There’s a story and a lesson associated with this photograph. Explaining may take a bit more than the usual two paragraphs. (It takes five. I urge/invite you to click through and read the whole thing — and I’ll be interested in your comments.) I’ll start with the subject though. Years ago (I’ll reveal how many years below) I was on a trans-Sierra pack trip of over a week’s length with a group of backcountry friends. I had walked this route years before this trip, and there were a few places that I specifically wanted to photograph again, especially this lake. I stopped there long enough to make a few careful photographs, including one of my favorites. (That one also comes with a bit of a story and lesson.)
I made a few photographs focusing on this remarkable cliff that drops straight into the far side of the lake and on its reflection. one was a color version of this scene. I liked it… but I did not quite love it. I kept thinking that there was a more meaningful photograph there, but despite multiple attempts to find that vision, it never quite worked out as I hoped. As I said, I liked it but did not love it. (You can see the original on this page.)
Recently I have been sharing old “from the archive” photographs on my social media. I moved to new services in the last year, have been working on building a new audience, and few of the new folks have seen my earlier work. As I prepare the “archive” photos, sometimes I make minor improvements on the basis of a newer vision and/or newer technical features in the software I use. But in this case, the changes were much more profound.
As I opened the old file and worked with it a bit, it suddenly hit me that the color information in the scene just wasn’t all that interesting, but the textures and patterns and tonalities are. And that often suggests the opportunity for a monochrome version. So I gave it a try — and now I like the result much better than before.
So, how long did this photograph have to gestate before it emerged in what I think will be its final, definitive form? I made the photograph almost exactly eighteen year ago, in 2008! Yes, I think there’s a lesson in that. We don’t always “see” the potential in a photograph right after we make it. Sometimes it takes, weeks, months, years, or even decades to understand a photograph and how it works best.
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G Dan Mitchell is a California photographer and visual opportunist. His book, “California’s Fall Color: A Photographer’s Guide to Autumn in the Sierra” (Heyday Books) is available directly from him. Blog | Bluesky | Mastodon | Substack Notes | Flickr | Email
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