It’s great to be back in the Texas Hill Country for another Texas Tech University Intersession photography adventure! Over the next 15 days, expect more than a few peeks inside one of the most transformative photography classes out there! With the exception of last year at this time (when I was teaching a similar class in Spain), I’ve been coming to co-teach this 15-day field course for the past seven years! Co-teaching with whom you might ask? None other than the man that initiated the course 12 years ago, Wyman Meinzer. In 2005, I was actually one of his students, and since then, he and I have developed a strong friendship, collegiality, and business relationship that I for one am the better for it! Wyman’s not teaching this year, but he’s most definitely here in spirit, and both he and I will be posting via Facebook (and Twitter on my part) and our blogs about the good times we’ve had immersed in photography with great people while on our trek through the Hill Country and the eastern Chihuahuan Desert.

Anton, one of the students that made it down early to help me scout the land, and I were able to make a few images at a small river crossing near Roosevelt, Texas, Tuesday evening (a couple edits pictured here). This course places photography students in some of the most beautiful natural areas of the state in an effort to instill and edify editorial and artful storytelling practices. We’ll travel a couple thousand miles over the next 15 days and eat up quite a bit of memory, taking some 20,000+ images collectively–all while sharing in the camaraderie and community that only this class can offer the 14 students attending this year’s intersession!

I hope you enjoy the next couple weeks of imagery, because I guarantee I’ll enjoy making them. Several of the images in Storytellers were made on this photography adventure in previous years, and I’m looking forward to again revisiting some of these jewels of the state!

More to come…

A few months back, I was honored to be a guest on Ibarionex Perello’s podcast, The Candid Frame. I certainly enjoyed our discussion–we visited about the inspiration for Storytellers and both our roles as educators as well as professionals in the industry. It was a great chat that could have lasted much longer, and if you haven’t already become a subscriber of the show, do yourself a favor and consider it as continuing education in your photography career!

One of the first issues of discussion Ibarionex and I touched upon was when I first became aware of story and its significance, not only to photography, but as an essential part of humanity. I’ve thought often of this issue since then, and I was going through some images from earlier this year that related to my answer for his question. I hope through this discussion you also reflect on what originally cultivated in you a passion for story and storytelling.

To be honest, my introduction to story wasn’t through photography–I doubt any of us truly across story that way initially. If you’re a regular reader of my blog (I suppose the regularity of your readership is also dependent upon the regularity of my posts…), you’ll know that I grew up on a decent-sized cattle ranch in north central Texas. The Meadows Ranch has been in my family for over 100 years, and I’m proud to say it was a great place in which to grow up. It’s a larger-than-average cattle ranch for the state (although there are much larger spreads the further west you go), and like most family ranches, we all had a hand in its operation. All of us cousins experienced the ranch life–all of us knew what it was like to wake up on a freezing cold morning before dawn and break ice on a water tank for cattle, or spend a day with nothing but a water cooler in one hand and a hoe in the other chopping down invasive weeds across many pastures. We grew and harvested hay for the livestock in the summer and fed it to them in the winter. The shot at the top of this post is of a set of pens where we would work cattle (still do), and I’ve seen my fair share of agitated momma cows jump over some impossibly high fences while calves were weaned off. I’ve been run out of a similar set of pens (along with everyone else) by an angry bull or two, and I’ve helped bottle feed calves that have lost their mothers. We didn’t brand our cattle, but I’ve tagged many an ear with ID tags.

I didn’t grow up with photographers in the family, nor was anyone a writer. My uncle painted a little, and a few family members knew how to play some instruments, but as things often do, some of these activities faded with time. So, in a way, when I answered Ibarionex’s question about what drew me to story, I didn’t have this epiphany-like answer that signaled to me when I was a wee lad that I was going to be a photographer.

What I did have, though, was a heap of experiences in a very formative setting. I count myself fortunate to have grown up in such an environment, and I enjoy every minute being back home on the ranch. On top of that, I was continually around a group of people that knew how to tell story. If you’ve ever spent any considerable amount of time around a farmer or rancher, you know that they are both inquisitive and ready to engage anyone in conversation. This, to me, is very endearing, and I try not to pass up opportunities to speak with anyone from such a background. My family is very much the same. I’ve heard story after story of ancestors, neighbors, folks just down the road, or of those living in “town.” And these comments, drawn-out tales, narratives that highlighted the use of some farm equipment, and the like, are how I came to appreciate the significance of story in general. They also led me to value the dynamics and more specific components of story, such as the characters involved, the setting in which the activity of the story took place, the conflict involved (remember, this doesn’t always have to be negatively-conceived conflict), etc.

More importantly, perhaps, I also learned why certain stories are given more attention in their telling than others. The story about how a particular vaccination was administered to a small herd of cattle might not have been given as much time to unfold as a story that comically or tragically pitted an old rancher against an angry bovine in the same enclosure. Compare this to photography, and we see this practically play out in comparing quick, one-shot news stories covering city elections versus long-form visual storytelling, such as that which is in a National Geographic story that anthropologically documents a relatively foreign culture to the majority of its readers. Each form has its place, and they are both essential (as well as on the extreme ends of the photographic storytelling spectrum).

The point, ultimately, in this post is to insist that story is something we’ve all become aware of outside just photography, and I think this is valuable when it comes to creating successful, compelling images and visual essays. Stories, as I’ve always argued, inform us about the world around us and how to understand it. If you think back, you might be able to abstractly pin-point those formative experiences that highlighted story and encouraged you to take up the storytelling charge. Personally, I was inspired by those stories my parents, grandparents, and others on and around Meadows Ranch told daily and the experiences I had along the way. I believe both had a significant impact on what I choose to photograph, how I choose to do so, and where I see myself as a photographer and visual storyteller in the future. I believe story (and home) is where the heart is.

What about you? Just think about it…

R.J. Hinkle, a good friend and one heckuva photographer, and I were in the Texas Big Bend a couple weekends ago photographing the Chihuahuan Desert Dirt Fest. We spent many hours talking photography and Texas culture while making our way across the 4X4 roads in Big Bend Ranch State Park (yes, hours, it’s a huge park), all in an effort to prop up for about 10 minutes worth of shooting as the mountain bike riders pass by in some of the most remote and rough country in the nation.

One of the nice things about Big Bend Ranch State Park is its shared border with Mexico along Farm to Market 170 from Lajitas to Presidio. If entering the backroads of the park from Lajitas, you have to drive some 30+ miles down 170, and you stay parallel to, and for the most part, a stone’s throw away from the Rio Grande, the waterway that borders Texas and Mexico from El Paso/Ciudad Jaurez to the gulf. At the same time you’re traveling 170 to get to the entrance to the inner state park, you’re also immersed in some rather interesting looking desert mountainscapes on both sides of the river.

As we were driving back to Terlingua from shooting the riders on the Epic loop, we noticed a couple of men horseback across and directly above the rio on a ridge backgrounded by a rather sizable mountain. There are several small towns across the river from the Texas ghost-town of Redford, and we assumed the riders resided nearby. As we stopped to take advantage of their late evening ride, the backlit forms, and the looming mountainside, they stopped as well, looking back toward us. No matter how much I travel, it never ceases to amaze me how we as human beings are genuinely interested in “the other.” Even though this is a simple shot showcasing the throw-back and at the same time daunting personality of the land in the Texas Big Bend and northern Mexico, the riders and experience itself bring the social image depicted here just a bit closer to any of our own realities.

Wherever you are in the world, have a good weekend and remain curious!

Every so often, it’s nice to bring a lot of people together with wine and photography as the primary focus. Our good friends at Host and Toast Wine think so, too. I would like to extend an invitation to you and yours to attend a special three-hour come-and-go launch party for my first book, Storytellers: A Photographer’s Guide to Developing Themes and Creating Stories with Pictures.

The party will be held this coming Saturday, February 25, from 6 to 9 p.m. at Host and Toast Wine, 2703 A 26th Street, Lubbock, Texas. For those of you familiar with the area, Host and Toast is located next door to J&B Coffee in Tech Terrace (26th and Boston).

In addition to Storytellers, great conversation about photography, hors d’oeuvre, and Host and Toast’s eclectic wine offerings, we’ll also be giving away a few copies of the book, and a silent auction for three prints will be held to benefit 2ndHandImages, a non-profit you’ve no doubt heard me talk about alongside good friends Baron Batch and Ryan Voight.

Truth be told, my wife, Amanda, is the heart and soul of this event. Without her, this great evening of wine and photography simply would not happen. She and Emily at Host and Toast have worked together to make this an outstanding event, and I for one am excited to be a part of it. If you’re interested in photography and wine (and who isn’t the latter?), then please make this event a stop on your Saturday evening out!

I look forward to seeing and visiting with you soon!

Recap:

STORYTELLERS and WINE

Where: Host and Toast Wine
2703 A 26th Street, Lubbock, Texas

When: Saturday, February 25, 2012

Time: 6 to 9 p.m.

I was reminded of this photograph yesterday when I saw Steve Carty quote Ziggy Marley via Twitter: “Love is the only law to obey. No matter what they say.”

I took a short trip to Amsterdam last September with good friend and colleague Patrick Merle to present a collaborative research project, and we peeled away from the conference we were attending one day to walk to the city. And when I say walk, we WALKED. We were also somewhat of an oddity. Anyone that has ever visited this incredibly historical city knows the Dutch have an affinity for bicycles, and it’s fair to say there are more bicycles in the city than motorized vehicles. The very minute Patrick and I were in The Netherlands, we were on a bicycle–set out to fend for ourselves by our ever gracious renter, Fleur (a recommended place to stay if you’re ever there).

Although most folks steer the same two-wheeler down the packed bike lanes (large, heavy, black cruisers with traditional Dutch handlebars), others  break from the norm and spruce their bicycle up a bit. I was rather attracted to the way this one particular bicycle was decorated–spray paint and masking tape, obviously by hand–and yet, it took more effort than slapping a bumper sticker on the back of a car. I like the fact that people from all over the world want to make universal statements such as this one. No matter the reason the bicycle owner decorated the chain guard on what would have otherwise been simply another bicycle on the streets of Amsterdam, LOVE itself is quite discernible on a number of levels worldwide.

More on Amsterdam and cycling around it’s neighborhoods later.

Since we’re more than 10 days in to the new year, it seems inappropriate to make a post comparing the old with the coming new, doesn’t it? However, I can’t let my belated first post of 2012 go without some due diligence to 2011. Last year was a good year. Good in the sense that I stayed busy and had some of the most impacting and awesome life experiences I’ll ever have. Our first child was born (I could stop there and be completely happy with how the year–and subsequently the rest of my life–went), I wrote my first book, Storytellers, for a great publisher and an even greater audience (thanks to each and every one of you that have and are showing interest in not only my book, but the more important issue and occupation of visual storytelling), I had another great year of teaching an engaging set of students at Texas Tech University and at the university’s center in Seville, Spain, and I had enough assignment work to keep me from tending my blog regularly (but I can’t argue with the amount of work and the great people with which I share it). That being said, 2011 was a good year. 2012, I don’t expect anything less out of you.

I do want to make a point with this post, though. More of an observation and a call for similar reflection on your part. I photographed the tree above during the Christmas holiday we spent on my family’s cattle ranch in Paradise, Texas (yes, there is a Paradise, Texas, as well as a Utopia, Texas–both wonderful places but in two very different regions of the state). Every time I’m back home, I try to get out for a couple days of shooting. Several years back, I shot a small book on the ranch during summer time, and I still publish the images I took that year of cattle on rolling hillsides, kid goats playing with each other, and even portraits of my grandparents. Photography allows me to become reacquainted with a place I knew well growing up, but in a very different and new way.

However, the shot above was a bit…tough, for lack of better words. Not tough to shoot–the dog walking along with me could have made it if he’d just had opposable thumbs and an attention span longer than, well, a dog. Tough in that I struggled with deriving meaning from this shot. I still am to be honest. But there’s something oddly attractive to me about the shot.

Meadows Ranch is a pretty place, even in the winter. It ought to be for as much care my grandfather puts in to keeping it clean. I can’t tell you how many hundreds of acres my cousin and I combed when we were younger, hacking invasive weeds and picking up fallen branches and rocks that had sat in a pasture for Lord knows how long. And the trees, the pecans and oaks, are the perfect ranch trees. Large canopies for the cattle, and many of them symmetrical enough that when winter rolls around and the trees go into dormancy, they’re seemingly just as nice looking as when they’re fully clothed.

One day a couple weeks back, I went out on a walk around a pasture south of my parents’ home, and at the end of the trek, I turned my photographic intent toward a couple well placed trees on a hillside. The sun was literally a minute or two away from completely resigning for the day, and the only area of the subject matter at hand that was lit with that ultra-warm light was the branches. The blue in the sky was vibrant and the wood glowed bright orange while the greens in the grass stood out enough to play well with the other colors. I shot several different compositions of the tree–horizontals, verticals, a lot of foreground, very little foreground, tree along the right and left hand third lines, etc.

Something, though, just wasn’t working. There was something more visceral in how I was seeing this tree. The tree is well balanced, and I felt the shot needed to be symmetrical. We’ve all heard that you have to learn the rules to break them, and this was certainly one of those times. For me, the best way for this image to speak was to place the tree right dab in the center. Well, there goes my double-truck spread in the next issue of the greatest magazine in the world. What will my students think about this image after I just gave them the lecture on using the Rule of Thirds? Regardless of the publishing possibilities of this image, or the perception of relatively new and well-meaning interpretation of such an image, in my mind’s eye, and in respect to the tree’s story, I had to break the rules. I had to place it in the center.

Editing the images later, I was still struggling. I liked the composition, and I especially like the color treatment after adjusting the usual contrast levels. However, I wasn’t convinced about finalizing the image. I’m not one for black and white. There are many, MANY people out there that do black and white way better than me (I’m always working on it, though–I just LOVE color). But this image, this barren, symmetrical tree and subsequent frame said black and white. Again, a visceral feeling of the image’s content and the frame itself. Part of my vision for the image, if you will, in conjunction with the story of the tree and land itself. Black and white sure seems to tell the winter more strongly in the frame. Black and white does say something in this frame that color did not.

In the end, I’m happy with the shot. It’s not the best image ever made. It’s simply a dormant oak tree patiently waiting for spring to arrive. However, the struggling with the frame, to get it to a point to where it says something about the winter it’s living through now and the drought it just endured, in the end resulted in one that in my mind speaks more to myself and to others in a similar way. Of course, once it’s out of my hands (and on the Internet in this case), the interpretation is completely up for grabs.

Struggling with your image making, I believe, is not an all-the-time necessity for making storytelling images, no matter how much of it you should have when creating art (another subject, another time, I suppose). However, I do believe it is something we all endure at many various points in our work as photographers. I hope I continue to struggle at times with creating images that tell a story (particularly new areas of the visual world in which I’ve yet to delve), and if they tell a slightly different story to everyone that sees them, then at least they’re doing that. In the same sense, I hope you too experience this struggling. Sometimes it comes in the form of not feeling creative for long amounts of time, or when the gear, technique, and vision just aren’t complementing each other. However, just as a world-class athlete becomes such, working through and sometimes with these frequently frustrating times and experiences leaves us better photographers and visual storytellers.

So, here’s to 2012. Happy New Year, happy photographing, enjoy your storytelling this year, and if you hit a bump in the creative and communicative process, work through it, learn from it, and become a better storyteller from the experience.

Thanks again for all your support! More to come!

The release of Storytellers has, for lack of better words, been incredibly exciting, and it’s receiving a warmer reception than I ever imagined. Thanks to all of you for the support and interest you’ve graciously expressed in what was a great project to pull together with the Peachpit/New Riders crew!

To continue the discussion on photographic storytelling, I’m equally excited to be announcing a workshop that complements the book, and it’s going to take place in Tibet! In June 2012, my good friend and colleague Brian Hirschy and I will lead the very first Storytellers Workshop, a cultural and storytelling intensive nine-day tour of the Tibetan Plateau. This workshop/tour is specifically focused on consciously engaging a culturally-rich place and its inhabitants in order to hone our skills and develop compelling imagery, all in the name of that oh so important globally unifying activity: Storytelling.

I’m extremely happy to announce this workshop in conjunction with the release of the new book, and we’re happy to have some great sponsors for the trip, including my publisher, Peachpit! In addition, the world’s best camera strap manufacturer and all-around cool company, Black Rapid (have you seen Black Rapid TV yet?), and outstanding tripod company, 3 Legged Thing, are on board, and in a big way! From what I’ve heard so far, we’ll be providing some great gear and swag to tour attendees, and I know we’re going to be having some giveaways coming up soon.

I’ll not belabor the announcement, because you can find much more information (overview, costs, cultural highlights, photographs of the area, etc.) on Plateau Photo Tours’ website. If you have any questions about the tour, please don’t hesitate to contact me or Brian directly or through the tour’s website.

Below is the overview of the tour and the location in which it will take place. A sign-up/registration form is live on PTT’s site now. I hope to meet a few of you on the plateau!

More to come!

—–

ABOUT THE LOCATIONS:
Covering an area the size of the state of Montana, the Amdo region of the Tibetan Plateau has everything a photographer could dream of: Beautiful, high altitude grasslands filled with grazing yaks, alpine forests and rivers, ancient Buddhist monasteries, rugged mountains and one of the world’s most fascinating cultures. Tibet is one of the few remaining places on earth that is relatively untouched by the modern world. Many nomads still live in yak wool tents like they did 1000 years ago. Amazing, once-in-a-lifetime photography opportunities will surround you each day as we explore the monastery towns of Rebkong, Labrang and Lhamo.

This 9 day workshop will take you 350 miles overland through the heart of Amdo, one of Tibet’s three traditional provinces. The culture in Amdo is some of the best preserved in all of Tibet. We will be exploring ancient monasteries, walking ancient religious circuits, photographing lush landscapes and spending plenty of time with local Tibetan communities.

Most of the teaching in this workshop will be done on the field in an organic fashion. We will have reviews and teachings most evenings to cover events from that day and to prepare for the next. You will also have opportunities to break away from the group and to wander around each destination to find your own adventures! The group size is limited to only 10. With 2 workshop instructors, there will be plenty of time for one-on-one instruction to really take your photography to the next level. We’ve built this workshop around flexibility, community, discussion, freedom and your ability to learn what you want from the instructors while also having the opportunity to photograph what you want.

ABOUT THE WORKSHOP:
Cultural and travel photography involves much more than catching a flight to a faraway destination and simply taking the camera out of the bag. Instead, it begs us to immerse ourselves in and tell the story of a place, a people, and a way of life with those tools we bring to the table. Story is what the entire world revolves around, it is the substance upon which societies are built, and it is the gateway to exploring and consciously learning about others.

During this culturally compelling photography tour, we’ll have the opportunity to establish a storytelling foundation and build upon our abilities as photographers to create meaning-filled images that truly speak about and to others. Throughout the tour, we’ll touch on photographic issues such as compelling composition, image dynamics, constructing and shooting along visual themes, and the role light plays in conveying emotions and visual subtleties to the viewer, as well as cultural entrée and engagement topics that will help facilitate photographing in a new place and among new people. All of this will be developed from a storytelling perspective, as opposed to a simply snapshot position. We’ll also develop storytelling technical workflows and use them to create visual narratives of one of the most beautiful and culturally rich areas of the world.

The tour will be both intensely photographic and educational, the field will serve as our learning environment, and organic discussions and critique sessions will be held as a coming-together of visual minds most evenings. The goal of the tour (and the tour hosts) is to provide each participant as much freedom as possible in their photography while also offering professional and constructive guidance from a travel and cultural photography perspective.

We’re just going through our first real cold spell on the Southern High Plains, and with it we see Fall slowly making its exit and the doldrums of Winter to take its place. That’s not to say that photography during the Winter in West Texas is lacking activity–quite the opposite. The commotion generally just turns to the sky with the slew of geese and cranes that migrate to the region.

This desktop will be the last one with a calendar featured in the lower left corner. I’m going to replace it with…nothing. OK, maybe a logo, but I’m fairly horrible about getting these out on time, and rather than be untimely with something that is supposed to help you keep time (in days at least), I’m going to opt with just providing a monthly desktop image. I don’t think anyone is going to miss the calendar (I certainly will not).

Also, if you haven’t noticed, this is the first blog post since the last calendar was placed on the site. That’s going to change in the next couple of weeks. The past couple months have been a whirlwind to say the latest: Eva Korynn was born at the end of October (the day after my birthday actually), we finalized Storytellers with Peachpit/New Riders, and as of Thursday it is shipping (super excited about this, more to come for sure), holiday travel and fellowship, and a whole other slew of business and end-of-season type wrap-ups that just need to be taken care of before December.

Please forgive the hiatus, but look forward to what’s headed down the pipe. There are some pretty exciting things in the mix! In the meantime, you can catch me on Twitter (serving up anything from photography and music to sociological Americana) or Google+ (slowly getting going over there).

Hope you enjoy the calendars!

Large: 2400 x 1600 pixels

Laptop: 1440 x 960 pixels

iPad: 1024 x 1024 pixels

iPhone/iPod: 960 x 640 pixels

Late as usual, but you have to give a guy a break when he’s trying to re-invent his time management.

I’m rather fond of this image. I’m especially drawn to the hair-like flow of the dried corn stalk leaves, almost as if they’re ready to bow out for the season. The pivot, a signature characteristic of the plains, simply resigns to the oncoming of another cold season.

To be honest, it was made the same evening as the October calendar was shot. The fall skies in West Texas are nothing but impressive, and I enjoy nothing more than just driving the Llano Estacado during this time of year and running down the sunset. Alternatively, the color in the sky makes up for the lack of it on the ground this year.

For those interested, the book is wrapping up well, and should be shipping in just a little over a month. I can’t describe how excited I am to have it out, and I hope you find it useful in your photographic storytelling!

Enjoy.

Large: 2400 X 1600 pixels

Laptop: 1440 X 960 pixels

iPad: 1024 X 1024 pixels

iPhone/iPod: 960 X 640 pixels

Turns out she’s roughly the size of an EF 400mm f/2.8 L…minus several pounds. We were blessed last week with the birth of our daughter (and first child), Eva Korynn. Since then, I’ve talked to quite a few more experienced parents, and they all ask the same question (a question that you don’t hear, I would think, until you become one):

“There’s just nothing like it, is there?”

And no, there isn’t. For the past nine days, Amanda (who, by the way, is the real champ here) and I look at Eva and just marvel at her. We’ll probably continue to do so. There is just nothing like it.

To those of you who offered congratulations and kind words about Eva’s arrival, Amanda and I would like to say THANK YOU from the bottom of our hearts. Everyone from close friends and relatives to even many editors and clients I work with e-mailed, tweeted, wall-posted, and called to wish us well. We have friends on just about every continent that sent great remarks, and we’re certainly appreciative of the means that connect us to everyone out there.

With love,

The Fosters