Learn to Inquire More Deeply into What You See

Timisoara Window

This ancient window, beautiful as it is, represents one of the great missed opportunities of my career. Photographing in Timisoara just three months after the fall of the Ceucescu regime, and before the horror of the Romanian orphanages became known to the world, I came upon a large building whose grounds were enclosed with barred walls. There were many children standing around or playing behind the bars, and some came over to watch me. 

"What's that?" I asked the young Romanian who was showing me around.

"An orphan asylum," he replied.

"Oh, okay," I said, and turned away to the attractive pattern of shadows playing on a window across the street.

Some months later, someone else broke the story of the Romanian orphanages. It could have been me.        Serendipity knocked; nobody was home. (Olympus OM, 100mm Zuiko, Fujichrome 100 film.)

When You Find Something Good, Keep Working It

Clarence Spindler and his "See Rock City" barn

It was early morning when I pulled up to Clarence Spindler's farmhouse on U.S. Highway 41 just north of Evansville, Indiana. Clarence and I had never met; in fact I was not even sure he was still living. All I had to go on was an old file card from the 1960s which had been used by the sign painters who traveled the countryside back then painting "See Rock City" on every barn whose owner would permit it. Thirty-some years later, I was there in pursuit of my quest to make a photograph (and a book) of every Rock City barn still in existence.

Several knocks having produced no answer, I went on around to the barn and began making photographs: first, a series in half-stop brackets, then the same with a Cokin #85 filter to emphasize the warm feel of the rising sun. Clarence himself arrived on the scene just then, and after a few minutes of introduction and pleasant reminiscing I asked if he would mind being in my picture. He allowed that it would be all right and stood where I asked as I made another set of bracketed exposures. "Better and better," I thought. I had a good photo of the barn alone, and an even better photo of Clarence and his barn.

Then serendipity sent a kitten to wrap itself around Clarence's legs and look up at me with eyes gleaming in the morning light.  (Canon EOS A2, 24mm Canon EF lens, Fujichrome Sensia film, Cokin #85  pro-series filter.)

Learn to Recognize Great Light

Totonicopan Tailor

Photography is about light. In fact, the word "photograph" comes from two Greek words: photos, which means "light," and grapho, which means "to write." So to photograph really means to write with light.

Learning to see light and use it well is the most basic, but also the most important skill in photography. For me, it has also been the most difficult to acquire and I'm still working at it. A true master of photography can find ways to use almost any kind of light, even the harsh glare and black shadows of mid-day. Most of us, though, will find serendipity favors the slanting, directional rays of morning and evening, the softness of open shade, and the warm glow of windowlight, as in this picture of a Guatemalan tailor making uniforms for students at an evangelical mission school in the mountain town of Totonicopan. A large window to his right was the sole and beautifully sufficient source of illumination.  (Olympus OM, 85mm Zuiko, Fujichrome 100)

Always Carry Your Camera

New England Rednecks

I have never, ever, taken a picture I like on an occasion when I did not have a camera with me.

My wife accompanied me on an assignment one summer which took us to Massachusetts, Maine, Pennsylvania, and Indiana. We traveled by car and were able to take some time off for ourselves, including a pleasant weekend with friends in southwestern New Hampshire. We all went out for a Sunday afternoon ramble, and even though it was an off-day for me I followed my rule of always carrying a camera. I took only an 85mm lens, but the combination proved to be just right when we stopped at the ol' village swimmin' hole. I photographed casually in automatic exposure mode as the dog made dive after dive. This is the one I like best.

Please note that, contrary to popular opinion, rednecks are everywhere, not just in the South.  (Olympus OM2n, 85mm Zuiko, Fujichrome 100.)