First Light Above the Buttermilks, Autumn Storm. Eastern Sierra, Owens Valley, California. October 3, 2010. © Copyright G Dan Mitchell – all rights reserved.
A faint rainbow briefly glows in dawn light on the eastern escarpment of the Sierra Nevada above the Buttermilks as an autumn storm builds.
Since I wrote previously about acting on a hunch to be in this spot in time to catch a few minutes of dawn light, I won’t recount the whole thing here – though I would like to describe the phenomenon a bit more and perhaps make a point or two about light and opportunities.
The photograph is of the eastern escarpment of the Sierra Nevada above Bishop, California and was made on an early autumn morning of a day that brought one of the first winter-like storms of the season. I found myself in this spot (as described at the link) for the very few minutes during which this light was present – and afterwards the light was simply gone and the rest of the day was overcast and rainy. The circumstances have me thinking about a few things about light and “being there” at the right moment.
Sometimes, even on a “poor light day” – though I like overcast conditions! – there can be a few brief moments of exceptional light. Catching them involves some combination of anticipating that these moments might occur, being there, and – let’s admit it! – dumb luck. In this case, all three were at work. I did not know that this light would occur, but I knew that the conditions offered a possibility. A clearing in the clouds along the eastern horizon allowed a horizontal beam of light to briefly hit the mountains right at dawn. It began by striking the clouds above the Sierra crest, soon hit the highest peaks, moved across the face of the range, and within minutes the show ended with light on the high desert. The band was so narrow that only one of these subjects was generally illuminated at a time – and the whole thing couldn’t have lasted more than five or ten minutes.
That description might make it sound like I’m saying that I’m just plain great at predicting such things and planning to be there. Not quite! If you had asked me a few minutes earlier, when I made the spontaneous decision to abandon my previous plans and high-tail it out to this spot, what the odds were that I’d see light like this I might have estimated them at perhaps 10% or less. In other words, if I repeated this little adventure 10 times, I’d guess that I’d fail to see light like this nine out of ten times. However, if I only go for “sure bets” (which I’ll take when I can get them!) I know that I’ll miss lots of special conditions that are not subject to prediction.
Which brings up the subject of luck. I often read that one should be able to know in advance what the photograph will look like, and that careful and full preparation will lead to good photographs. Well, sort of, but maybe not quite in the way that some imply. (There is an element of “preparation” in all of this that I’ll write about eventually, but that is a different thing.) Frankly, these subjects are too complex and too fleeting and too unpredictable to be subject to that sort of careful and precise planning in any sort of consistently useful way. The photographer cannot make that small band of open sky appear along the horizon on an autumn morning when a storm is building along the crest – but if everything goes right a photographer might be there at the right moment, prepared to make a photograph of it.
This photograph is not in the public domain and may not be used on websites, blogs, or in other media without advance permission from G Dan Mitchell.
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Mark, I don’t think we actually disagree. The first part of my post is about the things you speak of – experience with the subject, knowing where to go and when, learning to recognize the potential for special conditions, and so forth.
But still, in the end there is so much that we cannot predict or control when it comes to nature/landscape photography. As you point out, preparation is critical, but even when we are prepared for that stupendous light, whether or not it actually appears is not in our hands.
The last part of my post sort of gets at this:
“Which brings up the subject of luck… The photographer cannot make that small band of open sky appear along the horizon on an autumn morning when a storm is building along the crest – but if everything goes right a photographer might be there at the right moment, prepared to make a photograph of it.”
The Pasteur quote is right on: “Chance favors a prepared mind.”
When the fortunate happens, it is important to also be there and be prepared to do what is necessary to produce a photograph.
Take care,
Dan
(Looking back through the comments I noticed the expression “dumb luck” – something I’ve occasionally taken advantage of, too! :-) However, perhaps what Mark and I are thinking of might be called “smart luck” – making as many intelligent and informed decisions as possible so that you can be in the right place at the time and properly prepared when the “lucky event” occurs.
Dan,
I would argue strongly against calling it “luck”. You know this already and have now alluded to it in your second posting of this pair, but taking a chance and having it pay off is far different from luck. Just on first reading, you already knew [1] a location [2] a weather pattern, and [3] a lens selection… all of which came from prior experience, exploring, and scouting. That’s a far cry from bumbling around in a new area and stumbling on great light. (Which we all love, when it happens, but this isn’t it!)
I would urge you to make another posting to talk about this, because it’s an important issue for the beginning photographers to understand. Galen Rowell was one of my early photographic heroes (like many of us), and at first I thought it was largely luck and timing/opportunity that he was able to get so many great shots from the Sierra. With more time and a decade of practice, there’s a lot to be said about learning your craft–and part of the craft of landscape photography is location, weather, and lens selection.
Let me throw in two quotes:
“Chance favors a prepared mind”, Louis Pasteur
“The harder I practice, the luckier I get”, (unclear origin, but possibly golfer Jerry Barber)
I’m being a little vehement here, but I feel strongly that this isn’t luck. It’s a great photograph that I’m highly envious of that wouldn’t have come without knowledge and prior work.
Those moments that make you go “ahhh” are the spontaneous and unintended ones, the ones we can’t imagine, that ones that exceed even our wildest expectations of a place. If they were expected, imagined, or predicted they would not have that same emotional power that allows the viewer to connect to them. It’s all about luck, but not dumb luck, very smart luck because you have to put yourself in a position to be there too.
Earlier this year in the Ansel Adams Wilderness I packed it in for the night thinking it was too cloudy for a decent sunset. I was just curling up into my sleeping bag when I noticed the entire tent was glowing red and outside was the most stunning sunset. The small hole broke in the clouds for just a couple moments and I ended up with a couple of decent photos despite myself. Had I been prepared though I certainly would have fared better when luck decided to help me out.
Thanks Dan; wonderful light in that photo and you did a good job of capturing that and also the rainbow. It must have been very exciting to be there and experience that spectacular light.
The emotion I see in this photograph reminds me very much of a Galen Rowell photograph that he took in the early 70s in the Buttermilks.
I like what you said about being in the right location at the right time; sometimes it is just dumb luck. But sometimes one has to take a chance, and go the opposite direction of the “sure bet” to make unique photographs of special light, or subject matter.
I bet you were the only photographer that morning on that road, photographing this scene…lucky you!
This photograph and your recounting of this situation reminds me of the some of the spectacular lighting events that I’ve seen in the past that happens when clouds hang over the peaks of the Sierras. I recall, perhaps 10 or 15 years ago seeing some of the most spectacular light over the Sierras that I have ever seen as I was driving northward on 395 towards Lee Vining canyon.
It was getting towards sunset, and there were clouds hovering around the Sierra peaks slightly obscuring them, and the east side of the peaks were in shadow. The light hit the clouds from the west, and it reflected the light onto the peaks, which in turn reflected the light again, which made the peaks seem like they were the source of the light, glowing so brightly. At that moment I finally understood the term, “Range of Light.” It made for an unbelievable and memorable event.
I think luck is a tremendous tool in taking great photographs. If you try to plan it all out, you lose the excitement of spontaneity. Know your camera, know the tricks of the trade and be prepared for anything.
I enjoy your blog, Dan. Thanks for sharing your pictures and the stories behind them.