Present

The most important ingredient for taking good photographs is being present. It doesn't matter what kind of equipment you have if you're not aware, living in the moment.

This image of my daughter taken last weekend just before her sister's college graduation ceremony is a perfect example. We had arrived over one hour early at the campus to stake out our seats for six people. At the time, the closest ones to the stage were smack in the middle, directly in the sun. As we waited, amid the crowd, sweat beading on our foreheads, I fretted about how I would get a shot of the graduate through all the heads as she walked down the middle aisle.

Then I looked up and saw my older daughter's smile set aside Healy Hall, the oldest building at Georgetown. Lifting my camera, I took three shots. This one, the last, of her wistfully glancing sideways as if she knew exactly how I was framing her, is my favorite. If I had continued to fret, hadn't been present, I wouldn't have this precious momento.
For a more poetic take on this image, go to Recovery Thru My Lens.

Lavender

Each Mother's Day, we go to the North Fork to buy plants for the garden like so many Long Islanders. But this year there was a special treat. Lunch at the Tea Time Cottage in Jamesport where it's all about lavender. Thriving everywhere, the fragrant herb abounds in the gardens, the greenhouse and inside as well. It's in your tea, your whipped cream, your soup, your chicken wrap, you name it. They also sell a line of lavender soaps and lotions that smell divine.

Although it was midday, I challenged myself by attempting to photograph the brightly illuminated place including the sign near the road that resided in deep shade. There must have been about a 3 or maybe 4-stop difference between the two. I accomplished this image by overexposing by 1/3 stop and brightening the sign--as well as the porch--quite a bit in Photoshop. Rather contrasty for my taste, but fitting for the warm, cheerful day! 

Irony

On the heels of my quintessential cherry tree image, I thought this would be an interesting follow-up. Each spring I love the sight of petals dropped like confetti on lawns and roadways; and each spring I try to find a way to photograph these carpets of color. A few weeks ago, I made an attempt with the addition of my Shadow.
Last weekend on my way to my daughter's house, I noticed this swath of pink beside the road and pulled over. Shooting from above, they appeared like unremarkable specks with no real perspective. However when I sunk down to my heels, I found something more compelling.
A first glance it was just a rusty drain; but the more I looked the more I liked the irony it presented. Here were these beautiful bits of nature adorning the sewer made by man that would eventually suck them in.

It's these surprises, these counterpoints that can make an image more meaningful. For a more lyrical rendition of my thoughts regarding this image checkout my other blog, Recovery Thru My Lens.

Cherry

Most photographers avoid midday light at all costs. They shoot either early in the morning or late in the afternoon when the sun is low in the sky, skimming the earth creating dramatic light and long shadows. Between 11 am and 1pm, the sun shines directly down producing dark circles under the eyes and extreme contrast everywhere else. 

However, on occasion it can work to your advantage with the right subject. Here's one of my favorite images taken on the North Fork of Long Island in a place called New Suffolk. One May day I was driving around this charming area scouting for locations when I spotted this vintage truck protected by a canopy of pink. Enchanted, I pulled over and grabbed my medium-format camera (with film). When I stood before the scene, the lacy shadows took me by surprise turning a pretty picture into an interesting one.

Shadow

Sometimes a simple shadow can produce a dramatic image.
I went outside this morning to photograph the forsythia petals I had been looking at out my window for the past week and thinking about how to shoot them--actually to post on my other blog, Recovery Thru My Lens. 

When I finally got out there with my camera, I looked through the viewfinder (yes, I still use it), saw my shadow and started to move out of the way. Then I envisioned some dynamic images that my friend, Robyn has been posting on her blog, Through the Healing Lens, that she calls Pain Shadow, and stayed put.

Here is the result. When I reviewed the 10 frames taken, I found this one most interesting; how it appears like I'm attached to the tree and how the greatest concentration of petals fall within the outline of my head and arm supporting the camera.

Coincidence or not, you tell me?

Earth Day

As I toted my two grandsons from booth to booth at an Earth Day celebration in Westhampton yesterday, we encountered this Great Horned Owl, named Hooter, courtesy of the Quogue Wildlife Rescue. Clinging to a wooden perch, he was hanging out in broad daylight for all to see his topaz eyes, feathery ears and camouflage coat. 

Fortunately, I had stuffed my camera in the diaper bag, so I grabbed it and moved up close. Swiveling his head around 180 degrees, I waited until he faced me eye to eye and started shooting. 

At first, the images were quite formal, the typical bird portrait you might see on a nature calendar. But after a while, perhaps 15 frames, it seemed that Hooter relaxed and became more comfortable with me, that we developed a repoire.  It seems that birds of a feather do flock together...
To read a personal reflection on Hooter go to Wisdom on Recovery Thru My Lens.

Rain

Generally, there's a misconception about photographing in the rain. That being, why bother?

A few weekends ago, I was on the Upper West Side of Manhattan to see a play, Hindsight by Simon Van Booy, a friend of mine from graduate school. Although it was gray and gloomy outside and I knew we'd be indoors for most of the time, I carried my camera with me. 

After the performance, we headed south walking between the raindrops along Broadway and passing Fairway where I used to buy groceries years before when I lived in the neighborhood right after graduating from college.
For old-time sake, I raised my camera and captured this scene just as a taxi zoomed by. Besides its personal nostalgia, I love how the yellow and orange complements the blue awning---and how the cloudy sky works as a giant diffuser balancing the light and making the colors pop so naturally...

Model

There's nothing like spontaneity. At first glance, one might think that I toted this little boy to Central Park's Conservancy Garden, placed him beside these tulips and said, "sniff." But that's not the case.

I was visiting the gardens with a friend from Denver when I spotted this sight. Fortunately, my medium-format camera was hanging around my neck. And luckily, I had the presence of mind to ask his parents to sign a model release after I took this photograph. Six years later, I still marvel at the image and my good luck.
Visit my more personal blog, Recovery Thru My Lens, where you can see how this photograph has inspired me years later.

Spring

Sometimes the best pictures can be found right around the corner. This image, my quintessential Spring photograph, was taken five years ago as I was travelling home along a stretch of road where by some miracle the farmland has been preserved and the one or two farmers left have not sold out to Hamptons developers. So each Spring I marvel at this pristine sight as the pastels emerge.

Taken with my medium-format camera, it's a good example of how film captures the subtleties and nuances of color and detail rendering a warmth and richness that's beyond digital technology. Now, that's my opinion...

And checkout my second blog--Recovery Thru My Lens--launched last week, that's more personal and inspirational, where I compose a brief poem for each image. Right now it's featuring the same one which may occur sometimes, sometimes not---I haven't quite decided since it's still a work in progress. So if you are so inspired, you can follow me there too...

Dogwalker

I spend a lot of time walking my dog. So it's no wonder that while I was down in Savannah this Phantom appeared to me. As she approached, I stood steady focusing on the flower that bloomed so red in January. When I started the project, I focused on the background to render some clarity and contrast. But as the series has progressed, I've found that I needn't be so rigid, that I just need to find what's most important to the scene. Here I've chosen the hibiscus flowering in winter.