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.

Blue Boulder, Big Cottonwood Creek, Utah

Nature’s intimate details often make for the most personal photographic expressions. These are images that can be found almost anywhere. However, it takes a certain openness to see them; a willingness to let go of the wider landscape and focus attention on the smallest of details. It’s always amazing to me, what I see once I start to look more closely.

Spring Squall, Salt Lake City Foothills

If there’s one rule of landscape photography you can count on to create unique and compelling imagery it’s that it pays to embrace stormy weather.  As a basic rule, bad weather equals good photos. When I look at my most memorable landscape images, one of the strongest common threads I see is bad weather. Images created at the edges of storms, either before or after some nasty weather, are just naturally more dramatic than images created during idyllic, bluebird weather conditions. Breaking or approaching storms at sunset and sunrise can be especially soul stirring.

While making the image above I was beginning to question my sanity, as thunder rolled overhead and lightning flashed.  I had my tripod set-up just off a high bald ridge on the north side of Red Butte Canyon. Seconds later, hail started to pelt me, wind started to rage, and I packed up as quickly as possible and fled to lower ground. I was elated, I hadn’t been struck by lightning; I had just captured a powerful image.

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.

Limber Pine Skeletons, Mt. Olympus Wilderness, Utah

Swing by my booth this year at the annual Red Butte Garden Holiday Open House, Saturday and Sunday, December 4th and 5th from 10 am till 5 pm. Enjoy free admission to the gardens as well as fine arts and crafts from local artisans. Come support local artists and Red Butte Garden; 30% of the proceeds go directly to support their efforts. Hope to see you there!

Bells Canyon Waterfall

This HDR panorama was created with twelve images, four sets of three.

It had been four years since I’d been to this location, which is strange considering what a magical destination it is, and how close it is. The trailhead is a twenty minute drive, and the hike is about an hour up, if I don’t get too caught up in the scenery along the way. I think it’d been that long because the last time I was there, in June 2006, I made such a beautiful image (first image in my Wasatch Mountains Gallery, “Bells Waterfall”).

In 2006, I was there at exactly the right time, what I considered the peak seasonal climax for this location; shortly before the Summer Solstice, at sunset, on a night when the setting sun wasn’t obscured by clouds.  At this time of year the water is really flowing from spring snowmelt, and the sun, near its northern terminus, strikes the waterfall and granite towers at sunset, but leaves the canyon between in shade. This effect helps to simplify the image and really sets off that crimson sunlit water falling.

Yellow Columbine, Albion Basin, Utah

I think this new image might become part of my portfolio. After more than a decade of capturing close-up images of Wasatch wildflowers, it takes something special, or at least something new, to get me excited about an image. One way to create new images is to photograph new subjects. When in the field, I usually don't want to spend my time photographing species of wildflowers I feel I have all ready captured in an artful way. I look for flowers that I've never photographed before, or species where I've never pulled off the artful image; never achieved my vision. This image goes against that norm, I all ready have a yellow columbine image I love (in my Wasatch Wildflower Close-ups gallery).