Landscape photography is pretty much a lonely affair. You travel and hike alone, you find and setup your shots alone. And that is good. I consider it as something very close to spiritual meditation. It is a road to your higher yourself. And if you are lucky enough you may get a companion on this road – a guru, a person who can show you the way, point the right turn on the road, keep you away from the waste of dead ends.

Rodney Lough. The first time I came across this name was last fall in San Francisco. I had been photographing Golden Gate Bridge at sunrise and decided to stop at Sausalito for a breakfast. Right on a corner of Bridgeway and Princess I stumbled across a gallery with magnificent photographic prints in the windows. It was early morning and the gallery was not yet opened. As I stood at awe admiring every detail of the photographs exhibited in the windows a lady came in, opened the door and greeted me in. We got into a two-hour long conversation and Vivian (that was her name) told me the whole story of Rodney Lough. He was the same age as mine, left his daytime job, was doing art shows for awhile and now has 4 (four) his own galleries. Wow, – I thought to myself, – he did it. And I can do it. It was like a light bulb switching on above my head.

Later in November I was in Minneapolis for a couple days. And I spent the whole evening at Rodney’s newly opened gallery in The Mall of America looking at every detail: not only at the prints, but how they are matted and framed, how the light is set, how the gallery is organized. It was perfect. It was something to aspire to.

By that time the figure of Rodney Lough grew in my mind to mythical proportions and he took his rightful place in my little pantheon of fine art landscape photography gods.

Here goes the story…

Last week I was at Horseshoe Canyon in Canyonlands and it was the third time I came to photograph The Great Gallery – an ancient Anasazi pictograph panel. The first time several years ago I had a 35 mm film camera, the other time I came with my first digital camera and this time I had intention to make some multi-row panoramas.

I camped at the rim of the canyon and woke up before sunrise. I rushed onto the trail with the first rays of light in a hope to catch nice morning reflected light on the panel. Three miles hike down the canyon and I was late. The shadow line moved through the panel in a matter of a couple minutes in front of my eyes and the panel was washed out in full sunlight. It happened so fast that I didn’t even have time to setup my tripod. It is what it is, – I thought to myself and proceeded anyway trying to salvage contrast with polarizing filter. Three hours and several multi-row panoramas later I felt exhausted and headed back on the trail.

As soon as I left the panel I saw a funny looking figure walking towards me. White long sleeve shirt, shorts and some kind of high boots. Oh, and a tripod! A fellow photographer! Coming closer. Gitzo carbon fiber. Interesting… Sharp blue eyes, golden hair, short trimmed beard. We got into talking:

- I like your boots.
- Oh, that’s not boots, that’s gators.
- Shooting medium? – I nodded at the tripod.
- Eight by ten, – was the answer.

Suddenly I felt a little cold in my stomach. You can count landscape photographers shooting 8 by 10 with fingers on both of your hands. I leaned forward and asked without any ceremonies:

- What’s your name?
- Rodney Lough.

I almost jumped.

- Sir, I’m honored to meet ya! – I said shaking his hand and immediately poured on him the whole story of my admiration.

- Wow, I’m surprised that you know who I am, – he muffled in response.

To make the long story short I shamelessly stuck with Rodney in the canyon for the rest of the day. I asked questions. He talked, I listened. It was great. It was a lucky chance that made my whole trip.

- Where is the panel? – Rodney asked me.
- Oh, it is right here. Unfortunately it is in full sunlight.
- I can wait. All I want now is to stay in the shade. I saw a beautiful tree against the canyon wall on my way here… Oh, here it is.

Frankly, to my eye the tree was nothing to look at. I just walked by this tree without even noticing it. But Rodney was excited. He started to setup his tripod and unpacked his 8 by 10 from the backpack.

- You see, it is perfect. The color of the leaves. That tree behind the green is too dark. And it is too close to the wall. That tree on the right is still too dark. And the branches are all over the place. This one is perfect. No wind. Even on one second there won’t be any movement. Every twig, every leaf will be tack sharp. It will look awesome on 8 by 10. It will be on a gallery wall for sure. You’ll see, and he disappeared under the dark cloth busy setting up his camera.

The light was pretty even in the shadow of the canyon wall. Rodney used his Sekonic to spot meter exposure in control points. He kept mumbling shutter speed numbers to himself, completely immersed in the process and oblivious to my paparazzi clicking.

Pulling out the dark slide. Notice vertical shift to elevate the lens tilting the monorail up and using front and back tilts.

And the final CLICK. The shot is done.

When he was done with his shot we sat in the shadow of the canyon wall for several hours. Rodney was patiently waiting for the shadow to come to the panel which eventually happened in the late afternoon. So I had plenty of time to torture him with my questions. I wish I had prepared the list beforehand because I still have many more.

He candidly told me what my biggest problem as a photographer is. Lack of patience. And it is true. On my photo expeditions I often feel restless chasing the light. I feel like a hunter pursing his prey. It is an exciting feeling but quantity of shots rarely produces quality.

He told me a story which happened to him in the beginning of his career as a photographer. It is a legend. He was at Grand Teton on one of the photographers’ hot spots with majestic overlook of the Tetons waiting for the sunrise with a crowded group of other photographers. To kill time everyone started to introduce himself to the others. The introduction made a full circle and came to the photographer next to Rodney.

- I’m Willard Clay, – he introduced himself.
- Wow! – said Rodney, – Willard Clay! It is honor to meet you. Do you have a business card or something?

While Willard went to his truck to get the card everybody else gathered around and asked:

- Who is this guy? Why are so excited?
- Don’t you know? – Rodney replied – His photographs are in every book and calendar about Grand Teton.

The sunrise was over as well as photographers’ shootout. Everybody left except Rodney and Willard. They had a conversation and Willard said at the end:

- There is one thing I have to tell you, young man. One thing only: wind is your friend.
- What does it mean? – Rodney asked. – Wind is photographer’s enemy. It moves grass and tress, it makes photographs blurry. How can it be your friend?
- By the time the wind calms down every other photographer will leave and now you free to make your shot nobody except you will be able to make. Wind is your friend.

Patience.

That is what Rodney has in abundance. Patience. We sat in the canyon waiting for the shadow to come to the pictograph panel for hours. But when the time came he acted charmingly and quickly.

Those who have been to The Great Galley know that access to the ledge where you can view and photograph the panel up-close is protected by chain rails. All you can do is photograph the panel from far below, from the canyon floor. Rodney was able to charm Bonnie, the park ranger, a graceful lady in her seventies. She unlocked the chain and let us on the ledge. Rodney quickly setup his camera.

There was no time to spare.

- Isn’t it a treat! – he kept repeating.

Notice raised monorail and back tilt used to align ground glass with the pictographs panel. Front tilt is used to increase depth of the field (Scheimpflug rule) for the stones which are almost in front of the camera.

I like the look of a heavy machine gunner looking through the turret of his firearm. The concentration and intensity is the same. The result is quite different though. I wish all machine guns in the world could be replaced with photographic cameras with a simple swing of a magic wand.

It looks like the front frame is too high.

Let’s move it down.

And back to mystery under the dark cloth.

The shot was done and we pushed back on the trail to climb up to the canyon rim to our cars. Rodney invited me to his camper. I showed him some of the ancient Anasazi ruins locations within Cedar Mesa. In exchange I was treated with a real sandwich made by Rodney himself. It tasted like nothing else. Especially after living a week on crackers and cold canned tuna. We shook hands and he took off. I left after him on my way to Factory Butte slowly digesting a great chunk of information I was given.

Life road has turning points. Change. New course towards bright light leaving the dark tunnel behind. Thank you, Rodney, for guiding the way!

Rodney Lough – www.theloughroad.com

Willard Clay – www.willardclay.com

Photography is not a pure art. It was born a bastard and it changes all the time through its relationships with chemical, optical and electronic industry.

Catherine Coleman
Curator of Photography at Madrid’s Museo Nacional Centro de Arte Reina Sofia

- Remember what John and Paul said.

- The Apostles?

- No, The Beatles: “All you need is love.”

Michael, The Movie

Love is patient, love is kind, and is not jealous; love does not brag and is not arrogant, does not act unbecomingly; it does not seek its own (will), is not provoked, does not take into account a wrong suffered, does not rejoice in unrighteousness, but rejoices with the truth; bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

Apostle Paul

We’ve got this gift of love, but love is like a precious plant. You can just accept it and leave it in the cupboard or just think it’s going to get on by itself. You’ve got to keep watering it. You’ve got to really look after it and nurture it.

John Lennon

April issue of Art Calendar magazine arrived to my mailbox. Usually I spent 2 minutes browsing it but today I found a gem: an article “Choices” by Jack White. I could not help but to make some quotes for myself:

Life is all about choices. When you cut away all the junk, every situation is a choice. You choose how you react to circumstances. You choose how people affect your mood. You choose to be in a good mood or bad mood. The bottom line: it’s your choice how you live your life.

We are who we are because of our choices.

Today is the tomorrow you fretted about yesterday.

People can only hurt us if we give them permission.

There us no sin in failing. The sin is in staying down.

…photography is more than mere craft. Photography is, or can be, a way of life. Beyond cameras and equipment, beyond film and chemistry lie the mysteries of the creative life shared by those who strive to communicate and express themselves clearly – fine art photographers, commercial photographers, amateurs and professionals.

Brooks Jensen, Editor
Preface to every edition of LensWorks magazine

Photography is a bit like electricity: We know how to use it, but we don’t really know what it is. My yearning is to get deeper and deeper within the medium to ideal picture that’s “A Photograph,” not an example of what photography can do or how it’s applied but what “A Photograph” would be. Don’t tell me what it looks like, or how it’s done. What is it? And I know in answering that question successfully one would not only define the medium but would make a photograph unlike any we’ve previously.

You see, if you’re making a painting it’s additive – you keep adding on brush strokes until you finished. When I do photography I’m more like the guy who’s chipping away – subtracting at the sculpture, chipping away at the stone block. I take as much out of the picture as I can. So I get into it just what I really want. The graphic quality in a photograph is only as good as the feeling it produces.

Samuel Goldburn really put it very succinctly when he said: “If you have a message send a telegram.” Well, I don’t have a message to another person in my photographs whatsoever – I’m simply working with the medium.

What people like to refer to as “The Message” is all about my personal dialogue, introspection, self-communication. Now if you must call that a message, go right ahead, but it’s not a message in the normal context of the word. A message is from one person to another.

Ralph Gibson
A Few of the Legend. A Series by Peter Adams
LensWork No.43

I must admit that is not a photograph, it is a snapshot. But still I like it. It is funny, it is kind. It brings smile to your face. What more can I ask for? There is a little story behind it, there is not much to tell, but at least it explains weird wigs and girls excitement. That was summer of 2003 and I found myself in Minneapolis, Minnesota at Twin Cities Open Dancesport Championship. The tradition of such competitions is to mix actual dancesport rounds with little shows presented by dance studios. The movie “Chicago” based on the Broadway show with the same name was a hit that year. Every dance studio on every dancesport competition I was that year felt obligated to do its own interpretation of “Come on babe – Why don’t we paint the town? – And all that Jazz!” These girls were about to enter the dance floor when I slipped in front them drawing their attention with my camera and big bracket flash. Photographer! Say “Cheese!” – somebody said. The girls happily obliged and put on a huge smile, I snapped my picture and the next moment they poured out on the dance floor. “And all that Ja-a-azz!”

Yesterday I had a privilege of attending an opening of a group show in Atlas Gallery on Chicago’s Magnificent Mile. It is one of the most prestigious contemporary art galleries in Chicago.

One of the artists is Vladimir Pailodze, whom I have an honor to call my friend. He is extremely talented artist. His paintings are unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. They are radiant, warm, very kind with a great sense of a humor.

I was lucky enough to be introduced to another brilliant artist – Sergey Tyukanov. His paintings overflow with boundless fantasy: sausages and hotdogs fighting with human kind, flying castles which look like shoes or half moon, high fashion for cats made with kitchen utensils, fish bones, musical instruments, alarm clock and fruits. Sergey’s exquisite and delicate watercolors and etchings are so full of details that gallery supplied a magnifying glass for better viewing. We talked and talked. About things like making art is process of constant self-education, how hard and dreadful it can be to actually produce what is called art, at what moment the work comes to a finished state… It was a great pleasure.

The show was a great success. The gallery could not even fit all the public. The population of shrimp was severely depleted and the barman seemed to have four hands pouring out all the wine and Champaign.

Vladimir Pailodze in a heated discussion in front of his gorgeous canvas “Daydreams” (or just “Aunty Sonya”).

Sergey Tyukanov arguing about landing spot for his Flying Shoes Castle.

Excitement of the public flew high. After floating in rivers of Champaign and splashing in chocolate fountain some of distinguished representatives of the honored public could not contain themselves and had to be carried away from an unbearable light of the Great Art.

Sergiy,

I truly appreciate your very honest and sincere comment to the previous entry in my blog. Not very often people talk and discuss such things as meaning of life. I started to write you an answer but it grew up in something bigger than a simply reply. I took a liberty of quoting your message and posting it along with my answer to you as separate entry in my blog. I hope it is ok with you. I believe these things are important and I don’t want them to get lost somewhere in comment archives.

Here it is:

I knew you were going there. All your recent posts showed it clearly and it was just a matter of time when the main question was going to be posted – the meaning of life. I bet everyone in their life has asked this question once and so have I. Sure enough; it was painful to find a satisfying answer. Nothing seems to be right or make sense at all. Then I figured that that was exactly the problem. Trying to find the reasoning, I mean. Sounds strange, doesn’t it? But it worked! Well, at least for me.

When one is looking for the answer to the meaning of life he or she is never searches for the answer to the meaning of death. Why, indeed? Death is the natural end of life. It’s clear and hence does not require an answer. Period. But is it really the answer? Does one really know what death is? You can’t really answer this question until you are there and when you are there you cannot communicate back to those who are alive. Meaning what? Meaning, we don’t ask ourselves this “meaningless” question and rather focus on searching the answer to the meaning of life instead.

If you are asking where the heck I am getting at, I tell you to the answer I found for myself, my friend. The meaning of life is merely life itself in its infinite variety of biological forms including us, human beings. It is as simple as it gets. I believe that the answer mustn’t be complicated. I think simplicity rules the Universe. One can like it or not, but on that scale nothing matters at all. All is everything and everything is all.

The Why we live is not a question to me, but the Why we think is. Human’s mind is the biggest mystery to us, life forms.

* * *

Same as you were I was searching for an ultimate answer to this ultimate question. And at age of sixteen or seventeen I came to a logical conclusion similar to yours but more “mathematically rational” in a sense: there is no answer since the question is stated incorrectly. It does not meaning that ultimate question to the meaning of life does not exists, nor does it exists for that matter. It only means that we are asking an improper question. It reminds me and old anecdote: An airplane pilot asks his navigator – “Course?” and navigator answers – “33!”, “What’s 33?”, asks the pilot and the navigator replies – “But what’s the course?”

The fascination I found in Viktor Frankl‘s ideas is that he completely turned around tables on you. He writes:

Ultimately, man should not ask what the meaning of his life is, rather must recognize that is he who is asked. In a word, each man is questioned by life; and he can only answer to life by answering for his own life; to life he can only respond by being responsible.

What does it mean? It means that we should stop asking ultimate question of meaning of life but instead give answers since we are who being questioned. What questions you may ask? The questions we are faced every day, every hour. We may not even verbalize these questions, but they do exist. We, humans, are proud of the fact that we are the only beings on this planet who possess consciousness, free will. We make conscience decisions and actions every day, every hour. They constitute our life, our being.

Unlike an animal, man is no longer told by drives and instincts what he must do. And in contrast to man in former times, he is no longer told by traditions and values what he should do. Now, knowing neither what he must do nor what he should do, he sometimes does not even know what he basically wishes to do. Instead, he wishes to do what other people do… or he does what other people wish him to do…

So, the questions are: Why do you do what you do? What is the meaning of your daily conscience decisions and actions? What is the purpose? We have been told that we have a free will. But what is the meaning of things we are willing? What is that you want and WHY do you want it?

It may seem that we made a circle and we are back to the same old question about meaning of life. Not at all. There is a very distinct difference between an old search for ultimate question for meaning of life and answering questions about meaning that life asks you. The quest for meaning of life, if you dig deeper, refers to life as a fate, mission, or destiny, extrageneous and indifferent to you, your wills and desires. You must fulfill it. Period. It is forced upon you. There is no escape. It is like death. On other hand, being questioned by life is intimately personal and ultimately unique. It comes to a simple question: What is that I want in my life? And the question the life asks you in turn: Why? What is the meaning of it? Often we are lost to answer even to the first question. And sometimes it might take a lifetime to answer the second one…

That’s what I think about it…

A couple years I was driving from Mount Rainier to Palouse in Eastern Washington. I was looking forward to see for the first time Palouse region which suppose to be looking like my beloved Tuscany in Italy. I wanted to get there by sunset and I was focused on the road and did not pay much attention to surroundings. Till I saw this windmill on a top of the ridge somewhere after Yakima. A flock of perfect puffy clouds was streaming across aquamarine blue sky, endless yellow wheat fields rolled through the hills up to horizon and this windmill – it was like an exclamation point to all this wonder. I stopped my car, got out, tried several compositions and hurried again towards Palouse. What a pity! I found nothing even comparable to this place in Palouse. At least at that day. Now, two years later I discovered these pictures again. I made panorama from seven vertical frames and posted it to my website. And I found myself returning to this photograph again and again. There is something magical in it for me. Even though I am very critical to my photographic creations I must say – I like this photograph. I am proud of it.