My father has unfailingly and frequently been a gracious and willing subject for my camera. Upon reflection I realize that of all those who've crossed my lens' paths, save for perhaps my sister Ami, he's always been the least self-conscious and good humored about risking the photographic capture of his soul.
This photograph is one of several taken at Highland Springs Park in Lake County on a cool, lightly overcast late afternoon March day, one which was far more wintry in nature than spring-like. The emotional atmosphere between my father and I was similarly slightly unsettled at this time. Even so, we did enjoy the excursion and avoided wading into any well-known emotional minefields. One topic which was discussed, however, was that of Death: I'd asked him if he was afraid of dying, to which my father easily and even light-heartedly replied "no." His faith in a good outcome from mortality is likely much stronger than my own . . .
Some of my favorite portraits (by other photographers) have been taken from slightly below the subject; this tends to yield a sense of power. My attempt to utilize this perspective came off better than I'd hoped, conveying my father's confident gaze towards his heavenly reward on that particular day. He is rarely without the adornoment of his gold necklace, which depicts Christ, with His cross surmounted on a ship's helm, as a "fisher of men"; this piece of jewelry nicely supports my father's point of view.
A relatively straight-forward image, I nonetheless toiled and fretted for several hours over the development of this selection. In the raw image the sky is completely blown-out and featureless, a consequence of combined slight overexposure and a virtually amorphous layer of high, light-grey cloud cover. I spent considerable time attempting to utilize a combination of Adobe Lightroom and Photoshop adjustments to produce a fine balance between sky exposure and facial illumination.
This photograph is one of several taken at Highland Springs Park in Lake County on a cool, lightly overcast late afternoon March day, one which was far more wintry in nature than spring-like. The emotional atmosphere between my father and I was similarly slightly unsettled at this time. Even so, we did enjoy the excursion and avoided wading into any well-known emotional minefields. One topic which was discussed, however, was that of Death: I'd asked him if he was afraid of dying, to which my father easily and even light-heartedly replied "no." His faith in a good outcome from mortality is likely much stronger than my own . . .
Some of my favorite portraits (by other photographers) have been taken from slightly below the subject; this tends to yield a sense of power. My attempt to utilize this perspective came off better than I'd hoped, conveying my father's confident gaze towards his heavenly reward on that particular day. He is rarely without the adornoment of his gold necklace, which depicts Christ, with His cross surmounted on a ship's helm, as a "fisher of men"; this piece of jewelry nicely supports my father's point of view.
A relatively straight-forward image, I nonetheless toiled and fretted for several hours over the development of this selection. In the raw image the sky is completely blown-out and featureless, a consequence of combined slight overexposure and a virtually amorphous layer of high, light-grey cloud cover. I spent considerable time attempting to utilize a combination of Adobe Lightroom and Photoshop adjustments to produce a fine balance between sky exposure and facial illumination.
James Houston Murray, March 29, 2008
(c)2009 James W. Murray, all rights reserved.
(click image for larger version)
Details: March 29, 2008, Canon 20D; f/9 @ 1/250 sec; ISO 200; 76mm.
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