People who admire my local landscape photography would be surprised at the number of amusing tales that have unfolded behind the scenes of those misty morning panoramas and vibrant sunsets.

Although the hours I spend wandering the back roads at dusk or dawn are indeed refreshing, serene and even spiritual times for me, these rambling quests for the perfect photograph have also yielded various tales of absurdity and humor.

 

I will begin with the story of the perfect waterfowl photo that was never to be.

One ideal autumn morning a few years ago I was driving some dirt roads along Pymatuning Lake when I spotted a flock of ducks floating on the sun-kissed water.

It was a breathtaking scene. The golden light, the glassy waves, the peaceful fowl. Hastily I pulled to the berm, grabbed the camera and stealthily approached. The idea was to get as close as possible to snag a crisp, close-up image with my zoom lens. If the ducks happened to take flight as I tiptoed toward them then the camera’s aperture and shutter speed were set accordingly.

And I knew they’d take flight eventually. In fact, I was banking on a breathtaking action shot (like the ones below).

However, as I crept closer to the floating fowl it struck me as odd that they weren’t moving or showing signs of alarm. I was now in plain sight, so how was it that they couldn’t see me?

As I drew even nearer the answer became apparent: the ducks were DECOYS, and their owner—a camo-clad hunter—was lying on his stomach near the water’s edge, waiting for the real thing to come along so he could take aim and fire.

I stopped in my tracks. Mortified, I didn’t say a word, but rather made an abrupt about-face and hurried back in the direction of my car. I felt sure the hunter was probably cursing me under his breath for trudging smack dab into the middle of his waterfowl trap and scaring away his potential duck dinner.

My saga of absurdity continues with the episode of the rain-drenched leaf.

I had ventured out early one September morning after a night of intense thundershowers. The trees sparkled as the first rays of rosy sunlight glowed on the horizon. I stopped near a green pasture with the intention of photographing some grazing cows when I noticed a poplar leaf lying on the ground near my car.

Cradled upon the leaf’s lovely saw-tooth surface were big, beautiful, glistening droplets of rain. Struck suddenly with artistic inspiration, I carefully picked up the leaf so as not to lose the raindrops and laid it on the hood of my car. My car is black, so the hood would provide a dark backdrop for a close-up image of the leaf.

Absorbed in creative bliss I adjusted the camera settings, leaned forward and began snapping photos. Pleased with the results, I snapped some more. About that time I remember getting the odd feeling someone was watching me. I straightened, spun abruptly, and came face to face with a woman standing in the road staring at me as if I were insane. Dressed in athletic apparel, she was obviously out for an early morning walk. She squinted at me, her jaw agape. Her facial expression said: Who the blazes are you, and why are you out here on this deserted road taking pictures of the hood of a car??

Instantly I stammered a greeting.

“I am the photographer who lives in town and takes landscape photos,” I said stupidly. “I am taking pictures of this leaf.”

Her gaping mouth closed, and she relaxed a bit.

“Oh, ok,” she said. “Now I know who you are. My friend (~name left blank for privacy~) has mentioned you to me.” (I guess you know you live in a small town when you encounter a random stranger on a back road and yet you share a mutual acquaintance.)

We exchanged a few more pleasantries, the awkward moment gradually dissipated, and she walked on. (And hey, I got a cool pic of the leaf!)

Well, actually, I shouldn’t say the awkwardness had entirely diminished because I should also mention that when I venture out in the morning in search of landscape photos I am sometimes wearing clothing that looks like a hobo’s pajamas. My eyes are sleepy, my hair is unruly, and I may not have even brushed my teeth.

You see, if I peep out the window at 6 a.m. and notice a sky that looks promising, I will literally throw on the first sweatshirt lying on the floor and hurry to the car before the magical light fades. Thus, this is not a time when I care to be seen or to engage in chatter, so bumping into a stranger and having to exchange pleasantries is rather embarrassing.

Most of the time, though, it’s only the cows who see me, or maybe an occasional deer or bird.

There was that one time, though, when a highway patrolman pulled up alongside my car and gave me a suspicious glare. It was a foggy dawn, and I had been driving very slowly on a back road, searching for something amazing in the blue-gray light.

I pulled over along the berm to snap a picture of a weathered barn, and suddenly, out of nowhere, Mr. Policeman was parked right next to me. I admit it scared me a little.

“What are you doing?” he asked in a stern and accusing tone of voice.

“I am taking pictures,” I said sheepishly, holding up my camera for him to see.

“Of what?” he demanded.

“The early morning fog,” I said, blinking innocently. “I am a landscape photographer.”

He eyed me, and I noted with relief that his harsh demeanor seemed to fade.

“Did you know I was behind you?” he asked.

“No,” I replied.

He paused and I wondered if it were possible to receive a traffic ticket for parking on the berm to take pictures of fog.

Or maybe he thought I was some kind of weird early-morning stalker creeping around taking secret pictures of people getting dressed for work. For a moment I imagined myself in an orange jumpsuit posing for a mug shot. (Of course, I do have a pretty active imagination, lol.)

“Well, be careful,” he said at last, and then he drove on.

That was the only time I ever encountered a member of law enforcement during one of my quests for the perfect photograph.

I am sure, though, that if the bovine residents of Northern Trumbull County had their own police force I would be pursued vigilantly for invading their clover-munching privacy. They don’t call me the cow paparazzi for nothing, after all!

I do like taking pictures of cows. Once or twice when aiming the lens at Elsie and her companions I have frightened a few of the more timid beasts, but mostly I have managed to get some good cow photos without incident.

There was one time, though, when a snorting bull did not approve of me being near his herd, and I had to beat a fast retreat. And there was another time when the tables were turned and I found myself being observed by a herd of cows.

This occurred during a senior photo session and not during one of my solitary morning (or evening) adventures. I was standing in a field along with the high school senior and his mom, directing the young man on how to pose, when some cows that had been grazing in a pasture across the road lined up at the fence to watch the proceedings.

It was hilarious to see them lined up, observing us intently as if we were the most fascinating creatures they’d ever laid eyes on. Cows really ARE curious.

My own curiosity peaks in a similar fashion when it comes to local Amish folks. Yes, I know Amish don’t approve of having their pictures taken. In fact, they believe being photographed is detrimental to the soul. (Something in regard to a biblical quote about “graven images.”)

Anyway, maybe it’s wicked of me to admit it, but this hasn’t stopped me from sneakily snapping occasional photos of the Amish. (Insert diabolical laughter here–OK,  not really, just joking.)

More times than I can count I have crept along the back roads of Trumbull and Geauga counties in search of a picturesque images of the Amish engaging in daily life and farm work etc.

Since many of these Amish adventures have occurred in conjunction with local festivals and not in the solitary first hours of morning or the waning hours of sunset, my two teen-aged kids are often along for the ride. I can assure you they groan in misery and embarrassment when Mom crouches in the weeds somewhere trying to get a picture of an Amish buggy as it clatters past.

Sorry kids, but yes, I will continue to embarrass you (and steal souls) in the name of good photography.

My kids have also learned that I take my camera with me pretty much everywhere I go. This became a trend after something I now call the Rainbow Incident.

The Rainbow Incident happened a few years ago. The kids and I had gone grocery shopping and were motoring home in the early evening after a severe thunderstorm when a glorious double rainbow manifested in the moody gray sky.

As I stared in awe at its amazing arc I wanted to pound my head on the dashboard of the car for missing such a breathtaking photographic opportunity. Why had I left my camera at home?? Even now I can still see its splendor in my mind’s eye, and even now I am annoyed that I wasn’t able to capture a picture of it.

(At least I DID capture THIS double rainbow, though. That’s Kinsman’s Presbyterian Church, by the way.)

But moving on (before the memory of the Rainbow Incident annoys me further), let me tell you about the unfortunate time I drove down a narrow dirt road that kept getting narrower and narrower.

This was somewhere between Trumbull and Mercer counties. At first the road looked like one of those country roads John Denver used to croon about, and I figured surely it would yield some kind of fantastic photograph. But nope, it was nothing but a misleading snare.

I had advanced maybe three-quarters of a mile when it I hit a dead end and it became clear I was going to have to turn around and go back. Trouble was there was nowhere to turn around. The road was too dang narrow. So I had to put the car in reverse, stick my head out the window and accelerate backwards about three-quarters of a mile to the main road. Probably got a few bugs in my teeth in the process, lol.

This incident, however, was not nearly as regretful as the March morning when I got my car stuck in knee-deep snow on a back road that had not yet been plowed. Yeah, I know, what kind of moron thinks they should cruise down a lonely country road that hasn’t yet been plowed—a road with a steep hill, no less? Maybe if I owned a vehicle with four-wheel drive it wouldn’t have been such an issue, but my trusty Pontiac was no match for that mighty hill. Needless to say I ended up calling AAA and had to sit and wait for about 45 minutes for the tow truck to come and pull me out.

I did get some pretty images that morning, though. Below are a couple of them along with a pic of my poor car. (Btw, if you Kinsman residents are wondering, the road in question was Moreford East.)

Being stuck in the snow is still better than being stuck in a patch of poison ivy. I have lost count of the times I have exited my car and waded excitedly into a field to capture a landscape image only to halt with a shriek as I’ve found myself ankle deep in the toxic foliage.

(The field in the image below may LOOK lovely, but it was peppered with poison ivy!)

Let me just pause and tell you that I am one of those people who contracts poison ivy with such severity that I have ended up going to the doctor to get a steroid shot in order to be rid of it. I loathe it and feel as if I can catch it by merely looking at it. As a result there have been several times when I have hurried home after a landscape photo excursion, tossed my shoes and pants in the washing machine, and then furiously scrubbed my calves and ankles. So far I have managed to escape unscathed (knock on wood).

There was that one occasion, however, when I barely escaped a deep snowy ditch I had fallen into. Well, it is a bit dramatic to infer I had fallen to such depths that I couldn’t free myself, but let me just say that when you get two feet of snow combined with gusty winds, those deep ditches along the country roads of Northeast Ohio are well hidden. One would be wise to proceed cautiously to avoid tumbling in up to their waist.

Well, at least the camera wasn’t damaged.

In fact, whenever I find myself in one of these perilous sorts of situations I always say wryly I am more worried about my camera than I am about myself.  (And besides, those early mornings after a snow storm DO yield fantastic imagery.)

Anyway, so now you know what really goes on behind the scenes when I’m on the quest for gorgeous landscapes. Sometimes my excursions are indeed filled with peaceful, zen-like moments, but other times it’s nothing but ridiculousness.

 

 

 

What makes a photographer a good photographer? Recently a friend and I had this discussion.

We talked about the technical aspects of the profession—lighting, lenses, white balance.  We talked about level of experience and creative vision. And of course we talked about what type of camera the photographer happens to use.

The eye determines in an instant whether or not a photograph is “good,” and certainly some photographers possess more finely-honed skills than others and are superior to others. But when it comes to what makes a photographer good, I argued one important and perhaps easily overlooked element: The willingness to continually grow, learn from mistakes and improve. I believe being a good photographer (or being good at any craft, really) hinges on an attitude that is both humble and thirsty for knowledge.

Yes, I realize that to be a professional one must believe they are at least better than the average bear, and one must have the confidence to put themselves out there and charge for their services, but being a professional, in my view, never means being beyond the realm of discovery or advancement.

Anyone who knows me knows I am my harshest critic. Some people say I am good at what I do, and sometimes for a fleeting moment I believe maybe they are correct, but most of the time I think there are still so many things I want to learn and so many ways I want to improve. I will recall how I could have done something better or images that got away because I wasn’t quick enough, tenacious enough or decisive enough to seize the moment when the lighting or the conditions were ideal. It isn’t easy, after all, to harness time in such a way that makes jaws drop.

But I keep trying.

Below are some recent efforts.

This past summer I dipped a toe into the pool of Milky Way photography ( i. e. after-dark photography that records the night sky). There are photographers I admire who deliver phenomenal images taken beneath the stars, and it’s a skill I want to eventually master. My clumsy first attempts yielded mild success, but overall affirmed for me I still have much to learn. And that’s OK. I am up for the challenge. Capturing images in the darkness of night, after all, is far different from capturing the golden light of the magic hour before sunset. I am pleased I started the educational process, but I am nowhere near being satisfied with the results of my labors.

Honestly, it is difficult for me to imagine ever being so great at something that I would assume to know everything about it or have zero room for improvement. I acknowledge that I may indeed know more than some, but I will probably always consider myself more of a student than a teacher, not only in the school of photography, but also in the school of life.

So that brings me back to my original point.

I believe success is born from humility, hard work, dedication and a mind that is wide open to new challenges and information. Your attitude is the foundation for your technical ability, your business acumen and your ever-evolving artistic expression.

Maybe one day I will decide I am a “good photographer,” but until then I am just a woman with a camera trying to capture the extraordinary moments unfolding around me, sometimes nailing the target and sometimes falling short, but always, always, always—I hope!—improving my craft and learning.

Below are some recent landscape images that have received praise.

I recently heard this saying: “The only reason I look back is to see how far I have come.” What wonderful words to live by! In whatever you do, I hope when you look back you, too, can see how far you have come, and when you look ahead you can envision achieving a goal that will make you proud. Even if you fail, as long as you learn something from the failure then you can call it a success. (So goes the popular saying: “Sometimes I win, sometimes I learn.”)

That’s all for now.

Have a beautiful day and keep your eyes (and your mind) open to all the opportunities for growth that unfold before you.

 

 

Unless you’ve ever worked as a professional photographer, there are probably many misconceptions you have about the photography business. Although it may seem like an easy job—just point that camera and shoot!—being a photographer is anything but easy. Photographers work under pressure in ever-changing environments with all types of people. The work is often physically demanding, and when a photographer isn’t obsessing over lighting to capture the perfect image, they’re managing the business aspect of things, or they’re sitting at their desk for long hours editing photos.

Because I want to paint a better picture (no pun intended!) of what goes on behind the scenes, I am blogging today about some of the most common misconceptions people have about photographers. I will likely add to this list at a later date, but for now here are the top seven:

Misconception #1: A photo shoot entails taking photos and that is all

So you scheduled a portrait session and your photographer snapped some photos, and you should expect to view all the images 30 minutes later, right? Unless you visited an assembly-line, get-er-done, big-name chain photography studio (and if so, settled for a drive-thru hamburger rather than a sirloin steak), the answer is no.

These days you’d be hard-pressed to find a photographer who does not rely on Photoshop, Lightroom or some other type of editing software to fine tune their images and give them that wow factor clients seek. While it’s still an important goal to get the image as close to perfect as possible when you click the shutter on the camera, those superstar images that make you go WOW almost always involve some extra magic courtesy of editing software. For photographers who shoot in RAW (a setting on the camera that requires additional editing for every image taken), computer editing is a given.

To be honest, it irks me when people act like “real” photographers don’t use Photoshop. Um, yes they do. Every day. Don’t get me wrong—knowing how to use your camera and understanding light are irreplaceable and necessary skills, but so is knowing how to tweak an image in Photoshop or Lightroom to make it absolutely stunning. In my mind, both are art forms.

In addition to editing images, photographers must also sift through the many photos they have captured, select the best and cull the rest. This can be time consuming, particularly for lengthy shoots such as weddings or other events. (More about weddings later!)

Another factor clients often overlook is the time a photographer spends preparing for a shoot. Whether you’re driving to an outdoor location, or moving props and backdrops around in the studio, there’s almost always some kind of prep work involved before the actual photo session gets underway.

So, if you’ve ever paid a photographer for an hour-long photo session and assumed the photo shoot only entails the hour of work the photographer invested while you posed in front of the camera, think again! For every hour-long photo session, there are many additional hours for both editing and preparation. This is something to consider when you think you’re being overcharged for a session fee.

In search of the perfect light.

Misconception #2. Any time of day is just fine for pictures

If you’ve ever studied your reflection in a mirror under fluorescent lighting and then in candlelight, for example, you’ve grasped the difference good lighting can make. In short, lighting is everything, and let me be blunt, at certain times of the day, the lighting really sucks! If someone is getting married outdoors under the glaring noonday sun, I always cringe a little as I envision the harsh shadows the overhead light will cast upon their face. The best lighting for outdoor photos happens in the morning or the evening, and while photographers can indeed be miracle workers to some degree, they simply cannot create certain types of images without the proper lighting.

In the studio, the photographer has superb control over the lighting they create, but outdoor lighting is a gamble. I try to control the outdoor lighting as much as possible by shooting outdoors only at certain times of the day.

Me with model Miranda, making the most of the “magic light” at an early morning photo session.

Misconception #3: Wedding photography is over-priced

Oh my lord, weddings. Oh my. Can I just tell you weddings are the most stressful kind of photography there is? I mean, if you don’t get it right and if you don’t capture that special moment as it unfolds, IT CANNOT BE REDONE. And if something goes wrong and you become ill, or your camera malfunctions, you could be in big trouble. Legal trouble, actually. Let that sink in for a moment. Would it make you nervous to mull the possible scenarios of all that might go wrong? It makes me VERY nervous. In fact, I always joke that only one person is more anxious on the wedding day than the bride and groom: the photographer.

It’s true some photographers overcharge for their wedding packages, but in most cases I think photographers are earning every dang penny because wedding photography is a TON of work and HIGHLY stressful. Not only must you show up and be “on” for several hours capturing all the sweet emotion and elusive magic of the day, you must also spend hours afterward editing the photos and sifting through the images to find the ones that are worthwhile. And, if a photographer needs to hire an additional shooter to help cover the wedding, the price tag inches yet higher.

In addition, many photographers, including myself, attend the wedding rehearsal as part of preparation for the big day, and they also sit down with the bride and groom ahead of time for a consult about what the couple is seeking. All that time adds up!

Finally, photographing an eight-hour wedding day will whip your butt physically. I always wake up the next morning with aches and pains as if I had completed an intense workout at the gym. You use muscles you forgot you had! Carrying heavy camera gear all day hurts your neck and shoulders, your knees and back ache from bending, if it’s a hot day and the wedding is outdoors, you may feel exhausted and dehydrated. It’s hard work!  Also, an eight-hour wedding day where hundreds of images are captured can easily translate into a 40-hour work week at home editing images on the computer. Talk about a sore neck! In short, although the price for wedding photography may seem high at first glance, rest assured that a lot of time and effort will go into the delivery of a quality project that captures your important day.

Capturing the emotion of the bride as she says “I do”.

Misconception #4: Photography is not a physically demanding job

I’ve already touched on this point, but let me be more specific. Unless you have assistants who move your props and carry your gear, and unless you never venture out of your studio to do on-location shoots, photography is physically demanding.

When preparing for a shoot at my studio, I have moved heavy antique doors and antique couches. I’ve stood tiptoe on chairs to hang canvas backdrops. Out in the field, I have climbed fences, laid in the middle of roads, traversed gurgling streams, hiked steep hills, dodged poison ivy, been bitten by mosquitoes, sweated uncomfortably in hot, humid temperatures and froze my fingers in the dead of winter.

I have crouched down and sang songs and made silly faces for crying children who refused to smile. Last but not least, when I sit for long hours at my desk editing photos, I inevitably contend with neck, shoulder and back pain.

Are you getting the picture? Like I said, unless you have an assistant who does all of this for you, and unless you never leave your studio, this job does require some level of physical fitness.Out in the field (literally) with high school senior, Andy.

On the road again.

Misconception #5: Fine art photography (in a frame) is overpriced

Not all portrait photographers also specialize in landscape photography the way I do, and not all portrait photographers participate in occasional art shows. For me, landscape and nature photography are my great escapes—something I do to feed my soul. I simply love getting behind the wheel and venturing the less traveled road in search of magnificent images. You never know what kind of sunset you’ll find, or when the rays of light will cut the morning mists to create an unforgettable natural masterpiece.

There’s nothing better than selling a framed, matted print at an art show and knowing someone admired your work enough to display it in their home. (A big thank you to all who have done so!)

However, many people seem perplexed as to just why framed art costs so much. (Actually, I believe my framed art is very affordable, but that is another topic.)

Listen, framing and matting is NOT cheap. I have spent hundreds in preparation for art shows. You also have to take into account the time that was spent capturing and editing the image. Furthermore, if you’d go to a fancy restaurant and drop $100 on a meal, why wouldn’t you spend the exact same on a piece of art that will endure for years and act as a stunning focal point in your home?  Preparing for an art show. That’s my landscape / fine art print “The Old Tractor.“

Misconception #6: All prints are created equal

See that image on your computer screen? Did you know that what you see on your computer screen might be different from what I see on my screen? Perhaps your screen displays an image that’s a little bit lighter, or a little bit darker, or perhaps the color is less vibrant, or too blue, or too green.

I have viewed my images on different computer monitors and cringed. That is one of the frustrations of digital photography, and this is why I order all of my prints through a professional lab. You see, my computer monitor is calibrated to ensure the prints I order from the lab will match what is on my computer screen.

This is why I encourage clients to order prints through me rather than taking a CD to Walgreens or Walmart and printing the images. It’s NOT just a sales pitch. If you go to Walgreens or Walmart for printing, you may or may not end up with a quality image to hang on your wall.  WHERE you get your printing done REALLY does matter.

Granted, I don’t discourage clients from purchasing a CD or DVD of images. It’s great to have the images preserved in such a way, and it’s nice for the client to have the freedom to print as much or as little as they choose.

But if you’re considering a giant canvas print to hang over your living room sofa, oh my goodness, please let the professional lab handle it, OK?
A large canvas print of a local church right after it arrived from the lab.

Misconception #7: Photography isn’t a real business

Any professional photographer who’s ever been asked to work for free knows the insult and frustration of this misconception. I think when people expect photography services for free,  it probably connects back to misconception number one–that photographers have an easy job and simply hold a camera and click a button and that is all.

Fact is, unless you’re a hobby photographer or someone who’s just starting out and trying to build a clientele, chances are you’re not willing or able to work for free. Photographers spend thousands of dollars on equipment and have accumulated hundreds of hours of knowledge to perfect their craft, so why would it be fair to expect them to work for free?

Art is often unappreciated in our society, but photographers are not only artists, they are also businesspeople. Unless you have someone who manages your affairs for you, you need to be a savvy businessperson in order to succeed as a photographer. Marketing, building and maintaining client relationships, communicating in a professional way, taking calculated risks, crunching numbers–expect to do all this and more.

There are a lot of great photographers out there, so what are you going to do to get your business to stand out from the rest? How are you going to gain new clients and juggle your workflow? If you live in a small community like I do, reputation is important and word spreads quickly as to whether or not your work is any good.

Sometimes artistically-minded folks struggle in the business arena, and in that case, it’s best to enlist some help. However, if you’re a one woman show like I am, you have to wear a lot of different hats, and the business hat is definitely one of them!

It’s hard work, but it’s a wonderfully satisfying feeling to watch a business grow, one image at a time.

Me and my Canon 5D Mark III.

 

THE STORYTELLER

These days it seems most people recognize me as a photographer, but I will always think of myself as a writer first and as a photographer second. Some of you already know I earned a bachelor’s in professional writing and editing and then a master’s in English from Youngstown State University. You may also know I once worked as a reporter for The Vindicator. (I still freelance.) In addition, I am in the process of publishing a historical novel, designing a photo book, and I have had poems and short stories published. I have been writing professionally since the late 1990s, and photography has been a hobby for just as long. However, I didn’t transition into a professional photographer until about four years ago.

In previous blogs I mentioned similarities between working as a professional photographer and as a journalist, and here I am declaring it again—photography and journalism have many parallels! This is what I was thinking about yesterday as I drove to a photo session.  I always feel a little nervous before an appointment, and I remember experiencing an identical twinge of angst back when I was a full-time reporter en route to an assignment. While driving to the interview the same worried thoughts would circle in my mind: What will this person be like? What if the interview doesn’t go well? What if I can’t gather the necessary information? What if I can’t produce a story?

These days I feel the same nervous anticipation when I prepare for a photo session. The hamster wheel between my temples churns ideas that go something like this: What if I don’t get any good pictures? What if the subject(s) feels awkward and won’t relax? What if the camera malfunctions? (You get the idea. Anxiety is such a pain-in-the you-know-what!)

It occurred to me yesterday that preparing for a photo session and a newspaper interview are nearly the same. As you prepare, you know there’s going to be a story to ferret out, and you know you’re going to have to capture it and then present it to an audience. Doing so might not be easy–like raising a rifle and hitting a moving target, or netting an elusive butterfly.

Now, you might think it’s strange for me to liken capturing a photographic image to ferreting out a story, but really that’s what it is. Every picture tells a story, and you’ve got to know where to look and what to look for in order to find it. The “picture/story” thing is an old cliché, but it’s the truth.  As a storyteller, this is my goal: if you see my photos and you feel something, if you imagine something, then I know I did my job. I know I told you a worthwhile story.

Journalists chase stories and bring them to light. Photographers chase light, color and the essence of the person who sits in front of their lens. For me, this is a never-ending pursuit that requires constant practice. You draw back that bow, you take aim, and—zing!—you fire. If you’re good, you hit a bulls-eye almost every time.

Hitting the bulls-eye in both journalism and photography essentially means you seized the poignancy of the moment and presented it to an audience, whether you used a keyboard to type it, or you used a camera to record it. In essence, it’s all about showing up, thinking fast, accessing the situation with your critical eye (or with your critical questions), and then lassoing the tale that begs to be told.

Granted, journalism is all about facts (well at least it should be!). Photography, eh, not so much (unless it’s straight-up photojournalism). Photography is often about painting things in the best light possible, and there’s plenty of sleight of hand involved. It’s about that wow moment when someone sees themselves as they’ve never seen themselves before. It’s about turning the volume up on the color or the texture. It’s about capturing an image from a new angle. In a way, it’s kind of like being a magician with a bag of tricks. (But I’ll save that topic for another blog, lol.)

A lot of people seem to enjoy my landscape photography. At an art show last year an attendee studied some of my local landscape photographs and then remarked: “These record the landscape but they turn up nature a notch or two.” Yes, I suppose they do. I have always had immense appreciation for nature and have felt keenly in tune with the beauty that unfolds around me every day, from misty dawn to rosy dusk. So I guess what you are seeing with my landscape photography is the landscape through my eyes, on high volume, as I experience it, with tremendous wonder, adoration and sensitivity.

It always pleases me to know people enjoy my images. If you look at one of my photographs and have an “Ahhh, wow, that looks awesome” moment, then thank you! You made my day! I am so happy to hear the presentation of my “story” brought some  inspiration to your world. I will always be a storyteller, sometimes painting pictures with words and sometimes with a lens. Thank you for hearing me.

The Magic of Light

It’s been a couple of months since my last blog entry.  As the busy summer surrenders with hazy days of ripe produce, slanting sunlight and cricket song, we enter a prime time of year for gorgeous outdoor portrait  and landscape photography.  Autumn in Northeastern Ohio brings misty-golden mornings, sapphire skies, rustling cornfields, dew-drenched cobwebs and fiery foliage. Professional photographers typically experience a surge of business during the peak of the fall foliage as numerous clients request to pose for outdoor pictures.

There’s just something magical about the fall, and although beautiful natural lighting exists throughout the year, September and October are two of my favorite months for outdoor photography.

When photographers use the phrase “magic light,” they are referring to the mild, golden light that exists shortly before sunset—that bewitching hour when the sun begins its sinking descent below the horizon. At this time of day a person can look upon the blazing orb (at least for a short time) and not experience blindness. When they do, their face is bathed in a rosy-amber glow and their eyes sparkle.

Photographers rely on this late-day sunshine to capture some of their best images. The magic light doesn’t last long, however, so one must act quickly. Below is a recent image of a high school senior taken during the “magic” hour. I love the James Dean vibe of this photograph . . .

Dawn is the other time when the light is most magical.

I used to be one of those night owls who liked to stay awake ‘til the wee small hours and spend my mornings fast asleep, cocooned in the snugness of my bed. Not anymore. These days I creep to the window at the first blush of dawn to see what the sky looks like and whether or not any mist has pooled in the little valley across the road from my home.

If the conditions are right, I pull on my hoodie, slip into my rubber boots, grab my camera and head out for some landscape photography.  Below are some of my recent images.

The locals have come to associate me with the landscapes I capture of my little town. A few people have commented to me that they are astonished at how unexpectedly beautiful familiar scenes look through the lens of my camera.

Kinsman-Orangeville Road, Kinsman, Ohio

Route 7, Kinsman, Ohio

State Road, Kinsman, Ohio

Ridge Road, Kinsman, Ohio

Kinsman-Orangeville Road, Kinsman, Ohio

Route 7, Kinsman, Ohio

Kinsman-Orangeville Road, Kinsman, Ohio

Route 7, Kinsman, Ohio

State Road, Kinsman, Ohio

Ridge Road, Kinsman, Ohio

When local folks tell me they can’t believe how great their little town looks in my pictures, I tell them it’s all about the lighting. (Well, the lighting, and hopefully a good camera and a good eye for photography . . . 😉 )

Light is a mysterious thing. You can behold the same scene at two different times of day and at one time of day it will be ordinary and flat, while at another time of day it will appear extraordinary and dreamlike.

The image below is a perfect example.

Morford-East Road, Kinsman, Ohio

I captured the above photograph as the first rays of dawn were slicing through the tree. Had I visited the same location a few hours later, this ethereal, dreamlike image would not have been possible. What would have existed instead would have been an ordinary field with an ordinary tree under the harsh noonday sun.

This is why photographers are always chasing the light. Art critic John Berger once said, “What makes photography a strange invention is that its primary raw materials are light and time.” I may have referenced this quote before, but just stop and think about it for a moment.

The art of photography involves the stuff of immortality—time, and the stuff of divine creation–light. Both are forever fleeting, forever changing, forever fluid, but when you capture them in a photograph you tether them both and present them for the eye to appreciate over and over again. I have alluded to this in previous posts, and it remains a concept that fascinates me.

Noticing and capturing light have become integral parts of my life. Right now as I write this blog I am looking out the window noticing how the September sunlight slants through the still-green leaves of the maple tree.  The cheery colors and the way the light shifts and sparkles as the leaves sway in the breeze mesmerizes me. It is beautiful, and I have become more and more attuned to these small treasures that exist around me on a daily basis.

I am forever awed and appreciative of the beauty to be discovered each day, and I am forever seeking that elusive light that turns the ordinary into the extraordinary.

Kinsman-Orangeville Road, Kinsman, Ohio

Jamestown Dam, Jamestown, PA

Hartford, Ohio

Hartford, Ohio

So, as we say goodbye to the final days of summer, take some time to appreciate the magic of the light outside your window every morning and every evening. Joy really can be found in the little things in life–and hey, we need that sunlight to survive on this planet, so maybe it’s not such a little thing after all when you think about it.  😉

“I opened two gifts this morning. They were my eyes.” ~ Unknown

Recently I discovered this quote, and it made me smile. It’s easy to take for granted the gift of sight, and just as easy to overlook all the incredible beauty that surrounds us.

As a photographer, I am always searching for beauty. Part of what makes the art of photography so fascinating is the camera’s (and the photographer’s) ability to capture ordinary things and present them in extraordinary ways.

Perhaps it’s the ordinary-looking creek you drive past every morning that suddenly appears magical in the golden mist of a frigid January dawn  . . .

Or perhaps it’s the ordinary twig that glistens with fresh water droplets in the cheery sunshine after the rain . . .

Or maybe it’s a familiar face who poses for a portrait and appears in a way you had never seen them before . . .

Discovering, capturing and presenting beauty is a never-ending pursuit for the photographer. Photographers train their eyes to look for certain shafts of light, certain angles in a face, certain colors in a sky.

However, sometimes our eyes have their limits since there are plenty of beautiful things not visible to the naked eye. This is where the camera can step in and reveal astonishing images that our eyes miss.

For example, there are moments that happen much too fast for our eyes to grasp or appreciate–those fraction-of-a-second moments that occur in the blink of an eye.

This is probably why I am particularly fond of action photographs–moments frozen at a splinter of a second, moments we could never fully behold with our naked eye but can savor and study thanks to the slick sophistication of the camera.

The Canon 5D Mark III (my camera) has a shutter capability of 1/8000 of a second.

Think about that for a moment—1/8000 of a second!!! That’s faster than the fastest of fast, wouldn’t you say?

I love to shoot at high shutter speeds. It’s as if the camera says to me, “Hey, while you were blinking, this happened”. . .

It is stunning to harness these rare moments and then study them for all their elusive, surprising glory.

The photographer never knows exactly what they will snare, and it’s an exciting feeling–like casting a fishing line into a lake filled with prize-winning whoppers. You never know what you’ll catch next!

Below is an image captured a couple of days ago at Lake Erie at sunset. The hair flip happened much too fast for me to really appreciate it, but the camera recorded every split second, and now I can enjoy the moment and the memory for many years to come.

Isn’t photography amazing? Harnessing time. . . seeing things you couldn’t otherwise see with your naked eye. . . At those fraction of a second shutter speeds, I never know what I will capture next. And I love it. 🙂

I am an introvert.

You might not guess it when we first meet and I smile and chat easily with you, or when you find me with longtime friends, relaxed and jovial, swapping stories and exchanging witty banter.

And you might not guess it when I spill my innermost thoughts in a blog post, or when you learn that throughout my life I have selected career paths that require an outgoing personality.

But make no mistake, I am an introvert, and I am keenly aware of all the quirks and conundrums associated with introversion.

This is the story of how, with a little courage, I learned to become an extrovert in order to build a successful professional life (. . .or maybe just an extroverted introvert, if such a thing exists.)  🙂

(The photo below represents the struggles many of us experience within ourselves, the doubts and fears and negative self talk that try to hold us back.  . .)

Question: What should a shy girl be when she grows up?

Answer: Probably not a reporter, or a teacher, or a photographer. Yet journalism, college teaching and portrait photography have been my chosen vocations during my life thus far.

All three demand large doses of extroversion.

Journalists ferret for info and interview strangers and write about them, which means (gasp!) on a daily basis one must strike up conversations with unfamiliar people and ask nosy, sometimes controversial, questions.

College writing instructors must stand in front of a room of 25-plus students several times a week and lecture. That’s 25 pairs of eyes staring at you, 25 brains thinking unspoken thoughts about you, critiquing your shirt or your shoes, or how you paused and said “um” one too many times.

Cringe.

It may not be as obvious, but being a photographer requires a fair amount of extroversion, too.

Photographers must take charge when small children become  unruly, or when large groups need direction on how to pose.

When capturing a wedding, photographers must maneuver their way through crowded churches and venues, snapping pictures at key moments, trying to remain unobtrusive yet needing to plant themselves right where the action is, and thus, where all eyes rest upon them.

Also, a good photographer must have the  foresight and tenacity to seize the moments and snag the images as they unfold.

They must think on their feet and grab for the proverbial brass ring, for if they don’t act quickly and assertively, the moment (and the winning photo) will be lost forever.

Last but not least, a good photographer needs to know how to ease the anxiety of clients who feel awkward in front of the lens.

Many people feel this way—they sit down for a portrait and immediately adopt a strained facial expression or stiff, unnatural pose. Some of them even declare outright with mild contempt: “I hate having my picture taken!”

(Below are two very beautiful people who were not so sure they were beautiful on picture day.)

When I photograph someone who feels nervous in front of the camera, I want to let them in on a little secret: I often feel nervous, too! While you’re worrying about how you’re going to look in your pictures, I’m worrying if I am going to capture a quality image!

Thus, I can relate to the self conscious person who dislikes being photographed, or the shy college student who sits in the back corner of the classroom and says nothing, or the reticent interviewee who feels uncertain about having their name published in the newspaper.

On the outside I may appear confident and collected—and in a way, I have matured and grown enough as a person that I am confident and collected—but at my center there will always be that shy little girl who prefers to hide in her bedroom and read a book instead of facing the world.

The girl who wants to walk in the woods and commune with nature instead of making small talk at a party.

The girl who wants to live on a farm way out in the country with only animals for friends.

The hermit, the recluse, the lone tree in the open field—you get the idea.

Now that you know the truth, perhaps you are wondering how in the heck I manage to do my jobs. 🙂

The answer is simple: COURAGE.

But what exactly is courage? Am I saying I jump out of bed in the morning and roar like a lion at my fears? No, not at all—quite the opposite, actually.

Mark Twain once said, “Courage is resistance to fear, not absence of fear,” and he was exactly right. Although a person may feel afraid, it is what they do in reaction to their fear that determines their courage.

Thus, building courage is like building muscles at the gym. You may not feel like doing cardio or weight training, you may feel like lounging on the couch and eating an entire chocolate cake, but you go to the gym anyway. You go because you have a goal and you know that every time you practice what is necessary to achieve that goal, next time it will get easier and you’ll move further along on your pathway to success.

Baby steps. One at a time. Rome wasn’t built in a day.

Fact is, this former shy kid has been practicing at extroversion for a couple decades now, and I’m happy to report that it has gotten easier. In fact, my metaphorical “extrovert muscles” have developed nicely. Where there used to be flab, now there’s a rippling six pack.  😉

Things that used to rattle me have become much easier. For example, in my mid-twenties, when I was a budding journalist, the prospect of interviewing people for news stories worried me. Writing the story was never the problem—it was the talking to people and gathering information for the story that unnerved me. But with practice, I found that each time I faced my fear and went forward I learned something new and interviewing became easier. I also gained confidence that I had what it took to get the job done. Thus with each published article, my faith in myself grew, and I started to believe I could extract the necessary information to weave the words together across the page.

When I was hired as a full-time reporter at The Vindicator of Youngstown, Ohio, I was, quite frankly, excited but terrified. Human interest stories and heartfelt features were my specialty, but in addition to writing these types of stories, my editors wanted me to learn how to write hard news.

Gulp.

I used to cringe whenever my editor assigned a hard news story. I remember walking into work one Saturday morning and being told I would have to cover a murder that had occurred the night before. A local store owner had been shot and killed during a robbery, and I would have to telephone his family and try to get a statement from them.

As my editor informed me of my assignment, I felt my stomach flop and my knees turn to jelly. I wanted to reply, “Excuse me, sir, while I retreat to the privacy of the restroom and vomit my breakfast.”

I can laugh about my anxiety now, but at the time it was very stressful.

I am happy to report that I did find my courage that day, telephoned the family, and retrieved the necessary information.  The very first thing I did when I called was offer condolences and apologize for having to bother them. They responded in kind, and the story ran on the front page of the newspaper the following day. I still keep a laminated copy in my portfolio.

This is just one small example where I found myself cringing inwardly, wanting to run and hide, but stepping forward and doing what needed done. 

And that is what it means to have courage—facing something that scares you but doing it anyway. It does not matter, either, if that certain something that frightens you happens to be easy for someone else. Never compare yourself to others! What one person finds easy, another may find extremely difficult!

As a highly sensitive person, there are plenty of things in this world that cause me anxiety and make me cringe–things that wouldn’t faze others–but that doesn’t matter.  Just like at the gym, everyone needs to set their own pace, and the most important thing is to grit your teeth and keep moving forward, inch by inch. Slow and steady wins the race.

That’s the bright truth about this thing called courage–as with any  habit, it gets easier to practice and easier to master. I no longer bat an eyelash at many of the things that used to rattle me. Interviewing people for news stories, for example, rarely unnerves me now.  Standing in front of a room and delivering a lecture–that doesn’t bother me much either. Photographing a wedding–well, yeah, I sometimes still get the jitters, but with each success the confidence grows and the nerves subside a little more.

I also know much of my anxiety is often overblown and absurd, so I can laugh at it when it surfaces. Humor is a great coping mechanism for many things, including fear, and fear seems to be at the root of so many of our flaws and weaknesses as humans.

The late, great Maya Angelou said, “Courage is the most important of all the virtues, because without courage you can’t practice any other virtue consistently. You can practice any virtue erratically, but nothing consistently without courage.”

What a powerfully true statement!! The seven virtues are defined as: Faith, hope, charity, fortitude, justice, prudence and temperance.

If we reflect on these seven, we realize it does indeed take courage to practice them.

To have faith, one must believe in things unseen, which demands courage.

Hope also requires courage, for it means taking a positive view that good will prevail.

To actively help others in a charitable fashion, one must have courage to first help oneself.

To possess fortitude one must never give up, which takes persistence and yes, courage!

To practice prudence, one must be moderate and careful, which requires discipline, which ultimately requires courage.

Temperance is defined as moderation of needing things and abstinence from things which are not needed, which requires more discipline, which brings us right back to the same common denominator that dwells at the heart of all that is real, just and true—courage!!!

The choice is ours. Every day all of us encounter things that unnerve or frighten us, and every day we have the opportunity to face our fears or run and hide from them. The examples of fears I have listed here are mild in comparison to the troubles some people encounter, but I focused on my lifelong battle with shyness because I know very well what it means to be introverted and to squirm with discomfort when you are forced to be extroverted. I also know there are many others who fight the battle of shyness and still manage to carve a successful place for themselves in the professional world.

And really, what choice do we have? Hermits who live in the woods don’t typically develop successful careers or operate successful businesses. 😉

Don’t get me wrong–being an introvert doesn’t go away. Sometimes shyness wins and self doubt creeps in, but that’s OK as long as it is a momentary lapse and not a lifestyle. None of us walk a perfectly straight line toward our goals.

Author Mary Ann Radmacher said, “Courage doesn’t always roar. Sometimes courage is the little voice at the end of the day that says I’ll try again tomorrow.”

Amen to that. Keep practicing, keep trying, never give up. Have courage!

 

 

 

 

 

I concluded my last blog with the promise that next time I would write about the most important virtue of them all—courage.  However, that post is not yet complete, and in the meantime I’ve been inspired to write about something else that is near and dear to me: old photographs.

I am a sucker for antique photos and often find myself in pursuit of the elusive stories hidden behind the eyes of those forgotten faces who stare at me from the faded photographic paper. It’s as if I’m peeping through a portal to another world.

What was his/her name? What was he/she like? Who did he/she love? What was their greatest joy and heartache? What were their hopes and dreams? What did they dread and fear? Did they die young or live to a ripe, old age? These are the kinds of things I wonder as I behold the ancient faces preserved for posterity by the magic of the camera lens.

I am always secretly horrified when I see people selling photographs of their ancestors at garage sales or flea markets. If my wallet were fat enough, I would probably buy all the unwanted, unidentified grannies and grandpas and find  homes for them.

Speaking of ancestors–as a longtime genealogy freak, I am always ecstatic when I can discover a photo to match a face in my family tree, and the stairwell of my home is lined with old family pictures.  Below is my maternal grandmother posed on a pony that belonged to a traveling photographer. She grew up in Pittsburgh, Pa., so it must have been a clever sales pitch to lead the pony through the city streets and appeal to children eager to ride the cute (and very tired-looking) equine.

Next is a photo of my paternal grandfather, circa 1919, dressed in a sailor’s suit and seated on an ornate wicker “photographer’s chair.”  How I would love to own one of these fancy “photographer’s chairs” that were popular during the early 1900s! Alas, chairs like this one sell for around $1,000 on e-bay, so for now, at least, it will have to wait.

One of my all-time favorite old family photographs is pictured below. Here we have my Finnish great-great-great grandparents and their four children, circa 1884, Ashtabula Harbor, Ohio. If you look closely, they even included their family dog in the picture. I wonder how they managed to keep the doggy still?

My dining room is also crowded with old family photos.

This collection is displayed atop my circa-1893 upright piano. The center oval portrait features my Finnish great-great-grandparents on their wedding day. They married when she was just 16 and he was 21.  She bore 14 children, but only half of them survived into adulthood, many of them dying of tuberculosis. The large oval portrait on the far left is one of those children–my great-grandmother, their eldest, who outlived all of her siblings, dying in the 1970s when I was just 2. The large oval portrait to the right is my great-grandfather, who also immigrated to the United States from Finland. Without knowing how to speak English, he came to this country on his own in his 20s and never saw his parents or siblings in the “Old Country” again. He died suddenly of a heart attack in the 1950s while sitting in a barber’s chair, waiting for a haircut.

Stories like these are often handed down through the generations, or unearthed as a genealogist digs for clues. Either way, both the stories and photographs are precious fragments of the past, which brings me to my most important point: portraiture is an art not only to be shared with living friends and loved ones, it is an art we will share with posterity without even realizing it.

Think about it. One hundred-plus years from now, will a descendant hold your portrait in their hands and notice the family resemblances and wonder about the life you lived? Will they feel an inexplicable connection to you? Will they display your image in their home in an honored spot among treasured possessions and family heirlooms?

When we pose for a professional portrait, we might think of the friends or family with who we plan to share the prints. We might consider the Christmas cards we plan to design, or the large-sized canvas print we plan to hang above the sofa, but without even realizing it, we are also creating something very profound for people we will never know– but who will be a part of us.

When we regard portraiture from this perspective we realize how profound of an art it really is. Photographers are not only capturing an image, they are capturing a sliver of time, and–if they’re particularly talented at their craft–often they’re capturing the essence of a person’s story and character. To me, that is one thing that makes a stunning portrait–studying the person’s image and wanting to know more about them, or perhaps feeling as if you are acquainted with them just by the glint in their eye, or they way they tilt their head, or the sass with which they hold a pipe between their teeth.

French humanist photographer Henri Cartier-Bresson said, “Photographers deal in things which are continually vanishing, and when they have vanished there is no contrivance on earth which can make them come back again. We cannot develop and print a memory.”

No, but if we have a picture of that memory, we can frame it and hang it above our piano.

So, the next time you question the value of a photograph, or the value of investing in a professional portrait session, consider what is really being captured and preserved, and consider the boundlessness of this miraculous creative medium that allows an artist to create with the light and time.