dailyphotogame2022

This is an elevated walkway in the canopy of woods at an ecocenter that we visited a couple of weeks ago near San Antonio. It reminded me of an assignment I had to photograph the Rain Forest Aerial Tram in Costa Rica. That was decidedly more impressive and exotic than this, but it was a similar idea. That is, to experience the natural woodland up amongst it in a way that you can’t by trampling the ground below. This photograph was the best part of my experience with it.

This is the resultant image of an idea that first came to mind in Big Bend a few years ago. I drew it on a napkin and then set out to create it. Like many  photography assignments, it required scouting. Once I found a possible location, it required me to get up the gumption to actually try to make it happen. The original idea was to photograph a car with its headlight beams shining up the road in a desert roadscape (my word). In the actual execution, I realized that the required exposure time would be too long to capture the car. I decided to let the exposure time be from the moment before a lone car entered the scene in the lower left until it vanished over the horizon. The stars were an element that I did not foresee, but it was pleasing. The best part of making this photograph was the private experience of being up on a hill in the middle of the night and in the middle of nowhere, trying to make an idea drawn on a napkin into a beautiful photograph. Except for the times when a car did come along (which wasn’t very often), it was so quiet that I could hear the blood pumping in my ears.

My family fought on the Union side during the Civil War, and one family member died in that conflict. The “carte de visite” was a popular sort of calling card, in the 1860’s. They were traded among friends and acquaintances socially, and this one ended up in a trunk in the attic of my home. I don’t know who the young man pictured was, but he signed the back in scrolled handwriting “Your Most Ob’t Servant.” In my history studies I’ve learned that in that era even the most vaunted of gentlemen signed letters that way (“Your Most Obedient Servant”), so it is anybody’s guess as to whether this man was free or not, but he certainly was a gentleman. I arranged these old things in my 1860’s desk last night for the game today. I enjoyed assembling the picture and working with the new AI masking in Lightroom on this image.

This is a close encounter that I had late last night while on a walk in Little Rock, AR. Under street lighting this stainless steel sculpture was disappearing in the plant scape. I thought it was just wild. Googling it I found that the piece is titled, “Through The Looking Glass” by Mark Leichliter. 

There are no short drives across southwest Texas. Maps indicate mostly featureless terrain between distant dots of civilization. I love the nothingness out there. The space between. At a sizable dot called Del Rio I found an AirBnB, which turned out to be furnished as sparsely as the landscape. Not a single picture on any wall, no pots or pans, no armchair or couch, nor rugs on the floor. Morning did come, as illustrated here. “But soft! What light through yonder window breaks?”

At the Chinati Foundation in Marfa, Texas there was quite a bit of pressure not to take pictures of any kind anywhere. On the daylong guided tour, we were led through the exhibits by a KGB-like docent who always hovered closely. I’m not inclined to flout authority except maybe when I am compelled to make a photograph. This image had to be captured surreptitiously using my body as a shield and relying on intuition, stealth, and luck to get a frame fired off clandestinely. The artwork in this photograph,“untitled (Marfa Project) 1996” is by artist Don Flavin.

This abandoned desert borderlands hotel saw its last heyday in the 1920’s – before the quicksilver mine ran out and the place became a ghost town. An area of the building where the roof was somewhat intact appeared to be a place where a few local laborers must be sleeping at night. I sensed that I was intruding. Before I scrammed I shot this, as is, in an alcove that must have been a place for a religious icon. I didn’t dare touch it.

AI photography is amazing to me. Currently some photography can be achieved on my iPhone 12 Pro Max that cannot be done with my latest Nikon. This image is an example. It was a dark night, and there was a steady breeze moving the trees somewhat. I first tried this shot with the Nikon Z72 camera mounted on a tripod, but regardless of the settings I tried I could not capture what I was seeing. Out of frustration, I hand held my iPhone up and snapped. The iPhone automatically went into “night mode” and bingo! How ‘bout that. It’s even a raw file that I can send to anywhere in the world immediately. My consideration of the ubiquitous iPhone as a “real” camera has gradually come about in the last couple of versions I have owned. I have come to trust it in certain circumstances when or where a more substantial digital camera is not well suited or available. The real proof came when I was able to make a good quality 17×22 print from a late model iPhone file. Amazing

“The stars at night//Are big and bright//Deep in the heart of Texas.” During my trip last week to Big Bend Texas, by chance I met and befriended an older gentleman “photo enthusiast” who was mostly interested in shooting bolts of lightning and the Milky Way. He wanted me to go out to an old movie set with him and shoot there at night. I got my gear and accompanied him, mostly to make sure he got back in one piece. I didn’t have much interest in what we were there to do, but I found a place to make a photograph. While we were out there, he taught me a thing or two about how to create and render hundreds of frames into one snazzy-jazzy looking night sky “star trails” landscape image. I liked the resultant composite image OK for its novelty; but I decided that rather than include all 100+ frames, I’d edit my image to include only the frames in which some unique or significant element was apparent, like when a car went by on the road in the distant background, and the single frame where my friend’s red flashlight spilled into my shot from where he was shooting. The final result was a serendipitous mixture of points of starlight, streaked stars, and other things. I’m remaining teachable and experimental.

Cowboys sang a particular kind of yip to soothe the cattle they herded on the Chisholm Trail. The song “Goodbye Old Paint” sung by Tex Ritter was one. It’s worth a listen.  

The crumbly painted wall in west Texas couched the old Cadillac road warrior. The play of colors and textures told a story of things that have outlasted their use and have been discarded along the way. My intuition with a mid-range zoom lens progressively arrived at this composition.