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!

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!

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That’s right folks, after some expressed interest toward a workshop centered on pushing your basic understanding of photography and visual storytelling, my good friend Brian Hirschy and I are going to do just that November 5 in Dallas, Texas.

What and Why:

Foundations workshop is focused on strengthening your abilities to see and create images that utilize an advanced understanding of where we start out with our cameras and vision. The all-day workshop moves beyond just learning how to make your camera work, and into an area that emphasizes producing images that marry our abilities and technique in creating compelling, attractive, and interesting photographs. More importantly, Foundations workshop is geared toward hands-on instruction in how to create images that say something more than a snapshot.

In one day, we’ll cover in-depth the following areas:

• Seeing Light I: Color & Shadows
• Storytelling Composition & Depth
• Competence with your camera
• Assessing Images: Conducting useful, real-world edits and critiques of your work
• Seeing Light II: Portraits
• Engaging Basic Off-Camera Lighting Setups
• Getting Comfortable With Digital Workflow Using Adobe Lightroom

Where and When:

Foundations workshop will be held at QuadPhoto Dallas, a large commercial and editorial studio managed by my good friend and outstanding photographer, R.J. Hinkle. The address for the studio is:

16650 Westgrove Drive, Suite 175
Addison, Texas 75001

We’ll start at 8:30 a.m., on Saturday, November 5, and wrap up on or a little after 5:00 p.m. We might just squeeze in a TweetUp after the workshop as well!

Price:

The price for Foundations is $325.00 (catered lunch, model fee, and all the coffee you can drink included in the price), and you can register on Brian’s site here: FOUNDATIONS REGISTRATION. You can also contact me through my site here (just put Foundations in the subject field).

Foundations is also sponsored by BlackRapid camera straps, and that means some free gear from arguably the best camera strap manufacturer out there!

If you really want to start moving beyond the basics and begin to build the way you see and achieve your images, Foundations workshop is purposed with that in mind: growing your photographic eye, deepening your understanding of light, and creating a workflow that complements your style of shooting.

Who:

Here’s a bit more about the Foundations instructors:

Brian is a working travel photographer living in western China who has a passion for teaching photography, participating in the growing photographic community in China, and helping NGO’s in Southeast Asia communicate their amazing stories when possible – all in an effort to actively do good rather than simply complain.

In late 2009 Brian helped start a company,Plateau Photo Tours, that facilitates socially-conscious one-of-a-kind photo tours throughout Tibet, China, and Hong Kong – providing socially responsible and culturally non-destructive photo opportunities throughout the region.

Brian has been shooting the Tibetan regions of western China since 2005 and has travelled extensively in these areas.

Brian’s photography can be seen at brianhirschy.com (500px, archives). You can also follow him on Twitter.

Jerod is an editorial and natural history photographer based in Lubbock, Texas. Starting out as a student of celebrated Texas photographer, Wyman Meinzer, Jerod quickly developed a passion for visual storytelling and educating future generations of shooters. His work ranges from environmental portraiture and travel imagery to conservation photography and photojournalism, and it can be seen in a variety of regional and national magazines and book publications.

In 2006, Jerod began teaching photography courses at Texas Tech University, and since then he has led students in a variety of course topics, including domestic and international field courses. He is a regular contributor to the Manfrotto School of Xcellence, and he is set to release his first book focused on visual storytelling with PeachPit/New Riders this winter. He is also a partner in Badlands Design and Production, a publishing house for high-end coffee table photography books.

Jerod’s photography can be seen at www.jerodfoster.com. You can follow his blog here, and catch up with him on Twitter at: @jerodfoster

I told a good friend the other day that you know the oppressive heat and the longstanding drought in the southwest United States is starting to really become a problem when folks that aren’t start talking about the weather like farmers. These types of things do indeed affect not only the land and fauna, but the people as well. On my way back from photographing a summer league softball game in Levelland, Texas, for a story on youth athletic competition, I noticed that a large area to the northwest were getting some much needed rain. Rural towns like Sudan and Littlefield, where the rain was dropping, are arguably the worst hit when a drought this extensive takes hold. Seeing this rain in the sky is encouraging, harkening to residents that the drought will end one of these days. Most folks can then go back to being anything but armchair agriculturalists.

Storytelling Tip: Normally, I would try to avoid the presence of power lines, let alone house night lights in a frame like the two above. However, remember what I said about this drought affecting people? Not that I intentionally went looking for the perfect power lines and house lights to fit the frame. Instead, as I was losing light, I decided to stop and zoom in on the thunderstorm at a fairly level (hint the name Levelland) area of the horizon. The sparse, rural spacing of the houses say something about the necessity of water in these parts of the state and nation. Given the environmental circumstances, the extra subject matter in the frame seemed appropriate. They might not be during a wet year, but at the moment, they help fill out the story of the 2011 drought that much more.

Stay cool!

Today and tomorrow, one of my best friends and colleagues is being honored and inducted into the  Texas Heroes Hall of Honor. Over the past decade, I’ve been able to share some great experiences, take part in some life-changing opportunities, and see quite a bit of dashboard time with Wyman Meinzer, and I can’t say any of it has ever been disappointing.

From taking a chance on attending a two-week field photography course with him during my undergraduate days at Texas Tech University, to co-teaching the very same class for six years afterward, to operating a publishing house together with his lovely wife and another one of my great friends, Sylinda, I’ve been able to get to know a person who is truly deserving of such a prestigious honor. With Wyman, I’ve photographed everything from the roughest Texas landscapes, the most venomous snakes that slither along their grounds, to the people that continually make up the Texas story, and through the years, I’ve seen in him what it means to truly embody the passion and pride for making those stories ring true for not only other Texans, but for the world.

I can’t begin to tell you how much I’ve learned from Wyman for risk of this post taking up your entire day. Suffice to say that when one needed a mentor, Wyman was always there for me. Whenever I was just testing the professional photographic waters, the State Photographer of Texas never treated me as an assistant who lacked no skill or as someone who was just tagging along. Over the many miles we’ve put on several vehicles, I was always looked at and treated as a colleague, and that was and still is the most encouraging part of my professional relationship with him. I continually learn and grow as a storyteller when we’re together looking over old slides or new Raw files. I’ve seen my own photography and business grow in part to the long hours we’ve spent together, talked about the industry, and taught hundreds of students. For this I’m grateful.

Most importantly, though, Wyman has always been a friend. It’s hard to describe our similarities (although our wives may have a few things to say about them), but Wyman and I have always connected. I’m most thankful for this part of our relationship. We’ve told many ‘a story (tall tales or not) and smoked a few cigars together these past few years, and there’s even a few folks out there that probably think we’re related, and others that are used to seeing us amble in together to grab a bite for lunch. This friendship is as valuable, if not more so, than all of the “education” I’ve garnered from him along the way.

So, here’s to you Wyman! I’m proud to call you a friend and colleague, and I can’t think of anyone else in our line of work more deserving of this monumental honor. You’ve helped weave the narrative of the State of Texas, and you’ve influenced a lot of lives along the way.

If nothing else, you deserve the title of Hero…because you’re certainly one of mine.

July is a nice month to reflect on earlier times of the summer. It’s brutally hot, we’ve barely received enough rain to settle the dust in the air, and the wind zaps the energy out of you the moment it picks up. It’s a great time, however, for getting quite a bit of work done on the other side of the camera. Amidst several shoots this month, I’ve spent a great deal of the waking (and some sleeping) hours writing, editing, designing, and tending to those persnickety e-mails.

Through the flurry, I found a memorable gem from Malaga, Spain. During the last few days I spent teaching in Seville, Amanda and I made a weekend trip with two very close friends to their hometown on the Mediterranean Sea. At the end of a great day spent tea shopping, listening to the sounds of a military parade, stopping in at a favorite local pub, and walking along the seaside, we had a pleasant (and tasty) dinner on the balcony of a family flat that looked southwest toward downtown Malaga, and to the southeast, the sea. The slight haze in the air warmed up the dusky light, silhouetting the mountainsides surrounding the city and giving the skyline an Old World glow among the newer construction rising around the 16th Century cathedral affectionately known as La Manquita, the one-armed woman. A nice view at the end of a nice day.

Here’s to hot summer days! More to come…

July (well, all winter, spring, and summer) has been an extremely dry period in Texas. It’s so dry that most folks, along with the meteorologists, are saying it’s worse than the Dust Bowl era. I believe it. When I stepped off the plane in Lubbock from my trip to Scotland, the 25+ mile per hour wind breathed like a blast furnace. Stepping off of the tarmac because the gate had broken down just heightened this intense welcome back to my home.

Drought is not a foreign concept to Texas, however, and although it’s certainly not ideal for everyone in the state, including farmers and ranchers, we’ve been able to make it through some pretty hairy situations. This year’s fires that roamed across the state like a burning caravan and the lack of rain in some parts since September have made for unusually oppressing conditions, but we continue to look to the sky for rain (the first substantial shower we’ve seen in quite some time has just passed over as I’m writing this).

This month’s (late) desktop calendar features one of a herd of Quarter Horses running to water on the legendary 6666 Ranch. I was driving out through what locals call “The Big Empty” to visit with good friend and partner-in-crime, Wyman Meinzer, when I happened by this herd gathering in the early morning on the top of a hill where a lone concrete watering tank stood. The ranch had witnessed the wildfire referenced above, and the drought was certainly taking its toll. If I know this ranch and the people that work it, though, these environmental factors are taken in stride, and the work goes on.

By the way, for an outstanding look at the 6666 Ranch, take a peek at Wyman’s now-iconic book, Portrait of a Texas Ranch.

Enjoy the calendar and your July!

You know what to do (and just in case, right click the link, and open in a new window for a drag-and-drop friendly desktop image)!

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“For those of us to whom our audience is important, what we’re trying to accomplish stongly involves the experience of the reader.” – David duChemin, A Deeper Frame, 2011

I’m of the mind that at some point in our walks with the camera at our eyes, we start to develop a desire to move beyond just the how-to and work toward combining it with the intention of creating images that fulfill a more storytelling role. However, it’s hard to find resource beyond our own efforts that provide information related to actually seeing images that achieve this status. In Craft & Vision’s newest release, A Deeper Frame: Creating Deeper Photographs & More Engaging Experiences, David duChemin combines technical instruction, taken-for-granted camera wisdom, and vision in a volume that speaks to the significance of telling a story and involving and engaging the photographic consumer (something we value highly here at the JFP camp).

A Deeper Frame begs the reader to approach making images on a higher plane than technical achievement, yet, it does not negate the presence (and necessity) of the camera, as well as our knowledge of how it works in conjunction with what we hope to produce as shooters. As always, duChemin puts the ball in the reader’s court, encouraging a move toward creating images that enhance emotional connection and experience on the part of the viewer. Discussions related to lens perspective, color, light contrast, focus, and many more technical aspects of photography are centered around this one goal: to connect with the viewing audience through images that bring them in to the photographed environment. The author’s choice to highlight this goal with a book about creating depth in an image addresses, as duChemin states and I’ve experienced as a teacher, the lack of moving past the numbers and rules, and the need for advanced instruction in developing images that really do say something.

One component of the book that I especially appreciate is duChemin’s discussion regarding the role the image’s viewer has in the big picture (don’t mind the pun, I didn’t really mean to make it anyways). I’ve spent a good bit of time lately writing about the perceptions of content viewers, and I believe this addition to the vision-oriented writing helps readers understand that while our own vision as photographers is a very large part of our work, knowing that stories are told to others, and why and how they are attracted to those stories (in this case, depth in our photography), is one more means of being able to create attractive art and messages.

At 22 pages, A Deeper Frame is packed full of information that begs the reader to consider how he/she is using their own technique to create compelling images that stress depth in both meaning and visual appeal. This book is meant for both those starting out and for those shooters that have had a camera to their eyes for a while. I enjoy the revisit of some of the more basic rules of photography, such as the heralded Rule of Thirds, as well as the refreshening discussion on why just holding to such rules may or may not hinder both the creative process and one’s ability to weave a narrative visually through their images.

As always on C&F book releases, A Deeper Frame is available for only $4.00 until midnight July 2 if you use the code, DEEP4. Use offer code DEEP20 if you buy five or more eBooks in the Craft & Vision library to receive 20% off your total purchase. Even if you wait until after July 2, you can buy A Deeper Frame, or any other eBook, for only $5.00.

Wait! For this release, Craft & Vision is making another special offer. If you use offer code DEEPER12, you can purchase 12 eBooks from their catalog for only $40.00. This is a significant 34% discount off the total purchase!

A Deeper Frame is another great contribution from David duChemin. Keep up with his writing, photography, and travels via Twitter: @pixelatedimage. Also, be sure to follow Craft & Vision (@CraftandVision) for photography insight and updates to their own lineup in the future!

I live in West Texas. It’s flat. So flat that we don’t use parking brakes, which I’ve come to find out is somewhat of a necessity here in Scotland (no, I have not hit anything or anyone with the car except for the curb, ONCE, on my first day of driving on the other side of the road). It’s also so flat that we have ample amounts of sky, and if you’re a natural light photographer, you quickly learn how valuable the edges of the day can be during a shoot. We also have more than 250 days of sunshine in West Texas, which is another rather large distinction from where I’m based at the moment. I have read reports that Scotland sees rain upwards of 250 days a year, and of the past eight days in Perthshire, four have been wet ones.

What do these contrasting differences between geographies and meteorology have to do with Field Lighting? Photographically speaking, they are often issues that are one in the same. Both differences heavily influence the way you see and shoot the light provided.

When I’m shooting stock agricultural images in West Texas, I’m not very interested in photographing during the middle of the day. The light is stark, very edgy (not in an attractive way), and fairly bland. Even on overcast days, unless I’m shooting extremely tight, there’s simply too much sky to combat light values, and given the forecast of the area, the next day will see sunshine. The first hour of the morning and the last hour and a half in the evening are exquisite, though, and some have even stated that it’s the best light in the world.

Scotland, on the other hand, is nearly a polar opposite. Cloudy to overcast days are quite common (above image), and the large rolling hills are, well, hilly. You’re bound to find yourself photographing on a cloudy day at the top or the bottom of a glen, and if you were to wait on the sunny days only, you’d starve as a working photographer I’m sure.

Needless to say, graduated neutral density filters were made for places like Scotland, much more so than for West Texas. In fact, I don’t ever use ND filters in West Texas. This is probably much more of a stylistic and personal preference issue than anything, but when you’re working at the right times of the day in a flat desert, you just don’t need them as often. However, I made sure to pack a few graduated filters before trekking to Europe. Sure, they’re a pain to work with, and finding wide angle adapters for filter holders is a hassle these days, forcing you to hold them in front of your lens more than place them in the holder (don’t lie, you know you do it as well), but when working in a light environment that easily eclipses six or seven stops of light from the bottom of a glen to the clouds above, you won’t kick yourself later for throwing them in the bag and using them on location. Sure, there are issues we can explicate regarding these types of filters, but they’re extremely useful in these situations!

This isn’t a post about neutral density filters, however. It’s more along the lines of seeing ambient light values and determining what is necessary to work with them in the field. In West Texas, my students have a great environment to learn the nuances of light that are exhibited throughout the day. The differences between light in the middle of day and that present 15 minutes before sunset are obvious. LEARNING light and dynamic range (or latitude for you film lovers out there) in such an environment is fantastic for educators and students alike. Those of you living in less flat areas of the world can pipe in here as well, although I’m willing to bet you’ll note the speed at which you learned about dynamic range is a bit faster since you are more routinely dealing with the issue.

The camera can only handle so many values of light in a given scene before underexposing or completely overexposing areas. Some folks say the dynamic range of a dSLR camera reaches up to 12 stops of light (between complete black and complete white), but I’m not convinced. I treat the dSLR the same as I would exposing for negative or positive color film, with leeway for five to seven stops of light. This is Photography 101, but it’s certainly an issue we all contend with at any level. Deceivingly, overcast skies are relatively bright compared to, say, a landscape splayed out underneath, and as a photographer, you’re at the mercy of the light values in the scene. Auto exposure becomes a rocky mechanism in situations like those highlighted in the images above (unless you’re comfortable with exposure compensation), and the introduction of tools such as graduated neutral density filters are often the only ways around overexposing a sky and maintaining values below.

The point of this post is to encourage you to remain diligent of the light values you frame up when pointing a camera anywhere. There are many instances and several techniques of dealing with excessive light values, not the least of which includes time in front of a computer. However, if you’re not first assessing the light values before you even trip the shutter, you’re not taking in to account the subtleties of your frame. Obviously, the more you practice assessing light values, the more efficient you become at doing so, and it becomes second nature. This second nature will allow you to make decisions based on the type of exposure you are looking to achieve, and you’ll ultimately be more satisfied with your images…whether or not that means taking the time to screw on a ND filter holder and bringing the sky values down two stops to balance with the rolling farmland below.

NOTE: Shooting HDR images doesn’t allow you to ignore the values of ambient light. Theoretically, they become even more important. The same principal applies. Period.