Jun 23, 2023 Macro Meditations Part 1 (Nevada)

This is not about Lake Tahoe or the Great Basin, although our home on wheels was parked not far from them. I did, however, photograph the largest alpine lake and second deepest in North America during our stay. But after one day of enduring miles of single-lane road construction and negotiating precious road space between a row of parked cars and pedestrians with cameras, we had enough of the crowded resort lake.

 

So, I retreated to our campground adjacent to a casino/hotel/convenience store/cafe/gas station. Despite all that, the campground lay next to undeveloped land that for quite a distance works its way toward the mountains. From our campsite, I walked a path up gentle but rocky slopes supporting a great number of plants including tall conifers. It is a lush scene of greens and golds in the foreground of shadow-patterned mountains topped by deep blue skies adorned with fluffy clouds. I was enchanted.

I walked among the granite rocks and bristly shrubs - a sloping mosaic of textures and natural colors with hints of brilliant red and yellows from the small wildflowers. I traversed over the hard ground carefully as it seemed like rattlesnake country, and I was warned of bigger life as well – as in black bear. But no surprise, I saw little wildlife and nothing bigger than a blue jay. But I was perfectly content with these rare moments in our travels when I can wander off from the RV with my camera and macro lens, not restrained by time or with any expectations. It becomes a meditation of small things that comprise the natural world.

For all I cared, Lake Tahoe could be a thousand miles away. It was the abundant number of large dandelion seedheads mingling with the wildflowers that caught my attention. These are the ‘blow balls’ of folklore – blow all the seeds of a dandelion with one breath and the person you love will love you back. For the next two days, I searched for seedhead subjects. In whatever way possible, I knelt down and contorted myself to capture an image of the dandelion’s fluffy ‘parachutes’. I strained to be as still as possible as I engaged the automatic focus. The heat of the day was mostly ignored as I tried out various angles relative to the sun.

Creating unique compositions from this single subject was my complete focus and I was loving my time in Nevada. That is the power of a macro lens. The word ‘Macro’ refers to the lens’s capability of making small things appear large. It can do this by allowing the photographer a very short working distance. Everything is magnified; therefore, framing is altered with the smallest of movements. A slight change in angle or distance will have a noticeable effect on focus area, background, light, and composition. For all these reasons, the common dandelion seedhead becomes an uncommon subject.

The seedhead’s intricate and three-dimensional design fills the frame in infinite ways as the surroundings melt away into a gentle blend of natural tones. Through the lens, the fragile parachutes have a solid presence by way of their rigid stalks that attach to the central receptacle of the seedhead, as if undeterred by wind or animal. Out-of-focus parachutes among those that are in focus become a celestial microcosm of soft textures and radial patterns.

Nature’s detailed functionality becomes art through the macro lens. And therein lies the challenge of composing and focusing. As with any kind of photography, you can take macro photography to a level far out of reach by most. At the very least, putting the camera and lens on a tripod provides reliable focus points and allows the photographer to use focus stacking from multiple images to present perfect detail throughout. But for my time, I care not to be burdened with equipment. Rather, I find joy in the unfettered playfulness of handholding the macro lens. I love discovering what comes through the lens - a ‘let’s see what happens’ approach to photography. And there is nothing wrong with that.

“Where to next?” she asked.

Aug 1, 2020 - Monument Rocks

Our home on wheels was parked at a campground in the middle of Kansas where a dog can run away and be seen for days. For several weeks up to now, we had traveled through South Dakota and Nebraska, two of the least populated states in the union. Exploring the Great Plains during the peak of the Covid epidemic was the perfect strategy to avoid crowds and it was only appropriate to continue in Kansas where cattle outnumber people 2 to 1.

Hot and mostly cloudless skies is how I remember our short time in Kansas. Those notorious Kansas storms were nowhere in the forecast – nothing but blue. Good when living in an RV, not so much for a photographer seeking out compelling Great Plains images. But there was a full moon rise scheduled near sunset that motivated me to drive seven miles down a desolate and primitive ranch road through the middle of nowhere to the ‘Chalk Pyramids’ one late evening. A full moon on a sunlit evening sky of pastel blues and pinks would be a sweet backdrop for the strange and abrupt geological landmarks.

Western Kansas is largely badlands, an extension of the eminent Badlands of South Dakota. Kansas’s badlands are characterized by flat land frequently disturbed by deep crevices or arroyos, that when viewed aerially appear like spindly tree branches gone awry. Interrupting this landscape from out of nowhere are great walls of rock, as if aliens landed and somehow froze in place.

The dramatic vertical rock formations in the middle of Kansas’s vast and flat ranch land are survivors of nature’s forces – wind and water. These are sedimentary formations of Niobrara chalk created by the erosion of a seabed formed millions of years ago. What remains standing are testaments to the durability of hard rock as the surrounding softer rock erodes away over time.

The rocks left behind are solid and robust enough to continue as an earthly monument – at least in our lifetimes. Why photograph these rocky anomalies? We gravitate to them because they are extraordinary and strange. Anything that stands out is a point of focus – it compliments or contradicts its surroundings – standing alone in perfect solitude. That is Kansas’s Monument Rocks National Landmark.

I came prepared with a wide angle and telephoto lens. The telephoto would become useful when capturing the moon rise. An hour and a half before sunset, I walked around the rocks with several other people looking for compositions and making use of the sunlight through the openings. By the time the moon began to rise, most people had left. I positioned myself and tripod on some flat rocks facing the direction of the moon so that it appeared between two very tall outcroppings. This would do quite nicely, but by then, I had little time left as the sun disappeared behind the horizon. Monument Rocks are on private land with a sundown curfew, and I had no intentions of breaking a landowner’s rules.

Click on image to enlarge.

Kansas touts Monument Rocks National Landmark as its first National Natural Monument and one of its eight Wonders of Kansas. But it is located on private land where no services are available, and the road can be impassable in inclement weather. Technically, it is open sunup to sundown but depending on your internet search results, it may be open 24 hours a day. All that is left for you to do is simply get off the interstate and discover Kansas’s badlands.

“Where to next?” she asked.