Shot Info:  Canon 5D with Canon 70-200 at 73mm.  Set to ISO 400 and exposed at f/16 for 20 seconds.

Backstory

I love the beach.  As a child I spent my summers along the Jersey coast fishing, swimming, and exploring.  I grew to appreciate the changing coastline, how each cycle of the tides could rearrange and change the sandy landscape.  The Atlantic was never still for long, and storms would frequently tear down man’s attempts of manipulating and controlling this stretch of water and land.  Many times whole sections of beach would get washed out to sea only to have “enlightened” officials pump the sand right back up, ready for the next big storm.  In many ways that “taming” of nature always seemed somewhat silly to me, and instead I was drawn to areas and images where nature was patiently reclaiming  its place.

This is a photograph of an old section of dock taken along the Cape May (southern New Jersey) coastline.  I was drawn to this area by the simple intersecting lines and harmony of water and timber.  It actually took a little planning to get to this spot at the perfect time.  On my first trip here everything was almost completely underwater.  With the help of a tide calendar I was able to come back a week later, when the water level and evening light were both perfect.  As you can see, I chose a long 20 second exposure to smooth out the water and enhance the calm I felt.  I also exposed for the brighter sky and water, letting the pilings go black.  This helped create an abstract quality that I liked in the final image.  The hardest part was framing the photograph so that it remained balanced without the black pilings overwhelming any one section of the image… well that, and not getting hit by a rouge wave.

Shot Info:  Canon 5D with Canon 24-70 at 58mm.  Set to ISO 100 exposed at f/16 for 1/3 of a second.

Backstory

Big Sur has to be one of the most beautiful sections of California’s coast.  There are meandering streams, jagged cliffs, pristine beaches, and just about everywhere you look there is something to photograph.  For this image I was poking around an area called Pfeiffer’s Beach.  The beach is located down a small winding road that ends in a small parking area (fee required).  I’ve been there a few times and have never seen more than a dozen cars so it’s a nice spot for lunch or to enjoy the sunset.

After walking down the short sand path to the beach, the first thing you notice are the large offshore rocky ridges.  Many of these rocky outcrops have tunnels eroded through them.  This was one of the biggest and first opening I came across and I quickly setup my camera and tripod.  The evening light was swiftly changing so I had to work fast, and while shooting this spot, there was only a few minutes when the light angled into the opening from the right direction.

This image was tough since there were dark rocks, intense sunlight, and the crashing waves that all made for an interesting balancing act.  I knew that the sky would be blown out, but for this image I like how the small opening seems to spill water and a golden light across the darker rock walls.  There is a distinct  feeling of movement and place not captured in many of the other images I took that day.

Shot info:  Canon 5D Mark II with Canon 24-70 lens at 24mm.  Set to ISO 400 exposed at f/ 14.0 for 1/50 of a second.

Backstory

This photograph was made because of a mix of curiosity, caffeine, and stubbornness.  Last spring I took a trip to the Grand Canyon in Arizona.  The drive there from San Diego was painfully long and boring, but the beauty of the canyon was well worth it.  The drive also made me realize that if I didn’t break up the return trip, I’d probably go crazy.

Luckily, I had an ipod and google maps.  With a little looking, I stumbled upon the Kelso Sand Dunes which were along the way home.  These unique dunes are located  in the Mojave National Preserve of Southern California.  The light colored sand is made mostly of quartz and feldspar, which have an interesting habit of “booming” or making a low rumble as you walk through it.  Hearing this singing sand was truly bizarre.   It made hauling heavy gear up and down the shifting dunes a little less monotonous.

After a short bumpy drive into the preserve I parked at a small empty lot.  The late afternoon sun was roasting, and the hike just to get to the dunes was deceptively long (good idea to bring some water).  The strong breeze that felt good at the parking lot turned into a sand blasting annoyance by the time I got to the dunes themselves.  Sand and wind whipped into my face, covered my camera bags, and ripped the hat from my head on more than one occasion.  It was definitely tough shooting.

This image was made after finally dragging myself to the top of a large dune.  Looking back at my own tracks made me realize how sensual the diagonal curves of the dunes looked from this angle.  Quickly I pulled out my camera, covered it with a spare shirt, and prayed that it was protected from the sand and grit.  I captured several different views before packing everything away again.  I liked this particular shot because the sand glowed from the setting sun, and I think that the clouds added a nice touch.  Hiking back to the car with a beach worth of sand in each shoe was fun, but this side trip was certainly worth it.

Shot Info:  Canon 5d with Canon 17-40 at 40mm.  Set to ISO 1600 exposed at f/5.6 for 1/80 of a second (+0.33 exposure).

Backstory

I will admit that while nature photography is my first love, occasionally I am struck by just how beautiful the creations of the human mind can be.  Hearst Castle located along the California coast is one such spot that amazed me with it’s dazzling display of wealth and history.  If there ever was a place built with the underlying theme of “because I can” this is it.

I took this photograph several years ago after taking a trip to the rugged coastline of Big Sur.  The Hearst Castle was tucked back from the coast and the winding Highway 1, a monument to wealth quietly overlooking the Pacific.  When I arrived at the palatial estate I picked one of the many guided tours (something I recommend).  The tour covered just a part of the estate’s large selection of art, furniture, and architecture.  The history of the place is also fascinating and I learned that William Randolph Hearst, the newspaper giant, apparently kept adding and building on the estate for almost 30 years, and at one point had his own zoo.

This photograph in particular is probably my favorite of the bunch.  During the tour you’re allowed to shoot photos, only without a tripod or flash, making the dim indoor shooting particularly challenging.  This image however was one of the last stops on the tour and luckily the large windows in the back provided better lighting.  I took this photo because the glassy water cast an almost surreal reflection.  This reflection, combined with the rich colors and textures, was one of the few images that I thought captured the wealth and magic of Hearst Castle.  At times it can be difficult shooting, but this opulent estate is well worth the trip.

*On a side note, if obscene wealth depressingly reminds you of your own credit card debt, there is a beach full of bellowing elephant seals right up the road.  They know how to have fun with nothing more than a beach and a few (sleeping, grunting, burping) friends.

Shot Info:  Canon 5d with Canon 100-400 and 1.4x converter at 460mm.  Set to ISO 800 exposed at f/ 13.0 for 1/30 of a second.

Backstory

I know this shot looks strange, but it’s not a fancy Photoshop trick.  I took this image several years ago while traveling around the southern portion of the Salton Sea.  It was the middle of summer and the desert heat was well past 100 degrees.  Besides baking in my car, I had spent most of the day scouting out sunset spots and looking for burrowing owl nests (something common along the irrigation roads).

It was by chance that I stopped to eat lunch alongside a few abandoned buildings that looked to be sinking into the earth.  In fact most of the Salton Sea has this decrepit look, as if years before an early optimism had evaporated under the scorching sun,  leaving a jumble of structural decay behind.  One such building caught my eye because in front of it was a small spring of muddy water with a few blacked necked stilts walking along its edge.

As I approached the small abandoned hut I heard a strange sound and almost lost my head as a large barn owl burst through the window.  Inside I found hundreds of small bones, wings, and legs of different birds.  I was sure that I blew my chance, but I slowly and more quietly carried my tripod and gear to the other side of the structure.  I held my breath as I peaked into the next window, and was shocked to see this bizarre scene of a sleeping owl with a leg dangling from its beak.

I mostly shoot landscapes, but this owl had me scurrying back to the car for my telephoto lens, the whole time pleading to the photography gods that the bird stayed asleep.  It did, and I was able to silently setup my tripod and carefully snap away into the dimly lit room.  After about ten shots (most which turned out to be soft from the blowing wind and camera shake) I managed this image.  Seconds later the annoyed barn owl disappeared out a side window.  We both had a nice lunch time treat.

Ian