A bald eagle snatching up a fish, from Kachemak Bay, Alaska.

Hey Folks,

Sorry for the long delay in posting here. It’s been busy here, with different things going on. The main reason for the holdup in writing a blog has been, of course, hassles with the website and webhost. I’ll write some more about it later, but suffice to say, Skolai Images is now on a new webhost, and hopefully the hassles are left far, far behind.

Hopefully.

Cheers

Carl

Black and white photo of a male Harlequin Duck, on a rock in Brooks River, Katmai National Park, Alaska.

Hey Folks,

OK, so sometimes I try something different. It’s not all just alpenglow and mountains and bears.

Usually, though.

Cheers

Carl

Backlit Bald Eagle, splashed with light, Homer, Alaska. Please click on the image above to view a larger version of this photo.

Hey Folks,

If a tree falls in the forest? We’re all familiar with the old adage, and I think it’s an interesting question pertaining to art. If a musician, for example, doesn’t play music for an external audience, is  s/he really a musician? Must a photograph have an audience?

In my opinion, the answer is a resounding no. Art is something creating. Art is the pursuit of idea. That process of making some thing is the essence of art. Playing my guitar in my room, alone at night in the dark, can be every bit as artful as a performance on any stage. Sitting outside the little Shack in the winter woods, alone but for the forest and the great night sky, gently playing my Native American Flute is art. Lifting my camera to the eye, reaching through the viewfinder for my composition, bringing together the elements I see, crafting an image, is art.

Whether the end product of that art reaches an audience is secondary; all too often that’s something over which I have little or no agency.

Art needs no audience. Art needs artists; people who make art.

That is the gift art brings our lives. What do we give in return?

Cheers

Carl

An adult Bald Eagle silhouetted headshot, on perch, Homer, Alaska. (Haliaeetus leucocephalus). This photo was taken with photo equipment, by a photographer. The 2 worked together. The eagle co-operated only briefly. Pesky eagles. Click on the image above to view a larger version of this photo.

Hey Folks,

I read it again last night. This nonsense has to stop. Why do photographers so often have such a hard time simply acknowledging that what we do is inherently technological? As such, technological advances (i.e., new gear) can (and typically do) play an enormous role in the work we produce. Perhaps much more so than most other art forms.

You’ve all seen the kind of commentary I’m talking about; another piece about how painters don’t talk endlessly about their paintbrushes. Or, even more inanely, how if Art Wolfe were to shoot with a P&S camera, he’d still produce a remarkable portfolio. It’s the photographer, not the camera, that produces great work, blah, blah, blay.

Right?

Wrong.

While it’s true that no camera ever went out and took a photograph by itself, it’s also true that no photographer ever went out and took a photograph without a camera, either. Clearly, then, things are not quite as simple as some folks would have us believe.

Photography requires both photographer AND photography equipment. The relative weight of the role of each varies, for sure, but to deny the significance of the equipment in photography, and particularly wildlife photography, is to deny reality.

Even a cursory examination of photography illustrates how valuable the technology is to what we do. Recent advances such as Image Stabilization/Vibration Reduction, Auto-focus and focus tracking, High ISO, etc, etc play a critical role in much of what many of us shoot. It’s always amusing to me to hear Joe Schmoe talk about how secondary the gear is to taking photo, standing there with $20 thousand dollars worth of camera hanging off his shoulders. I’d invite Mr Schmoe the present his portfolio of images taken without any gear sometime.

But let’s look at some of the common arguments heard, such as those presented above.

a) Painters and their brushes. Wrong. Talk to painters sometime. Here’s just one example:

“Make sure you have the best possible brushes you can afford. While it is possible to save money on paint and canvas, one should never work with cheap brushes. In my experience, cheaper brushes are simply not worth it.”

Serious painters often spend years studying not just composition and form, but even paint makeup, etc, of the old masters.

And even though we can see the argument is simply incorrect, what if it weren’t? So what? We’re not painters, we’re photographers. Writers don’t look to dancers for direction, why should photographers mimic painters?

b) Art Wolfe and his P&S camera. Art’s one of my favorite photographers. Amazingly talented and hard-working man. And he knows his gear, wonderfully well. And, he doesn’t use a P&S, but typically is carrying some of the most advanced, technologically involved camera gear available. Here’s just one example from his blog. This post, from 2 years ago, lists his basic kit. The fact that he lists his sponsors liberally across his website supports the idea that his gear is, at least to Art, critical.

Secondly, and more importantly, what highlights how silly this argument is, is that it ignores the most fundamental point about all ‘gear’; one has to know how to use gear, regardless what kinda gear we’re talking about. Hand Mr Wolfe a P&S that he doesn’t know how to use, and I’ll wager he doesn’t produce much worth a damn with it. Hand him one with the camera manual, and he’ll do much better.

3rd point; offering Art Wolfe as an example to make a point is like suggesting we might all become wealthy by running fast, and then pointing to Usain Bolt to support your case. Statistically speaking, those people don’t even exist.

4th point; hand Art Wolfe that same P&S and his current DSLR system for a week, and I’ve little doubt with which system he’ll produce a stronger portfolio.

c) It’s the photographer. Sure, it is indeed. A great photographer produces great photographs. But I don’t know very many at all who don’t use good, or really good, gear. And I know quite a few photographers. And I’ll suggest that regardless of what they might tell their workshop clients, or write in their articles, they use good gear, if not the best they can scratch out, because they know they’ll produce much better results with it.

Gear matters. And I spent a helluva lotta money on it last year, so I damned well better be right.

Cheers

Carl (wishing he had a D3s)

Black and white photo of Great Egret, St. Augustine, Florida.

Hey Folks

“The word photography is based on the Greek φῶς(photos) “light” and γραφή (graphé) “representation by means of lines” or “drawing”, together meaning “drawing with light” (ya gotta love Wikipedia).

“Photography means painting/drawing with light”.

It’s time photographers (and photography) mature, and walk away from this virtually meaningless phrase. The phrase is a fabrication, deception at best, and  has never been valid. Let it rot. We’re not painters, we’re photographers. We no more “draw with light” than does any person with their finger in the sand. Pixels and film aren’t light, they don’t even “capture” light, they merely represent it – to propose otherwise suggests only a childlike understanding of what light might actually be.

If interpreted in this callow manner, all painting would similarly be “painting with light”. Indeed, all visual art could be a form of painting with light; drawing with pencils and crayons, digital graphic arts, sculpture, pottery, dance, et al. Van Gogh painted with light. Michaelangelo painted with light. Early aboriginal cave paintings were painted with light; with no light, there’d be no painting. Most certainly, there would be no viewing these paintings. The idea that we paint with light is no more valid than saying carpenters sculpt houses with stardust.

The point here is that photography is not painting at all, any more than sculpture, pottery or dance might be painting. Photography is photography, regardless of the ancient Greek root; Ancient Greeks didn’t own cameras Photographers make photos, they don’t paint.

So why do so many folks love to recite this silly phrase?

One reason; it’s a futile grasp for artistic credibility. Futile not because photography isn’t artful, but because art (and artistic credibility) comes through, and only through, one’s own creating. Art is not a function of merely claiming alignment with other artforms. We can call our work whatever we want, but that plays no bearing on what it actually might be.

Photographers have long felt disenfranchised from the prestigious ‘art world’. But it’s time to mature and understand that the moniker of ‘artist‘ does not come via grasping at straws and clever exegesis, but via devoted and passionate creative pursuit. If photographers seek to be embraced as artists, they should aspire to achieve that on their own artistic merit; in short, be artful. Photography is not, and need not, be some kind of paintings little brother, art-by-proxy. It’s past time to cease perpetuating the concept; ironically, that very concept is quite probably one of the reasons so many in the art world have balked at including photography as art.

A second reason is a little more disheartening; photographers often explore the “art versus journalism” idea, and the Greek roots of the word are tossed around as we if actually converse in alpha beta kappa. In making an argument for the creative artistic freedom to infinitely manipulate images on a computer monitor, or present their captive animal images as wildlife photography, photographers love to align themselves with the creative spirit of a painter; “We’re artists, we need/deserve our freedom”. The idea that photographers might compare themselves with painters regarding the degree of reality in their creations is simply fantastical. Further, it speaks to photographers’ own discomfort and poor sense of artistic worth that they might wish to do so.

It’s a little distressing to see how many photographers fall back on this phrase to discuss what they do. Photographers, for whatever reason, seem unable to find their footing; when they feel their own artistic legitimacy is threatened, they stand on messy filament like “painting with light” to gain some kind of street cred in the art world. The flawed logic is simple; painting is unarguably a valid artform. Ergo, if we ‘paint with light’, we too are artistés.

Finally; just to be clear; there’s an immeasurable difference in kind between taking a photo and placing pixels on a computer then using mathematical algorithms to instruct those pixels how to appear. The latter, though understandably part of the photographic process, is most definitely not “painting with light”. It may very well be artful, even incredibly artful – but that’s another issue for another conversation.

“A photograph is not only an image (as a painting is an image), an interpretation of the real; it is also a trace, something directly stencilled off the real, like a footprint or a mask.” –  Susan Sontag, US novelist and essayist. ‘On Photography’.

Photographers don’t paint or draw or sculpt or throw pots or dance or sing or act; we photograph. And we photograph with cameras, and lenses and tripods and fancy vests, all which most of us pay far more money for than we need to. What we do not do is ‘paint with light’.

Cheers

Carl

A Parasitic Jaeger (Stercorarius parasiticus) in flight over the coastal plain of the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge (ANWR), Alaska. Click the image to view a larger version of the photo.

Hey Folks,

One afternoon we hiked out around the coastal plain of the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge just because. We must’ve wandered a little close to a Jaeger nest, as this bird suddenly appeared from nowhere and made its displeasure known.

The Parasitic Jaeger is also called the Arctic Skua or the Parasitic Skua. While not a “parasite“, the bird is well known for it’s piracy of other birds’ food. Stealing food is often called “kleptoparasitism” by folks who like to use large prodigious words to describe simple, everyday stuff; scientists, for example.

Though solitary, they’ll often ‘gang up‘ on other birds to steal food. One of the folks on our trip, Steve Weaver, was witness to such an act, when he saw and photographed 4 Jaegers harassing a Red-throated loon, finally driving it from its nest and eating the eggs the loon had been defending. Amazing stuff.

The Jaeger isn’t simply a thief though – the bird also hunts for prey, such as rodents, small birds and insects – Jaeger is the German word for ‘hunter‘.

Parasitic Jaegers look kinda like a gull, but the wings and flight are more falconesque. Pelagic birds, they spend the bulk of their time at sea, coming ashore to breed. The young will often spend the first couple of years of their lives over the seas, not returning to land until they reach breeding age.

Some of you might recall the Long-tailed Jaeger photo I posted previously from a trip to the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge (ANWR) a couple of years ago. The Parasitic Jaegers are closely related, a little larger, but not so large as the Pomarine Jaeger.

Cheers

Carl

A glaucous gull sits with its chick on a nest on the coastal plain in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge, ANWR, Alaska, ( Larus hyperboreus). Please click on the thumbnail to view a larger version of the photo.

Hey Folks,

I posted this ahead of time; right now I’m out on a hike, but thought I’d post this image from my recent trip to the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge. Taken on the final evening of our trip, this Glaucous gull (Larus hyperboreus) and chick were a beautiful sight in gorgeous light.

The gulls are pretty common in the refuge in summertime, and can be pretty aggressive in defense of their young. This gull and its mate were busy most of the evening dive bombing a Red-throated loon that was nesting nearby; apparently too close nearby for the gulls’ peace of mind.

Hope you enjoy the photo. I’ll be back from the current trip soon enough, and wil try to post a few more images and some video from the trips. Until then,

Cheers

Carl

A male Pine Grosbeak (Pinicola enucleator), perched on a small spruce tree in Wrangell - St. Elias National Park and Preserve, Alaska. Please click the image to view a larger version of the photo.

Hey Folks,

Here’s a photo I took last spring of a male Pine Grosbeak. I had set up a couple of feeders around the Shack and these gorgeous birds would come in every day and have a good ole time. Other regular visitors to the buffet were Black-capped and Boreal Chickadees, Common Redpolls, Hairy and Downy Woodpeckers, Gray Jays and, of course, the effervescent Red Squirrel. Ravens came by, from time to time, but rarely dropped down to the feeder.  The Pine Grosbeaks were my favorite though.

The grosbeaks are actually a finch, the largest of the boreal finches. A group of these birds together is called, wait for it, a ‘gross’ of grosbeaks. They’re such a cool bird, and very tolerant of my puttering around the cabin; they’d generally ignore my comings and goings.

I grabbed a small white spruce sapling that some snow-machiners had run over and destroyed, and used it to set up the perch. For a background I hung a fleece blanket up and positioned it for a nice clean background. It’s a little bit ‘contrived’, but hopefully it works OK.

It was pretty amazing to see how quickly the birds learned of a new food source. Within a couple of hours of setting up the feeder birds were chomping down. I was able to keep the feeder squirrel free for a month or so, but soon enough the little fellow’s persistence paid off, and I had to reconfigure the setup. After a little while I just set up 2 feeders, far enough apart that the squirrel could feed at whichever one he chose and would tolerate the birds eating from the other one. He’d get pretty defensive if saw anything else eating ‘his’ supper. He regularly chased away Snowshoe hares that were easily 4 or 5 times larger than himself when they came by in the evening. I even heard one story, from a neighbor, of a red squirrel chasing a least weasel off a snowshoe hare carcass it had only just killed. That’s pretty darn awesome!

It was pretty cool to have the same birds drop by every day, and watch them closely. I came to recognize a few of the individuals, but no more than maybe 3 or 4. This male was pretty bold, and would approach readily if I ventured outside with some seed. The birds hung around through the coldest months, but pretty much disappeared by the end of March.

I hope to get back out to the park soon, and will see if I can find this guy hanging around the neighborhood.

Cheers

Carl

A bald eagle headshot, silhouetted against a glowing sunset, Kachemak Bay, Homer, Alaska. Click the image to view a larger version of the photo.

Hey Folks,

I read a great blog on art yesterday, by Paul Grecian. The subject was a play on the aural equivalent of the old adage, ‘if a tree falls in a forest and no one hears it does it make a sound’. Paul takes the viewpoint that art is a human pursuit, and exists only when it has a human audience. “If there is no human to perceive it and translate the experience into an emotion, then there is no art” - I’m not so sure I subscribe to that idea, for a number of reasons.

I think art is a verb; art is something we do. The results of that process might be nice to look at, or not, or nice to listen to, but the essence of art is creating. The act of creating is where art lies, not the products of that process. And we are not at all the sole creators. An American Tree Sparrow calling the tune of the alpine country is as artful as Joshua Bell playing a Beethoven concerto. The dance of the Japanese Red Crowned Crane is glorious. A Bower bird’s building her nest? The song of the wolf pack over the frozen night air is as spell-binding as Aretha or Stevie on a good day, no? What distinguishes human art from the performances of our fellow creatures, other than our own ability (and endeavours) to relate to it?

Art is essentially play. When we talk of making music, it’s no coincidence we use the term ‘play‘. Play teaches us who we are. Play is expressive, creative and participatory. It’s also innate. Play is both personal and communal. Play, unlike work, comes from within, though it may be honed via external sources. Play is in this sense a medium through which expression occurs. Whether that play is Michael Jordan soaring 15′ through the air to dunk a basketball or Nureyev leaping across a stage, I see clear parallels. Animals play all the time; I’ve watched grown grizzly bears play tug-of-war with a stick they found floating in a river.

Paul asks “Maybe it is enough for the creator of a painting, sculpture, photograph, poem, to perceive the work for it to be art, but how much more is it art when there is a second, third, or ten million observers, readers, listeners”? I don’t believe an ‘audience‘ is requisite for art to exist, because I suspect when we use that term we’re framing it awfully anthropocentrically. A wider perspective might be useful.

John Muir wrote that we may ‘receive the good tidings of mountains‘. Many indigenous cultures hold the view that inter-species communication is not just a common occurrence, but the norm. Inupiat Indians, of the arctic north, believe their song to be well-received by the wolverines, ravens and other creatures they share the frozen country with. Tlingkit Indians, of the Pacific Northwest, tell us that ‘glaciers listen‘ or ‘mountains listen‘.

Does a greater audience make something ‘more art‘? I’m listening to Oumou Sangaré sing Djorolen as I write this post, a tune she recorded with banjo virtuoso Béla Fleck – Listen to it here – Track #17. Most likely you’ve never heard of it, yet it’s one of the most beautiful pieces I’ve ever heard. Is the incessant, tawdry bellowing of Michael Bolton ‘more art‘ because his audience is far greater in number? American Idol is a TV show, it’s not a system by which we might seek to explore ‘art‘; if anything, I think we can make a reasonable argument that as our audience increases, the answer to ‘how much more is it art‘ would be a negative. Photography prints, for example, mass-produced and marketed via the Wal-mart world, are hardly ‘more art‘ than the hand-made, singly produced works of an artist in his/her home.

Have you ever seen the elephant art? The argument that the elephant needs to be trained to do this applies equally, I think, to people. I’ve taught guitar lessons for nearly 20 years now, and believe me, nobody picks up an instrument and plays music without some time and effort. Some folks spend tens of thousands of dollars, and more, attending schools to learn how to make art, yet we argue that elephants can’t paint like humans without training?

Some folks say that art is self-expression, though I think that’s a limiting perspective. We can’t even fully understand the ‘self‘, I’m not sure we can grapple with extensions of that concept just yet. But if art is indeed self-expression, then surely not just  animals, but indeed all of nature, engage art. The cry of a the loon, the raucous Howler monkey, the dance of the bumblebee, etc, are most certainly communicative, very clearly expressive. But what of the fading light at sunset, or the storm clouds of a darkening mountain range? Are they not forms of expression? Isn’t fall color nature’s last hurrah? Or the frenetic boreal forest on a sunny spring morning isn’t an expression of the joy of life? The wither leaf voices a life well-lived, perhaps as profoundly as any blues tune might.

Perhaps the art of the wolf pack isn’t the art of humans, but possibly that is the reason both wolf packs and humans exist. Parameters, though, can be funny things, and shifting them, even slightly, can often illuminate things more clearly. Certainly the art of Paul Grecian (a fantastic photographer) isn’t the same as my photography either. Nor is my photography the same as my music. I think more likely we tend to frame things in an extraordinarily humanistic manner; the tireless human ego never lets us down, eh? I might hazard that the bald eagle soaring overhead this afternoon looked down on myself, seated and eating my lunch on the back deck, and wondered why I wasn’t creating the same glorious circles his wheeling, informal glide carried him on, drafting the winds of the sky.

Cheers

Carl

Great Horned Owl chick (owlet - Bubo virginianus), in Wrangell - St. Elias National Park and Preserve, Alaska. The chicks were just flegding, and learning to fly. This little guy had landed on the grounded, and before long flew off to a nearby white spruce tree in the boreal forest. Great Horned Owl, Wrangell - St. Elias National Park and Preserve, Alaska. Please click on the image to view a larger version of the photo.

Hey Folks

Just a quick photo for the weekend. A Great Horned Owl (Bubo virginianus) chick in Wrangell – St. Elias National Park and Preserve, Alaska. The young owls were just fledging, learning to fly, and this little guy wasn’t quite sure what to make of the weird guy with the camera, laying prone on the ground nearby.

Have a great weekend all.

Cheers

Carl