Christ Watching Over The "Marvelous City"

I can vividly remember as a child seeing a photo similar to this in an elementary school geography book and thinking, someday I must see this in person. It is one of my earliest memories of experiencing wanderlust, a diagnosis that would become a driving force throughout my life. Only later as an adult did I come to find out that this is also the birthplace of Bossa Nova, the bikini, and of course, the world's largest party. It is also home to over seven million Cariocas, as the locals call themselves, a colorful mix of some of the most beautiful people in the world all packed into the most beautiful urban setting on the planet, Rio de Janeiro.
The geography and people of Rio have created a unique urban sprawl, whereby some of the wealthiest people in Brazil live next to or even beneath some of the poorest. The poor have taken to illegally building favelas or shanty towns on any available space that clings to or straddles Rio's magnificent mountains. The irony of course, is that it's the people of the favelas that have the most magnificent views of their Cidade Maravilhosa or Marvelous City. Constantly watching over this marvelous city and all who inhabit it is the enormous statue of Cristo Redentor, Christ the Redeemer. Perched on the tip of Corcovado, or Hunchback mountain at 2,329 feet above the city, it can be seen from just about anywhere and offers a breathtaking view from it's base.
Even though this image is on postcards all over the city, I wanted to fulfill my childhood vision to see it and photograph it for myself. After experiencing a week of Carnaval and a month in Rio I hadn't had the opportunity to get my photo on a clear day. Miraculously, on my last morning in Rio I woke up to this heavenly, clear, blue sky. Risking missing my flight, I raced to the helicopter pad and fulfilled my vision.

Sunflowers In Dalat

Admittedly, this photo doesn't fit my usual style of making photographs that "promote global awareness and cultural understanding". However, being a travel and documentary photographer it does give a nice "sense of place". North Dakota? South of France? No, in this case, that "place" is a kitschy hotel that was formerly a French Colonial Governor's mansion or something like that in Dalat, Vietnam. O.K., I must admit, I don't remember the actual building so much, due to the fact that it was not nearly as impressive as the little pamphlet the ministry of tourism gave me. The garden path that I discovered leaving the mansion however, was worth putting of my afternoon glass of Vietnamese drip coffee for another half hour. Just barely though. I'm telling you, that stuff is sheer ambrosia!
Alright, so "sense of place" did come into play. I mean, who knew they had massive sunflowers in Vietnam? However, I must admit the main reason I took this photograph is because I knew that both the colors and sunny disposition of these giant sunflowers would create a fantastic print that simply lights-up a room.
Over time, the popularity of this print has reaffirmed a couple of things to me. First, to trust my instincts. If a scene jumps out at me for any reason, shoot it! It doesn't always have to fit into a story, theme, etc. Secondly, never underestimate how much women love sunflowers!

Paying Homage

Well, Labor Day has come and gone and with it another Summer. Even though the mercury is still in realm of triple digits here in Phoenix, it is heading downward, as is the sun earlier and earlier each day.  Kids are back in school, vacations are now memories and we'll be celebrating the harvest before you know it.  O.K. most of us have never harvested food in our lives, but we'll feast and celebrate anyway!  At any rate, like it or not, Summer is over and therefore,  I thought I finish it off with an "Endless Summer" inspired Photo of the Week.  Enjoy!  Also, if it helps, refer back in a couple of months when you are freezing and tired of scrapping the ice off of your windshield!
A few years ago I traveled to Bali for a month with the mission of trying to capture on film what it is that makes this relatively small island stand out, despite being one of 17,508 islands in the Indonesian archipelago. I found that it isn't just one thing, but rather the sum of it's unique and exotic culture, stunning vistas imbued with spiritual significance and range of activities that inspire travelers of all types to seek out their own paradise here.
With rumors of long reef breaks and consistent swells, surfers were among the first hardcore travelers to arrive and discover this, "Island of the Gods". Soon thereafter, names like Kuta, Ulu Watu and Dreamland lured the faithful from around the globe. Today, all along the Southern coast, motorbikes are outfitted with surfboard racks and the convenient stores have designated "surfboard parking " areas in an effort to accommodate those who come to conquer these breaks. Wanting to learn more about this subculture of the island, I rented a long board for a week and even enrolled in a weekend surf school. In class I learned about everything from duck-dives to rip-tides, however, the most valuable lessons I learned were the ones that nobody can teach you. I discovered that surfing is equal parts meditation and exertion. Moments of serene contentment followed by vigorous contests against the ocean's perpetual treadmill of waves. Much more than just a sport, it's about being in harmony with nature in her most natural environment.
Inspired by my newfound wisdom, I headed down to Kuta Beach to take on the challenge of capturing this essence in a still frame. I decided the best way to accomplish this would be to isolate a lone surfer set against the ocean and the setting sun. I have always liked working with silhouettes of people because the sense of anonymity lends itself to the feeling of "everyman" or in this case, every surfer. I tracked this local, who seemed to be particularly "in focus" as he came in from the days last set. As I framed him in the viewfinder and waited, the magic of the medium happened. Before turning his back and calling it a day at the beach, he looked back at the ocean for a moment of thanks. I could tell he was paying homage to what surfers refer to as their "source".
Stoked from the knowledge that I had it in the can, I took a moment to pay homage to my source as well, the medium of photography.

Sunset Behind Mission San Xavier del Bac

Founded in 1692 by Padre Eusebio Francisco Kino, a Spanish Jesuit spreading the word of God in the “new world”, Mission San Xavier del Bac is the oldest European building in Arizona still in use today. It has been affectionately nicknamed the “White Dove of the Desert” for its striking whitewash walls and graceful beauty set against the beautiful hues of the Sonoran Desert. Protected from vandalism by the local Pima and Tohono O’odham Indians for over 200 years, even the attacking Apaches left the “White Dove” untouched. As beautiful as the outside of the mission is, the interior is equally impressive. Due to both the sanctity of the place and the fragility of the 200 year-old frescoes, photography is not permitted inside. Yet another incentive to go see this unique Arizona landmark for yourself!
Being one of the most photographed buildings in Arizona, I was faced with the challenge of finding a new and unique perspective. Drawing from its nickname, I also wanted to show the mission’s setting in the desert. I climbed to the top of the hill on the Eastern side of the mission, which lends itself to great panoramas of the mission and surrounding desert. Shooting during the “golden hour” of dusk, I noticed that the sun’s trajectory would place it right behind the mission by the time it reached the horizon. Having lived in Tucson for three years during college, and knowing that Tucson has some of the best sunsets on the planet, I was definitely going to see how this one played out. I found the perfect spot for my tripod that placed the sun directly behind the main dome of the mission for the added halo effect, waited for the colors to peak and simply did what I enjoy doing the most.

Monsoon Season

Well, we finally got our first good monsoon storm the other night here in Phoenix and with it some much needed moisture here in the desert! Even though, the Sonoran Desert gets quite a bit of rainfall (when compared to other deserts of the world) and flash floods are a legitimate danger, I always have to laugh a bit when using the term "monsoon" in Phoenix. Anyway, it got me thinking about some of the incredible downpours I experienced while in Southeast Asia. You know the type, the daily deluge you see in every Vietnam War movie ever made. Trust me, there were times this boy from the desert wanted to start building an arc and gathering animals two by two! O.K. so that's a slight exaggeration but like everything else in Southeast Asia it was completely foreign to me at first. Hence, I loved it! And, like most things foreign to me, it inspired me to shoot and learn all the more.

Wading knee deep in flood water through the streets of Hoi An, Vietnam paid off when I made this photograph at what was a busy intersection only hours prior. Actually, for the people of Hoi An, scenes like this are as familiar as the colors of Fall would be to New Englanders; it's just another season. Hoi An's placement on the Thu Bon River, gives it easy access to the South China Sea only five kilometers away. This location has been both a blessing and a curse. Locals have been willing to adapt to the annual floods every October and November because Hoi An has been a major trading port in southeast Asia for centuries. There are imprints from the Chinese, Japanese, and French, all of which colonized the town at one point in history. Even during monsoon season it is one of the most enchanting towns in Vietnam. So much so in fact, UNESCO deemed it a crucial historical and cultural center and in 1999 added it to their list of protected World Heritage sites.

Time

In honor of the president's visit yesterday to the Park, we're going to revisit this one...

The Grand Canyon; Earth's most spectacular example of what happens when you combine the perfect combination of geology, erosion and a whole lot of time. As magnificent as the canyon is, it can be a "grand" challenge for photographers to capture images that provide scale and depth to a wonder filled with superlatives. Of course, we will never be able to to re-create the awe that one is overcome with when standing on the rim and gazing into the vastness of this world wonder but the joy of photographing the canyon is to try and capture a semblance of it's beauty and grandeur on a two dimensional medium. There are different techniques you can use to achieve to this aim and in this photograph I combined two of them. First of all, it is necessary to place something of interest in the foreground to give the image depth. Secondly, I sometimes like to use something in the foreground of the photo that acts as a sort of natural border to create a "frame within the frame". This will draw the viewers eye through the photo from the foreground to the background. Thus, you can not only have a striking image framed beautifully and naturally but you can also achieve a sense of depth at the same time.
This all came to mind instantaneously when I came across this dead tree while hiking into the canyon via the South Kaibab Trail. It caught my eye because it's lack of foliage not only lends itself perfectly to the afore mentioned techniques but it's apparent age also makes it the perfect companion to the the canyon and the theme of this photo, time.

Fuji in Pink

For the first year and a half of my three years in Japan I lived in the town of Gotemba. Gotemba is mostly famous for sitting right at the foot of Japan's most famous landmark, Mt. Fuji and I was fortunate enough to live in an apartment with this view out my window. Fortunate indeed, for without that window and it's spectacular view I would have probably committed "seppuku" (ritualized suicide also known as "hari kiri") living in that tiny bento box that the Japanese call an apartment, well, "aparto" anyway. Quite to the contrary though, I grew to love that little apartment by focusing on two of the aspects often used in Japanese gardens; reduced scale and borrowed view. I learned (as usual the hard way) to appreciate minimalism, which believe me, for someone raised in the United States doesn't come naturally. I also realized that if you sat in just the right spot, that rectangular window of mine doubled as a perfect frame for one of the world's most beautiful and chameleon like mountains. Actually, now that I think about it, my window was really like a giant version of those digital picture frames that changes photos every few seconds. O.K. so the view didn't change that quickly but "Fuji San" is notorious for always looking different and I must say, considering the four distinct seasons, unpredictable weather and various lighting angles of the sun throughout any given day, the mountain never looked the same for long. Over my eighteen month stint in Gotemba, I never lost the small thrill of walking into my apartment and immediately taking a glance out my own personal frame to see what Fuji was revealing. Often times I even set my alarm for pre-dawn to check the weather and clouds and if it seemed promising, have enough time to set up my camera and tripod on my balcony for the morning "golden hour". I made this picture on one such morning when I was rewarded for shaking off my slumber and freezing temperatures. Fuji's winter white coat was reflecting the inordinately pink hue of the sky behind me just before sunrise. Luckily, I was already set up, hoping for a spectacular view like this one to happen and when it did it made it all worth while. Not only did I get my money shot, I was also reminded of the value of anticipation in photography. Sure many shots are the outcome of serendipitous moments your lucky to capture, but you can certainly increase the frequency of those moments by knowing your surroundings as best you can and trying to anticipate what the light or even people may do ahead of time. Sometimes, I find myself whispering to myself trying to manifest the vision in my head. Of course, a great deal of the time it never pans out. Even professionals may shoot dozens or even hundreds of photos to get those few precious "selects" but this pre-visualization is one of the components that separate professionals from amateurs. It has been my experience that you can actually increase your luck through preparation and anticipation and your alarm clock can be your most important piece of equipment. A few minutes after this image was taken the light changed and the mountain looked completely different and oh yeah, I went back to bed!

The Vendor Client relationship

This video is brilliant and a must see for anyone who is involved in a creative profession. For photographers or any creative professional for that matter, it is simply a hilarious anecdote to real-life expectations that we have all experienced with clients. For those on the other side of the equation, my hope is these comedic analogies will give some perspective on the challenges of running a creative business.

Dare to be Different

This photograph is one of my personal favorites due to the serendipitous fashion in which I captured it and the message it instantly conveys. Being the third of four children, the only member of my family to live or travel abroad and the only one in a creative profession, I have often joked about being the black sheep, or in this case black duck of the family. Appreciating diversity and embracing my unique qualities has always been something I have taken pride in and indeed, this duck seems to feel the same way. What's more, being a photographer, especially in the industry today, I feel that one of the most important factors for success is to be have a distinct vision and style and simply be different from the rest of the crowd. I often look at this photo as a sort of visual mantra to remind me of these aspects of myself and my career.
I captured these ducks one afternoon while I was riding my motorbike on a beautiful road that wound through some rice fields outside a small town in central Vietnam. I saw a farmer up ahead of me on the opposite side of the road walking his ducks home, an image I had seen before in Vietnam, but only from a train or a speeding van's window. Apparently farmers bring their ducks along to their rice fields to allow them to waddle and eat insects while they tend to the patties. I pulled over well before they reached me and prepared to capture this unique cultural and downright cute image. I took a couple of shots that included the farmer keeping his ducks in a row, another theme entirely, but when I saw this lone black duck I zoomed in closer and composed this photo. The title, Dare to be Different says it all and since it is one of my philosophies, I have designed a postcard using this photo that I plan on implementing to help market A World in Focus.

Ta Prohm Doorway

During it's heyday 11 centuries ago, the city of Angkor was at the center of the Khmer civilization. The Khmers were not only a powerful empire, they were also one of history's most creative and artistic. They created hundreds of buildings and temples that are as magnificent as they are massive. After the empire fell to the Siamese in 1431 the city was left to be devoured by the dense jungle of Northern Cambodia. It wasn't until the French explorer Henri Mouhot wrote about his discovery of the fabled "lost city of Angkor" in the 1860's that the modern world was introduced to one of humanity's greatest architectural achievements.
This former Buddhist temple, Ta Prohm is one of the most popular sites at Angkor because unlike it's famous neighbors Angkor Wat and The Bayon, Ta Prohm was left exactly as it was found, so you get a real sense of what it must have been like to rediscover this majestic city. Most experts believe that these voracious trees that have overtaken the site are the very thing holding it together and if archaeologist were to remove them, Ta Prohm would simply crumble.

Canyon For Two

While hiking down to the river along the South Kaibab Trail with my friend Yoko, who was visiting from Japan, we came across this perfect spot for a rest and a picnic. The steep trail made a sharp bend here and therefore gave us an unobstructed panorama of the canyon laid out before us. It was a long and silent meal as we were both rendered speechless by the staggering view. I wanted to somehow capture the moment but realized from previous trips to the canyon that trying to do justice to this place is futile with any media. However, when I got up to pack away the remains of our canyon-side lunch and looked back at Yoko, I had one of those "eureka" moments that make me love this profession. I realized that by adding our perspective, I could express the feeling, mood, scale and beauty of the moment all in one good composition. Thankfully long treks through the Himalaya had conditioned me to bear the burden of carrying my tripod along "just in case". I set up the shot from behind while Yoko was still soaking in the "sugoi ki-re" (incredibly beautiful) view in front of her. Setting the timer to maximum so as to not really know for sure when the exposure was coming I went back to my seat at the edge of the world. Yoko was unaware that I even took this photograph until we left a while later and even I didn't realize I had nailed it until I saw the slide days later. Yes, I still enjoy that "surprise" feeling that film gives.