a tapestry of memories... brian lee
The sun droops ever lower in the late November sky. We departed the pavement seemingly hours ago. Steve deftly pilots our Suburban over a trail that I’m convinced only he can see towards a sunset shoot at Alstrom Point overlooking Padre Bay. As I bounce along in the rearmost seat, I bow my head not in reverence, but to avoid impact with the ceiling as we clear yet another bump in the road.
Why am I here? And, why do I feel the need to make photographs? I find myself pondering these questions as we head into the waning daylight.
I’ve come to Steve’s Landmarks of the Southwest workshop because I’ve seen countless photos of the slot canyons and other locations that I will visit for the first time. I want to see these places so they are part of my experiential database. That’s why I am here.
So, I get to see these marvelous places. But, why do I feel compelled to photograph them? Why is this need to make photographs inseparable from the desire to visit these places?
The Suburban crests the last ridge and comes to a halt near a precipitous overlook. Before us is a breathtaking vista, softly lit by the last light of day. The Suburban disgorges its load of cameras, tripods, lenses, and photographers. As I look upon the landscape before me and compose the shot above, I am filled with awe and emotion that eclipses my vocabulary. I cannot describe what I feel. At that moment, it is completely clear why I photograph. It is my way of remembering what I saw and how I felt. And, it is a mechanism that allows me to share it with others. One more thread woven into my tapestry of memories.
Horseshoe Bend
Outside Page, AZ the winding Colorado River traces an amazing path like that of a horseshoe. The result is as surprising as it is spectacular. We arrive at the parking area in the pre-dawn darkness to begin a short hike to the overlook. Steve provides the mandatory cautions against getting too close to the edge and the 1,300 foot drop.
The view from the overlook is stunning. As I gradually inch my tripod ever closer to the edge, I realize Steve wasn’t kidding. It is a long way down! The postcard shot has to show the bend of the river and the vegetation along the banks framed by the red rock of the foreground.
I maneuver to add a small bush to the foreground, wait for the color of the sky to deepen, and capture the panoramic view.
Having dispensed with the requisite postcard image, I find myself drawn to the “S” curve formed by half of the horseshoe and the reflection of the sunrise in the river. A quick repositioning and lens change, and I captured a more intimate portrait.
Antelope Canyon
Photography is all about the light. I know I’ve been told this a hundred times. It is, perhaps, nowhere more obvious than in the slot canyons around Page, AZ.
Again, this has been photographed to excess. But, I want to see it firsthand. I want them to be my cliché shots. Only then can I try to capture something a bit different, maybe marginally unique.
Antelope Canyon is actually two separate locations; Upper and Lower. The upper canyon is a level walk in and is more spacious. The only way to visit is as part of a guided, time limited tour group. By contrast, the lower canyon tour is self guided, can be done at your leisure, and descends some 80 or so feet below the surface.
Shaped by centuries of flash floods, these canyons are a maze of sculptural formations best lit by midday sun. Excessive contrast is your enemy in the slot canyons, and you must hunt for shaded areas to block out direct sunlight. Needless to say, this can significantly limit your composition.
Of the two canyons, I prefer Lower Antelope Canyon. There is a greater intimacy since the canyon is much narrower and I simply found it easier to find interesting subjects. One of the more often photographed formations is the Flying Angel that resembles a woman’s head and neck with windblown hair.
There are only a few places where the direct sunlight can be framed out of the composition. Tucked tightly against the left wall under an outcropping, I captured this image that I suspect is one of the more common. Regardless, the interplay of the light and the resulting colors are quite satisfying.
I spent quite a while trying to create a slightly different composition still avoiding direct sunlight. I wanted to add something to the foreground to add some sense of scale. The right wall of the canyon looked like it would provide interesting leading lines towards the Flying Angel, but the lower edge extended severely into the path. And, it was much too dark to attempt a handheld shot at a small enough aperture to carry depth of field. Fortunately, I had brought my Gitzo 2228 Explorer tripod. With its angle adjustable center column, I was able to position the column parallel to the ground and cantilever my camera out over the protruding lower edge of the wall and within an inch of the rock. In this position, I could not look through the viewfinder. Framing was done by taking a shot, dismounting the camera, looking at the LCD preview, repositioning, and repeating. Eventually, with the focus set at the hyper-focal distance I captured this image.
The Flying Angel is more evident in this level shot and leads the eye from left to right. The leading lines of the rock surface on the right bring the eye right back to the Flying Angel, focusing again on the subject of the shot.
Looking Back…
A year has gone by since I attended this workshop. I started it hoping to see some of the most photographed sites in the Southwest, but ended with a much deeper understanding of why I make photographs. I have a satisfying collection of images that prod my memory and make the feelings and emotions of those moments both vivid and familiar.
Comment
I readily admit that the thought going into any of my workshops are the images to come. After, - long after - come much more than that. Yes, the images are long lasting and depending on what we experienced and how we felt about that experience as it was taking place, they might even be everlasting. For me what remains in memory are the people that made those images, the time spent together and the sharing.
I'm constantly reminded, as Brian has done so nicely here, that the entire experience does not quickly fade from either memory or print. The joy for me is in the thought that in some way I made it possible and even added to that experience!
Thanks again Brian for revisiting the spirit that is .... f-8 and be there.
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