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Topophilia

Friday, November 6th, 2009

Hi, my name’s Greg and I’m a topophile.

That statement almost makes me sound like I need to check into rehab or begin a 12-step program.  As it turns out, its a good thing to be a topophile.  What the heck is a topophile?  Anyone who has a strong sense of place or identity is a topophile.   Although I have never lived there, I have always felt a strong sense of place in southern Utah.  Having grown up in a home where I was taught to enjoy the outdoors, I do not feel out of place when I am outside anywhere, but I feel especially at ease when I visit southern Utah–its almost as if I’m going home.

When I was 6, my parents moved from Denver to the northwestern New Mexico (the Four Corners area).  I remember a lot of day trips and overnight trips to the La Plata and San Juan mountains, as well as places like Chaco Canyon and the Bisti Badlands.  However, it wasn’t until I was in Boy Scouts (age 12?) that I visited Moab, Utah for the first time.  We went on a mountain biking trip on some local trails, and on the way home stopped at the Needles District of Canyonlands National Park.  To say I was blown away was an understatement.  After that first trip, I couldn’t wait to get back.

My dad, friends, and I had many more trips to Canyonlands over the next several years.  I was not drawn only to the topography and landscape, but also to the archaeological richness of the area.  In some areas, every rock outcropping held a new treasure to see, and to force me to imagine what the ancient peoples thought of this land.  We backpacked in the Dark Canyon Wilderness area, as well as several trips to the canyons of Cedar Mesa, a place I cannot wait to get back to.  Since then, I’ve had the opportunity to explore many of the technical canyons in Zion National Park as well as in the Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument.

For me, its not so much that southern Utah offers so much in the way of natural beauty, but rather that I feel connected with the land in a way that words cannot really describe.  I’m honored to be able to visit and photograph this place often, and I hope that when my son gets older, my wife and I can instill a sense of place in him (wherever it may be) that my dad helped to instill in me.

Over the next weeks/months I’ll be featuring some of my own photos from southern Utah, as well as other photographers’ work who I really admire.

Today’s photo is of Castleton Tower, near Moab, Utah…where it all started for me.

Castleton Tower, Castle Valley, UT, December 2008

Photo of the Month-November

Sunday, November 1st, 2009

I have Halloween to thank for this month’s photo.  Last night, we took our son over to my graduate advisor’s house to trick-or-treat.  Since I’ve been out of school, I don’t see her that often, and had forgotten that I had printed a couple of my early photos for her years ago.  They were taken when I still shot film, and quite frankly, I had forgotten about them.  

One in particular–and this month’s photo of the month–stands out in my memories.  It was taken on my first trip to the Alabama Hills outside of Lone Pine, California.  It was early October, and the first snow of the year had just fallen in the Sierra; not only did I have fresh snowfall, but also I had clouds–something I’ve learned to appreciate in the Sierra (they don’t come along often).  So, although its not technically perfect, this image stands out in my mind, and I’m very happy to have rediscovered it.  

Alabama Hills & Lone Pine Peak, October 2005 (I think)


The Mountain Photographer

Sunday, October 25th, 2009

One of my very first photographic inspirations was Galen Rowell.  Before I was a photographer, I knew who Galen was, and I greatly admired his work.  I was always impressed by the intimate way in which he connected the viewer to the subjects in his images.  On top of that, I have always looked up to him as a human being as well.  For lack of better words, he just seemed like a good guy.  Those who knew him seem to be able to attest to that.

Galen and his wife Barbara lost their lives on the day my wife and I moved to California–August 11, 2002.  I remember moving into our apartment in 115 degree heat, turning on NPR that evening, and hearing about the loss.  It really was just that: a loss to the photographic community, environmental community, climbing community, and global community.  However, I think we’re fortunate that Galen’s photographs continue to bring us closer to our world.  This is due to a lot of hard work by his friend and family, and the brilliance of his photographs becomes quickly evident when you walk through his gallery in Bishop, CA.  People walk around silent, in awe…inspired.

On my recent Sierra trip, I was able to visit Mobius Arch for the first time.  Located in the Alabama Hills outside of Lone Pine, CA, Mobius frames the tallest peak in the contiguous U.S.–Mt. Whitney–perfectly.  Although Mobius has many alternative names, my favorite is “Galen’s Arch” as a tribute to Galen Rowell.

Making these images and thinking about my motivation for taking photos, I’m reminded of part of Galen’s writing:

The Mountain Photographer

My interest in photography did not begin with books or mentors, or with any burning desire to see the world through a camera.  It evolved from an intense devotion to mountains and wilderness that eventually shaped all parts of my life and brought them together.  Photography was never simply a hobby or a profession for me.  Once I began taking pictures, it became an integral part of my life.

Despite the occasional frustration, that’s how I view my photography.  I am grateful to have Galen Rowell to thank for both my early and continued inspiration.

Galen’s Arch by starlight, Alabama Hills, California, October 2009

Galen’s Arch at dawn, Alabama Hills, California, October 2009

This post also appears here, as part of the California Nature Photographer’s blog.

Putting the puzzle together

Thursday, October 15th, 2009

My Grandma is a wonderful, no nonsense, “my way or the highway” sort of woman.  I remember once when I was little, working on a puzzle with her, and she was determined that a particular piece fit where she had it (it didn’t).  She just forced the piece in until it fit.  Needless to say, the rest of the puzzle didn’t go together correctly, but that’s my Grandma for you.

One of the things I’ve learned over the years is that photography isn’t like putting a puzzle together–if something doesn’t fit, the shot isn’t going to come together for you.  One of my biggest struggles as a photographer is to think outside of my pre-conceived box.  In my mind’s eye, I visualize the shots I may want on an upcoming shoot, and if things go south, I’ve learned that forcing that proverbial puzzle piece simply does not work.

Our recent Sierra Nevada trip was a perfect example of that piece not fitting, and having to look elsewhere for the proper fit.  Because I was going to the Sierra for the specific purpose of fall color, I envisioned spending 3 days in aspen groves, with perhaps a short side trip or two to some of my favorite places.  However, the grand display of colors never materialized, and in the groves I was able to find it felt chaotic…like I was forcing that puzzle piece into a place it simply didn’t fit.  So, I was forced to look elsewhere.  On the second day of our trip, I abandoned aspens, and had some lovely hikes at Mono Lake, Yosemite National Park, and in Devil’s Postpile National Monument.  The hike in Devil’s Postpile was especially neat because they essentially closed the gates behind us for the year.  Having the feeling of being the year’s last visitor was a special one.

So, I’m getting better at stepping outside of my comfort zone, and making the best of things.  I guess I have my Grandma to thank for that lesson.

Minarets at sunset, Sierra Crest, California, October 2009

My Precious…

Tuesday, October 6th, 2009

The UPS man brought me a new toy today.

I began taking photographs as a graduate student, when the budget was a bit tight.  Since I’ve had a ‘real’ job, I’ve been slowly replacing my gear.  First, I replaced the Canon 10D body, which was on loan from one of my graduate committee members, and have been replacing my lenses over the last year and a half.  Today I replaced my Canon 18-55 lens with a brand new EF 24-105/4L IS USM.

I had previously borrowed or rented this lens and gotten some great images from it (below), so I’m very excited to finally own it, and to take it on my upcoming Sierra trip this weekend.

Mt. Gibbs at sunset, Yosemite National Park, August 2009

Moqui marbles, Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument, August 2009