Ukumehame Beach is a small strip of sand on Maui’s west side. It has all the necessities of a good beach – soft sand, clear waters and a few special features to draw a photographer’s eye. It’s the kind of place that tourists overlook, which makes it all the more attractive to us locals.
From my beginning days in photography, roughly 1969, I had the ambition to travel and make photographs. Somehow, I felt a great satisfaction in producing photographic art that came from within.
Guy Havell's "Back Roads of Americana" is a landscape fine art photo series that features bright, sparse, uninhabited desert landscapes across several states in the American West. It is hauntingly gorgeous work.
In 2003 my wife Ruth and I were photographing in Colorado and were returning to our campground after a rather uneventful day. Ruth was driving, as always, and I was still looking for a photograph, as always.
I am a self-taught photographer. I don’t believe you can teach someone photography unless they have the heart for it and they are willing to do the work required. As Brett Weston famously said: “Beyond the rudiments, it is up to the artist to create art, not the camera."
The world clamors for our attention and technology demands our hard-earned money, but what has happened to the quality of the experience and the investment in ourselves? Our time is now owned by social media, competitions, and the need to prove how good and well-received our images are, usually to the detriment of the images and our self-confidence.
The development of personal vision in photography often gets mired in thoughts of what to avoid, the suppression of familiar ideas, and the desire to do something different.
Long before photography was even a dream, people were trying to document the beauty of landscapes in a two-dimensional medium. From romantic interpretations of natural beauty to the realistic and mystifying Hudson River School painters, there have always been trends in how we see the landscape.
Many people feel pulled toward the wild areas of the grand Earthscape, especially to wild areas. It is important for them to know these places exist, even if they cannot go there. The spiritual connection is deep and infinite. Where does it begin? Can it be fostered?
Of the many questions I receive from my students and from viewers of my photographs, “How was it shot?” is perhaps the most frequent. But is it the right one?
I have been fascinated by horizons for as long as I can remember. Growing up along Lake Michigan is where my earliest memories and impressions of these horizons were formed and through the years I have remained close to these endless, wandering and mesmerizing landscapes.
I have an irrational fear of ships based on 90-minute voyages on car ferries across the relative calm of the English Channel and yet I was sitting with my wife, Fre, listening to Tony Spencer trying to convince us that we should join him on “the adventure of a lifetime,” the fulfilment of a dream that Tony had been working on for three years.
In October 2020, the family trip to the local zoo was interrupted by an unexpected telephone call – I had won the 2020 Landscape Photographer of the Year competition, a feat I had never imagined in my wildest dreams. This is the story of that image.
You have a great camera and you practice precise photographic techniques. You explore desirable locations and shoot beautiful subjects but still your photographs leave you less than excited. What next?
Twenty years ago, few photographers would have questioned your choosing to go out with black and white film loaded in your camera of choice. Today, when I tell people my digital medium format camera shoots only in monochrome, I am prepared to receive just as much criticism as confusion.
I have always looked forward to the rush of excitement I feel when preparing to board an aircraft with the promise of a few hours gazing down at our beautiful planet. Viewing the world from another perspective has held an alluring attraction for me as long as I can remember.
When I attempt to make a great photographic print, what do I look for? What process do I go through to make the image as perfect as possible? I have spent 40 years making my exhibition-quality Cibachrome prints and I’d like to explain what goes into making a superlative photographic print.
Over the years I’ve often been asked how I went about making a certain image. That question is commonly asked in my workshops not only of me, but also my co-instructors, where open discussion about all images abounds. It’s a great question, because it gives real insight into the mind of the photographer.