In this entry, a pair of images for your consideration -- from two eras of my photographic sojourns.
The first is a scene from the beaches near Cambria, a canvas illustrating considerable contractions with respect to motion: the form would appear to be plunging downwards, yet its wake suggests otherwise. This tension is magnified by the intuitive sense that the body rests passively (if momentarily) on a surface . . . yet the cord jutting in from the bottom seems to be forcefully fixing the subject in place, providing an additional source of energy. I particularly like the shadow's evocation of a snail's silhouette . . .
The first is a scene from the beaches near Cambria, a canvas illustrating considerable contractions with respect to motion: the form would appear to be plunging downwards, yet its wake suggests otherwise. This tension is magnified by the intuitive sense that the body rests passively (if momentarily) on a surface . . . yet the cord jutting in from the bottom seems to be forcefully fixing the subject in place, providing an additional source of energy. I particularly like the shadow's evocation of a snail's silhouette . . .
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The second photograph was taken shortly after sunrise on a bitter cold, extraordinarily windy morning, c. November 26, 1989, from a (closed!) State campground near Lone Pine; this submission is another from my transparencies archive.
Taken during a personal Vision Quest I had embarked upon (destination: the Saline and Death valleys, the Grand Canyon, and then on to Tucson, Arizona), I had been awakened from my hypothermic restless sleep by vicious winds gusting against my truck's camper shell. The night before I'd cooked up a quick pot of spaghetti and hurriedly ate it while watching the stars being just as quickly consumed by an approaching mass of storm clouds. When I sought shelter in my truck's bed and sleeping bag I had not yet seen the spectacular nature of this segment of the eastern Sierras due to the darkness.
Thus when I (reluctantly) emerged into the freezing dawn I was utterly stunned by the stark needle-like peaks and the snow being blown off the summits; against all instinct (as an Arizonan I'm not keen on cold) I grabbed my camera gear, somehow managed to climb on top of my vehicle to afford the best unobstructed view possible, and spent an unknown amount of time fighting to keep from being blown off whilst taking many images of one of the most beautiful sights I'd ever seen.
Taken during a personal Vision Quest I had embarked upon (destination: the Saline and Death valleys, the Grand Canyon, and then on to Tucson, Arizona), I had been awakened from my hypothermic restless sleep by vicious winds gusting against my truck's camper shell. The night before I'd cooked up a quick pot of spaghetti and hurriedly ate it while watching the stars being just as quickly consumed by an approaching mass of storm clouds. When I sought shelter in my truck's bed and sleeping bag I had not yet seen the spectacular nature of this segment of the eastern Sierras due to the darkness.
Thus when I (reluctantly) emerged into the freezing dawn I was utterly stunned by the stark needle-like peaks and the snow being blown off the summits; against all instinct (as an Arizonan I'm not keen on cold) I grabbed my camera gear, somehow managed to climb on top of my vehicle to afford the best unobstructed view possible, and spent an unknown amount of time fighting to keep from being blown off whilst taking many images of one of the most beautiful sights I'd ever seen.
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Untitled, #4600
(c)2010 James W. Murray, all rights reserved.
(click image for larger version)
Details: September 5, 2009; Canon 20D; f/9 @ 1/100 sec; -2/3 EV; ISO 100; 55mm.
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Mount Whitney Portal, November, 1989
(c)2010 James W. Murray, all rights reserved.
(click image for larger version)
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Mt Whitney portal, so lovely and balanced. Don't dare step into that space and disturb the equilibrium. Just look.
ReplyDeleteI know this is an older photo but very nice. I'm a big fan of vista photos and this is a very nice one. The kind of thing one would put in a portrait and hang on the wall with pride.
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