takes some beating for its varied and dramatic scenery.

So, think about shifting that switch over to manual every now and then. I’m sure you’ll enjoy the fruits of your labor.

Science, Beauty, and the Meaning of Life

After a valiant effort to extend summer into October, Mother Nature has officially given up and delivered more traditional fall weather to New England. In response, our trees have decided it’s finally time to take a break from all that photosynthesizing and prepare for their long winter’s rest. No more chlorophyll production. The carotenoids in their leaves can now entertain us with a vivid display of yellow, orange and gold, while the extended summer means we should also see vibrant reds and purple in the mix, as trees produce more anthocyanins to recover any remaining nutrients from their leaves. Of course, this is all before the leaves give up and decide it’s just easier to jump.

It’s impossible to write that last sentence without thinking of the brilliant Terry Gilliam and his animated ‘suicidal leaves’ sketch in Monthy Python’s ‘The Meaning of Life’.

Anyways…

As mentioned in my previous post, I recently made the first of many pilgrimages to photograph this fall color. In previous years, I’ve waited (or not had the chance) until the area I visited was at so called ‘peak’ color. This year, I was determined to get out there early. There was good reason for this. I happen to prefer the beginnings of the color change. Sure, it’s an amazing sight when the hillsides are awash with crimson and gold, but, at the risk of alienating leaf peepers everywhere, I find it all looks the same after a while. What I really enjoy is finding a lone tree, dripping scarlet against a backdrop of green. That’s when the colors truly pop and we appreciate the science and beauty of this change.

That doesn’t mean I won’t be back to take more pictures. In fact, I’ll keep going back until the trees have lost their color, lost their leaves, and it’s possible to find a parking space again. And I’ll do it all again next year. Because this is New England in the fall.

Top 10 Memory Lapses for a Landscape Photographer

Yesterday, my quest for photographing Fall color began with a 3:30am alarm. Like most people, my brain isn’t fully (ok, is not at all) operating on all cylinders at that time. Over the years, I’ve developed a habit of preparing the night before. I need to be able to jump out of bed, into the car, and get going. It’s not a perfect system. This time, I forgot my rain jacket. Guess what the weather was doing when I arrived at my first destination.

This preparation doesn’t just stop with photography and personal ‘gear’. To illustrate, here’s a list of ten other memory lapses that have gotten me into trouble. There are many more, but I’ve forgotten what they are. :)

10 - Forgetting to change the ISO setting, after shooting indoors at ISO 1600 or higher, and returning from a fabulous hike with a card full of grainy and unusable images

09 - Leaving the camera on 10 second self-timer, and realizing the moment a moose spends exactly 9 seconds crossing the path in front of me

08 - Forgetting my tripod; the second most important piece of equipment I carry

07 - Leaving the books or maps of my planned route at the side of my bed, where I was reading them the night before

06 - Forgetting to charge my camera battery

05 - Charging my battery, and leaving it in the charger

04 - Not packing toilet paper for a long hike into the great outdoors. ‘Nuff said

03 - Not keeping a firm enough hold on my camera and backpack during a walk through Barcelona, and watching it all get whisked away by a couple of professional criminals

02 - Forgetting to set or change my alarm, and rendering everything else moot

And the number one memory lapse that has gotten me into trouble?

01 - Brewing a cup of tea and leaving it sitting on the counter. Maybe I should add some perspective here. One of the first questions my daughter often asks when she gets up in the morning is “Daddy, have you had your tea yet?”.

So, that’s my list. It’s Interesting to see how many of these have crept in due to the digital age.  What about you? Did I miss anything?

Pride & Prejudice in New England

About now, TV channels and web forums are abuzz with predictions and opinions about fall color in New England. September’s Yankee Magazine has an excellent article entitled “The Top 25 Towns for Foliage”, and this is representative of what we see and read elsewhere; the best drives, finest fall hikes, views no leaf peeper should miss…

Fall in New England is indeed spectacular, and I always look forward to those special trips to see what photographic splendor is waiting to be captured. I enjoy the fact that it is all so unpredictable. Despite an overabundance of colorful interactive maps and confident predictions, Mother Nature is firmly in control here.  Headed out in the early hours of the morning, you never know what you’ll find and whether you are too early, late, or just in time. Hike a half mile in any direction from an area past its prime, and you’ll likely find a magnificent display of crimson and gold.

I often wonder how many born and bred New Englanders truly appreciate this annual exhibit. I grew up on the doorstep of an area called the Peak District in England. This is the stuff of picture postcards and calendars; rolling hills and valleys, lazy trout rivers, rocky outcrops, picturesque villages and stone walls straddling the hillsides in every direction. If you’ve seen the recent adaptation of “Pride & Prejudice” or any episode of James Herriot’s vet stories (although these take place in an adjacent county), then you know the kind of scenery. It’s truly beautiful area, but back then it was simply home. Only now, after living over here for 16 years, do I truly appreciate its beauty.

Last year, I took only one trip - to the White Mountains in NH – in search of photographs, and I realized I’m in danger of falling into that same apathetic routine. I’ve recently had reason to think much about this area and how fortunate I am to live here. New England is an exceptional corner of the world and, like many natural places, is in a constant fight to retain that distinctiveness.

As a landscape photographer, I can think of no better use for my work than to remind folks of where they live, remind them to appreciate the enduring beauty of New England, and to ensure it stays that way for my daughter and generations to come.

So, if you’ll excuse me, I have some photos to take.