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Swirling Clouds, Winter

Swirling Clouds, Winter
Swirling Clouds, Winter

Swirling Clouds, Winter. Yosemite Valley, California. March 1, 2014. © Copyright 2014 G Dan Mitchell – all rights reserved.

Winter evening clouds swirl around Yosemite Valley

I have had this photograph sitting here for a few months now, and I just “rediscovered” it while skimming through a collection of photographs from earlier this year. This was not a year with much of a winter in California and the Sierra, but during a brief window late in the season we did get some weather that felt seasonal. We were in Yosemite Valley near the beginning of March and had some time to wander around. I love winter fog in The Valley, so we were unable to resist going and photographing it.

The photograph is, of course, from the famous and iconic Tunnel View overlook. As I recall it now, a few months later, we had made a more or less snap decision in the evening about where to go, and when we saw the conditions that could bring the common winter Valley fog we headed up to this obvious location. When this fog drifts in the Valley it can be almost endlessly entertaining… if you are into such things, and I am. The fog can appear spontaneously as the temperature of the damp air drops. Or clouds may begin to drift up the valley and through the trees. Or perhaps a giant fog cloud sort of sloshes back and forth across the Valley in slow motion, occasionally seeming to rise up along the sides of the cliffs and peaks. At one point on this evening the fog quickly moved in our direction, and instead of looking off through the clear air to see it in the distance, within moments it silently came over us and hid the view of the Valley.

G Dan Mitchell is a California photographer and visual opportunist whose subjects include the Pacific coast, redwood forests, central California oak/grasslands, the Sierra Nevada, California deserts, urban landscapes, night photography, and more.
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Text, photographs, and other media are © Copyright G Dan Mitchell (or others when indicated) and are not in the public domain and may not be used on websites, blogs, or in other media without advance permission from G Dan Mitchell.

Point Sur Lighthouse

Point Sur Lighthouse
Point Sur Lighthouse

Point Sur Lighthouse. Pacific Coast Highway, California. January 31, 2014. © Copyright 2014 G Dan Mitchell – all rights reserved.

The lighthouse at Point Sur, Big Sur Coast

We are now very close to summer, the time of year when, frankly, the Pacific Coast can be somewhat less exciting from a photographic perspective. From my point of view, winter is the time to visit and the time to photograph. In a typical year (and this was not a typical year) a pattern repeats for several month. Big Pacific storms roll through, building giant surf, bringing rain, and then clearing. In the wake of the storms there may be a series of sunny days—sometimes warmer than summer here!—that are broken by beautiful clouds. The light is often spectacular, ranging from the brilliant light of clear weather to the moody light when the atmosphere is filled with moisture.

Near the end of this past January we travelled down this coast, on one of those “typical winter days” when there was plenty of bright sun, but also mist and spray thrown up by the ocean. This location is iconic along this section of the Pacific Coast Highway. Near the outlet of the Little Sur River, this “almost island” of Point Sur stands at the end of a strand of beach extending out into the ocean, and a historic lighthouse stands on top of the hill. Descending toward this point from the north, the view extends right along the rugged shoreline and beach just north of the Point.

G Dan Mitchell is a California photographer and visual opportunist whose subjects include the Pacific coast, redwood forests, central California oak/grasslands, the Sierra Nevada, California deserts, urban landscapes, night photography, and more.
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Text, photographs, and other media are © Copyright G Dan Mitchell (or others when indicated) and are not in the public domain and may not be used on websites, blogs, or in other media without advance permission from G Dan Mitchell.

Building 237, Evening

Building 237, Evening
Building 237, Evening

Building 237, Evening. Mare Island Naval Ship Yard, Vallejo, California. April 5, 2014. © Copyright 2014 G Dan Mitchell – all rights reserved.

Evening light on Building 237 at the Mare Island Naval Ship Yard, Vallejo, California

This is one of a pair of buildings that has featured in several of my night photographs at the Mare Island Naval Ship Yard, where I’ve been photographing after dark for about a decade now. The location is the site of the former and now historic naval ship yard that was the first on the west coast of the United States, being established way back in the 1800s. It was decommissioned in the 1990s, and since that time the facility changed in many ways. Parts of the island are now open space, others have been turned into urban developments, businesses and others are using some of the old buildings and spaces—yet parts of the facility have been retained as a sort of informal historic site.

The buildings in the cluster of which this one is a part are very close to the “historic core” of the ship yard. Although many of the buildings give the appearance of being abandoned, some are in use and all are kept in a sort of state of suspended animation. Almost all of my photography here has been at night, when a diversity of light sources transform it in magical ways. During the day, much of it can seem quite mundane. Buildings that are wildly colorful when lit by brilliantly colorful sodium vapor lights and other colorful light sources often turn out to be quite drab in the day time. On this visit I managed to arrive before sunset, and I headed out to see if the golden hour light might offer some opportunities for a different sort of visual transformation of these buildings, and this one was photographed during the final few minute of daylight.

G Dan Mitchell is a California photographer and visual opportunist whose subjects include the Pacific coast, redwood forests, central California oak/grasslands, the Sierra Nevada, California deserts, urban landscapes, night photography, and more.
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Text, photographs, and other media are © Copyright G Dan Mitchell (or others when indicated) and are not in the public domain and may not be used on websites, blogs, or in other media without advance permission from G Dan Mitchell.

Conductor George Cleve

Conductor George Cleve
Conductor George Cleve

Conductor George Cleve. San Jose, California. June 5, 2014. © Copyright 2014 G Dan Mitchell – all rights reserved.

George Cleve conducts the Symphony Silicon Valley in rehearsal

Bear with me. This may be a long story. I’ll start with some basic facts concerning this photograph. As some of you may know, I have been working on a long-term project to photograph classical musicians. This is related to a sabbatical project at my college, and one goal is to document aspects of the lives and works of classical musicians that might not typically be seen by those who only get to come to see performances. For this purpose, I have been “embedded” with a couple of groups for over a year. It has been a great opportunity, and I’m grateful to the musicians and others who work with them for allowing me a kind of access to their lives and work that they might not afford to just anyone. It helps that I know many of them, that I’m married to one of these musicians, that my academic training is in music, and that I used to perform with people like these. All of that also helps me be sensitive to things that other photographers might not as easily see. (This is a long story in and of itself, and I’ll save that for later.)

The conductor of this concert “set” is George Cleve. His name is not exactly a household word, but his experience and skill and musical sensitivity is of the highest level. My experience with George goes back many years, to a time when he conducted orchestras in which I occasionally played (San Jose Symphony and the Midsummer Mozart Festival Orchestra) and one for which I served as orchestra stage director for a few years. In a surprising coincidence I even took a conducting class from him when I was an under-graduate music major “back in the day.”

Conductors are not always patient people, and there are many reasons that this can be the case. The work they do is unlike almost any other work that I can imagine. Even though I’ve been around music for many years, I still find it difficult to offer a really good description of the complexity of the role—which includes elements of ring-master, leader, coordinator, passionate interpreter, analytical listener and teacher, and much more. Truly watching a skillful conductor—and preferably not while performing, but instead while your full attention can be on the watching—is an illuminating experience. From the visual perspective of a photographer, the appearance of the conductor is in a continuous state of flux. His or her facial expressions change faster than you can follow, and subtle movements—a quick glance, a hint of a smile, a momentary intensity, a curving motion of the hand—convey things in a fluid way.

But I have one more story about George, and it involves that conducting class. His was an intimidating presence for young music students. I recall him at one of the first classes asking, “You do all have the nine symphonies of Beethoven committed to memory, right?” Wrong! Though we quickly set about trying. (That task takes far longer than a college term!) I recall a day when we were to individually conduct the second movement of the 6th symphony for him. As I remember it, we entered the room alone to face him and conduct as a pianist played a reduction of the score. One after another nervous students entered and soon emerged from the room, often seemingly crushed by the realization of how little they understood what they had to do. It was my turn. I entered and faced him and began to conduct. In my recollection, which is probably no longer completely accurate, he quickly stopped me and said something along the lines of, “No, no, no!” But then, for reasons I never quite understood, he gave me a musical gift that I did not expect and which has remained with me since then. Instead of telling me I was done, he said, “Watch me.” Standing a few feet in front of me and conducting as if the full symphony was where I stood, he put on the full show for me, intensity of expression, cues to all, the perfect physical expression of what did and could happen in the music, and I saw what it actually might mean to understand and lead such a performance of such a piece… even if I never learned to do so even close to his level.

This week, at the rehearsals that included a different Beethoven symphony, I finally had the opportunity, decades later, to thank him for that gift.

G Dan Mitchell is a California photographer and visual opportunist whose subjects include the Pacific coast, redwood forests, central California oak/grasslands, the Sierra Nevada, California deserts, urban landscapes, night photography, and more.
Blog | About | Flickr | Twitter | FacebookGoogle+ | 500px.com | LinkedIn | Email

Text, photographs, and other media are © Copyright G Dan Mitchell (or others when indicated) and are not in the public domain and may not be used on websites, blogs, or in other media without advance permission from G Dan Mitchell.