Category: Photo of the Week

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Teaching A Middle Aged Dog New Tricks For Old Photos

Painted cliffs descend to a mixture of fir and pine along East Eagle Creek, Eagle Cap Wilderness, Oregon
Painted cliffs descend to a mixture of fir and pine along East Eagle Creek, Eagle Cap Wilderness, Oregon

For me, learning happens in spurts. Call it a growth spurt of the mind. Over the last few weeks I have been spending many hours learning advanced Photoshop techniques to help me process my photos. This gives me better tools to recreate exactly what I saw, and the mood I felt when I took the photograph.

Now, I’m no slouch when it comes to Photoshop, but that application is so deep and allows for so much creativity, there is always more to learn. Once you’ve become expert in all the individual tools Photoshop has to offer, combining them to work for you becomes a life-long practice.

Needing to try out some of the new techniques I was exploring (detailed selections, channel masking, blending modes, etc), I decided to reprocess the photo above, which I took two years ago in Eagle Cap Wilderness. I always loved the photo, but never felt that I achieved that sense of awe that I experienced hiking down East Eagle Creek canyon. My latest reworking of the photo is above – here is the result of my original processing two years ago:

Painted cliffs descend to a mixture of fir and pine along East Eagle Creek, Eagle Cap Wilderness, Oregon
Painted cliffs descend to a mixture of fir and pine along East Eagle Creek, Eagle Cap Wilderness, Oregon

One of the things that I love about digital is that as time goes on, the experience I gain not only impacts my photographs going forward, but can have a positive impact on old photos as well. It can also be seen as a curse – that feeling that you’re never really finished working on a photograph. But I’d rather see my work (even old work) improve over time, and I’m more than willing to put in the time to make that happen.

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Abstracting A Season

Fall colors are reflected in the surface of moving water ripples. The ripples turn simple reflections into endless patterns.
Fall colors are reflected in the surface of moving water ripples. The ripples turn simple reflections into endless patterns.

I recently processed these photos that I took last fall near my home. I happened upon some trees in full fall color that were being reflected in beautiful light off the surface of a wetland slough. I spent some time just watching different parts of the water, and then isolating the varied reflections with a long lens.

Fall colors are reflected in the surface of moving water ripples. The ripples turn simple reflections into endless patterns.
Fall colors are reflected in the surface of moving water ripples. The ripples turn simple reflections into endless patterns.

The patterns and colors in the water were changing so quickly, that I didn’t have time to see what I liked, compose a shot, and then capture it. I mainly looked for larger areas of interesting color (which changed moment to moment) and then took a bunch of exposures within that area.

Fall colors are reflected in the surface of moving water ripples. The ripples turn simple reflections into endless patterns.
Fall colors are reflected in the surface of moving water ripples. The ripples turn simple reflections into endless patterns.

I also played with varying shutter speeds to see the effect on the pattern separation and motion blur. I took several hundred shots (one of the many benefits of digital), and then selected these shots as my favorites.

Fall colors are reflected in the surface of moving water ripples. The ripples turn simple reflections into endless patterns.
Fall colors are reflected in the surface of moving water ripples. The ripples turn simple reflections into endless patterns.

I always try to keep my eye out for patterns in nature. Sometimes a photograph is so abstract, the viewer cannot immediately identify the subject. This can be a lot of fun, and a real departure from the realism with which natural history photography is often associated.

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Went Hunting For Birds And I Got Skunked

A couple days ago I was out for sunrise along San Francisco Bay near my house, looking specifically for a Pacific Golden Plover in breeding plumage. One had been spotted in the area the day before, and I wanted to see if I could find him before he continued his migration north.

Upon arriving at the site, I immediately knew there would be no opportunities that morning. The tide was out, and all of the shorebirds were well out away from the sand in some soupy viscous mud. I knew that if I ventured out to where they were, I’d be at least up to my knees in the stuff, unable to move quietly, and a mucky mess. Oh well – I gave it a shot. Low tide was right around noon, which is usually a terrible time for photography.

A striped skunk poses for a portrait in pickleweed growing along the San Francisco Bay
A striped skunk poses for a portrait in pickleweed growing along the San Francisco Bay

As I turned around to head back to the car, I saw some movement in the rocks that separate the beach from a bay trail. To my surprise it was a striped skunk, heading out for a late breakfast. I had only ever seen skunks before at dusk, and usually when its already fairly dark out.

He descended into the pickleweed and disappeared entirely. Most of the time, he could only be detected by the rustling of bushes, and loud smacking and crunching whenever he ate what he dug up. Occasionally a beautiful tail would appear waving above the pickleweed.

A striped skunk tail emerges from a thick growth of pickleweed along the San Francisco Bay
A striped skunk tail emerges from a thick growth of pickleweed along the San Francisco Bay

As he moved closer to me, I would back up, making sure to give him plenty of space. It was extremely difficult to keep focus on him as he moved through the pickleweed, because he could move quickly when he wanted to, and I usually only got to see flashes of black fur. Finally however, he emerged at the edge of the thicket and gave me the shot I was hoping for. A quick burst of frames and I got only one keeper which is the first shot of the post.

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Mesquite Dunes, Death Valley National Park

Mountains rise beyond the sand dunes of Mesquite Flat, Death Valley National Park
The Mesquite Dunes stretch across the valley just north of Stovepipe Wells, Death Valley National Park
The Mesquite Dunes stretch across the valley just north of Stovepipe Wells, Death Valley National Park

I just spent a week in Death Valley National Park attending a workshop with landscape photographer Jack Dykinga. It was an amazing week catching up with old friends, doing a ton of field work, and trying to soak in Jack’s incredible talent whenever possible. One of my favorite places to shoot was the sand dunes of Mesquite Flat, just north of Stovepipe Wells.

Wind and weather carve the Mesquite Dunes into endless shapes and textures, Death Valley National Park
Wind and weather carve the Mesquite Dunes into endless shapes and textures, Death Valley National Park

The dunes provided an amazing array of shapes and pattern with which to craft photographs. It was a place that really clicked for me, and it was a joy to shoot. An hour or two before sunset, the sun was still high enough to provide strong shadows and side lighting.

Death Valley's Mesquite Dunes are a study of form and lines
Death Valley’s Mesquite Dunes are a study of form and lines

At this time of the day, I really wanted to capture strong contrast which let the eye see the huge variety of patterns in the sand.

Visitors to Stovepipe Wells are treated to a view of wind carved sand dunes across Mesquite Flat, Death Valley National Park
Visitors to Stovepipe Wells are treated to a view of wind carved sand dunes across Mesquite Flat, Death Valley National Park

As we got closer to sunset, the dunes and mountains to the east began to reflect that sweet magic hour light. Using a longer lens to stack the dunes against the mountains helps to give the viewer a sense of place.

Mountains rise beyond the sand dunes of Mesquite Flat, Death Valley National Park
Mountains rise beyond the sand dunes of Mesquite Flat, Death Valley National Park

My favorite time of day to shoot however, was after the sun had set. The light across the dunes evened out, filling in the shadows and giving the dune contours a milky softness.

As the sun sets, the soft light give the sand dunes a buttery feel, Death Valley National Park
As the sun sets, the soft light give the sand dunes a buttery feel, Death Valley National Park

Black and white photos still worked well in this light. Instead of cranking up the contrast to show those sharp lines, the key here was to keep it soft and lower contrast. I tried to find compositions that allowed the eye to move easily up into the frame, flowing through the dunes.

Soft light across the dunes adds a milky texture to the wind carved lines, Death Valley National Park
Soft light across the dunes adds a milky texture to the wind carved lines, Death Valley National Park

As the valley settled into shadow, the sand was cast in a cool blue light.

In the moments after sunset, the light softens to accentuate the subtle curves of the sand dunes, Death Valley National Park
In the moments after sunset, the light softens to accentuate the subtle curves of the sand dunes, Death Valley National Park

As I had never spent much time photographing sand dunes before, I was thrilled with the experience. It is definitely a subject that offers endless variety and continual learning. These are my favorite kinds of photographic subjects – challenging and varied, forcing me to adapt and grow.

If you are serious about your photography and want to learn from one of the masters, I highly recommend putting Jack on your short list of workshop instructors.

Copyright 2017 Hank Christensen