It’s been far too long between blog posts. But, as wedding season slows down, the blog can (hopefully) come back to life.
This particular post is one I’ve been meaning to write for some time, introducing a new section of the website: Still Life. The goal, I hope, is to showcase some of my photography that doesn’t fit neatly into my usual landscape, portrait, and wedding work.
First up, these photos that, for now, I’m just calling Light and Color:
I first began this series last winter, mostly out of boredom. I wanted to go landscape shooting right around the time we were hit with 32″ of snow, so I got the idea to create my own landscapes, if at all possible.
These images are created in my kitchen, mostly, using a series of off-camera flashes, a macro lens, some paint on a pane of glass, and a bit of post-processing color theory. The flashes illuminate portions of the paint, providing light and depth to the images.
Some, like the image above, I created intentionally to look like places I’ve been. (This image reminds me of the glaciers we visited in Iceland). Others, like this image:
come about completely randomly.
Either way, I certainly hope you enjoy these and the other images in the gallery. As always, thanks for reading!
We spent the last of our time in Iceland visiting Þingvellir National Park, where the European and American tectonic plates meet and Reykjavik, Iceland’s Capital City. While most of our time in Iceland was spent in absolutely beautiful weather conditions, Þingvellir and Reykjavik saw us in rain most of the time. As such, there aren’t a lot of photos from Þingvellir, specifically, though I can say that it is a magical place. Today, we’ll focus mostly on Reykjavik. First up is one of the most recognizable landmarks in Iceland (man-made, at least): the Hallgrímskirkja.
One of Iceland’s tallest structures, and the largest church in Iceland, Hallgrímskirkja towers over Reykjavik.
Some of the most striking and beautiful parts of Reykjavik were the murals, which covered many of the walls in the city:
Toward the end of our visit, after taking pictures of murals in the rain, the clouds parted briefly and we were treated to some fantastic light at the Sun Voyager sculpture, created to commemorate the 200th anniversary of the city of Reykjavik:
Seven days in Iceland was just enough time to know that seven days in Iceland isn’t nearly enough. Over the course of the trip we took nearly 4,000 images, most of which I’ve not yet finished processing. The stunning landscape was matched only by the kindness of the people we met. It’s no wonder that 1.7 million people visited Iceland in 2016 (though the island is home to only 300,000).
I’ll leave off Iceland with two of my favorite memories. The first is a panorama from the Snæfellsnes peninsula. The last is a video Kira took from behind Seljalandsfoss while I was taking a photograph. It was the last sunset we saw while there and I can’t think of a better way to finish up these Iceland blogs. Thanks so much for reading. Happy to answer any questions in the comments.
I’ve always been fascinated with the stories behind stories. Why not the stories behind photographs? Occasionally, throughout 2017, I’ll be writing the stories behind some of my favorite photos. We’ll begin in November, 2016, as I was testing a new lighting setup in preparation for some portrait work for a client. I had finished dialing everything in, just about to start packing everything up, when my daughter came outside and volunteered her services as lighting guinea pig. With the digital cameras put away, I turned instead to some older stuff.
Specifically, a Canon A1, circa 1979, and Ilford FP4+ 35mm film. I had just loaded up the film to partake in November’s FP4 Party, a competition of sorts with Emulsive, an online film photographer’s cooperative. Using one light, camera right, I took three frames, hoping one of them would turn out. One of them did, thankfully, but the two others are instructive:
We were just out in the backyard noodling around, when I re-heard Robert Capa’s bit of advice: “If your pictures aren’t good enough, you’re not close enough.” One more frame, much closer, and this is what came out:
I was lucky enough to make the “Best of November” post on Emulsive. You can see it, and a lot of other great work, here.
Just above Skógafoss, one of the tallest waterfalls in Iceland, you’ll find the beginnings of the Fimmvörðuháls trail and a series of falls cutting through the mountains. Hike the trail long enough, and you’ll connect with the Laugavegur trail, leading into Landmannalauger and the rhyolite mountains. Alas, we only hiked for a few miles, eager to see as much of the south coast as possible.
If you look hard enough, you’ll see three white dots on the left of the frame in the header image. Just some of the many, many sheep along the trail.
Farther along the southern coast of Iceland, there is Dyrhólaey, the arch situated above the black sand beach, Reynisfjara. The waves there were intense, perfect for a triptych of long exposures. These weren’t converted to black and white, believe it or not. They were simply naturally occurring monochromatic images, thanks to Iceland’s unique geology.
The geological formations on the southern coast are amazing, from the basalt columns on the beach to the huge towers out to sea.
Finally, the light waning a bit, we made our way back west along the ring road, stopping for a quick look at Seljalandsfoss. The sun came out just as it was setting, casting some beautiful light on the waterfall.
14 hours is far too little time to spend on the southern coast of Iceland, of course. I can imagine spending a week there and not seeing everything. Still, happy to have seen as much as we did.
West, along the Snæfellsnes peninsula, we saw the finest scenery yet in Iceland, though if there’s anything our time in Iceland taught us, it’s that there is no bad scenery to see. It was a beautiful day, marked by blue skies and white puffy clouds, and, at the end, truly epic winds. Gusts at least to 60mph, coming down from the mountains, causing whitecaps on the small lakes inland.
But we’re here for the pictures:
On the northern edge of the peninsula we were treated to great inlets and beautiful mountains. The texture of the landscape was amazing:
Iceland is unique, in that sits at the joint of two tectonic plates. The west of the island sits on the North American plate; the east is on the European plate. There’s a rift through the island, especially visible at Þingvellir, where you can stand between the plates. The far eastern and western edges of the island represent the oldest formations of the otherwise (comparatively) young island. As we headed west on Snæfellsnes we were seeing the oldest sections of the island.
At the farthest edge of the peninsula, you’ll find Snæfellsjökull National Park, at times lush with tall grasses, at others a near moonscape of lava rock.
And, further south, Snæfellsjökull itself:
Snæfellsjökull is one of the oldest glaciers/volcanoes on the island. It’s said to be a powerful place, full of magic. It’s probably most famous as the location of Jules Verne’s entrance to the center of the Earth. From the south, the lava flows and glacier were clearly visible.
As we drove along the southern edge of the peninsula, we found the turnoff for a mountain track (F570) that lead over Snæfellsjökull and back to the northern edge Snæfellsnes. It climbed, very quickly, from sea level to just over 3,000 ft in elevation. The wind increased dramatically near the top, where clouds seemed to form from nothing and roll down the edge of the mountain. Perhaps the most amazing thing was the bright green moss covering the ground. Alas, we didn’t find the entrance to the center of the Earth that Jules Verne wrote about.
But it all paled in comparison to one of the first sights we saw that day: Kirkjufell. It’s one of the most iconic sights in Iceland, a place I had only seen in pictures. It was relatively crowded, for Iceland. Near Kirkjufell is Kirkjufellsfoss, waterfalls and hiking trails with beautiful views of the mountain. At the base of the falls there was a small patch of muddy turf, just large enough to plant a tripod and wait for the shot:
In Part 4: The south coast, black sand beaches, and conversations with sheep.
Or: the Vantsnes Peninsula, light, horses, rain, and the end of the rainbow.
The second day in Iceland began at 6:30, as we loaded up the Dacia and headed north, toward the Vantsnes Peninsula. The original goal was to find Hvítserkur, the rock formation that legend tells was a troll who returned too late to his cave and was frozen there by the morning sun.
But Vantsnes was so much more than the sad fate of a lonely troll. We watched from Illugastaðir as seals lounged on rocks. Farms and horses (and sheep! always sheep!) and churches dotted the roadside and the light was magnificent. It was alternately cloudy and stormy while we were there and it made for a dramatic countryside.
The first stop, though, was a quick color-check, as I was after Serious Photography, of course.
The jury remains out as to how helpful this was, but it made a decent place to begin in post-processing.
Our first real stop of the day came in the form of Borgarvirki, a large lava plug that was thought to be a fort of sorts, meant for the defense of the surrounding valley. The fortifications would have been around circa 900-1000 A.D., though according to the information at Borgarvirki, there was no record of there having been a battle or siege at the site. Of course, I think I know why:
Can you imagine walking up to that wall with hostile intent?
Further north, more farms and churches, horses and sheep. Here, a small church that was part of a farmstead, nestled at the edge of a mountain.
And the horses that called that farm home:
After the farm and horses, we made it to Hvítserkur, that poor devil of a troll:
I can perhaps see the trollish resemblance. Of course, the official explanation (that the formation is the remnants of a lava plug, long battered by the sea), is also acceptable. In fact, the sea had done such a good job of wearing away the rock that the Icelanders shored up the foundation with concrete, rather than lose the formation completely.
Hvítserkur sits at the top third of the peninsula, so we soon found ourselves rounding the corner and heading south again. Shortly after making the turn, a small herd of horses came trotting north. I have no idea where they were headed, but they seemed to be able to manage well enough on their own. Further up the road, another small group of them, simply hanging out by the side of the road. Happy to roam and graze. And, in the case of at least one, happy to pose for a photograph.
The clouds were beginning to roll in, however. At a promontory on the western edge of the peninsula we could see a storm coming in over the Westfjords. We stopped just long enough to catch a panorama of the sky and sea before the rain began on Vantsnes as well.
I had read, before coming to Iceland, that if you didn’t like the weather, to simply wait five minutes. Of course, I had heard that about South Dakota, too. And Montana. And Alberta and British Columbia. It proved more true for Iceland than for those other places. Within half an hour, we had returned to the ring road and a vibrant sunset with alternating storm clouds, blue skies, sheets of rain, and beautifully scattered sunlight.
Five minutes later, as promised, the weather changed:
The rainbow formed as we were headed south on the ring road, heading home for the evening. At times it was visible end to end, golden ground beneath it. It took several kilometers to find a pull off, though there was hardly any space. Tourists and Icelanders alike had all pulled off to watch the impromptu light show. Just like the horses, Iceland’s rainbows are kind enough to pause for a portrait, just before the sun set.
For part 3: Snæfellsnes, wild roads, glaciers, and taking pictures of places I’d only ever seen in pictures.
It’s that time of year when the wedding calendar for next season is filling up. In a few days, I’ll be at the Denim and Diamonds Wedding Expo here in Oneonta. Before we get there, I thought I’d write a bit about how I photograph weddings. To do that, I’ll take three of my favorite photographs from recent weddings and explain how they came together, the story behind the story.
The picture above comes from a wedding in late September, 2015, overlooking Otsego Lake from the terrace of the Fenimore Art Museum. Across the lake the leaves were not quite at peak color, but they were close. And it was cold. Middle forties, if memory serves, and much of the assembled crowd were rubbing their hands together, passing around hand-warmers. The groomsmen gave the bridesmaids their coats shortly after the ceremony concluded. The ceremony wasn’t rushed, but one got the sense that just about everyone wanted to get inside and enjoy a warm drink. At the back of the crowd stood yours truly, periodically snapping photographs, waiting for the big moment and wondering if the passing clouds would lend a bit of sunlight to the proceedings. In the briefest of moments, the sun came out and I was able to take only a few exposures before the newlyweds came down the aisle, looking for a warmer spot for formals.
I am partial to monochrome images, though of course the client’s preferences come first. Here, I was happy to deliver a black and white image with slightly muted contrasts. This was a small wedding in Cambridge, MA. The bride and groom rented a restaurant’s veranda and dining room. The bride’s floral head-piece, dress, hair, and bouquet, as well as her aunt’s hair, all seemed to glow in the late-evening light. A small moment among many at the reception, which was just getting underway, hopefully signified by the suit coats, out of focus in the foreground, framing the women.
And, finally, one of my favorite images from the last few years. No, it’s not the finest image I’ve ever shot, but it speaks to my favorite thing about weddings. Namely, for a little while, I get to meet a new group of people and work with them to make the lasting images they want. This was at the bitter end of the night. Nearly 11pm. The reception would continue on for some time, of course, but a few of the guests had begun to leave and the ties were coming off. It was July and a very hot day had turned to a humid night on a farm near Delhi. One of the bridesmaids thumbed through Pinterest for wedding photo ideas as I was packing up my gear. Someone had brought sparklers, she said, and did I have time for one more shot? We set up the trusty X100S and burned through the box of sparklers, spelling out the bride’s new last name, and, at the end, love.
It’s so much fun, being in disparate situations with wildly different brides and grooms, in wildly different cities. Farms, museums, restaurants. Always looking for the images that everyone expects, but happiest to deliver the images that surprise.