I have attached a narrative of the story of this photograph that I include with each of my images. I have found that my patrons LOVE my stories about my experiences of the images they just bought. Both the story and the photograph are presented here for criticism.
When I first made a prototype of this composition, I knew it was a winner. Its graphic elements were well defined. The geometric form of the red waters was striking. The dark cold granite separated by some ridgeline shadow lay in stark contrast to warm bold alpenglow. I knew the water's reflection would polarize the alpenglow light and deeply amplify its color hue. Whether it would be red or yellow, I was not sure.
The complexity of this composition lay in the extreme near-to-far placement of the granite in relation to the peak. Because the granite occupies such a large portion of the composition, it was not possible to employ any camera movements to help focus all elements. I relied solely on the depth of field and precise optical measurements to bring the entire composition into focus.
I revisited King Lake basin four times over a period of three years in hopes of getting the light I envisioned when I first stumbled upon this composition. When first light broke over the horizon that morning, I was not optimistic about the weather and the light I needed to take the shot. I suited up anyway, packed the llamas, and headed out. The composition was about a mile from camp through some thick fog so the trip was slow going. When I finally arrived, I wasted no time setting up my camera knowing mountain weather can change dramatically in a very short period of time.
In less then five minutes the fog disappeared, the skies turned blue, and alpenglow struck this unnamed peak head on. Of course, I had done my homework three years ago and paid my dues with many repeated visits. So when the light turned the water red and parted the dark granite, I felt no remorse as I plucked this forbidden fruit from the land.
My head is having a hard time accepting the lake being so orange when compared to the mountain behind, much like when I see a black and white print where clouds reflected in a lake are lighter in value than the clouds in the sky. Call me a stick in the mud, but it seems an unnatural depiction of nature...but we all get to draw that line in the sand for ourselves, don't we! Another issue I have is with the shadow line; did it have that diffuse dark orange quality to it, or is that a result of a bit of movement while using masks?
The story? Most people never get into the mountains (except for where roads allow them) so opening a window that lets them better appreciate your work, and the effort needed to create it, is a great idea.
Hi Murry, the orange line is a result of my scanner and my inability to remove it using Photoshop. I am not Photoshop savvy. The orange red water was really truly absolutely definitively that color. What happens in nature is that water polarizes any light that falls upon it and deeply darkens the hue in its reflection. Take a look at any of the reflections of lakes in other photographs and you will see how dark the blues are in the reflected sky. The link that follows is a reflection that provides an example of blues.
This also holds for other colors as well. In this case the yellow-orange was darkened to a red-pink, and because the water was not still and my exposure was 8 sec then the water became a sold opaque color. The event recorded in this image is quite common in the mountains provided you are willing to get up at 4:30 in the morning to witness the alpenglow.
When the sun travels straight up and down on the horizon in the summer the light will mature fast starting with reds, then to yellows, and and finally to hot white in about 10 minutes. Here is a link with refections of strong yellows. Initially this peak was drenched in blood red light and the water was a deep burgundy.
I do not know what yaks are, but I believe you would be hard pressed to beat my two buddies. They can carry between 80-100 pounds, can graze on anything, and never tug on the ropes. They love to climb peaks and when I do I don't even bother roping them. They just follow me up to the top to enjoy the views.
As far as the story goes, my customers love them. I am sharing this observation with my fellow APUXers as a helpful hint.
I am curious about your "precise optical measurements". Other than looking at the GG and getting everything is in focus (which could be the "precise optical measurements") what do you do?
Murray...this is the challenge of color photography. How to present colors in a way that expresses what one felt when taking the photo, yet maintaining a color relationship that appears "natural" to the viewer of the photo who was not there to see the original colors. I find that none of Steve's colors appear "natural" to me...much like your example of lightening a reflection in a lake throws off the light balance between the reflected and the reflection...or like when someone over-darkens the sky.
In today's world of super saturated color (digital, advertising, et al) perhaps the average viewer is more willing to accept Steven's colors -- especially those who have not themselves experienced those locations or who have never worked with color images themselves. And for those of us who have been in these lighting condition and have work with color, Steven presents an interesting challenge to our color sensitivity!
I have only packed mules -- great beasts! But you can't milk a mule, but you can milk a yak.
In your attached examples the darkened blues of the sky reflected by water made sense to me. For whatever reason though, my brain still can't accept that reflection coming from that mountain. Maybe I'm just hyper orange sensitive! As I intimated earlier, artists are free to draw their own boundaries, and who says a photograph has to mimic reality anyway?
You've never heard of yaks? They can carry 200 lbs to Everest's base camp, you can milk them as Vaughn suggests, or if in the mood for a party you can ferment the milk...or so I hear. Click the link for a photo; http://www.jmilne.org/mntn/Tibet2002/89.jpg
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