Anatomy of a Composition - the right timing
One of the oldest statements about and certainly one of the most pursued intentions in photography is the aspiration of “perfect timing.”
It has to be obvious that this can have so many applications when staring through a viewfinder. The act of freezing that perfect moment, whether at the end of a laborious and difficult hike, sitting for hours watching a thousand Sandhill Cranes fly passed, even placing oneself in the midst of a life-threatening conflict, the dedication and the patience exercised in anyone of those moments is each the culmination of thousands of synapses gathering, absorbing, catalog in and replaying fine muscle memory and that exquisite spatial perception that allows us to see and feel all of the elements coming together in an intricate and beautiful pattern.
I feel so fortunate that I have been able to experience each of these precise moments; setting off, a hundred miles from another living soul, or standing in front of a class of eager and nervous 12-year olds on their first day of seventh grade - standing on either end of such palpable energy is so utterly compelling and rewarding. Both moments speak of potential, and both require intention and effort to reach that fullest potential.
It’s in that struggle that we find clarity, the clarity that tells us what direction to head, how long we need to sit, and maybe, ultimately when it’s time to move on. Colorado has recently, as well as much of the rest of North America, experienced peak Aurora Borealis conditions, and while the clouds didn’t want to cooperate, any chance to see these ethereal lights is an experience worth sitting with and and taking in. Finding this lonely, vacant schoolhouse in Eastern Colorado was certainly a happy surprise. Reflecting on its service and the number of lives that walked in and out of its door, I’m so humbled to be a part of that same tradition, that same system - the public school system.
From this same public school system I have learned some of my most valuable lessons; the lessons showing me my direction, lessons around my level of patience, and lessons about recognizing when the moment is gone. When we sit in a space to capture a particular scene, we go in with the full knowledge that the image we are after may not materialize exactly as had been intended, in fact it may not materialize at all. Regardless, there is still the memory of the moment, and the memory of that specific moment can be held onto and completely cherished.