“Dune Summit” — Sand slopes leading to the summit of tall sand dunes.
After sharing a lot of color photographs from Death Valley (along with one or two in monochrome), this one seemed to work best in black and white. It might seem counterintuitive to those who associate black and white with old-school “realism,” but monochrome often allows and even demands greater levels of “manipulation” than color and is even further removed from that illusive concept of realism. (Hint: The world is not monochromatic!)
Working in monochrome allowed me to produce a high key version of the subject, a layering of dune lines and curves leading toward the highest peak. Overall the image is rather light, but I was able to emphasize some of the darker textures, too. (Because the image is light, gray can almost imply black.)
Streamers of blowing sand from a rising dust storm along the edges of a tall sand dune.
The desert landscape has a way of reminding us how small we are. Sometimes this happens in unexpected ways, perhaps in a moment when the air is still in a quiet, lonely place and a sense of deep time may become overwhelming. More familiar manifestations are common, including such things as the nearly unbearable power of a desert wind storm, or standing on a peak and overlooking hundreds of square miles of what appears to be “empty” terrain.
I photographed these dunes on a windy afternoon and evening. The winds increased as I worked alone At times streamers of sand blew past me, over the lips of folds in the dunes, and sometimes even uphill. I would pause, hunch my shoulders a bit, steady tripod and camera, and resume photographing a moment later. I made this photograph from near the bottom of a tall dune, angling the camera slightly upwards to include its windward face.
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” is available from Heyday Books, Amazon, and directly from G Dan Mitchell.
An old cottonwood and a grove of smaller trees in front of the sandstone walls of Zion Canyon.
There are at least two stories behind this photograph — maybe more. The first one involves a situation familiar to many photographers. When we go into these places carrying a backpack of gear, with a big camera on a tripod hanging over our shoulder, we aren’t exactly in stealth mode. And because lots of people in such places are trying to figure out how to make photographs to record their wonder… sometimes our presence draws them in our direction. I had wandered over to the bank of the Virgin River to photograph something and, sure enough, lots of other folks started showing up in what had been a pretty empty spot. I finished photographing there and headed back toward where I came from, looked back, and saw this big old tree towering above and decided it was worth a photograph. But now there were a few dozen people among those trees!
I made a mental note to remember the tree and come back to it later on as I continued up the canyon. When I did return the crowd had departed and I was able to get the scene I wanted. I’m generally not big on shooting with wide angle lenses, often preferring to limit the composition by using longer lenses and their narrower angle-of-view. But in the confines of a red rock canyon, a large tree like this cottonwood often towers above you, even if you have some space to move back. These big, old cottonwood trees fascinate me, and their varieties of form and setting seem almost infinite.
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” is available from Heyday Books, Amazon, and directly from G Dan Mitchell.
A small grove of tall cottonwood trees beneath a red rock cliff, Zion National Park.
Because Zion National Park is so popular, especially the main Zion Canyon along the Virgin River, the Park Service has instituted a shuttle system to carry visitors in and out and from place to place within the canyon. Like all such systems, it has it flaws — hard to get a seat going into the park early in the morning or late in the day leaving, hard to schlep camera equipment in and out — but on balance I think it is a good thing. I’ve been in Zion when the place was crawling with cars — cars on the roads, cars parked everywhere, cars waiting for parking spaces. The bus system improves on that, and I think the inconvenience is worth it for the most part.
We took a very early shuttle all the way up to the entrance to the narrows, the last stop on the route. My photographer instincts said, “Get there early!” These instincts are good, and there is a lot of interesting work to be done in the soft morning light. But photographing in these canyons isn’t the same as photographing, for example, in the open spaces of the Sierra or the desert. In red rock canyon country, the best light often comes later in the morning and well before sunset, when the sun is high enough to directly strike the red canyon walls and reflect that soft, warm light down into the lower reaches of the canyons. With this in mind, we took our time after photographing below the narrows, and rather than getting back on a shuttle we started walking down canyon, enjoying the variety of reflected light… and we repeated the process once again later in the day. I first saw this group of trees very early in the morning, and I made a point of coming back to them later in the day when I knew the reflected light would appear.
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” is available from Heyday Books, Amazon, and directly from G Dan Mitchell.
