Creating a Photography Project

While attempting to keep the focus on a fast moving beetle, I could capture the beautiful patterns created by their movement.

You hear it often; giving yourself a project is an effective way to learn and grow as a photographer. Projects are such individual things that there are infinite examples of what a project might be for someone. Not only that, projects come in all sizes. Sometimes, a project comes as an attempt to get out of a creative rut or to learn a new skill. In my experience, most projects are found unexpectedly.

I was drawn to the abstract patterns created in the water.

Almost always, it begins with a first or an unusual encounter with an animal. Examples are the goldensilk orbweaver spider and the cassiopeia (upside down) jellyfish.  A couple days ago, I paddled on the East River in the Fakahatchee Strand Preserve to photograph birds. The last thing I would have considered doing was photographing a water bug. But, ten minutes on the water and my attention turned to a strange but beautiful scene. Birds stood in the trees or flew overhead in the morning light, but I did not pay attention to them. Instead, I was mesmerized with what was happening on the surface of the water.

By isolating a single bug, I attempted to use negative space to compose an image.

These bugs are known as whirly bugs. In a small area of the river, hundreds of beetles whirled around.  There was something about the way the light was capturing them that caught my attention. The water disturbed by their whirling motions played with the light and it was just so beautiful to see. Not having anything to lose, I gave it a whirl (pun intended). With my telephoto lens, I watched the bugs through the viewfinder. Soon, I was seeing abstract compositions of varying lighting situations. I attempted to single out one or two bugs and capture their wake as they glided speedily away from me.

Back light on these tiny beetles make the water surrounding them glow in the dark reflections of the trees.

Sometimes, I had the sun facing me, sometimes behind me. Sometimes trees reflected, sometimes the blue sky reflected. And sometimes, I purposely created ripples in the water to play with the bugs and their movements. The challenge was focusing on a bug that is about 1 inch in length. Tracking one was very difficult with their unpredictable and extremely fast movements.

I converted this one to black & white for some reason.

I stayed with the bugs for a couple hours. As with any first encounter, I download all the images and begin to analyze and think about what to do differently the next time. And it is for this reason that I now have a new project, the "whirly" project, to add to my list. Why bother? At the very least, I can practice my tracking focus skills. But really, it just gives me another excuse to photograph water movement.

This is what I was going after, the beautiful curves created by the water movement.

Get out there and find your next project!

Frequently, dozens of beetles would become active causing the water to boil with activity.

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The Simplicity of Wilderness

I love simple compositions filled with negative space. Good thing, because quite often as I paddle my canoe in large waters, I am surrounded by negative space. I say this after recently returning from a 6-day paddle trip through the Ten Thousand Islands. As always the case, these multi-day trips are characterized by a variety of things; but this particular trip will always be remembered by the hours of paddling through endless calm blue waters joined to an endless blue, cloudless sky.

Nothing but blue.

And I loved it for what it was; calm waters that provided an opportunity to photograph from a steady canoe, gentle and playful ripples that created tones and textures, a cloudless sky that seamlessly consulted with the water interrupted only by something of my choosing. Wide angle lens or telephoto, the possibilities for simple compositions revealed themselves as both panoramic and vertical designs.

Use of a polarizer filter is essential in these shots. It reduces the glare on the water, thus revealing its intimate patterns. It gives the sky a richer blue, but it only works if the sun is at a 90 degree angle from the lens. In other words, the sun should be to your left or your right, and it should be relatively high in the sky. If you have that, you have endless possibilities.

If you are going to go simple, composition is key, because that's usually all you have to work with. Rule of thirds is a good rule for these images. Lines and patterns become key elements. Compose thoughtfully, play with the water and take many shots of varying compositions. But ultimately, create an image to invite the viewer into the scene and to feel the calmness of having infinite space surround them.

The hypnotic and calming rhythm of nature is what I feel when I am in my canoe and what I wish to convey in my images. Learn to photograph what you feel when you are in the wilderness.

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A Piece of the Sky

Florida has big sky. When it is painted with clouds and color, it can be breathtaking. Behold an expanse of colorful abstract art as wide as the eyes can see. There are no mountains or trees to disrupt it. Add a distant storm to the scene and it becomes that well known Florida skyscape we all love. For this reason, one may consider a wide angle lens to be the best choice when photographing a Florida skyscape. But I suggest that Florida skies can look more interesting if we zoom in on a piece of the sky.

I wrote a blog a few months ago on my strategy for capturing marsh scenes along the Tamiami Trail. Instead of a wide angle, I used a 70-400 telephoto lens and shot most of my images at focal lengths between 100-150mm. The image at the top was shot at 100mm. Because my camera has a 1.5x cropped sensor, it is really 150mm. More recently, I was on Chokoloskee Bay in my canoe, having got on the water before sunrise. Chokoloskee Bay is a wide expanse of water separated from the sky by only a thin line of mangroves. I typically stand in the middle of the bay where I have a 360 degree view. As usual, there were clouds but before the sun peaked above the horizon, it was uncertain how it would play out. Would there be color or just another lackluster cloud-covered sunrise? I found a location where I could steady my boat with feet touching ground and I waited to see what might happen.

I had a 16-50mm lens attached and decided to handhold it while sitting in the boat. Soon the sun light started to brighten the sky and within seconds, broad strokes of magical colors began to fill the eastern horizon. While handholding the camera, I bumped up the ISO enough to allow a fast enough shutter speed (1/80 to 1/100).

The sky was a confusing mix of dullness and brilliant blazes of reds and yellows, depending on the direction I looked. Rather than go wide and capture a scene of combined dullness and brilliance, I zoomed in on the brilliance. Using 35 to 50mm focal length (53mm to 75mm), I framed the sky in abstract formations of color and shapes. The big sky with its beautiful and bold palette became pieces of abstract paintings as I turned the camera horizontal to vertical and back, playing with all kinds of compositions. After only ten minutes of photographing, I put the camera away as the colors faded.

By all means, go wide when it compels you. But also look more closely at the pieces of sky and the infinite ways they can be framed. Instead of one big shot, you may find several small, but brilliant shots.

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What Attracts You in the First Place

I am a nature and wildlife photographer. This means that I go to the wilderness to photograph. There are many different ways a nature photographer approaches and interacts with her subject; but for me, it is all about the place. It is not a specific scene or type of bird that I look to photograph, rather it is the soul of that place that I attempt to capture. This takes time and lots of visits to that place.

When I go to a place, usually in my canoe, I spend much time examining my surroundings without using the camera. I get attracted to something and approach it from different angles to study the variations of lighting that alter the appearance. I stop and look at something for a very long time and try to figure out what it is about this view that attracts me. I drift along in my canoe and pay attention to how the sun light interacts with the plants and the water. I look for both intimate and wide scenes.

One day, I was paddling east along a water trail as the sun began to rise over the horizon ahead of me. Disturbing the water were hundreds of tiny yellow flowers, blooms of the bladderwort plant that takes root in the water. The flowers stood above the water like tiny little skaters performing on ice as the water was very calm. I was immediately attracted to them and wanted to capture the scene. But how? I paddled around them, looking at front lit and back lit figures. I tried to find a cluster of isolated flowers and create a negative space composition. Finally, I staked out the canoe and settled in to the scene. I gently rocked the boat and added ripples to the water just to see what might happen. Here's what happened.

Behind me, the warm glow of the sun cast upon the mangroves that lined the creek. Their red roots were brilliantly lit and irresistible. With a long lens, I filled the frame with the luscious mangroves and their reflections.

I continued paddling and enjoyed the beautiful morning light on the grasses standing tall in the water. A cluster of them caught my eye as the light bathed them in a warm glow. Several of the grass shoots were bent, creating triangular shapes. The sharp geometry of the organic material appealed to me. I set up the tripod in the water, attached the long lens and composed several images.

As the morning wore on, the mood of the place changed. The sun became harsher; but at last, there were clouds in the sky. What a brilliant day! Thick periphyton covered the water completely and this seemed so amazing to me under the wide sky. How can one place have so many interesting characteristics? Chase the light and you will find them.

Seeing the Ordinary in Your Own Way

The wetland prairies are wide open spaces, but they can be intimately explored.

"Photography is (a means by which we)...learn to see the ordinary." David Bailey

I love that quote. When I first read it recently, it made me reflect on something that has been foremost in my conscious for awhile now. I hope to retire in three years and travel around the U.S. as a full time photographer. Nature photographers enjoy our national parks, evident from so many iconic landscape scenes. We all recognize these scenes (i.e. El Capitan or Delicate Arch) and have viewed hundreds of photographs of each. And we are compelled to go there and "Get the Shot". At last, I will have the freedom to get out there.

The small red mangroves on Biscayne Bay are among my favorite subjects to photograph.

I have to admit, standing on an overlook to photograph Horseshoe Bend or hiking to Delicate Arch while negotiating the crowds are not in my travel plans. I honestly do not have a great desire to capture an iconic scene along side so many others doing the same. The reason being is simple, I am spoiled. 99% of my photography is done in solitude and most of the locations where I photograph are not visited normally by other photographers. I have made images from locations that are as far from iconic as anything can be. Crowds of picture takers are not clambering to get to these places.

The unassuming little blue heron allows me to observe its quiet hunting ritual.

While some may find that to be a limitation, I see it as the opposite. I see it as opportunity to learn your unique creativity. By getting to know a location or subject so well without the distraction of others, I have learned to see the ordinary in my own way. In my opinion, uniqueness is the most important ingredient (above talent and hard work) for creating art. For me, it is the perseverance in going back to the same place and insisting that I have yet to capture it well. This is what nourishes my creativity; I keep trying. It is about creating an image that reflects my personal connection to the subject.

With subtle landscapes, water is essential to my photographs .

So while traveling from one iconic location to the next appeals to me in some ways, it is the unique connection to a new place that I look most forward to. But, in the meantime the Everglades and Biscayne Bay are calling me back, again and again.

Water has so many characteristics and behaviors. How can one not want to photograph it?

Play to Create

Sea weeds appear through the water in a pond behind my house. The evening sunlight reflected beautifully and the wind created gentle ripples.

If you identify yourself as a fine art photographer, it is because you attempt to create photographs that are unique. Your creativity is your reality and exists with a degree of independence that is constrained only by you. How far you take that creativity is totally up to you.

Sometimes, we feel uninspired and nothing seems to be working; poor lighting, lack of interest, etc. In those situations, we can either walk away or we can challenge ourselves to dig deeper into our creativity. Occasional lack of inspiration or a bad day is inevitable, but bad days can be decreased if we allow ourselves to make the time to simply play with no expectations.

As far as flowers go, this one was not inspiring until I decided to use intentional camera movement, such as with this image.

I like to use the "around the house" scenario to describe my version of play. Think of a time when you are home bound for whatever reason; weather, obligations, etc. This is about as far away from an ideal photo opportunity as anything can be for a nature photographer. But sometimes, home can be an experimental playground for photography. Within the constraints of my all too familiar surroundings, I find that I can stretch my creativity a bit more than usual. This is when I simply play.

Corrugated glass in my living room reflects the outdoor colors in an interesting way. I flipped this vertical image from to horizontal. 

Having always been attracted to the abstract, these home experiments have been a means to create abstract images. In so doing, both camera and creative skills are being worked on. I can take these new skills back out into nature and continue seeing things in a fresh way. It is playfulness that I take out there, the idea of viewing a familiar or mundane thing as something visually appealing.

Play with light, composition, or camera technique. Study abstract photography images from others and get inspired. Take the most boring object in your house and make it something new and interesting with your photograph. Do this when you are feeling constrained or uninspired, and then lose those feelings.

A building reflects on the pond behind my house. I threw small stones in the water to create interesting ripples.

Becoming unfamiliar with the familiar

"The two most engaging powers of a photograph are to make new things familiar and familiar things new." William Thackeray

My first shot of Biscayne Bay with a DSLR camera, from the canoe. Somewhat symbolic, this image reveals an opening into the bay (2007).

I am not a travel photographer. Instead, I spend most of my time in only a few specific locations. Indeed, as the subtitle of this blog states, I specialize in south Florida Everglades and Biscayne Bay.

As I continued exploring Biscayne Bay, I spent more time photographing wading birds. But always, the draw was the mangroves and I looked for those opportunities to capture their reflections (2008).

I began my photographic odyssey in the Everglades and Biscayne Bay and I continue to go back to the same locations as I did over ten years ago when I first took a DSLR camera with me in the canoe. For me as a photographer, I would say that my artistic vision is born out of these places that I am familiar with and have visited countless times. Going back to the same specific location over and over again would appear redundant and boring to many. But I see it differently.

I began exploring mangroves more intimately. At the same time, reflections on the water continued to draw me in (2009).

As I have evolved as a photographer and artist, so has my connection to these familiar places, and in turn, that familiarity has helped me grow as an artist. When you are trying to create an image, a familiar location provides you with a foundation of information from which to draw upon. With this foundation, you are freed up to explore your artistic vision. You can let go of certain necessities that typically take up time and energy; such as navigating around an area, figuring out where to find the optimal lighting, and locating interesting subjects. You know that stuff already, you can now focus more of your attention to the creative process and how you intend to capture a familiar scene with a fresh perspective.

The openness of Biscayne Bay is what stands out the most. Naturally, sunrises take center stage, but were not quite on my radar screen. While I was discovering ways to capture the intimate mangroves, I was also beginning to discover landscape photography techniques and had not yet brought them to the bay (2010).

And with that, it is all about fresh perspective. As we grow artistically, our mind can attend to its creative side more effectively and we can see familiar places and things in new ways. As we learn camera skills and new techniques, we go back to a location with those new skills and capture a scene differently. It's all about being open and allowing your creativity to take over. Rather than go to a familiar location with an expectation or not go back to it at all, we can be open with our approach to imagery and allow ourselves to become unfamiliar with the familiar.

Birds continued to be significant subjects, but I began to spend more time looking for a more fine art approach to photographing them (2011).

While I sometimes wish I was one of those photographers that travels to the most breathtaking locations in the United States and adds one stunning image after another to his or her portfolio, I believe it would have taken me much longer to strengthen my creative side if I was moving from one place to another. I look forward to visiting some of these iconic places, but the time I can reasonably spend in one location will be limited. To put this in perspective, I have been exploring specific locations for ten years and I am still on a quest for that ONE shot. I don't know what is "that ONE shot", but it is what keeps me returning again and again.

I had discovered a new way to capture mangroves using intentional camera movement. This opened my eyes to more possibilities in an attempt to capture mangroves artistically (2012).

And when I do return to a place, sometimes magic happens. I discover new things or old things are seen in a new way. I experiment and do a lot of "Let's see what happens when I do this". It can be much of the same stuff, but with the time and effort to sort through it all, what is left is a little bit of magic that you have discovered in a familiar place. That's what pushes me forward.

With new skills and equipment, I finally brought my landscape techniques to the bay. The ability to stitch multiple images opened up new opportunities (2013).

After years of exploring the bay, I come with more attention to details. Discovering the various qualities of the bay (sky, water, mangroves, seagrasses) meant endless photo possibilities. Attempting to capture them in unique ways is what brings me back (2015).

White ibis rush hour over Biscayne Bay (2016)