Reflections in new windows during reconstruction at the World Trade Center site, New York City, 2011.
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 and Amazon.
Granite slabs and submerged rocks at the edge of an alpine Sierra Nevada lake.
One advantage of photographing for a long time in one small area is that you may begin to see things that you initially overlooked. I’m often immediately attracted to the large scale landscape — lakes, peaks, forests, sky — and it takes more time, patience, and attention to start to start to see subtler, smaller subjects. These often constitute what has been called the “intimate landscape,” made up of distinctly non-iconic elements, and frequently offering and almost abstract quality of shape, color, and texture.
To find these things I have to slow down a lot. It is easy to become anxious about finding that Great Photograph that will knock viewers over. But those don’t come every day or even every week. Sometimes, in fact, there are long gaps between them. At one point on this trip one of my fellow photographers mentioned that he had seen me from where he was working, and that I seemed to be doing a lot of “contemplation.” Guilty as charged! In a sense, most of the work of photography may be done without the camera. Sure, the camera is in my bag or attached to my tripod, but I’m looking and considering and thinking more than I’m actually making photographs. This photograph comes from one of those moments — I had simply been walking along the edge of “our” lake, spending a lot of time just looking, when I noticed this pattern of granite and still water than I had walked past quite a few times before.
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 and Amazon.
The first morning light strikes a tree on a rocky peninsula reflected in the still water of an alpine Sierra Nevada lake.
Our group’s method is generally to pack in to a base camp location, and to then remain in that single location for a week or so. Many years ago, when my primary orientation was that of a backpacker, I recall being almost terrified of staying in one spot so long — I imagined that I would be bored. But the opposite turns out the be the case. I gradually push my boundaries out from the camp, learning the variables of light and conditions, and get to the know the area much more intimately. I may initially visit a spot in light that is just “OK,” but then make plans to return when it is likely to be perfect. (And when I blow it I can come back and try again!)
This lake was only a ten or fifteen minute walk away from our camp. I had visited it some years back on a pack trip, but only briefly. This time I was able to wander up there quite a few times, in both morning and evening hours. On my first visit of this trip I missed the timing on the light, arriving just after interesting light had left some picturesque snags. But on the visit when I made this photograph everything worked out just right. I arrived very early before the sunlight had made it down to lake level, and I spent time photographing in this quiet light. Then I decided to move to a feature that I had scouted on the previous visit, and that also provided the light I was looking for. Finishing that, I decided to climb a higher ridge and traverse around the side of the lake, but as I did so I looked back and saw this scene illuminated by the reflected glow of rocks that were now in sunlight. I stopped and made a series of photographs of this little peninsula, the dark and reflective lake surface, and the jumbled rocks along the shoreline.
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 and Amazon.
The last twilight alpenglow on peaks above a John Muir Wilderness lake.
A group of us spent last week base-camped at 11,000′ in the Eastern Sierra Nevada, in an open landscape of lakes, meadows, granite slabs, and high ridges. Our most pressing concerns were making photographs, reveling in our surroundings, and enjoying one another’s company. We do this every year — some have been doing it for nearly two decades, I’ve been part of it for about ten years, and we added one new participant this time. In some following posts I’ll have more to say about the goals and experience of such a thing.
Because of our location, each evening the final light would fall on a long ridge above a high, glaciated valley to our southeast. Although the sun had already set, this high spot was open to light coming from the other side of the Sierra crest, far to the west and perhaps even along the distant Pacific coast. Set against the twilight sky and shadowed nearer landscape of rock, water, and trees, this last bit of light was dramatic, and it never failed to capture our attention.
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 and Amazon.
