Tuesday, July 29, 2014

Failure is Inevitable in Landscape Photography

There will be no sample pics in the post, because there aren't any to be had.

We've all done our best to deal with failure, and it certainly is frustrating.  But to be able to keep going, every photographer must understand that failing is not just part of the job, it's most of the job, particularly with something as fickle as nature.  Nature doesn't care about our timetable, and isn't remotely interested in whether we're present or not, prepared or not, or what our expectations are.  A human being trying to figure out when the best shot will present itself is the very definition of hubris.  The fact that we as photographers try to adapt to a virtually unknown and unknowable schedule leads to a lot of wasted shots and wasted time.  But there simply is no other way, and getting used to it will make your life better.

This week I've been researching a specific shot that was requested by a client, to replace a landscape photograph in their home that's about 140 years old.  She would like to have the same view, but taken today.  It shouldn't be surprising that very little information about certain areas remains after that length of time, so it's been difficult not only finding out the photographer, but exactly where the shot was taken.  The area is now quite built up, so it may end up being impossible to see the natural features that are so prominent in the original photograph.  After using Google Earth to find some location candidates, I scheduled a trip to the area, which is in Southern Colorado.

The trip took a day, covering over 400 miles, and had to be scheduled so that I would be there late in the day.  That's the only time the sun is in the right spot to illuminate the mountain peak, as it faces Northwest.  Summer is also the only time the sun pulls far enough North that the right light could be achieved, and the weather needs to be taken into consideration as well.  There should be some light, puffy clouds, but not enough to shade the mountain.

Weather.com and Weather Underground are my sources for forecasts, and I was assured by both, as late as an hour before I left, that there was zero percent chance of rain, and 7 percent cloud cover.  Looked perfect.  By the time I got within thirty miles of my destination, I could tell I was wasting my time.  There was a huge wall of gray blocking the mountain and the town, but nothing anywhere else - just 95 degrees and blue sky on the entire trip so far.  Within ten miles of the mountain, I started to see lightning on all sides, and another bank of storms lining up behind the current deluge. This wouldn't be an "interesting" storm that would play with the light and make for a once-in-a-lifetime shot.  This was an all-encompassing wall of despair and wetness that would render all shadows and highlights moot, blanketing the entire area in complete shadow.  I had come this far though, so there was no point in pouting about it.  I continued on.

Through the rain, I found the two candidate spots, and could tell right away that they weren't the right locations.  One of them didn't even afford a view of the peak, a small rise being the culprit.  So at least I had gathered a little knowledge for my time.  There was another majestic view of the peak with the town laid out below, which I knew in advance was not the right location, but I went up there anyway, since I had come this far.  This view over the town was available by virtue of a high bluff, which just happened to have a huge sign and flagpole atop it.  Even though it was raining and there was lightning everywhere, I went up the dirt road anyway, risking my life for a shot I couldn't take.

Knowing that it wasn't worth getting the regular camera out, I pulled out my point-and-shoot and grabbed a snapshot of the almost-black mountain overlooking the town.  As the rain picked up even more, another car pulled up as I was leaving, with a family.  I briefly noted to myself how stupid they were for coming up there during a lightning storm, but soon remembered my own idiocy, wished them well in my mind, and drove off.

So nine hours wasted so far, with nothing to show for it.  But this was only one failed attempt.  There may be several more before I get what I want for this shot, and every other photographer has been through the same thing many, many times.  So don't get discouraged.  You'll need to wait all day, fail, and then come back another day, or perhaps hike to one spot four times to get a shot like the great Wally Pacholka, or wait until the right time of year, only to miss out yet again.  Keep going.  It's not your failure, it simply a part of the process required.  Be warned though, that after all that work, people will be even more likely to say it's a fake!

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