It is important for artists to take risks and put their work “out there” in some form. I haven’t pursued gallery exhibitions or had shows of my work very often because my time as a single parent/entrepreneur is very limited…but every once in a while I enter a competition to seek validation from others that my way of seeing the world is appreciated. This week, this image of a bleeding heart, grown in my garden, received a first place award in the plants category. I also took first place in the people category for an image of a homeless man which I posted to this site a few weeks ago.

Many photographers see the world at a level of detail that others often don’t comprehend. Beauty is everywhere…and I collect evidence of beauty and, in the case of the homeless man, evidence of sadness that stirs me. I can’t turn on the wipers in the car until I photograph the droplet patterns on my windshield. I can’t shovel the snow until I first take a picture of its soft drifts. At times, it is hard to STOP seeing these details and get about the business of life. But seeing is what I bring to the world and it is why I love my job as a photographer and graphic designer.

A recent blog post by a photographer friend talked about achieving simplicity, which I believe is a meaningful thing to strive for in art. Many photographers today use a dizzying array of post-processing tools and sexy filtering software to achieve an image that may be visually described as “simple.” My immediate reaction is that is NOT what simplicity is about to me.

I avoid heavy manipulation of images because I am Thoreau-like in my lifestyle. I like minimalism of effort not just appearance. I don’t want to live tied to the computer. This snow image appealed to me because it is profoundly simple with virtually no intervention. Appealing as shot, I chose one simple crop and a tiny levels correction to remove a color cast. The snow in shade already had this blue appearance.

I have watched digital photography and tools and toys evolve to a point where you can make the incredibly ho-hum into a sublime work of art. I am simultaneously intrigued and put off. HDR imagery to me already appears cliched. To me, beauty is in the inherent simplicity of the image as shot.

While working at my home office, I spied this cardinal sitting in a tangle of branches and vines across my backyard. The bird is a great distance away and I didn’t have a long enough lens and tripod handy to make this a full frame bird shot. But several things help this image work: the monochromatic tangle, the contrasting red and attention to the rule of thirds. We can’t always use the 400mm with telextender and sit in a bird blind, but there is still enough right with the image to make it pleasing.

We received close to four feet of snow last week here in the Philadelphia area. It is hard not to be visually inspired by such an event. But it WAS hard to venture out into the stuff because of the endless shoveling and the ridiculous thigh-high depth of the snow.

I was looking for patterns and abstractions, not just the obvious piles of snow on top of everything. The above shot was one of my favorite captures. The early morning light made for strong shadows. The sunlight created sparkles. The wind created dune-like patterns. The natural world is a vast canvas and those with the eyes to see can hardly find enough time to capture it all.

I took a photo student out for his first trip with a digital camera yesterday. We talked mainly about subject and composition. I encouraged him to shoot what interested him and to spend time with each subject, to come in closer, to remember that what you leave out is as important as what you choose to include. I didn’t have a camera with me because I was teaching, so I borrowed the camera I had lent him so I could take this photo because it demonstrates how dramatically different a scene appears during the changing seasons.

I explore this same park several times a month, but this scene appears dramatically different during the spring, summer and fall months with leaves on the trees. The color palette changed completely from intense greens to subdued browns and faded reds. With no leaves, the scene is about line, texture and shape. More than likely, unless there was a significant bird in this scene, I wouldn’t have photographed this scene at any other time of year. But the skeletal lines of the white trees, the dead tree arching over the nest box and their reflection were appealing to me yesterday.

Revisiting favorite places during different seasons allows you to appreciate the miraculous changes that go on around us.

There are certain people who are inherently appealing to photograph. Most of my male photo buddies are drawn to lovely female models. I am drawn to faces that tell of a journey. While it is legal to shoot anyone in a public venue, I struggle with the ethics of taking these photos…of photographing them BECAUSE they are different, because their life appears to be so tragic. Everything about this man, who walks the streets of the upscale Chestnut Hill section of Philadelphia, speaks of hardship, disappointment and sadness. Does he get enough to eat? Where does he sleep? Is there anyone in his life who loves him? Did he lose his family? Did he serve in Viet Nam? Does anyone talk to him, or is he fearfully avoided because of his appearance? I worked part time for a non-profit organization that served people facing homelessness. The Director there said about a man who came into the office seeking support, “That man could be Jesus.” She saw him with a heart full of love, acceptance and hope. When I look at my own picture, I remind myself to treat everyone with an open heart…not just a long lens.

On a trek to a distant meeting yesterday, I brought the camera along in case an opportunity presented itself during prime leaf season here in PA. I have photographed this tree before (see below), even though it is a good distance from my house. I knew I would be going past it with the light on the right side and I was hoping for some stunning red or yellow leaves. When I got there, I was sad that the leaves were already down. I didn’t get the photo I was hoping for…but it made me determined to get back a little earlier next year…or perhaps venture out in the snow to get a series of images from this lovely little farm.

Yesterday I photographed a lovely mother to be. The woman was so beautiful and was open to anything (not to mention sweetly patient when my dog entered the studio and sat down with her on the background and gazed up at her with complete affection). This morning I quickly reviewed the images and stopped at the first one I liked and played for a few minutes. Above is a final image extracted from the original below.  I am suddenly so taken with the beauty of the human form. I – who until a few months ago insisted I was NOT a people shooter – was reveling in wrapping a woman with her own wedding veil and celebrating the miracle that is the creation of life … and my task in the creation of art. I continue to open new chapters in my own growth.

No photo outing is complete if I don’t end up on my belly photographing something! I loved the collision of texture and shape in this water garden image.

Chatting up the docent at Washington’s Headquarters in Valley Forge Park, Pennsylvania, led to his donning his jacket and posing for a few quick shots. I liked the focused shot just on the uniform best.

I loved the architectural reflection in this water garden in Kennett Square, PA. The mid-day light was less than ideal for shooting, but I liked the non-polarized, silvery effect of the water.

I met the most colorful people at the local July 4th parade!

I was on a weekend photo workshop with friends. It had just finished raining so everything was particularly green and lush. I was already late back to the bus, but I wanted to grab just one more shot and continue my lingering appreciation for the beautiful place we shared together. I didn’t have time to work the scene…to climb down and remove the dead branch in the lower left (yes we photographers can be a bit compulsive and we do remove broken branches and risk soggy feet to clean up trash in pretty places like this.) I had to take it exactly as it was…a lovely little scene. I can still remember how it smelled and the sound of the water whooshing over the rocks.

I was playing with what a photographer friend of mine calls “swipes” where you move the camera while you are shooting. Most photographers are firmly of the mindset that you want a rock solid camera when shooting. I usually use a tripod or if I shoot hand held, I hold my breath when I depress the shutter to prevent any movement from blurring my images. But the whole point of swipes is to move the camera and see what happens. I call this image, “Falling out of the Tree,” because I imagine this is what it would look like on the way down. What I like about playing with the technique is throwing rules out the window.

I spent nine days in the southwest with a team of veterinarians on two Native American reservations. The most heart-pounding day was the day I accompanied cattle vaccinations.  Imagine the whistling from the opening of The Good the Bad and the Ugly. That was what I heard in my head when I started photographing this steer. He was a wild one. They ran him through the chute, attempted to restrain him for vaccinations and vitamins, but had to let him go before he injured the team. I took refuge in the back of a pickup truck when they released him. He tumbled out of the chute in a bolt of fury and ran off. My friend Ferdinand here appears in my book Photo Mission: People, Places and Pets of the Hopi and Zuni Reservations.

When I started shooting formal portraits, I quickly realized that interacting with and learning about my subjects appeals to me as much as the finished photos. The mischievous little girl in the white taffeta communion dress is far more interesting to me when I include the fire engine red cast. I find satisfaction when I can put the very nervous professional colleague at ease and she finally  lets go of  the cringing, “I know this photo is going to suck” look and we get the most amazing photos she’s ever had.

Trained as a journalist, I still take the photos that tell the story that I find to be interesting and provide them as “outtakes” along with the contact sheet/proofs.

I have always been drawn to rural agricultural scenes and this had such a simple and timeless appeal. The sky had the feeling of an old painting…it was only missing the crackling that old paint gets.

One of my photographic obsessions is reflections. I was so taken by this little red dinghy on an early morning photo shoot with a handful of photographer friends. As the light came up, I became even more absorbed by its reflection in the smooth as glass water. I was standing on a dock near the boat and decided to bounce to get the ripples going! I love it as much with the water smooth as I do with the various ripples. Is it “cheating” to impose yourself on a photo in this manner?

This little wooden water bucket completely sent my imagination back to an earlier time. Such a simple little scene, but one that conveys an era in which life was both simpler and more difficult. Life had fewer distractions…but more hardships. Clean, running water is a blessing we all take for granted!

I wandered into a barn in Lancaster County, PA and saw these sleds lined up and couldn’t resist shooting them, even though I only had a pocket camera and the light was low. We learn to improvise in situations such as these. When I look at this, I can only think of the days before lawsuits when they actually let snow pack on the road and we took the sleds down the hill at the end of the street I grew up on. What fun! Today they scrape the streets bare and throw down salt so neighborhood sledding is no longer possible.

One of my favorite local places to wander is the Pennypack Ecological Restoration Trust in Huntingdon Valley, PA. When you’ve been to many of the world’s most beautiful places, it is nice to still find the beauty in simple everyday scenes such as this.

My son was walking our dog this past summer and he happened upon a fox den with four fox kits out playing. They quickly disappeared into their hole, but he came home to tell me where the den was. I returned 4-5 times to try to photograph the kits. I only saw them twice and was able to get a few images.

Taking this photo became a defining moment in my life. Taken with film in October of 1995, it is the shot that re-ignited my now ridiculously satisfying obsession for photography. And the way it was taken also made me begin to find countless lessons in life through nature. I was tired of hiking on this morning. I was hungryand I almost quit just before the best part…Here’s an excerpt from my journal:

I had hiked for several miles on this icy October morning and all I was thinking about was breakfast, but I hadn’t reached the end of the trail. I had engaged in a sensual feast of smells and textures and I had found moments in which no man-made sound was audible, only the birdsong, the chatter of small mammals, the beating of my own heart in reaction to the splendor of this place. When I reached a point of having to scramble over rocks to complete the last leg of the hike, I decided to call it quits and head back. Something urged me on. “Push yourself. Finish.” So I climbed up the rocks toward an apparent summit. I could not have been more thankful that I did. Those last few yards gave me one of those lifetime moments.

Out of the top of the rocks grew a twisted pine which had weathered the winds of time for hundreds of years. While it had recently died, the tree had a grace that was amazing to me. The harsh conditions it had endured…the cold, the wind, the lack of soil, the ages. But the Jeffrey Pine was not the half of it. Looking out from those rocks gave you a 360-degree view encompassing Half Dome, El Capitan and the Yosemite Valley. It was a chilling experience. It was breathtaking and life giving. And I completely forgot about being hungry.

When it’s cold outside, I like to revisit summer images to remind me that winter won’t last forever.

I spent a stimulating and productive day of shooting in Philadelphia, ending at the Art Museum when the sun was setting and the moon was on the rise. Should you find yourself in the city, I encourage you to spend a summer afternoon exploring this culturally vibrant and historic area, where you’ll find the architectural beauty of Boathouse Row, Waterworks, and of course the Art Museum itself, all along on the banks of the Schuylkill River.

There are a trio of buildings in Doylestown, PA, that are attributable to historian/archaeologist Henry Chapman Mercer: the Mercer Museum, the Moravian Tile Works and the Fonthill Museum. All are poured concrete buildings that have considerable character and are great fun to explore (although I and many of my fellow shooters have discovered the staff to be fairly hostile to photographers.)