Hey Folks,

A lil’ holiday spirit. As this is published, I’m probably somewhere right around here:

A black and white photo of the boreal photo in Wrangell - St. Elias National Park and Preserve, wintertime, Alaska. Please click on the image above to view a larger version of the photo. And Happy Holidays, everyone!

Cheers

Carl

I was photographing toward the mountains when 2 snowboarders came on by. I snapped this photo of one of them before he took off down the mountain. A snowboarder walks across the ridge near Flatop Mountain, Glen Alps, near Anchorage, in winter, Alaska. Mt. McKinley, known as "Denali" in the distance. Please click on the image above to view a larger version of this photo.

Hey folks,

A quick word of advice. If you think it looks like a nice afternoon to go out and shoot some photos (i.e., the light is rockin’, fresh snow on the mountaintops, etc, etc, etc), the very best of advice I might offer you is this: Head out on your own.

I know better than to think I might do some photography when I head out with non-photographers. Well, I like to THINK I know better, but I today did it yet again. Sometimes I’m a just a flatout non-learner, I guess.

So, as the setting sun turned the sky and nearby mountains a glorious pink, instead of photographing the grandeur, I was packed up and skiing my way back to the parking lot, my camera and tripod safely tucked away inside my daypack.

Photography and non-photographers just don’t mix well. The first time I was given this lesson was years ago, in a discussion with the late Bill Silliker, Jr (a  great photographer and a good man); we were talking about being a photographer versus being a musician. Bill had been a drummer in his younger days. His words were “Carl, one of the best things, for me, about photography as a gig is that I don’t need a bass player”.

Not only do photographers not need a bass player, they do better without them. Much better. Drummers, not so much.

So, the lesson, as I need to be reminded, is that if I want to photograph, and photograph well, I do a whole lot better to head off on my own (or with other photographers). So, anyway – next time I think it might be a good afternoon to do some skiing and bring my camera along to shoot a little late light, alpenglow and mountains, I’ll make sure I’m not on a curfew.

Cheers

Carl

PS – Oh, and hey look , there’s Denali in the distance.

Dawn rising over Mount Blackburn, elevation – 16,390 feet (4,996 M), winter, Wrangell – St. Elias National Park, Alaska. Click the image to see a larger version and to browse the rest of the gallery.

Hey Folks,

I thought I might make a blog post, the first for the new year, with a quick presentation of my favorite images from the past year. Not necessarily a “best of”, but just a collection of 12 images, one from each month, each of which mean something to me. Some of these have appeared on the blog before, some have not.

The first one is my favorite image of Mt. Blackburn I’ve taken so far, taken one cold morning a year ago. One of the primary reasons I wanted to spend winter in the McCarthy area was this particular scene. I knew the mountain would get great light in the winter, though I’d only viewed it from here in the summer previously. During the summer the great light is on the northside of mountains here in Alaska, so I’d never really viewed this scene in the great alpenglow you see here. A couple of winters in a cabin in the woods rewarded me in many ways, and I consider this image a nice memory of those days. Good times.

The 2nd photo is a snow-covered spruce tree from a lonely ridge on another cold morning. For some reason a spruce tree laden with fresh snow just about floors me every time I’m lucky enough to catch it. This one I converted to black and white on my computer, I think it simplifies things a bit.

The 3rd photo is from a ski I did last spring up on to the Root Glacier.  Maybe not the greatest image (well, no maybe about it), but my memories of this past spring always go back to some awesome ski trips on cold crusted snow and gorgeous sunny days. What seemed like far more fun than I’m sure I deserve. Here I’m on the Root Glacier skiing around beneath the towering face of Stairway icefall. To give you some scale, that vertical wall of ice in the background is something like 7000 vertical feet high.

The 4th photo is an aerial photo of the Nizina Glacier, before breakup, late spring. I really wanted to get an opportunity to grab a few aerial photos when the park (Wrangell – St. Elias National Park) was still snow-covered. Another black and white conversion which I think works well here.

The 5th photo is a male Pine Grosbeak on a small white spruce tree branch. A companion from the winter.

The 6th photo is a young bull moose splashing about in a quiet lake, browsing on aquatic plants in early summer. I’ve shot probably better moose images, but shooting wildlife in Wrangell – St. Elias National Park is perhaps a more rewarding experience than many other places. These critters are harder to find, harder to stalk, and harder to photograph than a lot of other national parks, for a number of reasons. I was just happy this guy allowed me to spend a few hours making some photos of him.

The 7th photo is a pair of beaver grooming one another. I hadn’t made a single image of a beaver in the park until this summer, and had a blast for a few afternoons here. They’re amazing animals to watch.

The 8th photo is of caribou, from Skolai Pass. Skolai Pass is one of my favorite places, and has been for a long time now; it’s the namesake for my Stock Photo business and this website. Catching some images of the Woodland Caribou herd up there, with the University Range in the background, was a highlight of my summer. I had about 2 seconds to catch this image, and some good planning on my part, if I don’t say so myself, rewarded me here.

The 9th photo is of the Russell Glacier and Mt. Bona and Churchill, near Chitistone Pass. ANother image I’d been looking for for quite some time, so it was nice to come home with this scene on film. Thanks to Doug Roane for loaning me his camera, or I’d have merely got sit and watch the light play on the mountains once again.

The 10th photo is a grizzly bear resting at sunset. A trip to Katmai is always a blast, and this year was no exception. I’m excited about the Grizzlies in the Fall phototours next year.

The 11th photo welcomes the onset of winter, me and my snowboard in Wrangell – St. Elias National Park.  Simply staring at the vastness of this place, and wondering how I’ll make it back to camp. And tote my snowboard home as well.

The 12th photo is Mt. Wrangell at dusk. A difficult mountain to photograph, because of it’s grand circumference. I was happy with this image, made in ridiculously cold conditions, and even more ridiculous light. Winter light in Alaska is something to behold.

These images are also posted on my Flickr account, here.

Thanks.

Cheers

Carl

A winter sunset over the Mentasta Mountains, Wrangell – St. Elias National Park, Alaska.

Hey Folks,

“The effort to clarify our sight cannot begin in the society, but only in the eye and in the mind. It is a spiritual quest, not a political function. We each must confront the world alone and learn to see it for ourselves”. So says Wendell Berry, one of my favorite writers, in his book “The Unforeseen Wilderness”. The book, a dearly needed plea to save Kentucky’s Red River Gorge from a nefarious plan to dam it, was written nearly 40 years ago. I haven’t read the book completely yet, as I just bought it this afternoon. But I glanced at it, and this passage caught my attention. Berry continues on:

“the figure of the photographic artist – not the tourist-photographer who goes to a place, bound by his intentions and preconceptions, to record what has already been recorded and what he therefore expects to find, but the photographer who goes into a place in search of the real news of it”.*

Wendell has long been an advocate for “place”, for living in, and hence coming to know, place. I was interested to read his take on photography and the exploration of place, as I’d written an article that touched on this a while ago. That article can be found here. I found it interesting to see his clear distinction between the ‘tourist-photographer’ and what he essentially is referring to as the ‘artist-photographer’. Wendell Berry describes the journey and experience, and value, of the photographer who becomes the artistic process, and during that experience, explores and comes to know place.

“His search is a pilgrimage, for he goes along ways he does not understand, in search of what he does not expect and cannot anticipate. His work involves a profound humility for he has effaced himself; he has done away with his expectations; he has ceased to make demands upon the place. He keeps only the discipline of his art that informs and sharpens his vision – he keeps, that is, the practice of observation – for before a man can be a seer he must be a looker”. *

When I read this I thought immediately of a favorite photographer of mine, and one of the coolest people I know, Guy Tal. Guy has clearly spent time as a ‘looker’, and is a ‘seer’ of the highest order. It’s Guy’s vision that comes through in his art, as vividly as the landscapes that he so intimately portrays. Guy’s an interesting artist because his technique, while clearly so strong and obviously important, is superfluous when we view the final product; his images reflect ‘the practice of observation’. I’ve had the opportunity to tool around a little with Guy, in the desert near his home in Utah, and treasure those lessons; being around someone who is as sharply attuned to his place is an all too rare treat. Guy sees in a way that few of us are able to, and it comes, in part at least, simply through his ‘profound humility’, to borrow Wendell’s phrase. Guy doesn’t carry his personal stamp, his ID, into the wilderness; he leaves it at home, and opens himself up to the moment – the hallmark of a great artist and an incredibly present person. I’d hate to have to limit my viewing to only 3 of his images, so I won’t; here’s 4:

And I would just see a dead tree

Or a few live trees

Dawn

Spring time.

“Knowing the heaviness of the dead-end search for wealth and ease, what a relief and joy it is to consider the photographer’s pilgrimage to the earth. He is seeking, not the ultimate form of creation, for he cannot hope to find that, but rather creation’s inexhaustible manifestations of form”.* Berry refines his description of this search;

“It is an endless quest, for it is going nowhere in terms of space and time, but only drawing deeper into the presence, into the mystery, of what is underfoot and overhead and all around. Its grace is the grace of knowing that our consciousness and the light are always arriving in the world together”. *

Ultimately, THIS is the beauty of art; the alignment of our selves with the universe. It’s said by some that God made us in His image (of which French writer-philosopher Voltaire so poignantly observed “we have certainly returned the compliment”); God as Creator then suggests that through Art, through our acts of creating, through our own creation, we engage this likeness as fully as we might be able. Art is, as such, not a production, an artifact, but rather it is ‘the transmission of a feeling the artist has experienced’ (Leo Tolstoy). Michel Foucault takes it further, asking the question ‘couldn’t everyone’s life become a work of art? Why should the lamp or the house be an art object, but not your life?’ These 2 ideas are congruent, to me, life as art, and art not just as a transmission of our experiences and feelings, but of who we are. The artifact, be it a 16″ x 20″ print, a poem, a clay figurine, or a lamp post, is the product of art – the art is the ‘arriving in the world together’ of our consciousness and the present. Wandering through the desert canyons of the American Southwest with Guy, I became aware that this is how he does his work, observing and studying creation’s endless ‘manifestations of form’.

“In relation to the enclosure we all civilization, these pictures are not ornaments or relics, but windows and doors, enlargements of our living space, entrances into the mysterious world outside the world outside the walls, lessons in what to look for and how to see”. *

And this is what Guy’s photos are; portals into the mysterious, the wonderous, lessons in how to observe. Spanish philosopher Jose Ortega y Gasset wrote “To wonder is to begin to understand”. This to me suggests that through artists like Guy Tal and Wendell Berry, through their work, their humility, their expression of mystery and wonder we might all come toward greater understanding. So from me, this is just one simple ‘thank you’ to Guy Tal and Wendell Berry, for all that you do, for the gift you bring the world, for the generous and patient lessons you offer us all; you’re good people.

Cheers

Carl

* = excerpts from ‘The Unforeseen Wilderness”, by Wendell Berry.

Hey Folks,

I’ve been practicing this one a bit. Trying to get a snowboarder’s eye view of snowboarding. It’s pretty hard. Well, I’ll be honest – for me, it’s really hard. Really, REALLY hard. I fell over more times than I want to admit. Certainly more times than I wanted to fall over. And the slope is a good bit steeper than the image appears, so I was moving pretty fast. What’s hard is lifting the camera to the eye without making a turn. On a snowboard, like a skateboard or surfboard, one turns the board by turning the head and torso. Every time I’d lift the camera up, I’d unconsciously turn my torso a bit, and the board would go with it, doing a ‘heelside turn’ effectively. Then I’d realize I was turning too far left, turn back the other way, doing a ‘toe-side turn’, over-correct, catch an edge and bust my ass. Trying to hold my camera so it wouldn’t hit the ground as I wiped out was a bit of a mission, but I’ve so far managed to do it OK. I practiced a bit on some gentler slopes, but there’s no substitute for the real deal. I’m rippin’ along here at probably close to 75 miles an hour or so. Maybe.

Cheers

Carl

Hey Folks,

Do I look just wicked bad in my orange jacket, or what? You need sartorial advice, you ask me, OK?

Cheers

Carl

Hey Folks,

Don’t look down. Snowboard champion, Carl Donohue, self-portrait. Or maybe that should be ‘Snow Bored Champion’? Either way, I set about trying to get some photos of myself riding my snowboard. You can see how steep this run was. One way to tell how good a snowboarder someone is in photos is how much snow is on their pants .. from this clean pair of Marmot Liquid Steel Gore-Tex XCR pants, you get an impression of someone who doesn’t fall down much. Well, you might get that impression .. then again, you weren’t out there watching me, were ya?

Cheers

Carl