This little image was taken with my iPhone 4 a few weeks back in the parking lot outside an Oakland A’s game. Under normal circumstances, this would just be a dingy spot on the ground. Add a little rain and diffused sunlight and the ingredients come together for a compelling image.
For me, the image is also a simple affirmation of the idea that images often come from unexpected places. The challenge can be our own willingness to be receptive to such possibilities.
Taxes neatly finished and paid (ouch), it’s time to consider a trip to Yosemite to photograph the dogwoods. The 2010 image here was somewhat hastily taken in very low light on my way back to the car. I saw this single branch hanging out over the Merced River and was able to set up my Canon 5D Mark II on a tripod and then make multiple mutli-second exposure attempts in a gentle but persistent wind.
The dogwoods in Yosemite generally peak the early to middle weeks of May but like California wildflowers, it can be hit or miss in terms of timing. It’s been a rather steady raining Spring which may delay things a bit.
Over the last 2-3 years, in part due to routine 560 mile road trips from San Jose to Santa Barbara, I’ve become rather enamored of Central California’s inland valleys and rolling oak-dotted hills. The land is fertile, sparsely populated and easy to lose oneself into in the best sense of the term.
The Salinas Valley and its miles of farmland are visually rich in their symmetries and constant agricultural-driven transitions. The east facing hills are heavily planted in wine grapes including what I’ve been told is the largest continuous vineyard in the world.
Of all my interests in this landscape, I’ve become enamored of irrigation pipes. Out the factory door, I’m sure they have a nearly identical appearance. But once subjected to earth, wind, rain and time, each pipe embodies its own unique history and experience. The particular pipes in this photo had remained stacked together and observed on 4 separate trips, the last one intentional following a recent spring storm. Still gently raining, the pipes laid wet and gently illuminated under veiled sun. The image I’d sought, a simple composition in radiant light, had finally materialized.
Photographed along the Kolob Reservoir Road last Fall when an early season storm swept through Zion National Park. Further down the road (below the snow level) I also made After the Rain in what is possibly the most varied area in Zion I’ve discovered.
Carmel Valley after a recent storm.
Electric lines and symmetry in the Central Valley.
Late evening ambient light, repeating patterns, the textural contrast of steel and earth — I like to think that these elements combined honor the agricultural roots of “modern” human history.
