Digital Techniques

Rolling Wave © Bruce Hucko
© Bruce Hucko

Tilting at Tripods – An Ongoing Dilemma in Landscape Photography with Bruce Hucko

By Bruce Hucko | On Jan 15, 2013 | 14 Comments

This place has long been on my bucket list to visit at least once, but, like the light we seek it remained elusive until Thanksgiving of 2012. Finally, there was enough free time on the calendar and enough free space in the heart and mind to encounter a new and longed for landscape openly, freely, and without the tentacles of day-to-day responsibilities holding me back. I’d left them all at home, packed my truck with 5 days worth of leftover early turkey, a homemade pumpkin pie, water, other food, a little wine and my current tequila of choice …plus an air pump, jack, extra gas, and other necessary tools for traveling down long sandy roads to a marvelously contorted small and potent wonderland of sandstone known simply as ……………..

And that’s the point.

If I name it would you all go there? A host of you already know this place, and once you see the images you may want to put it on your list, or say, “Oh yeah. Been there, done that …. and better.”
It’s impossible to keep a photo-secret these days. Out of curiosity, I Googled the map name for this place – 340,000 hits. The first to come up were photo references and tour guides. That was almost enough to turn me some other direction, but I was haunted by the photographic opportunities that awaited me among the marvelously mangled folds and twists of Navajo sandstone.

I arrived in the early afternoon the day before Thanksgiving to an empty “parking area,” shouldered my gear, strode with anticipation over the sand dune and was soon lost in rapture, as giddy as a kid in a candy store. All this great rock. All these fabulous forms! And I had it all to myself! I blasted a hundred frames on my Nikon D800 before taking a breath and than sat and pondered what lay before me. There was almost too much here to comprehend. I took a quick tour of the images I’d made. Nah. Nah. Nope. Maybe. OK. Nah. Nah. I’d rushed like the forms were all going to quickly slither away and get lost.

 

First Lesson: In my excitement to be here I had not truly arrived yet. I packed the camera away and for the next hour just walked the area slowly, allowing myself to just feel and see without the obligation to photograph. An hour before sunset I began to really work – deliberately, consistently, contentedly. This first session lasted an hour past sunset, and, once back at my truck with camp set and dinner warming I checked my images and was happy to find a few goodies, images that well reflected my first encounter with this place.

For this trip I’d rented what I soon found to be the very sharp 21mm Zeiss Distagon T F/2.8 ZF.2 lens. I’d heard great things about this lens and it made a great first impression. I roamed this 30-acre plot of photographic glee with it, my 24mm Nikkor PC, the ever-useful 24-70mm Nikkor and a 70-300, which never saw the light of day.

Lenses will help you build the in-camera image, but it’s our software and printing that determines the final outcome. All images for this trip were processed in Lightroom 4 and then finished in Nik Software’s Silver Efex Pro 2 or Viveza 2. This was the first ever collection of images that I’ve finalized without some processing in Photoshop. Coming out of the large format B&W printing genre, I’m fully aware of how we can craft our images, pulling out or suppressing detail, burning and dodging and otherwise manipulating tones and colors to achieve a final resolve to our vision. Nik Software allows us to do this with ease.

That first night I lay thinking about a few images, about where to take them once I returned home. Wouldn’t you know that the first one to receive attention once I did return home was the B&W image I call Galaxy Pool. The sun had set and I walked slowly back towards camp that first night. The tufted, dinner-roll tops of the white sandstone had turned an eerie blue. Pothole residue lay in radiating lines. I saw possibilities. The Zeiss captured the details in the bottom of the pothole and in the sky without a need to perform HDR (and I mean that like saying perform CPR, as I’m finding HDR is being overemployed in many landscape photos). After importing the image into Lightroom 4 and applying my import development presets, I tweaked the still color image in clarity and sharpness and then reconciled the file for the 21mm Zeiss. I then launched Silver Efex Pro 2 and made a few whole image adjustments using contrast, brightness, and structure. I created a single Control Point for the pothole interior and upped all three elements until the details separated and started to look a little unearthly. Beam me in Scotty!

 

Dawn rose clear and cold on Thanksgiving Day and boy, was I ever thankful that I’d chosen to come here. While making predawn coffee, the single large Navajo sandstone butte that marks this spot from a distance lit up with predawn glow so brightly that I thought someone had snuck in and was lighting it with portable lights. My first image of the day was a dawn image of this same butte with a tinge of sun. Enough of the broad landscapes – it is the details that truly give me pleasure. As I worked among the forms I could not shake the feeling that I was looking at bones. Bones of a prehistoric or mythological creature, bones of the earth. As I often say to my workshop students, “own your bias.”

Goal: This image was made shortly after sunset. A few stars had already appeared, and as I glanced at them and back at the detail in the pool I had the galaxy idea. There are several contrasts here. The soft surrounding rock contrasting with the harder rendition in the pool. The abstract pool with the contrasting sky.

 

Lesson Two:Practice what you preach. For the next few hours I photographed “‘dem bones,” seeing the rock forms as part of a creature that once had movement and that I was attempting to give movement to again. “Still is still moving to me,” quoth the sage Willie Nelson. And to me, bones say black and white. The day was clear, so I was working in shallow contrast open shade, but I knew that Silver Efex Pro 2 could extend the contrast before me to meet the contrast I was seeing in my head.

 

Reaching Line, Sandstone Sheets, Snake Pit, Red Ribbon

Late on the second day of my stay I found an area that completely turned my head and no matter which way I turned there were scores of good compositions to be had. I exercised my right to quickly shoot a bunch of practice images in poor light, which served to warm me up to the possibilities. I visited the same spot first thing the next morning in much better light and made “Rock Root.” As you can see, the RAW image was pretty soft. One of the wonders of Silver Efex Pro 2 is the “Structure” slider and it’s ability to separate and add contrast between the tones of the chosen area. This has always been the challenge of classic Black & White printing. I am pleased with the way Silver Efex Pro 2 does this.

Goal: Bones and old Roots came to mind as I composed this image… Black and White was a must. The Structure component of Silver Efex Pro 2 does an outstanding job of creating contrast between tones. The contrast range of the original was barely 3 stops. This would have required an N+4 development of film.

 

At home I was working on a bone image that I titled “Winged Bone.“ I’d finalized it and closed it back up. For some dumb reason I reopened the image from Lightroom in Color Efex Pro 4. Oops! …Pause…Wow! Before me was a slightly blurred and darkened image that looked like it had been made with an old camera or pinhole. I almost closed it, but tweaked it and I like it!

 

Lesson Three: Shoot for the oooops! (For your information, the filter was Midnight with these slider settings: Blur (50%), Contrast (40%), Brightness (80%), Color (40%) and Color Set at Neutral.)

The “Ooops” image! The previous Silver Efex Pro 2 image mistakenly opened in Color Efex Pro 4′s “Midnight” filter and tweaked a bit more.

For two days I’d had fun but had also been tormented by blue skies. As landscape photographers we all like the effects that weather brings. On my third and final evening camping, a few clouds appeared in the west. They stretched my way ever so slightly, bouncing their warm glow over the immediate landscape. I had time for only a few compositions and am quite happy with what I created. I minimized the sky in them to emphasize the abstract nature of the stone. The sky is the clue that yes, this is real. Viveza 2 easily allows me to make the small adjustments necessary from my RAW files. Was this exactly the color as I saw it? No, but I’m not making a record. If I wanted to simply record what I was seeing I would just sit in a chair and burn the color into my brain. The aim of landscape photography as I practice it is to express what is both seen and felt. Is the color close to what is really there? Sure, but I tweaked it to what I find to be a believable amount to satisfy that part of me that was also feeling the landscape. I placed a couple of Control Points on the sky, usually taking the exposure down and then highlighting a few rock forms.

 Goal: Standing so close to these abstract forms reality, the “regular” landscape seemed so far away, yet I wanted a little reminder that it was out there. Viveza 2. Structure. Contrast. Brightness. The far clouds darkened and enhanced.

I have been smitten by the forms I have seen here. I’ve started referring to this place as the Point Lobos of the Colorado Plateau. (I know that this may be overdoing for some of you photographers who know our history) I see what Edward Weston, Adams and the rest were doing when they returned over and over again to that sacred little area of California seashore. Something elemental was at work there. Something special was being revealed there and they were there to witness it with lens and film. This place is like that for me. I want to return. I want to return in storm light. In rain. I could stand to share it with a dozen others during the day knowing that I’d camp for days. I would not want to have to score a permit and so I am going to try to keep quiet about this place. Sure I’ll share the location with some friends. I won’t be publishing GPS coordinates or blogging about its location. I’d rather write about what I was attempting to accomplish photographically. Bones. Lapping waves. Sensual earth lines.

 

Lesson Four: It should matter less about where the image is made, and more about what is done with the material that is there to work with and what one does with it to create a meaningful image.

I read all too often about where someone went and not enough about what one was trying to accomplish. Would we think any less or differently of Ansel Adams, Eliot Porter, Cartier-Bresson or any other great photographer if they had simply turned their lens and great skill at composition on the freeway overpasses of their closest city? Does knowing that it is “Half Dome” or “Glen Canyon” or any other place name make a landscape photograph better or worse? I don’t think so.

There was once a time when photographing endangered wild landscapes served to help protect them. We have Yellowstone, Yosemite and the Citizens Wilderness Proposal for Utah due to more people becoming aware of these landscapes. During my 3 night stay here I met 4 travelers from Korea, a nice man from China who was guided in, 3 separate two car, 6-8 people groups from Colorado and a Kanab family who left their hard-boiled egg shells on the ground (which I picked up). They’d all arrived here because they’d seen photos of this place linked to its location. Like a lot of other landscape gems, this place seems to be in danger of being visited by too many people just like myself! Yikes!

I admit to being a bit of a photo-Don Quixote, tilting at tripods. Much of my personal works happens on Cedar Mesa, a place where I’ve been working, photographing and engaging in archaeological preservation for 30 years. I’ve seen the effects that becoming popular has had on this place. Photographing ruins and ruin bagging by non-photographers has become a viral fad. Visitation is way up and conscious hiking is down. The ability to find sites via the web is completely out of control. As former Cedar Mesa/Grand Gulch BLM archaeologist Nancy Shearin once quipped, “we have entered the age of digital vandalism,” meaning that the amount of information so freely and carelessly given is now becoming part of the problem. Everyone wants to visit…yeah, that site.

Moon Walk © Bruce HuckoTruly, we are loving places to death. There is a rumor of a BLM permit system to be placed on this place. I would not want that, but I understand. The “Wave” has become strongly administered with good reason. When I visited there in the pre-permit system days there were many more protruding narrow thin fins than there are now. There was no waiting but for the light… It’s crazy now. A local guide told me that he’s seen people go into hysterics when they show up for a permit and are denied.

As I drive through Page, Az., back to my Moab home, I pass the entrance to Antelope Canyon… still the most amazing slice of earth there is. The parking area is stuffed turkey-full of people awaiting shuttle vehicles to carry them through the sandy wash to the canyon’s entrance and visual nirvana. I am thankful I first visited Antelope in the early 1980’s, long before permits, and long before the Navajos even knew what they had. It seems I was there in the nick of time. It’s a people zoo now. Pay your fees, take the tour. Walk in, walk out. Your time is limited. Will this place and others turn the same?

What to do? I invite conversation. I invite you to consider how you name your photographs and what information you share and how you share it. I also aim my questions and thoughts at myself first. But right now I’m just wanting to get home, download the images and get to work on them, transporting myself back to a wonderful couple of days. Enhanced by the Nik work I perform on them at home, these images transport me, not to the physical place, but to that wonderful internal landscape of feeling and seeing that was set in motion by a special little fold of stone.

 

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14 Comments

  • What a great post! I could not agree more with you. I love secret places and we photographers have an important job to do in order to preserve those wonderful magical still a bit secret places…

  • Very good article and so helpful. This paragraph is excellent: “I read all too often about where someone went and not enough about what one was trying to accomplish. Would we think any less or differently of Ansel Adams, Eliot Porter, Cartier-Bresson or any other great photographer if they had simply turned their lens and great skill at composition on the freeway overpasses of their closest city? Does knowing that it is “Half Dome” or “Glen Canyon” or any other place name make a landscape photograph better or worse? I don’t think so.”

    • Carlton. Glad you like it. I tried to sum up what I’ve been thinking with a nod to our photographic history. Thanks also to Catherine and Tom for your encouraging comment.
      Secret and not so secret places……the password ought to still be shhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…

  • Secret places…..I agree…..great article, I was there in July.

  • Bruce:
    my wife Donna and I ran into you at your next stop after your Thanksgiving visit to above not-to-be-mentioned place. You got to my place just after the right light had melted away and you didn’t take any of your own photos.
    Your insight was very inspiring to me. Unfortunately, I’m unable to attend your upcoming Moab Symposium, but I will catch up with that in the near future. I just had a related email conversation with a friend who said certain places are over-photographed and why do people continue to flock to places like Antelope Canyon or Mesa Arch. My retort was that everybody privileged enough to be able to visit places like this should make their own personal images. This should reflect their own personal vision and experiences. The images will all be different, if not for any other reason but to call them your own. If you go to Rome, will you not take your own photos of the Collisseum? If that’s too “over photographed”, then leave your expensive and heavy gear at home because you could just buy a postcard, right? That way your gear won’t get battered around or stolen and it would save your back.
    I’m inspired by your photography and your personal vision.
    Renzo Cataldo
    http://www.renzophoto.com

  • For purposes of protection I agree with “secret” places but on the other hand should these places be the domain of only a few select people. In an ideal world visitors would be responsible and not damage or trash sites. But I guess as always the actions of a few idiots will hurt the many. The place you wrote of is on my bucket list and I guarantee I won’t leave egg shells.

  • Unfortunately this place is well published, well known and easy to find once you learn its name–I don’t think there are any secret places left out there. What this place has going for it is its remote location and the fact that you need a real 4WD with high clearence to get to it. Try to take it on with your Subaru Outback or Luxury SUV and you will be hiking for miles to a location with cell service to call for a tow truck to pull you out of the deep sandy road you got stuck in, and it is not going to be cheap! That said, I admire your efforts to keeping this location a secret!

  • I loved your article and your perspective (pardon the pun) on how photography should be approached. It’s true that when an image is published in all it’s glory, fans than form want to be a part of this; to coin a phrase, Greatness leads to Greatness.
    Unless it is your passion, sacred to your heart as this place was to yours, and unless you allow it to speak to you, the full beauty and song of the inspiring image remains a secret. You cannot paint what you do not see; you cannot tell what you do not hear.
    Thank you for an eloquently written article.

  • Thank you for a very thoughtful article. I share your ideas about the amazing natural beauty here in the Southwest and have fortunately been able to visit this place several times. Like you I spent many hours marveling at the shapes, forms, and colors, and was lucky on one trip to have one of Tom Till’s “cloudscapes”. When asked about how to get there I can usually dodge the issue by describing the difficulty of the access road and the high probability of getting stuck. I also share your enthusiasm for the NIK tools and hardly do anything in Photoshop these days – I keep discovering new Color Efex recipes to enhance different types of landscape scene. Thanks again.

  • My favorite revelation is that you stopped and reflected. You can’t really shoot any meaningful frames until you become intimate with the shapes, the light, the framework, the stories within. And, using Nik software eloquently. I tire of going to the “bag it” spots. We were mobbed at Zion last fall during peak color. It is beautiful, gorgeous, technicolor. But, from now on you will find us or not going the backroads and off road places, our own secret spots. They are out there. They may not be iconic but they will be meaningful. Thank-you for sharing.

  • I admire your work but could not disagree more. Why should you be disappointed that your photographs inspire people from around the globe to visit the exotic places that you’ve brought to life? To me, that’s the point. Photography isn’t about photoshop and Nik expertise. It’s about sharing visions of real places with people and encouraging them to go there. Software helps do that. Keeping the names of public places secret so there aren’t too many other people there when you decide to visit? That seems pretty selfish to me.

  • I was really struck by your statement that we are loving these places to death! As if the “GPS coordinates” make a photograph special! Another friend of mine, Hal Wallace, put it this way, “It’s not where, but why that photograph was taken.” I think, as you said, “what you’re trying to achieve,” that’s at least part of the why. Anyway, that might be pretty confusing, but your piece spoke to me and I will strive to keep your teaching in mind. All the best to you!

  • Great article and really nice photos. One quick question – are the RAW pictures you show processed or straight out of camera?

  • Greetings all!
    I’ve noticed that this article performed its intended purpose – to get a conversation going and I thank Nik for allowing and encouraging such dialogue. You have been so kind to respond that I feel obligated to reply “to all” with a few general and a few specific comments.
    First. “Tilting at Tripods.” The title references Don Quixote. Somewhere in the narrative he takes on a windmill. His challenge and efforts are futile. There is no real enemy and no real battle. There are no lines in the sand (but plenty in the sandstone!) I giggled to myself when I chose this as the subtitle, because any effort to “save” places such as those employed for this article seem equally futile. I am waging no particular battle with fellow photographers, just giving voice to the internal battle I often face when visiting “areas of powerful visual stimulation” (wouldn’t that make for a good BLM designation?). I would like to put the dilemma to rest, but cannot. I choose to engage the dilemma not so much for what it may mean to you but for what it does to me. Think of Don Quixote. He took on the evil windmill empire. I’m sure it got his blood flowing, lowered his cholesterol and fueled his passion. I ride no white horse………more an old, sure-footed, trail savvy mule. I’m just casting wild seeds as I roam our shared wonderful landscapes, the wonderful physical landscape of our Colorado Plateau and the yet wild internal landscape of our individual creative spirit.

    Greg: Yes, it is well-published and I do not deny or decry that. I try not to add to the furor and go back to the point I was trying to make….is it location or composition that is the most meaningful?
    Joe: I agree, such places are not the domain of a select few. Who selects? If you self select then go. Heed the call.
    Roxanne: Nicely stated. Synesthesia refers to something made in one sense causing other sense to react. My good poet friend David Lee once complemented the photographs I made for our book Entrada by using that word … No matter where we photograph, from our backyard to hmmhmmmhmmm, I wish for people to experience a place as you stated. To get past the name of where they are, and to find their personal meaning in it and making compositions to match. To me, that is the definition of joy.
    Alan: I think you may have misread, or I didn’t communicate the idea well enough, so let me try it again. I am not disappointed that my photographs may inspire people. I am glad for that. And it’s not about being selfish and preventing others from going. If you go or someone else goes and we meet, well, we’ll have a great conversation while waiting for the light! What I am about, I hope, is just inspiring one to seek images that have deep personal meaning…..and it does not matter where those are found!! Contrary to real estate sales it is not a matter of location, location, location. It is a matter of what you do with the material you have before your lens. One of the “exotic places” people ought to visit more when they photograph is their own internal landscape. Sharing real places and encouraging people to go there is but a by-product of what some of us do. I disagree with your premise that the purpose of photography is “sharing visions of real places with people and encouraging them to go there.” My photographic purpose is in sharing the images and the creative process that led to them no matter where they are made. I would like to encourage more internal travel than external. When the two come together it is glorious! Thanks for writing.
    Chris: The RAW images were taken out of the camera, and straight to Photoshop for sizing without any manipulation (that I can remember) except color space.
    Thanks also to David, Judy, Chuck, Joe and Renzo for your comments.
    May all of our paths one day cross.

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