I think the title for this gallery say’s it all, “coastlines.” That place where land meets water, where dreams and visions and sorrows and adventures begin, end, are realized or simply wash away. What the title doesn't say is that I was raised on Lake Michigan, and have always felt compelled to be near, and have ritually been calmed by the presence of large bodies of water. Ironic for someone who moved to Colorado in his early 20’s and hasn’t lived anywhere else since.

But, the power of water is strong, is so many ways, and the compositions that draw on it for inspiration are always more than just pictures, that are a part of that ritual of finding a calm even in the storm.

I actually like this photo a lot.  Though next time, I wouldn't shoot as long of an exposure, I would actually just for for a clear, crisp, vibrant shot to freeze everything.  

Things that guide us, lighthouses and fence lines.  I really like this image.  I think I'd calmed back down after the hectic pace in Yosemite.  Point Arena is not the furthest point west in the continental U.S., that honor belongs to Cape Mendocino a few miles north of here.  But this was a subtle, yet vibrant sunset.  All of the elements came together for this image.  

I wished I'd written the mile marker?!  The Coastal Highway has a few rest areas which are designated for overnight stays.  These are by no means luxurious places, in fact they have no services at all, they are literally a rest stop.  But, this is your morning view.  This has been a dream of mine for a very long time.  Robert Pirsig, the author of Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance described these little stops in his book about a cross-country journey that ended in San Francisco.  I won't go into the details now, but needless to say that book and his story were fundamental to creating the person I am today.  

Mr. Pirsig passed away April 24th, 2017, fitting date in many ways.

Also know as, chasing other people's pictures...  This is a beautiful spot, and many incredible images have been captured here.  This isn't one of them.  It's good, but it's black and white because there was absolutely no depth in the color version.  Sunrise and sunset, when the rays of light are nearly horizontal, and they play off the fog and water that has pooled up, that's what makes a beautiful photograph. 

I have always traveled, as a child with my family, as a young man on solo adventures, and as a parent and partner taking the people that I love to destinations that were either familiar or new, but regardless needed to be seen. So this gallery will be an extension of that motion, of that exploration. Of that seeking, and that finding.

I will write more about this spot later, but again, the Owens Valley and the Eastern Sierras are pretty magical.  I think, in all honesty that this is where I will want to be living in a few years.  There is so much to explore just in this region: Ancient Bristlecones, Mono Lake, Mammoth Lake, Yosemite, Mt. McKinley, honestly the list goes on and on.  I learned about Galen Rowell, a photographer from the region whose work I recognized, but knew nothing about personally.  He was killed in a plane crash, along with his wife who was piloting the single-engine plane, but they both left behind a legacy of art and philanthropy in the region that will long outlive them.

This particular peak is Mt. Tom.  It creates a beautiful backdrop for the town of Bishop, California, and all of the Upper Owens Valley.

5000 years of history.  This was one of the biggest shocks of the trip.  I've seen many petroglyphs panels, and stumbled upon some that few know about.  Sky Rock is well documented, but it's location is kept quiet.  Archeology wasn't on the itinerary when I set out, but I'd read about this site before, and when I realized how close it was, and that I wasn't going to exploring Yosemite from the east, I had to scratch this itch.  

I won't say where it is.  It took about six hours to find it.  I'll show Andrew and Tanner where it is, when we take our trip to see Methuselah and Hyperion.

California, you hold so many treasures.

Fence lines seem to say something to me.  I'm not sure what, yet.

Heceta Head Lighthouse

The shot that inspired me to climb up to the overlook is super dramatic, with the sun setting to the south of the light house, and the rocky coastline lit up by the sun's rays.  Fog obstructed the coast and the sun, but it created an interesting halo around the white edifice.  

The light keeper's house, which sits down the hill out of this view, has been turned into a bed and breakfast run by the Federal Government.  It would seem to be a unique, night's stay.

Heceta Head Light

Lighthouse - Kris Delmhorst

The last ten years have been a constant emotional rollercoaster.  My dad stepped out in 2007, my marriage fell apart in 2010, dogs died, my sons graduated and are making their way, and in 2012 my second brother died.  In the process I've entered and exited more relationships than I should have, call it survivor's quilt, or a longing for a harbor to the ocean.  In any case Kris Delmhorst has become a staple in my music collection, her voice is captivating, and her lyrics throw me to and fro my emotional range.  Equally comforting and confounding, but at some point we have to be our own "lighthouse."

None of this was shared to garner sympathy, these are just the facts in my life.  We all have crosses to bare, these are mine.

Deep in the forests of Northern California, the ferns seem to be their own type of evergreen, but water collecting on their frames, as they perpetually wave in an invisible breeze.

This is the place where you can feel the world breathing...  I will never stop being amazed by these trees. 

#riotofcolours

I’d visited this spot first in 2014, while one my motorcycle. I had only a pocket camera, but swore to myself I’d return. My second trip, with better equipment left me only wanting more, as I new that the really hurdle was not the camera, but the operator.

Cape Perpetua

It just doesn't stop.  That's why were drawn to it, that mesmerizing force; creating, tearing, rebuilding.  

No reflection.  That says you have no soul, right?  Wasn't that the myth of Dracula?  Reflected images convey the double meaning, that's why we like them.  This though is shadows, apparitions, blurs at best.  The world is concrete, we're just forms drifting through...

Confession time...  This was the whole reason for this trip.  Yes, creating epic images from Moab and the Grand Canyon were significant, my first pilgrimage to Yosemite was long overdue, and heading out for my "walkabout" all were part of the formula.  But this, Thor's Well, this is what I wanted to capture.  This is where I wanted to plant myself and just shoot and shoot and shoot...

But, a funny thing happened on the way.  I fell in love.  We made big plans.  What started as an epic motorcycle journey of the West morphed into something different, something better.  And, then, it broke.  I broke it.  And so, when I arrived here, it felt very different.  I was more cautious, and more restless.  Something was missing and I couldn't focus.  The water coming in at high tide was really intimidating, and I couldn't think through my manual settings quickly enough.  I should have just switched it to the Aperture so I could concentrate on depth of field and let the camera do the rest.  I missed most of the shots in this set, and I was really questioning this trip, and my photography.  

This set represents something, but I'm not sure just yet, maybe letting them sit a bit more, out here on the internet will help me understand it better.

Green, it just drips from here.  Breath it in, exhale it out.

Thor's Well - Aftermath

This skeleton of a tree looked like a ghost, shaken, as if it wanted to be taken… An emptiness and an urgency, a static and staged moment that was actually defining the deep loss I was experiencing at that moment.

Thor's Well v2.0

This is a piece of digital art. See my writing above as it relates to what a digital image is, and what digital art is. 

Also, don't play with Mother Nature.  Rogue waves, "sneaker" waves along the coast, have no mercy.  I was honestly shocked my how close people were getting to the edge.  Beautiful, but not a beautiful way to die.

Title says it.

Chaos and symmetry, and it seems simultaneous.  The outcrop that contains Thor's Well has many points and fissures, and with the incoming tides, gusting winds and muddy light, this moody palette was created.  I'll hopefully catch a colorful sunset over Cape Perpetua, until then I'll take the ocean's darker moods.

Along the Columbia Gorge dozens of waterfalls carry the ever melting snow away from Mt. Hood.  Each fall is obviously unique, but something timeless does connect them, maybe that's why it's easy to view them over and over. 

I want to mention here that I did take some still images, images that actually freeze motion.  My preference though is a long-exposure image like the ones I have here (obviously.)  The long-exposure it more technical, but really boils down to trial, error and patience.  The blur is how I think most people see water moving, to me showing the motion is makes the experience of the image more real.

This had started out as a “great escape” road trip. Getting on the motorcycle for a week or so, just to get out of my routine, to see some new parts of the west. I'd hope to revisit other places now with a new “photography” perspective, trying to emphasize the art in the photograph instead of simply documenting what I encountered. With the school year coming to a close and with a new relationship forming, the excitement of this prospect was making me giddy, even if a bit reckless, too.

The planning of the trip evolved from a solo motorcycle journey, with an emphasis on riding, to a trip that would include a partner for at least a part of the time. This meant ditching the motorcycle in favor of four wheeled comfort, and it also meant that “more stuff” would be going along. I could bring all of my photography gear and truly take my time with some thoughtful images. The destinations were easy to choose; Grand Canyon, Yosemite, San Francisco, the coast of Oregon, Portland, and Crater Lake. Some things old, somethings new, it felt like a nice balance of “adventure” and places where a couple could enjoy being a couple.

This was the second waterfall of the day.  Composition is off on this, but the water is just about perfect.

In my mind, this is my best waterfall picture of the trip.  I walked into the pool as another group was leaving, so I had time to work on getting it right.  The solitude and the calm seeped in.  I started losing count of the images, and repositioned the shoot more than once, and with the water splashing and the lens misting over and another group coming in, and the 6 miles I'd already hiked wearing on me, I shot one more image, this one, and it is the best.  

Needless to say, with Mt. Hood as the source, gravity doesn't have much to do to carry the melted snow the short distance down to the Gorge and into the Columbia River.  Just beautiful.

Picturesque falls, with soft, setting sun.  Not as creative an image in hindsight, but one that I enjoy more and more.

Everyone goes to Portland, everyone takes a picture of Multnomah... It's beautiful, and the tallest falls in Oregon, it is photo worthy.

I really couldn't take all of the pictures I wanted.  By this point I'd been on the road for two and a half weeks, and I was tired.  Ponytail was the last waterfall of the trip.  Lower Oneonta Falls, and the Oneonta Gorge are in the neighboring valley and I'm genuinely disappointed I didn't take the extra hour to seek them out.

I am happy with this photo though, I will be printing it for myself.

A sinuous road travels through the heart of the Medicine Bow mountains. It is called the Snowy Mountain Parkway, and even though is shorter than I wish, its views are grand, and its impressions even grander.

Nestles along this track is Mirror Lake. This was my first chance to photograph the lake, even though I have ridden past it many, many times. It brought out its best, and lived up to its name.

Counting days to fall colors, but enjoying the quiet moments of summer’s end. Taken from the highest point on the Snowy Mountain Parkway, in the heart of the Medicine Bow mountains.

At the highest elevation on the Snowy Mountain Parkway is the Libby Flats overlook. It is a serene spot most times, this particular night, with orange and lavender and a darkening sky, is one I’ll hold on to for a long while.

Not the highest point in the Medicine Bow, but an iconic peak and framing in its own right. To patiently wait out the sun, to let it’s final rays trace the ground, illuminating lichens and moss, and reminding the grasses that they will grow again.

This seemed more appropriate than “midnight in the garden of good and evil,” but it was midnight and the rising moon, though not washing out the stars, was creating creating beautiful light and shadows.

Mirror Lake was the calmest I've ever scene it, reflecting in a supernatural way.

My favorite lighthouse.

“Going home” can mean so many different things. I first moved to Charlevoix when I was just 5, entering into a new town, home and school, all in the same week. But “home” is what Charlevoix became. Raising pets, long solitary walks, triumphs brought on strong, boyhood camaraderie, and grief borne on broken families. But yes, all of it is still “home.” There are still moments when there’s no place I’d rather be.

A not so pale, Thanksgiving morning.

I couldn’t believe my fortune this night. A sunset I’ll never forget. I time I learned a lot of photographing waves, and the importance of patience.

A very long exposure… this was 30 seconds of waves rolling in and rolling out. The permanent impression they left worked well to reflect the burning sky.

January, 2019

Practicing patients on these shots is at moments exhilarating and frustrating, with a little trepidation thrown in. I don’t use a housing on my cameras, though I will probably invest in one soon enough.

This light, this mood, this edifice; it all felt like time was conspiring. Do we ever have enough? Do we truly appreciate it? Will we ever use it wisely? All questions I am incapable of answering, until I sink into a moment, and suddenly it just stands still.

Dilapidated pier, fading sunlight, slowly rolling waves.

January, 2019

Water has a way of catching you off guard. One time it destroyed a camera, the next time a small remote shutter release. I’m learning to not turn my back on the waves, a challenging behavior to correct.

January, 2019

A depth of field image; a reminder that our focus can be controlled but our vision can accept so many possibilities.

Not quite New Years Eve, 2018. A very different Holiday this year; I was hoping for snowy and desert scenes, but I ended up on the Gulf Coast of Florida. While it wasn’t traditional, holly and tinsel sight, it was full of the heartiness and joy that comes with spending time with family.

My mother has been spending the past few winters here, and I was long overdue for sunshine, sand, and the familiarity of my parents calling my name, and the ease of helping them navigate life as it gracefully moves forward.

This is a long-exposure; a 15 second image to capture that subtle roll in the ocean, and mirror the beauty that it reflects with each receding wave.

A kindly repose, or that gentle reminder that all things come to an end.

This location proved to be an intriguing Muse. I was able to visit once in my childhood, and twice as adult thought only one time to actually photograph it in a way that would bring a presence and durability that I’ve come accustomed to in my photography.

Thank you mom, for giving me those opportunities.

Mesmerizing still doesn’t do this sunset justice… No tricks, just a stillness that lasted well into the dark.

James had a 50th birthday. James and Wendy wanted to have a nice dinner with their closest friends for James’ 50th birthday. James and Wendy wanted to have the nice dinner with their friends, in New Orleans! So, 13 of us headed to the Big Easy to help James celebrate! Certainly not my strength, the city, it’s parks, cemeteries, Oak trees and architecture gave me the chance to play with new compositions and subject, and take in more amazing food in a weeks time then I have in a very, very long time!

The rising sun sneaking through the green.

Site of the oldest cathedral in America, New Orleans 300 year history is evident at every turn.

This “spring,” as the locals call it, has been flowing for nearly six months. The city intends to repair it, soon. Until then may more talented photographers find it, and take full advantage of to clear, beautiful reflections.

Just one reason to go back… this style of shot has intimidated me as a photographer, but the abundance of compositions in the French Quarter had me excited to seek them out, and style them the best I could. Truly, a motivation to return.

Yes, we did see Bourbon Street, yes we did see it at night, but there’s so much more to the French Quarter than Bourbon Street. 300 year old architecture, amazing food and throngs of tourists all add to the interest! But my favorite in the French Quarter? Royal Street.

Another signature sight in New Orleans are the Oak trees. City Park is home to an 800-year old specimen, but many of the giant oaks are the city are 300 plus years, predating the city itself.

This long row, along the west side of Audubon Park created this composition. I can only image the glowing morning light, and a low fog mixed into this scene.

Families each must wait their turn. The fact that New Orleans is below water means it’s impossible to bury the dead. The crypts serve families for generations, with bones piling onto of bones as the years pass by.

That quiet dawn, always rewarding, never a loss for surprises.

City park is home to the oldest trees in the city, the oldest having survived Hurricane Katrina, and countless other coastal storms. I walked right passed the oldest tree, the Tree of Life as it’s known, but found this one out of the way, standing guard over the eastern side of the park.

Yes, a gas light! Many of the buildings in the French Quarter still illuminate their fronts with gas lanterns. The flickering glow is a welcome contrast to the crushing of the modern world.

The streets get cleaned every other day, in alternating order, east-west one day, north-south the next, and so on. Walking around early, between 4 a.m. and 5 a.m., the Quarter is quiet, deliveries for the day’s needs are taking place, and a sense of place settles in; this place is old, and it’s stories are rich.

I truly did not expect this when heading out to the lake. This was my final stop for the trip, and getting there a welcome surprise

Not a very long exposure, but a just over a second and a half, the water is a little smoother, the glow behind the city a little softer. The sun streaking across the water and onto the concrete are more comforting elements for me; this city offers a little bit of everything.

The river is very high right now, in March, 2019. There has been flooding up and down the Mississippi as heavy rains compound already melting snows in the north. My first night on the river I watched a mother, who probably went through a similar ritual as a child, teach her daughter about impermanence and how to gracefully let go. Throwing a cherished bouquet in the river, even as her daughter cried protested, the mother spoke to her calmly about the losses that others have experienced, and that respecting the river and respecting time were of utmost importance.

It seemed initially like a terrifying lesson, but reflecting now, it seems an appropriate one; we all lose things, and people, and time. How we accept these losses determines our course.

The streets can be clean, even if momentarily.

The last of the high clouds capturing and reflecting the falling light.

I don’t always have concrete ideas on where I want to go, and what I want to see. Three weeks into my summer and I started to feel pretty restless, and I started to feel that my photography needed some different challenges. I’ve made an effort to stay local, and pick out compositions in and around Denver that I might normally ignore, but the two quick trips that I’ve make with Andrew and Tanner this month had left me wanting to see more.

There were two routes that I have traversed yet; one in Colorado, Cordova Pass, and one in New Mexico, the Valle Vidal. So, getting an itchy feeling to travel, I packed, and headed south.

I did stop in Colorado Springs to photograph a sunset over the Garden of the Gods, and then journeyed on in search of wildflowers. The big Crested Butte festival is coming up, and I wanted to practice my com positioning skills, and further test a new lens. From the outset of the trip, Taos was a “maybe.” I ended up there late in the afternoon and wondering which part of the river to see and hoping for big, fluffy, New Mexico clouds.

Well, I figured out the part of the river to shoot, but no clouds arrived. Wildfires were dampening the mood, and surprisingly added a much needed glow.

Kit Carson made his men swim across it, that or they had to travel a 70 more miles north to find a reasonable place to cross the river. The John Dunn Bridge is a lonely old relic, but a perfect perch to watch the light invade the canyon. In slower years the river would have already been full of boat traffic, but with the record run-offs, few were yet daring the water.

A long exposure shot of a 10 seconds; enough time to see the motion, but not so much to loss the force of the river.

The rivers course taking a long, slow bend; Pinon holding on, steadying to progress, not resisting, simply absorbing the change in course.

Shooting with a very fast, telephoto prime lens, the Sony 85/F1.4 GM, the flowers standout in a way that otherwise shown them as the tiny things they are. The bridge in the background is over a mile away, and the hanging 800 feet above the river.

650 feet above the river, two football field lengths. Impressive and imposing.

Break in the clouds… October 5th, 2019

The first morning did not include the mass ascension, as a fog swept in over the river valley knocking out visibility for the pilots and chase crews. But the spectacle of the the crews rehearsing their well choreographed maneuvers and lifting this giants skyward was not less spectacular. The 18,000 BTUs of heat adds to the festive mood and gives a welcome blast of warmth from many feet away.

Fogged down, October 5th, 2019

Mass ascension, October 6th, 2019

This image has a story, like most all of them do, and sometimes it’s hard to honor the history and support the story at the same time. What I can definitively say is that I have a photo of my dad and one of my brothers, in field of balloons that are about to launch. I know that photo was taken in the early 80’s, and I know it was in one of three locations, but that is all I know.

I can’t get the answers to any of those questions because the two people who could answer them are both gone. It’s a funny thing this affair with photography, it can give use so many details, while at the same time very little information.

That was my motivation. Maybe not to find that answers, but to find the emotion. I wept during the early morning launches, and I’m really not sure why. Was it for the sure beauty, or just finding a little sliver of the answer, or maybe just to spend time with those who know.

Mass ascension, October 6th, 2019

Dawn Patrol - October 6th, 2019

Dawn Patrol - October 6th, 2019

Dawn Patrol - October 6th, 2019

The night event is called the Balloon Glow, and do they ever glow.

The night event is called the Balloon Glow, and do they ever glow.

The night event is called the Balloon Glow, and do they ever glow.

Sometimes you don’t know what you’re missing until you find it…

Sometimes you don’t know what you’re missing until you find it…

Chicago Skyline - October, 2019

Sometimes you don’t know what you’re missing until you find it…

Chicago Skyline - October, 2019

This is one of those spots, like Horseshoe Bend, that has many, many fans, especially in the photography community. I will shamelessly thrown my had in the imitation game for this one, because I think that no matter how many times you see it, it will feel unique, and remain and hallmark of the Chicago photography scene.

A very rainy day descended on Saturday, but I still had sites to see and experiences I’d committed to. The enjoyment of a new location is the possibilities it presents, especially with the knowledge uncovered by that exploration.

So much more potential out of this location than just this one composition, but that just gives me opportunity to future visits.

Chicago’s skyline is far more picturesque than I’d ever imagined. It has layers and depth, and is accessible from so many different angles with the ability to capture and reflect the changing light. Just when I thought one composition was done, another appeared.

I have to thank Lake Michigan for this one…

When your new life presents itself, you have to grab ahold of it with both hands… this is where Tanner is. His life demanded a new course, and Chicago is it. I have no idea why, he probably doesn’t know either, completely. But, Chicago felt “right” from his very first visit there. And, here he is, three years later.

The rain kept me on my toes, and eventually even those were completely soaked. I figure at some point I’m going to tire of the perfect blue skies, and wish for grey and cloudy, so I took advantage of what was presented to me.

The Thanksgiving holiday found me traveling in a very different direction from last year. In 2018 I was headed to a rural, cold and snow-covered Northern Michigan, 2019 found me heading to the island of O’ahu in the state of Hawaii.

An amazing experience, and a world full of a very different beauty.

So much more scenic than I could ever image… for every image that I captured there were so many more that were missed. This was a good problem I think.

There weren’t many glowing sunsets, because of the winter weather that showed up on the North Shore of O’ahu. But this was one that I was able to shoot from two different locations only a few minutes apart.

One of the most remote beaches on O’ahu, while it is easy to access, it is tedious to get too. The island is no longer ringed by a single road, and this beach is at the very end of one, very long road. But the appreciation of being there, and seeing the sunset over the Pacific Ocean far outweighed any challenge to getting there.

Nine vertical images stitched together to create this panorama.

The Twin Brothers are an iconic site off of the north east coast of O’ahu, catching them in a frame seems to produce a real depth, a sense of scale that might not otherwise stand out.

Some moments take hours to unfold, and some literally take seconds. After hiking through the Waimea Valley we headed further west along the North Shore. As the sun began to descend in the west, now of the beaches that sometimes host sea turtles came into view. Quickly we jumped from the car, and headed towards the surf to find a composition and enjoy the growing, glowing skies.

The trail is smooth and well paved, but it’s steep, very steep, nearly as steep as a flight of stairs. And it’s long, almost two miles long. And, it’s popular. And, if you arrive before the sunrise, it is an extra half mile long because the gate to the parking area is locked, and you have to walk the distance.

But the view, absolutely worth it. The lighthouse is the furtherest north, and furthest east point on O’ahu. I was fortunate enough to make the hike two times during this trip. Once on a beautiful afternoon, the other on a dark and windy morning. This set of images is from the latter.

This series took the extra effort… Have to drive much further because the gate was locked, finding a discrete place to park in a suburban neighborhood, then walking along the dark and windy beach, with waves washing at high tide, backtracking the distance you had to add because of the blocked parking spaces.

Again, absolutely breathtaking, and truly inspiring with or without a camera. the small deposit of basalt added a character to the setting, with Makapu’u in the distance.

The slightly slower shutter speed, 1/6 of a second, seems to be the sweet spot for me when it comes to interpreting the motion of a scene like this.

The color grading is a bit stronger than my usual images, but there was a subtle vibrancy to the first light, and so many hues were present.

Towards the end of twilight and with the sun breaking the horizon, the colors burned into a whole new, unyielding set of hues.

The tide was at it’s absolute highest, and the winds whipped the tops of the waves creating a ferocious spray. The trick was finding a place to dodge the salt water, and wait out the threat revealing the fluid beauty of water drawn on the beach.

This spot felt like the most remote place on O’ahu, and that is probably because it is at the end of a dead-end road. At one time the highway to circumnavigate the island, but a landslide took out a portion of the road and the state has chosen not to rebuild it. I think the result is a good thing.

This was all such a rush, and it all happened so quickly. We been hiking for the afternoon and were set on a place for dinner. I asked my cousin to point out a good beach for sunset, and with the words barely out of my mouth he pulled off the road just as the sun was starting to dip. This was going to the a beautiful end to the first day on the island.

The wind was far rowdier than I’d anticipated for my first morning on O’ahu. But wading into the warm surf while taking in the new day made me quickly forget about the sea mist gathering on my lens. Once I realized that 10 to 15 shots were useless because of the filthy glass, I slowed down just a little bit more, and allowed the moment to truly sink in.

The flora of Hawai’i is nothing short of extraordinary, but I feel like I struggled with genuinely capturing it. I was too preoccupied with the seascapes and the stunning skies to look down. But this short walk back into Waimea Falls offered much of the this beauty, and a few images did stand out.

The Chicago Theater Marque is one of the cities true icons. This image is a 6 image vertical panorama, captured from across the river as rush hour traffic and pedestrians make the attempt to coexist in this bustling setting.

Favorite shot for many Chicago photographers, I’ll definitely return to see it. This image is a composition, as the trains were not timing themselves to be inbound and outbound at the same time. Hopefully and nice sunrise or sunset will be the backdrop for that event the new time I visit.

Dressed up for the Holidays, the London House placed Christmas trees around the rooftop deck, kinda difficult to resist framing "winter scene” 22 stories up!

“The Bean,” as the denizens of Chicago call it, is as compelling study on the idea of ego as it is compelling physical presence. Finding it quiet, in the dark, is a challenging feat. This is the second time to find it in the rain, which had something to do with how quiet it was.

I can’t claim this as an original composition. And, I’m sure I’ll shoot it a few more times. The benefit of art is that it is reproducible, at that finding inspiration in the work of others is a part of the growth of your own work. The reflective surfaces on this particular parking garage offer so many possibilities that very, very few images will ever be identical.

A middle of a winter’s day composition is far from unique, but the symmetry in the reflection captured my attention.

A little pool of water inside the breakwater hadn’t frozen over yet, but the tiny ebb of the lake kept the surface lively and uneven, maybe that’s what 2019 was; lively and uneven.

As one of the prominent features of the Chicago skyline, the Hancock Building, isn’t easy to find from ground level. Located in the western part of downtown, in the city’s financial district, the shadow that it casts falls mainly on the neighboring buildings, so finding an opening in the urban canopy to view its heights is a rewarding activity.

The color palette, serving as the background of one of the “old” stations on the Loop couldn’t be missed.

This is another vertical panorama, created with 6 images stitched together with the focal point the face of the station roof.

COVID-19 has made all of our lives challenging, and problematic, at best, and full of grief and anxiety at worst. My mom recently celebrated a birthday, and since I've missed the past few, I made the choice to venture to Northern Michigan to share this most recent one.

While on a level it was not the most rationale choice, it is one that I felt I need to take a risk on; having isolated myself extensively during the summer, and testing negative for the virus it seemed like a safe trip to make, as long as the interactions were limited, and the festivities simple.

The drive between Northern Michigan and Denver is straight-forward, and one I have made multiple-dozen’s of times in the past 30 years. With my younger son now living in Chicago, it makes for a great layover, if not ideally placed. The return drive is much more manageable, but 14 hours on the road is still 14 hours on the road.

Pine River happens to connect Charlevoix’s small harbor to Lake Michigan, and the lighthouse and beacon light that mark the entry to the channel offer the nautical scenery that is both inspiring and humbling. Having walked and swam and sailed this waters throughout my childhood, it’s an incredible joy to shoot and capture images of these sights that hold so many memories for me.

Pine River happens to connect Charlevoix’s small harbor to Lake Michigan, and the lighthouse and beacon light that mark the entry to the channel offer the nautical scenery that is both inspiring and humbling. Having walked and swam and sailed this waters throughout my childhood, it’s an incredible joy to shoot and capture images of these sights that hold so many memories for me.

Nighttime captures always present there own unique challenges, add in man-made lights in varying degrees and a little moonlight, and it takes more than one shot to get the image you want. Surprisingly enough, I was to get this small series without too much fuss.

ISO 400 | F/9 | 30 secs at 135mm

August, 2020

“There’s only so much, the river can hold.”

The water is extremely high around the Great Lakes, small waves lap onto sidewalks and docks with ease, and larger waves can completely washout any path. Capturing the reflecting clouds and light is one positive side-effect of this situation, as water is the perfect proxy for a mirror, especially in the fading light, and when the exposure is longer than normal.

ISO 100 | F/11 | 10 secs at 16mm

August, 2020

Looking east into the sunrise - March, 2021

Passed the equinox the shadows get longer. Keeping an eye on the subject and the situation lends to a lot of head turning. Fortunately this day the traffic was pretty calm.

Overshot and under appreciated.

Clark & Lake - March, 2021

Stitching images together is just one way for us to manipulate reality. This is a real scene, and a real setting, but using multiple stacked images together to create a composite, one that has more detail, one that has more depth.

Searching a scoured city for unique and compel compositions is equal parts inspiration and exhaustion. Having only new and limited knowledge it is easy to fall into the trap of imitation, which I have definitely done. And while a truly unique image is an improbability in a city such as this, finding the image that you “like” is a worth enough goal, regardless of who else does.

Know for its cold winds, Chicago didn’t let up this particular morning. While it wasn’t as blustery as other mornings, it was decidedly cold, and clear. Tanner commented on how odd it is to see the sky so clear, after a long winter of uncertainty.

10 image vertical panorama shot at 70mm of the Sears Tower standing high over the Federal Reserve Bank of Chicago.

This car has a pretty good story to it, even in the short time that we’ve known it. Beetles, and other early Volkswagens are built on a “pan.” Where most cars of this era where built on a frame, this has an essentially flat bottom to it, with front and rear suspensions bolted on each end, and the body a completely separate unit added last.

This car shares components from many different years cars, spanning 1968 through 1976. Most importantly it was bought here in Colorado and relocated to Chicago. It has so far made a few trips to Michigan, and continues to be a lesson in patience and creativity.

The park is closed. A pandemic, calls for justice, both things weigh heavy on a cities mind, a city that has felt the impacts of both, I hope justice wins out, for this city’s sake.

Millennial Park - Chicago - March, 2021

The Harold Washington Library has magnificent gargoyles protecting its four corners. Capturing them at rest in the sublime morning light over the southern portion of the Loop was a welcome surprise this trip.

Just my third chance to shoot this composition on a cool and damp March night. Every opportunity is a joy, especially when I’m sharing it with my son.

This was the postponed 2020 trip, relieved to be able to move freely again.

Chicago - March, 2021

Just that, the North Avenue skyline reflected in the pool of water during a chilly, dry blue hour morning.

For nighttime navigation, red is always on your right. This marker sits on top of one of the many pilings found in the Chicago River, this one guarding an old lift bridge just off of West Kenzie Street

Long exposure over Lake Michigan - March, 2021

Chicago Skyline- I

Blue hour shot from south of downtown. Clouds weren’t as dynamic as I’d hoped, but the purple and blue hues let the skyline stand out over the Chicago River.

Long exposure over Lake Michigan - April, 2021

Chicago Skyline- II

The Kimball train headed into downtown. It’s probably the novelty of such sites that make them so interesting to me.

Chicago River - April, 2021

I decided to spend more time in the parking garages this time out. I could drink my coffee in peace, and breathe a little easier. The spaces were mostly empty as the pandemic still keeps many businesses closed and those still working are doing so from home.

Looking down on Washington & Wabash from a high vantage point and inbound and outbound trains head to their next stops.

Washington & Wabash - April, 2021

So much clear light in the cooler air on the second day of April, and that just seemed to draw more people out.

Lake Street Bridge - April, 2021

Some harbors are more just more pleasant than others - maybe that’s what familiarity is all about. This last June sunset did not disappoint the crowd that was gathered, either on land or by boat, a beautiful sight was taken in by all.

As the sunset below the horizon and twilight filled in the sky, it was a good challenge to wait out the beacon light and capture it in the frame.

ISO 100 | F/11 | 1/60 sec. - Sony a7riii w/Sony FE 14GM

Lake Michigan, Charlevoix - June, 2021

Some harbors are more just more pleasant than others - maybe that’s what familiarity is all about. This last June sunset did not disappoint the crowd that was gathered, either on land or by boat, a beautiful sight was taken in by all.

As the sunset below the horizon and twilight filled in the sky, it was a good challenge to wait out the beacon light and capture it in the frame.

ISO 100 | F/2.5 | 1/800 sec. - Sony a7riii w/Sony FE 50G

Pine River Study I - Summer, 2021

Some harbors are more just more pleasant than others - maybe that’s what familiarity is all about. This last June sunset did not disappoint the crowd that was gathered, either on land or by boat, a beautiful sight was taken in by all.

As the sunset below the horizon and twilight filled in the sky, it was a good challenge to wait out the beacon light and capture it in the frame.

ISO 100 | F/9| 30 sec. - Sony a7riii w/Sony FE 50G

Pine River Study II - Summer, 2021

Some harbors are more just more pleasant than others - maybe that’s what familiarity is all about. This last June sunset did not disappoint the crowd that was gathered, either on land or by boat, a beautiful sight was taken in by all.

As the sunset below the horizon and twilight filled in the sky, it was a good challenge to wait out the beacon light and capture it in the frame.

ISO 100 | F/9| 30 sec. - Sony a7riii w/Sony FE 50G

Pine River Study III - Summer, 2021

Some harbors are more just more pleasant than others - maybe that’s what familiarity is all about. This last June sunset did not disappoint the crowd that was gathered, either on land or by boat, a beautiful sight was taken in by all.

As the sunset below the horizon and twilight filled in the sky, it was a good challenge to wait out the beacon light and capture it in the frame.

ISO 100 | F/9 | 30 sec. - Sony a7riii w/Sony FE 50G

Pine River Study IV - Summer, 2021

Some harbors are more just more pleasant than others - maybe that’s what familiarity is all about. This last June sunset did not disappoint the crowd that was gathered, either on land or by boat, a beautiful sight was taken in by all.

As the sunset below the horizon and twilight filled in the sky, it was a good challenge to wait out the beacon light and capture it in the frame.

ISO 100 | F/2.5 | 1/5 sec. - Sony a7riii w/Sony FE 50G

Pine River Study V - Summer, 2021

Some harbors are more just more pleasant than others - maybe that’s what familiarity is all about. This last June sunset did not disappoint the crowd that was gathered, either on land or by boat, a beautiful sight was taken in by all.

As the sunset below the horizon and twilight filled in the sky, it was a good challenge to wait out the beacon light and capture it in the frame.

ISO 100 | F/1.8 | 1/3 sec. - Sony a7riv w/Sony FE 135GM

Pine River Study VI - Summer, 2021

Some harbors are more just more pleasant than others - maybe that’s what familiarity is all about. This last June sunset did not disappoint the crowd that was gathered, either on land or by boat, a beautiful sight was taken in by all.

As the sunset below the horizon and twilight filled in the sky, it was a good challenge to wait out the beacon light and capture it in the frame.

ISO 100 | F/8 | 30 sec. - Sony a7riv w/Sony FE 135GM

Pine River Study VII - Summer, 2021

Some harbors are more just more pleasant than others - maybe that’s what familiarity is all about. This last June sunset did not disappoint the crowd that was gathered, either on land or by boat, a beautiful sight was taken in by all.

As the sunset below the horizon and twilight filled in the sky, it was a good challenge to wait out the beacon light and capture it in the frame.

ISO 100 | F/1.8 | 1/125 sec. - Sony a7riv w/Sony FE 135GM

Pine River Study VIII - Summer, 2021

Some harbors are more just more pleasant than others - maybe that’s what familiarity is all about. This last June sunset did not disappoint the crowd that was gathered, either on land or by boat, a beautiful sight was taken in by all.

As the sunset below the horizon and twilight filled in the sky, it was a good challenge to wait out the beacon light and capture it in the frame.

ISO 100 | F/8 | 30 sec. - Sony a7riv w/Sony FE 135GM

Pine River Study IX - Summer, 2021

Some harbors are more just more pleasant than others - maybe that’s what familiarity is all about. This last June sunset did not disappoint the crowd that was gathered, either on land or by boat, a beautiful sight was taken in by all.

As the sunset below the horizon and twilight filled in the sky, it was a good challenge to wait out the beacon light and capture it in the frame.

ISO 100 | F/10 | 1/200 sec. - Sony a7riv w/Sony FE 135GM

Lake Michigan, Sunset Cruise - June, 2021

The first time I was introduced to a Fredric Remington painting was with my grandfather. Remington had used his talents in a series fo add campaigns and those prints dotted in the various spaces where my grandpa lived, worked and played. Burney was an avid outdoorsman, and the season did not matter.

While Remington was know as an illustrator, the landscapes he placed his subjects in were always dramatic, with intense light, shadow but more muted hues. He was part of a group of artists influenced and trained by Howard Pyle, at his Brandywine School.

One time, while out with my grandparents, we came across a painting that hung in a small diner in Northern Michigan, and while I’m not certain it was a Remington print, it held the dramatic and stylized light that were common in his work, and the works of Pyle, N.C. Wyeth, Maxfield Parrish, and others from the Brandywine School. I remember being mesmerized by the conflicting and chaotic cloud movement, thinking that nothing like that could possibly exist. It was only later, after moving to the West that I could finally see and understand the inspiration for the scene, and grasp that in fact, those scenes did exist.

This image was created using photographs from a Northern Michigan sunset, from late June, 2021. While watching the sunset from the north pier jutting out into Lake Michigan, the play of light from the setting sun on the wispy clouds flipped a switch deep in my memory. Whether it was Remington, Parrish or Wyeth that stood out as the inspiration for the final image I’m not sure, it was a good reminder that our history and experiences really do inform our present and what we carry forward from today will only add to that rich well of memories.

ISO 100 | F/10 | 1/200 sec. - Sony a7riv w/Sony FE 135GM - 8 image vertical panorama, edited and stitched together in Lightroom and Photoshop

Lake Michigan, Remington's Inspiration - June, 2021

This Elm sits in the back of one of the fields on one of the neighbors farms. The mist and fog had been rolling around it all day long, and

I’d made efforts to photograph earlier in the day and in hindsight it would have worked better as a time lapse with the sun and clouds creating beautiful patterns of light and shadow.

Returning in the evening though the light still cast a glow around the tree, even as the sun was beginning to fall.

ISO 100 | F/1.8 | 1/60 sec. at 135mm

Rural Michigan, Elm Tree - Summer, 2021

Last summer, it was the sunflower fields and a stately barn that became my most surprising photo from my trip home. I knew I would be too early for this year’s sunflower crop but that didn’t stop me from scouting the fields for different settings and different compositions.

The sky was offering so many different colors and so much amazing light this particular morning, the hardest part was just being content with the compositions that presented themselves, and there just wasn’t the chance to go scouting into the deepest woods for other wildflowers. I was so relieved that simple patches of purple liatris appeared and gave me the chance to shoot into the early morning sun, across the rain soaked hay.

ISO 100 | F/8 | 1/40 sec. at 14mm

Rural Michigan, Purple Liatris - Summer, 2021

Last summer, it was the sunflower fields and a stately barn that became my most surprising photo from my trip home. I knew I would be too early for this year’s sunflower crop but that didn’t stop me from scouting the fields for different settings and different compositions.

A neglected barn, fronted by mostly weeds but glowing underneath a surreal morning light would be the reward for the extra bit of diligence.

The clouds and color were changing so rapidly there was only time to shoot with one lens, the 135 already attached to the camera. So I quickly frame up two panoramas, one horizontal and one vertical, hopeful that my settings were sufficient and that my hands would be steady.

ISO 100 | F/1.8| 1/250 sec. 14 image panorama at 135mm, edited and stitched together in Lightroom and Photoshop

Rural Michigan, Abandoned Barn - Summer, 2021

Different harbor, similar view. A Lake Michigan sunsets reminiscent of one from the White Sands in 2018.

Last night’s sunset did not disappoint the crowd that was gathered, either on land or by boat, a beautiful sight was taken in by all.

Frankfort is another one of those beautiful harbors that dots Lake Michigan and offers the harbor light and Pt. Betsie Light, as well as the beautiful sand beaches stretching for miles north and south along the lake.

ISO 100 | F/9 | 1/250 sec. - Sony a7riii w/Sony FE 100-400GM @400mm

Frankfort Lighthouse Study I - Summer, 2021

Different harbor, similar view. A Lake Michigan sunsets reminiscent of one from the White Sands in 2018.

Last night’s sunset did not disappoint the crowd that was gathered, either on land or by boat, a beautiful sight was taken in by all.

Frankfort is another one of those beautiful harbors that dots Lake Michigan and offers the harbor light and Pt. Betsie Light, as well as the beautiful sand beaches stretching for miles north and south along the lake.

ISO 100 | F/1.8 | 1/125 sec. - 5 image panorama, edited and stitched in Lightroom and Photoshop - Sony a7riii w/Sony FE 100-400 GM at 100mm

Frankfort Lighthouse Pano I - Summer, 2021

Different harbor, similar view. A Lake Michigan sunsets reminiscent of one from the White Sands in 2018.

Last night’s sunset did not disappoint the crowd that was gathered, either on land or by boat, a beautiful sight was taken in by all.

Frankfort is another one of those beautiful harbors that dots Lake Michigan and offers the harbor light and Pt. Betsie Light, as well as the beautiful sand beaches stretching for miles north and south along the lake.

ISO 100 | F/6.3 | 1/100 sec. - Sony a7riii w/Sony FE 100-400GM at 135mm

Frankfort Lighthouse Study II - Summer, 2021

Different harbor, similar view. A Lake Michigan sunsets reminiscent of one from the White Sands in 2018.

Last night’s sunset did not disappoint the crowd that was gathered, either on land or by boat, a beautiful sight was taken in by all.

Frankfort is another one of those beautiful harbors that dots Lake Michigan and offers the harbor light and Pt. Betsie Light, as well as the beautiful sand beaches stretching for miles north and south along the lake.

ISO 100 | F/5.6 | 1/250 sec. - Sony a7riii w/Sony FE 100-400GM at 400mm

Frankfort Lighthouse Study III - Summer, 2021

Different harbor, similar view. A Lake Michigan sunsets reminiscent of one from the White Sands in 2018.

Last night’s sunset did not disappoint the crowd that was gathered, either on land or by boat, a beautiful sight was taken in by all.

Frankfort is another one of those beautiful harbors that dots Lake Michigan and offers the harbor light and Pt. Betsie Light, as well as the beautiful sand beaches stretching for miles north and south along the lake.

ISO 100 | F/1.8 | 1/125 sec. - Sony a7riv w/Sony FE 135GM

Frankfort Lighthouse Study IV - Summer, 2021

Different harbor, similar view. A Lake Michigan sunsets reminiscent of one from the White Sands in 2018.

Last night’s sunset did not disappoint the crowd that was gathered, either on land or by boat, a beautiful sight was taken in by all.

Frankfort is another one of those beautiful harbors that dots Lake Michigan and offers the harbor light and Pt. Betsie Light, as well as the beautiful sand beaches stretching for miles north and south along the lake.

ISO 100 | F/1.8 | 1/400 sec. - Sony a7riv w/Sony FE 135GM

Frankfort Lighthouse Study IV - Summer, 2021