Zion Canyon Storm Panorama

Canyon Overlook Sunrise Panorama, Zion National Park, Utah

A favorite sunrise location in Zion National Park, the canyon overlook begs to be shot in panorama format. This panorama was created with eleven generously overlapped vertical frames. I also used a 3 stop soft step ND grad filter to help open the landscape and retain deep vivid color in the sky. Generously overlapping the frames ensures smooth transitions from one frame to the next. Shooting verticals gives me a  little room to crop into the image top and bottom, this is a huge help if I didn't do the best job lining up the frames, and end up with a stair step shaped panorama.

Storm Light, Canyon Overlook, Zion National Park, Utah

Here’s another of my favorites from 2011. This image is all about timing and luck. I was lucky not to be struck by lightning; lucky to witness and record an amazing moment from an iconic Zion viewpoint. I was at the canyon overlook above Pine Creek with a handful of other park visitors and my wife, as a fast moving storm plowed through at sunset.  This image was captured seconds before thunder and lightning coincided overhead, and I finally tore down my tripod and started to run down the trail for cover just before the rain, leaving behind a half dozen fearless European tourists at the cliff’s edge. My wife had prudently bailed out a few minutes earlier as the thunder became louder and lightning flashes followed more closely. We had timed our visit to the canyon overlook for sunset but the storm light is what really sets this image apart. This one could also be filed under, repeat visits, as this was at least the sixth time I’ve photographed this scene. This is one of those iconic park locations that can look amazing in all kinds of light, and at all times of day, but I’d never seen it like this before. Never before had I felt the power of this place so acutely.  

Icicles, Big Cottonwood Canyon, Utah

This image is among my best of the year 2011. Simplicity and color are two reasons this image is successful.
I was fortunate to eye this subject. As is often the case, investigating one subject leads to the discovery of another subject. In this instance a more vivid flash of color in some nearby ice drew my attention. After making several photographs of colorful reflections in streamside icicles, I had the feeling I had not really nailed it, I hadn’t been able to express myself through the subject. Just then, I looked up to see this arrangement of icicles right in front of my face.
Of course, the background is as important to the success of the image as the subject. The background was sufficiently distant to render as diffuse swaths of color, an effect that attractively isolates the subject as well as presents the background in a way the eye doesn’t quite see it; helping to move the photograph away from the realm of documentation and towards the realm of art.
I love the tension between the warm and cool tones. At first glance, it may seem generic, but this color scheme is highly dependent on the season; the warm tones are supplied by the late October hues of the surrounding forest.

Lake Blanche Sunset Panorama, Twin Peaks Wilderness, Utah

The obvious image is obvious for a reason; it works. It works very well, it's just hard to put a personal stamp on it.

I discovered this small ephemeral waterfall on a recent hike to Lake Blanche in Big Cottonwood Canyon.  It took a return visit to refine my compositions and come home with some unique images. On my first visit, the siren song of the lake kept me from giving my full attention to this little falls. I did check it out though, and took a few photos. When I got a look at my images on the computer, I realized I had a great subject, and I had missed the shot, I had failed to execute the image in my mind.

Winter Aspen Panorama, Big Cottonwood Canyon, Utah

One of the rules of color landscape photography that I’ve always lived by is: you cannot photograph a white sky.  A dark grey, brooding sky, yes, always; but a white sky, never. Well almost never.

A solid white, featureless sky creates perfect light for photographing nature’s intimate details, compositions that take advantage of soft, even illumination without actually including the sky in the frame. Sometimes, black and white conversion is the answer to working with a pure white sky.  An example of this can be seen in my previous blog post. White on white, winter landscapes may offer another avenue of exploration. Still I wouldn’t want to include a large block of blank white sky in my winter landscapes.

Two Tundra Swans, Farmington Bay WMA, Utah

One of my earliest attempts at photography involved driving north from Salt Lake to Willard Bay in February. I’d heard you could see bald eagles there.  Indeed, I did see two bald eagles, perched in the top of a large picturesque winter tree. Armed with an 80-200mm zoom lens and 35mm film, the eagles barely made a dent in the frame. I attempted to approach them on foot, but they would have none of it. And, just like that, they were gone.  This was an early indicator that I was not going to be a bird photographer.

Fast forward 15 years: I still don’t have a bird lens, but the combination of 70-300mm lens and APS-C sized digital sensor has given me a little more reach. More importantly, I’ve found out that Farmington Bay is the real hot-spot. A recent visit yielded the best bird image of my photographic life.

This impressionistic blur was created through the execution of one simple idea: isolate the reflection of sunlit cliffs in the creek; eliminate all extraneous elements from the frame. I can’t help but love the way this straight photograph shows a little piece of the world in a way that just cannot be seen by the eye-unless you squint really, really hard.

This frame shows big cottonwood creek pared down to the simplest of compositions. By including only the water’s surface, I let the interplay between highlight and shadow, guide my composition. I use my telephoto zoom to narrow my angle of view, and in effect dissect the scene. I find a nice diagonal, and zoom out as wide as I can go without including any rocks in the frame. With the camera securely mounted on a tripod, I allow the water’s motion to paint pastel strokes on the sensor during this second and a half long exposure.

Donut Falls, Wasatch National Forest, Utah

I was headed for big cottonwood canyon with less than two hours till sunset. My plan was to stop at the s-curve, get out of the car and walk along the creek in search of interesting combinations of rock, water, and reflection. I was hoping to see late sunlight break through the clouds, shine on cliffs and reflect in the creek. As I drove up canyon, this scenario seemed less and less likely. The sky now looked completely overcast, a white dome.

Trying to stay positive, I reminded myself that the creek shows different faces throughout the four seasons; there’s always something interesting to discover, it’s just a matter of physical and visual exploration. There’s always power in moving water. Always the potential to create an image that can transcend subject matter.

One of the things I love about photographing flowing water is that it’s always rendered in a way that cannot be seen. Faster shutter speeds show more detail than the eye can discern. Slow shutter speeds, a dreamy blur. I am convinced that interesting images can be created any time of year along any creek, river or stream, by focusing attention on intimate details.