A Winter Outing and an Exercise in Seeing with the Olympus E-1
- February 11th, 2008
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Another winter is in full swing in the Berkshires of western Massachusetts. As a photographer, I lacked the motivation to get out and shoot the last few weeks. It has been cold, damp with snow one day and rain the next.
Yesterday I decided I had enough of cabin fever, grabbed my camera and headed out into woods to discover what I could ‘see.’ There was a very dense fog rolling in and I thought, “There had to be something out there that would spark my interest.”
The first image I came across was one of an old piece of rusted farm machinery that someone decided would make a nice sculpture in their front yard. After taking shots from a few different angles, I decided on the one below as my favorite.
I then thought it would be nice to drive up to one of my favourite areas, a local beaver pond with an overflow that feeds the stream behind our home. I arrived at the pond after trekking through the woods with 20 minutes of very difficult walking — there were at least 6 inches of soft snow covered by a thick layer of ice that held my weight for a brief moment on each step and then cracked and gave way, twisting my ankles. There were no signs of animal life — most likely frightened off by all the noise of the cracking ice as I walked — though the pond was shrouded in intense fog, so thick I could almost taste it.
I used my Olympus E-1 and Zuiko Digital 14-54mm for the following shots. The weatherproofing of the camera body and the lens came in handy as there was quite a bit of condensation that formed on both due to the high humidity as well as light intermittent sprinkles. Thankfully the lens hood was enough to keep moisture droplets off the front lens element.
I shot in RAW format and later used Olympus Studio with the ‘High Function’ converter to convert to 16-bit TIFFs. I chose to use the Centre-Weighted average metering mode and just opened up a little over one stop from what the meter suggested to keep the snow looking white. White Balance was set to 6000K although in post-processing, that had to be increased to 6500K and sometimes a bit more with a -1 to -2 tint setting to obtain a neutral print.
This last image was taken after the fog lifted.
All in all, I had a good experience doing what I love to do most — hiking in a remote area in the Berkshires. I find when I hike alone in the midst of nature that I’m able to quieten my mind and open myself up to what is presented to me. I venture out with no expectations or planned images in mind.
I have always been uncomfortable explaining to others my approach to landscape photography and the way I ‘see’. It’s such a personal journey and something that in my opinion, is not easy to teach. I will make an attempt in the hope of offering inspiration to others.
I met Frederick Franck in 1994 while I was employed at the Albert Schweitzer Centre in Great Barrington, Massachusetts. There was an exhibit of his at the Centre and one of my responsibilities that evening was to set up his sculpture entitled, ‘Seven Generations’, on the front lawn.
As I was just about finished, Mr. Franck and his wife Claske arrived. We introduced ourselves and being a bit nervous, I asked him if I had set up his sculpture to his satisfaction. I don’t remember his exact words although I do recall being immediately put at ease with his answer and his warmth — something very few people have been able to do with me.
Later that evening I purchased a book of his entitled, ‘Zen Seeing, Zen Drawing.’ I thumbed through it the next day but it has sat unread on my shelf for many years until a week ago — a time it seems when I was ready to approach the contents within.
I immediately felt ‘at home’ while reading ‘Zen Seeing.’ Franck wrote, “…my eye always has been in love with the splendours of the world that surround us.” That is exactly how I’ve always felt about nature.
For Franck, drawing or sketching these wonders brought him immense joy for many years and one day he realised he couldn’t separate the ‘seeing’ from the ‘drawing’ — they were one. Drawing for Franck was his Way of being, the way he expressed his ‘artist-within’.
That is, too, how I view my landscape photography. I feel that my photography and ‘seeing’ are one. It is my Way of being, the expression of my ‘artist-within’. It is my way of being in contact with what is within the Self (my uniqueness) as well as the natural world around me.
Franck felt that to draw, even something as simple as a leaf, was a way to learn to ‘see’ again (a gift unique to humans that we knew how to do at a very young age but somehow forgot) as opposed to just ‘looking-at’ something. The act of drawing forces one to focus intently on the subject, opening one’s eyes to the many details usually not seen by a casual glance. The eyes of the child are awakened to the wonders of the universe once again and the illusion of separation dissolves. Hence I highly recommend drawing as an exercise for improving one’s ‘seeing’ in photography.
When I do my nature photography, I ‘invite’ the surroundings in and try to connect — to feel at one with everything around me. Once I get into this peaceful state, I usually get a quick sense of what to frame and photograph. Hopefully the images that resulted from this outing bring similar feelings of peace and oneness to others that view them.















