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North Thunder Mountain, Little Cottonwood Canyon, Utah

Here's an image that was taken soon after I switched to digital capture.  Taken about an hour after sunset, from the side of the road in Little Cottonwood Canyon, this 30 second exposure really shows off the Nikon D300 sensor's ability to gather light without noise. Light on the mountain is from the moon, out of the frame to the left.

Twilight Paintbrush, Mt. Timpanogos Wilderness, Utah

I have finally joined the world of social networking. You can now find a facebook page for Jeff Beck Photography. Check out my photo album "Best of 2009" to see my favorite images from last year. Leave a comment and let me know which is your favorite. You can also check out my first images of the new year.

This image, "Twilight Paintbrush", is near the top of my list of favorites from 2009. It also illustrates some key components of my digital conversion. 

Sunburst, Bowman Fork, Mt. Olympus Wilderness, Utah

Here is my last photo of 2009, created December 27th. The use of a long telephoto lens and conversion to grayscale help to create a simple and powerful image from a busy and chaotic scene.

Foothill Rainbow, Salt Lake City, Utah

Please visit my booth during the 8th Annual Holiday Open House at Red Butte Garden, Saturday & Sunday, December 5th & 6th, 2009 from 10:00 am to 5:00 pm. For two days enjoy free admission to Red Butte Garden as well as a juried art show featuring local artists offering original, handcrafted work for sale. 30% of all sales will go directly to Red Butte Garden.

I read the November 2009 Outdoor Photographer feature article on Ian Plant with great interest. His images "Dreamscape" and "Alien Transmission" blew me away. It was fascinating to read how he deals with the issue of being original as an artist.  Plant says directly, "too often, nature photographers rely on the drama of the scenery to make powerful images ..." and..."too often nature photographers merely ‘chase the light,' waiting for that perfect sunset over a dramatic high mountain lake."
I think maybe dramatic scenery isn't the problem so much as it is, dramatic scenes: locations made famous by being beautifully photographed by dozens if not hundreds of skilled photographers.
Capturing a moment in time from a classic viewpoint, where lighting, and possibly season, are the main differences in composition between one image and another, doesn't help you grow as a photographer. That being said, I'll be the first to admit that sometimes you have to get the classic image out of the way before you can branch out and explore new ideas and new places.

Plant complains that too often nature photographers "just show up".  I would complain that too often nature photographers just show up at the classic viewpoints. A friend once told me about a friend of his who would go to Delicate Arch over and over again in order to capture the ultimate image of Delicate Arch. The same friend said he wasn't interested in taking a photograph of Delicate Arch because he thought it was cliché. I think my heart lies somewhere in between.  I know from experience, when I see a beautiful photograph of a stunning location; I want to go there not only to see it for myself, but to photograph it for myself. At the same time, every time I go out to photograph, weather in my own back yard or from the road in Grand Teton N.P., my interest is always in creating timeless art, not something derivative.

Images take on a life of their own, after the moment is gone, and the experience of being there dims. Most just fade away. Some can become etched into your memory.

I'm getting into my blog. It gives me a venue to show new work. Images that in the past may not have been seen by anyone but me. I would love any feedback.

When in the field photographing there's always a limited amount of time to work with.  How am I going to spend it? What am I going to photograph?
While in Big Sur, I was so overwhelmed by the whole scene, almost all of my images show the wide view. I barely shot any close-up or detail images. Of the time I had to spend photographing, much of it was spent trying to get my own image of the places that seemed most iconic, judging from images I'd looked at before my trip: McWay Creek Waterfall in Julia Pfeiffer Burns State Park and Pfeiffer Arch at Pfeiffer Beach State Park. I spent a lot of my limited time trying to get images that had already been done.
This became a major dilemma while driving back to Julia Pfeiffer Burns State Park, to have a second go at photographing the McWay Creek Waterfall (on my first visit the waterfall and beach were completely shrouded in fog).  As I was headed back, the fog had lifted and late light was saturating the sea cliffs, just north of the park. But I couldn't stop. That "waterfall onto the beach" scene was drawing me in like a tractor beam. Even though I'd now seen at least a dozen images of that scene, all shot from more or less the same position. In my mind that was the quintessential Big Sur scene. But, I was running out of time. The light was fantastic, and I kept driving. As I got closer, it got foggier. Why hadn't I stopped? Should I turn around? I hadn't really scouted any of these other overlooks before. No time to waste, I told myself. Finally, I arrived at the parking area, directly off Highway 1, sprinted the short distance to the waterfall overlook to discover a light fog had muted that intense red light I'd seen earlier. But some light was getting through, and it was clear enough to see detail in the beach, the ocean, the rock, and the waterfall. Best of all, those pink lilies were just glowing in that late diffused light. As a bonus, I had the place to myself.
 In the end, I was very happy with the shot I came away with (see blog post Oct 22). I think it's one of the best I've seen of that scene, due in large part to lucky seasonal timing, and calm enough conditions to pull off a 5 second exposure. But, I've been having doubts about my need to rerecord scenes that have all ready become iconic. Is it enough to show the same basic scene, that's been photographed so well by so many others, even in great light and at some seasonal climax. Or should I always seek an image that hasn't been done. Should I only try to create my own icons?
 In contrast, my working methods at home have become more relaxed.  I've become more interested in finding expressive details than photographing the wider landscape from the road. Instead of racing up and down the road at 50 miles per hour, I walk up the trail and don't worry too much about how far I'm going to get, or the fact that I don't have time to get to the "destination".
While taking photos of leaves certainly isn't anything new, I like the fact that these images don't necessarily remind me of any images I've all ready seen. They represent some of my best "autumn" images of 2009. They come directly from the interaction between my heart and mind and the natural world on an intimate scale and level. Hopefully these images speak to a wider audience than just me.

Here are three of my favorite images from a week spent in Carmel and Big Sur, California, during the end of September, 2009. Wow, what an incredible place. Had a glimpse at about 30 miles of coast over a week. Could easily spend a lifetime.
While in Big Sur, reread Brooks Jensen's "Letting Go of the Camera". Great collection of essays on photography as an expressive art form.
Lately I've been thinking a lot about what it means to be an artist as a landscape and nature photographer. One idea Jensen touches on in a couple of essays, something I'd never really considered, is how people tend to view a beautifully shot landscape photograph as if they were looking through a window to magically view the actual scene. It's the scene itself, not the photograph, that elicits emotion. Thus the framed landscape photograph is not looked upon as an artifact, as a painting or sculpture is, but rather as a window to a particular place and time.
What's wrong with that? Well, maybe it's an underlying assumption, when viewing a beautiful landscape photograph, that it's creation took little or no talent or skill at all. That the camera lens is no more difficult to use effectively than a window, and anyone who was lucky enough to be at that particular place at that particular time could have produced the same image whithout any more difficulty than being there, with photographic equipment. "The assumption is that photography is not dependent on vision, craft, sensitivity, courage, dedication, or raw talent." Therefore, it seems to follow that landscape photography couldn't possibly be art.
I know from experience, being in the right place at the right time doesn't guarantee a successful image. The images that best fullfill the fantasy of viewing the there and then, are made by people with the commitment to be in the right place at the right time (with photograpic equipment).  They are also usually made by people who live near a location, return over and over, develop a deep connection to the landscape, and are sometimes lucky enough to witness and record rare light.
But, is that art? 
What can elevate any landscape image to the level of art? Is the image of McWay Creek Waterfall always a cliche? What about Delicate Arch?
Can an expressive image of these icons ever be considered art? Is the black and white image more readily considered art than the image with vibrant color? Is the well composed close-up or abstract image always more artful than the wide angle shot of the grand vista? 

Zion National Park September 2009

This image was created by stitching three vertical images together. I'm excited by the wider angle of view I'm able to cover, as well as a larger file to use for printing. I liked this image so much I decided to use it as my home page hero image. Perhaps what I like best about this image is, it's the best of several attempts at photographing this Zion icon. I think I've hiked "the subway" a dozen times now, and on about half of those occasions I've photographed Archangel Cascades. It took me forever to figure out I needed to use a polarizer to bring out the rich red color of the rock through wet reflections. 

Timpanogos Basin Panorama

There's still time. If you missed peak wildflowers in Albion Basin, there's still time to see the best wildflower display in the state. This Timp Basin panorama was created less than a week ago. Of course, you can't just drive right up to these wildflowers, but anyone willing to make the ten mile round trip trek will be rewarded. It will take reasonably fit hikers 2 to 3 hours to reach the basin on the Timponeeke trail. Although the distance makes this a moderate hike, the trail maintains a gentle grade nearly all the way. In order to be there for the best light requires either camping or hiking in the dark. Mid-day light, on a blue sky day, is usually less than inspiring. Dramatic mid-day images can be achieved with a little help from the weather - inclement weather can make for great images. Wind is the biggest problem, whether you're shooting during mid-day stormy weather or at sunset or sunrise. Sunrise is typically the calmest.
This image was made shortly before sunset. Luckily it was realatively calm, so I attempted to create several panoramas. I've made the trek to see the Timpanogos Basin wildflowers at least once a year for the past ten years. This was the first time I've tried to create panoramas. This image was created by stitching together five vertical images. It was a real thrill for me to do something different in a place that now seems so familiar.