The Death of Previsualization?

A photographer stands in shallow water filming a fleeting sunset

Last week’s post about Yosemite’s natural firefall got me thinking about the late, great adventure and landscape photographer Galen Rowell. A topic that he wrote about often was the importance of pre-visualization in photography. That is to say, as a photographer, it is important to “pre-visualize the way the image will look on film before you take the photograph, instead of merely taking a snapshot with the naïve expectation that the outcome will be like you see.”

As I was learning the craft of photography, I always took this teaching to heart. But is the idea of pre-visualation as important today as it once was? Rowell was emphasizing the importance of understanding how each specific film type captures light and is processed into the resulting photograph.  Very few of us still shoot with film, so does the same concept hold true in the digital age?

As anyone who has learned photography with a digital camera can attest, being able to see the results of your work instantly in the field greatly accelerates the learning process. In other words, if you get the settings wrong when capturing an image, in most cases you can review the image, correct for any mistakes, and shoot again. The necessity of understanding how the camera sensor will capture the subject is diminished.  Of course, this may not hold true with certain types of action or event photography, as you might miss that critical moment.  But even with wildlife, I often take a few sample shots and review them to make sure my settings are in the ballpark of correctness.

The need for this type of pre-visualization falls apart even more when moving from DSLR to mirrorless photography. Mirrorless cameras have an electronic viewfinder, allowing the photographer to see a “live” view of exactly what the camera’s sensor sees. Here the photographer knows exactly what the image will look like before ever pressing the shutter.

So maybe Rowell’s original reasons for the need to practice pre-visualization have faded over the years. However, not all digital photographic results are directly correlated to what the photographer sees on the back of the camera. If the photographer is truly thinking digitally, they may be overexposing in order to capture more digital information in their final photo (exposing to the right). Or they may be thinking about capturing certain elements of the frame to use later in digital blending. Using techniques such as exposure blending, panorama stitching, or ISO blending all require some degree of pre-visualization of the final intended outcome.

Although the need to understand how the camera settings ultimately interact with the specific film you are using may no longer be valid for most photographers, the need to understand what you are trying to create and how to control the camera in order to achieve that vision may be more important than ever. The tools may have changed (film vs final digital output), but the concept is the same. The better you understand what you’re working with, the more predictive you can be about your desired outcome, and therefore, the better you’ll be able to prepare for that desired result in the field.

Gear I used to create the photos in this post:

Yosemite’s Natural Fire Fall

For only a few days a year, the setting sun lights up the seasonal horsetail falls, cascading down the sheer face of El Capitan in Yosemite National Park.

A couple of weekends ago, I had the opportunity to witness one of nature’s most spectacular light phenomenons. For only a few days of only some years, a seasonal waterfall in Yosemite National Park glows like lava as it catches the last rays of waning sunlight. I had long wanted to witness this event in person, but timing or weather had thus far made it impossible. Luckily, my good friend Steve was on the ball, and invited me along. He had already taken care of all the logistics (thank you Steve!) and all I had to do was pack for snow and show up.

Snow covers the floor of Yosemite Valley after a winter storm.
Snow covers the floor of Yosemite Valley after a winter storm.

After a morning drive to Yosemite from the San Francisco Bay Area, we soon found ourselves in one of the most beautiful valleys on Earth. A recent storm had dropped several feet of snow on the ground and frosted the landscape, accentuating Yosemite Valley in all it wintry glory.

Snow covers the floor of Yosemite Valley after a winter storm.
Snow covers the floor of Yosemite Valley after a winter storm.

As I often do with grand vistas, I not only captured the standard landscape shots, but also used my telephoto lens to find scenes within the scene. Switching to my 70-200mm allowed me to isolate Bridalveil Falls cascading down icy cliffs.

Bridalveil Falls forms an icy sheen on the rocks below, Yosemite National Park, CA.
Bridalveil Falls forms an icy sheen on the rocks below, Yosemite National Park, CA.

We stopped off at the Bridalveil Falls trail and scrambled up the slippery path to the base of the falls. Here it became a frigid dance of setting up a shot on the tripod, wiping the icy spray that had accumulated on the lens, and quickly firing a shot. Many times the same shot had to be repeated due to poor wiping skills. Being able to immediately review each shot on the back of the camera was essential for success. With deep respect, I thought of the many photography legends who likely stood in this very spot using much more challenging gear.

Yosemite Falls is reflected in the calm water below, Yosemite National Park, CA.
Yosemite Falls is reflected in the calm water below, Yosemite National Park, CA.
Half Dome towers above Yosemite Valley in winter.
Half Dome towers above Yosemite Valley in winter.

Throughout midday, we were able to capture some of the valley’s most famous icons, dusted in powdery snow.

Finally it was time to prepare for the main event. Many parking lots in Yosemite Valley were closed due to the several feet of snow on the ground. We parked at the closest lot and then snowshoed about a mile to the principal location at which the fire falls phenomenon could be viewed. We set up cameras and tripods at around 2pm, and waited until sunset, which we wouldn’t see for another three and a half hours (yes, landscape photography requires patience!).

For only a few days a year, the setting sun lights up the seasonal horsetail falls, cascading down the sheer face of El Capitan in Yosemite National Park.
For only a few days a year, the setting sun lights up the seasonal horsetail falls, cascading down the sheer face of El Capitan in Yosemite National Park.

Finally, just after 5pm, Horsetail Falls came to life. Starting with an intense yellow, the falls turned to orange lava over the course of ten minutes.

The story of the original Yosemite “fire falls” goes back to the early years of the National Park Service, at a time when it was struggling to define the meaning of “attraction” for park visitors.  One popular sentiment of the day was that the parks had to entertain visitors, much in the way a circus would entertain audiences through spectacle.   As much of the nation was still rural, the idea of simply having access to wilderness was not as precious as today.

For example, when black bears began to raid the poorly maintained Yosemite Valley dump where all food scraps would end up, the first thought was not the safety of the wild bears. Instead of building proper barricades to prevent the bears from habituating to human food, the park service built bleachers around the dump so that visitors could watch the action.  Another such misstep was the nightly building of a large bonfire at the top of Glacier Point.  As the fire burned down, the embers were shoveled off the cliff, creating a “fire fall” to wow the crowd below in Curry Village. Thankfully this practice was eliminated in the early 1960s. Little did people realize that nature was already providing a much more spectacular display of its own.

For only a few days a year, the setting sun lights up the seasonal horsetail falls, cascading down the sheer face of El Capitan in Yosemite National Park.
For only a few days a year, the setting sun lights up the seasonal horsetail falls, cascading down the sheer face of El Capitan in Yosemite National Park.

In 1973, photographer Galen Rowel was coming back from a climb in the valley when he looked up and saw a stunning light display against the shadowed backdrop of El Capitan.  Amazed at what he saw, he rushed to photograph it, only to see the light disappear before his eyes.  Although he didn’t know if he’d ever see something like that again, the next night he was prepared.  Sure enough, around the same time of day, Horsetail Falls (a seasonal waterfall that only flows with the proper amount of snow melt) lit up like a beacon.  He quickly composed an image that would become famous, and introduced the world to this amazing natural “fire fall”, which is now photographed by hundreds of photographers annually.

For only a few days a year, the setting sun lights up the seasonal horsetail falls, cascading down the sheer face of El Capitan in Yosemite National Park.
For only a few days a year, the setting sun lights up the seasonal horsetail falls, cascading down the sheer face of El Capitan in Yosemite National Park.

What Galen Rowel was seeing was the setting sun striking only Horsetail Falls, isolating it against the dark cliffs of El Capitan.  There is only about 10 minutes per day where this contrast can be seen, turning the water a reddish orange just before the sun dips over the horizon.  In addition, this perfect sun angle that is required to light the falls but not the cliff only happens twice a year for a few days at a time. And only in late February is there a chance that Horsetail Falls is actually flowing.  This explains why this natural “fire fall” was such a rare occurrence before anybody knew to look for it.

I was overjoyed to finally witness and photograph this phenomenon for myself.

Gear I used to create the photos in this post:

This Is A Crappy Photo

A desert tree silhouettes against a sunset sky, Namib-Naukluft National Park, Namibia.

I captured this tree silhouette at the peak of a glorious sunset in the heart of the Namib desert. I spent some time with this tree, crafting the photo. I wanted to reduce the tree to a graphic form against the beautiful colors of the sky. Because the tree was reaching to the right, I oriented its trunk to the far left of the photo so that it is reaching into the frame and up and over the distant mountains.

After taking a look on the computer, and doing some basic processing, I was really happy with it. That is until I showed it to a friend, and was met with a frown and shrug of the shoulders. “It doesn’t really do anything for me,” was the response I remember.

Now to give a little bit of background, this friend has a great eye for photography and is certainly not one to heap praise where it is not due. As surprised as I was by the reaction, I knew I needed to pay attention to this critique because of my friend’s impeccable taste. So what went so wrong?

A desert tree silhouettes against a sunset sky, Namib-Naukluft National Park, Namibia.
A desert tree silhouettes against a sunset sky, Namib-Naukluft National Park, Namibia.

The more time I spent with the photo, the more I began to agree with the review. I finally realized that I was the victim of an age old pitfall of art. I had spent so much effort creating the photo, I was attributing more value to its end result than I should have. Okay, so its not a horrible image. But like all critical photographers, I thought a lot about this fresh perspective. The fine branches of the silhouette are too chaotic and it has a relatively weak subject matter. The colors of the sunset are not enough to hold the main focus of the image.

Since I share many successful photos with you, I thought I’d share a failure. Well, maybe not a failure, but one that leaves me with a “meh” feeling. The lesson here is to seek honest, unbiased feedback for your work. Think about who you go to for a quick ego boost, and who is there to offer a fresh opinion that might just push you to be a better photographer.

Sunset Over Azhagappapuram

Evening clouds turn to fire over the mountains north of Azhagappapuram, Tamil Nadu, India.

I took this photo on the final day of a fantastic trip to India last year. I was in the state of Tamil Nadu, at the southern tip of India staying with my friend Frans. The village in which he grew up is just on the far side of this small lake, so I only had to travel a few minutes from where I was staying to get this shot.

I had been eyeing the sky for a few days, hoping for some clouds at sunset that would catch the last rays of the day. Luck was with me for my last evening in town, as the clouds started to build in the afternoon.

Unfortunately, I did not get the still water that I was hoping for, in order to create a reflection of the southern most expanse of the Western Ghats. In typical southern Tamil Nadu style, wind was whipping across the water at great speed, creating small white caps (definitely NOT what I was hoping for!) In fact, this area is known for its expanse of wind farms, which should have given me a clue that waiting for a calm day was likely an exercise in futility.

Evening clouds turn to fire over the mountains north of Azhagappapuram, Tamil Nadu, India.
Evening clouds turn to fire over the mountains north of Azhagappapuram, Tamil Nadu, India.

However, I had previously scouted a small area of lotus plants close to the shore, which helped the photo in two ways. First, the lotuses broke up the waves that the wind was creating. And second, they added some level of interest to the foreground. This was the next best option given there was no chance for a reflection.

As a side note, these plants would have been much more beautiful had any blossoms been on the plants. But alas, they were picked clean. As I was wondering about why this was, I saw a man in a canoe further along the shore, slowly making his way through the lotuses and plucking any fresh blossoms. Oh well, maybe time for a little photoshop? Just kidding of course….

Apparently, this area doesn’t see many photographers or foreigners. As I was standing by the shoreline with my tripod, many people stopped on the nearby road to watch what I was doing. That was okay – the resulting photo was well worth the extra attention.

Every day I was there, I discovered more of the natural beauty of the area’s land and animals. I will certainly return to cover this amazing landscape more in depth.

Gear I used to create the photos in this post:

Copyright 2017 Hank Christensen