G Dan Mitchell, photographer and visual opportunist focusing on the Pacific coast, the Sierra Nevada, redwood forests, California oak/grasslands, California deserts, urban landscapes, night photography and more. Posting daily photographs since 2005, along with articles, reviews, news, and ideas.
AVIAN: Birds in a Changing World opened this week at Gallery Five in Oakhurst, California and runs through January 14. The gala reception is this Saturday, December 9th at 4:00-8:00PM at Gallery Five — 40982 Hwy 41, Suite 5, Oakhurst.
The juried exhibition features work by more than 60 artists, and includes two of my photographs.
I’m going to make it a full “avian day” on Saturday, greeting the dawn and a few thousand of my avian friends in the Great Central Valley before heading on over to Oakhurst for the reception. Hope to see some of you there!
You can find out more at the exhibition’s Facebook page.
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Man crosses street in front of Hi-Tech Electronics store, Manhattan
I made this photograph on a quick walk through a slightly seedy area of Manhattan, passing through on a hot afternoon as many people filled the streets. (It actually was crowded, despite the appearance in this photograph.) The area is one of somewhat run-down businesses in one of those pockets where there are not so many tall buildings.
I see many things when doing street photography. Some of them are static enough that I can take some time to make the photograph, but others happen instantaneously and are gone in an instant — they require a “shoot without thinking” kind of response — and that was the case with this one. Obviously, the man walking toward me was only there for a moment, but even better was the brief conjunction of red things in the frame. A close look may reveal even more of them that you notice at first.
The ruins of an abandoned mill in the California desert backcountry
During the nearly twenty years since I first “discovered” California deserts, my experience with them has changed. To be honest, as a person largely focused on the coast and the Sierra, when I was younger I didn’t really know much about these wild places, and I wasn’t really attracted to them. It wasn’t until the late 1990s that I actually made a serious visit and began to “get it” about the things that make these areas so marvelous. At first, like almost anyone else, I focused on some of the most obvious and iconic places. But eventually as I returned to these places, especially to Death Valley National Park, I began to push out my boundaries bit by bit. As I did so I discovered many more interesting things about these places, both the natural wilderness and the human history. One of the first experiences that connected me to the human history was an accident. One evening I wandered away from a camp and just sat down on a boulder in an elevated location on an alluvial fan. I happened to look down to see an unusual rock. I picked it up and quickly realized that it was a cutting implement left their by the earliest people to make their lives here — and my notions of the depth and variety of human experience in the desert was profoundly altered.
That human influence has many facets. Certainly the experience of the people we now refer to as “native Americans” is central. (I like Canada’s term: “first people.”) Later settlers showed up for a range of reasons — pioneers passing through, prospectors chasing the dream of the big strike, folks looking for a job, people not well suited to living in the civilized world, and other. They all left traces. The prospectors and miners left lots of them all over the desert landscape, and you can’t travel around these places without running into it. The photograph is a detail from one amazing structure high on a desert ridge, abandoned only recently in the context of the larger scale of history, but still putting us in touch with an era that is mostly gone now from these places.
Migratory snow geese and Ross’s geese in a pond on a foggy San Joaquin Valley morning
Since it was December 1, it seemed like time to start my annual series of visits to California’s Great Central Valley to photograph migratory birds and the landscape of the place. (Actually, I had made one preliminary and very quick visit about a month earlier, but too early for the birds shown in this photograph.) There is a ritual about these visits which, for me, are typically one-day affairs that start very early and end rather late, with a fair amount of driving involved. Up well before dawn, I drive a couple of hours in darkness and often fog, arriving perhaps a half hour before dawn to the stirring sound of many thousands of birds, already awake at morning twilight. I photograph intensively for at least a few hours before taking, at last on most days, a midday break. By mid-afternoon I’m back at work again, photographing through the peak of the visual crescendo just before sunset and then continuing for perhaps another half hour or so until the light is gone. I pack, get into my vehicle, and retrace my two-hour drive back home. (At least the shorter daylight hours of this season allow me to get up a little bit “later” — if you consider 3:45 or 4:00 AM later — and return home in time for a late dinner.)
On this first day of December it was incredibly foggy when I arrived — so much so that it was really hard to make photographs. I usually enjoy photographing in the fog, but this was so thick that almost no sunrise light managed to color the gloom. But before long the light began to come through the fog and eventually I found a moderately large group of white geese settled in on a pond. Among them I saw Ross’s and snow geese, and beyond them there were trees with fall foliage.
