Anatomy of a Composition - Overhead
Three of the last five years, this has been a scene to mark the passing of time - it still draws me in, it still has a story to share. It’s the Gore Range, in the central Rockies. To the south is the Continental Divide and the north the Colorado River. It’s a designated wilderness area, with no roads bisecting it, so access is limited and only a few locations offer any real views of the terrain.
This spot on top of Ute Pass is one of those locations. There are a number of overlooks from the winding road and a few places to hike from the road to gain an even better vantage point. These hikes aren’t always in the best of conditions, and piling a backpack full of gear creates its own set of challenges.
Photography has begun to feel a little bit like this, I’m not always sure what the best conditions are, nor am I’m sure that cramming everything into the camera bag is the best solution. 2020 was such an erratic year. Many of my posts on social media were very popular, far more so than in the past, and here through the “business” side I also had a very successful year. All of this in the face of the uncertainty of the pandemic, and having to be more cautious about traveling and interacting with others has left me really questioning my work and the validity of it. Over the last 11 years I have routinely spent time with a counselor, and have been steadily seeing one in particular for the past nine years. While the earliest sessions were helpful to get through grief and trauma related to a divorce and deaths of my older brothers, the more recent sessions have focused on “the second half,” as Jung would put it. My second half is rapidly approaching. I’m in the last few years of my teaching career, and while I know I’ll continue to want to work, I’ve narrowed my aspirations on this - I want photography to be my second half.
That’s a huge leap - it’s expensive, it’s time consuming, and it often keeps me alone. In some aspects I’m suited for this; I’ve always been a “social-introvert,” able to fit in but never really dependent on being in a group. Next, I will have that time. I’ve already begun to view photography as a career; I put in the time, researching, learning, traveling, shooting, creating and presenting. While I know I have so much more to learn, I won’t have the planning, grading, communicating and emotional connection of my students to carry around while I continue to grow as a photographer. I think that’s a certain, particular facet of teaching that few outside to education understand - even if we’re not directly working with our students, or grading their work, or planning for their next learning, the connection, their wellbeing, the fidelity by which we must communicate with them, the sensitivity to their needs that permeates a teachers every day, that emotional luggage brings an incredible weight with it. Lastly, photography is expensive. It can be accomplished cheaply, extravagantly, or somewhere in the middle. The gear, the software, the learning, the publication, the printing - after all, what good is a photograph if it just lives and dies on a hard drive?
With that final thought I’ve decided to try to sell off some of my older pieces - work that has been hanging on a wall for too long here and needs to see a new wall. I’m also changing my approach to social media, and will be concentrating more on this space. Less “likes” and more substance; it’s easy to get lost in that adulation and lose the appreciation for the process, for just being out on a beautiful day, or under a starry sky. So look for some of my older, larger pieces to be marked down - and use the code “overhead” to receive a 25% additional savings on your order.
February, 2021 - As always, thank you for the support and thank you for joining me on this journey.
For more thoughts on some of these images, head over to www.wordpress.com/alma175w