Ansel Adams

Ansel Adams brought beauty and inspiration to thousands of people. Read his story and how he became such a beloved photographer.

“I tried to keep both arts alive [concert pianist and landscape photographer], but the camera won.  I found that while the camera does not express the soul, perhaps a photograph can!”  ~ Ansel Adams

The Early Years

On February 20, 1902, Ansel Easton Adams was the only child born to Charles Hitchcock Adams and Olive Bray Adams in San Francisco, CA.  His ancestors immigrated from Ireland in the early 1700s and his grandfather was a wealthy timber baron, a business which his father eventually inherited.  It is ironic that Adams detested the timber industry later in life.

Ansel Adams at his Piano

At the age of 4 the San Francisco Earthquake of 1906 hit.  The Adams family house made it through the initial quake unscathed, but Adams’ father thought it best if they sit out the aftershocks outside.  A particularly large aftershock caught Adams by surprise, knocking him down.  He landed face down against a brick wall and broke his nose.  A physician suggested that it would be best to wait until Adams matured to set the broken nose.  Later in life, Adams said, “apparently I never matured, as I have yet to see a surgeon about it.”

Adams was a problem child.  He was sickly, sometimes spending as much as a month in bed.  His Aunt Mary gave him books to occupy his time.  One was the Heart of the Sierras which apparently planted an interest in these magnificent mountains in his young mind.

When he started school, he was so rebellious that he got expelled from one school after another.  Finally, when Adams was 12, his father faced the inevitable and withdrew him from school for a year.  A private tutor was hired so that Adams could continue his education.  During his time, he was exposed to the works of the great artists.  This lasted for one year before he returned to Mrs. Kate M. Wilkins Private School where he graduated from the 8th grade on June 8, 1917.

During this time Adams started playing the piano.  At first, he was self-taught but when he was 12, he started receiving lessons.  The discipline of daily practice apparently helped him to gain some control over his disruptive behavior.  Adams commented about that time.  “The change from a hyperactive Sloppy Joe was not overnight, but was sufficiently abrupt to make some startled people ask, ‘What happened?’ I still recall that the Bach Inventions taxed my concentration, especially when a sunny breeze carrying the sound of the ocean stole through the open window.” As he progressed, his passion for the piano continued to grow so that he planned on becoming a world-class concert pianist. 

However, the tide started to change imperceptibly.  In 1916 he persuaded his “Uncle Frank” to take him to Yosemite, a destination that he was inspired to see from the books his aunt had given him while he laid ill in bed.  And at the same time his father gave him is first camera, an Eastman Kodak Brownie box camera.  It was on that trip that he took his first photographs of Yosemite.  He later commented, “The splendor of Yosemite burst upon us, and it was glorious.  There was light everywhere.  A new era began for me.”  That was the first of an annual pilgrimage to Yosemite that would continue throughout his life.  But he still planned on being a concert pianist.

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Ansel Adams – The Making of 40 Photographs: Frozen Lake and Cliffs

Explore with me Ansel Adam’s comments on the making of “Frozen Lake and Cliffs.”

It was in the  ‘70s when I was backpacking through the Kaweah Gap areas of the Sierra Nevada mountains.  We were two days out and came upon this lake.  I instantly recognized it from on of Ansel Adams that I particularly liked – Precipice Lake.  It was exciting and we spent the night there.

Frozen Lake and Cliffs (1932)

I’ve always been a fan of this Ansel Adams classic.   For me it has a feeling of immensity and majesty.  So it  has a special meaning to me reading about it in “Examples.”   A few things caught my attention in Adams’ narrative…

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Photographing the Eastern Sierra

Let me show you some of my favoriate locations for photography in the Eastern Sierra.

I don’t know where you’ll find a more spectacular range of mountains than the eastern edge of the mighty Sierra Nevada Mountains.    This is where the gargantuan slab of granite from which the mountain range is formed plunges precipitously from the peaks along the crest into the Owens Valley below.  Driving up the Valley on legendary highway US 395 is likely to give you a crick in your neck.  Because you can’t take your eyes off the endless procession of towering summits.
I’ve camped and backpacked in these mountains since I was a young boy and I always love returning to them.  And now that I come back with camera in hand I have an opportunity to capture and share with you the inspiration I receive here.
mt_whitney_first_light_2009_rrpm_rc100
Mt Whitney
mt_williamson_2010_rrpm_rc50
Mt Williamson
Mt Whitney is the tallest peak in the lower 48 and from your vantage point in the valley below it towers more than two vertical miles above your head.  It’s nothing short of breathtaking in the morning sun.
But there’s more to the Eastern Sierra than the grandeur of these mighty peaks.  Come with me on a journey as I show you the superlative and the sublime.

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Photographic Challenges – A Solution

A few weeks ago I posed a photographic challenge.  What decisions would you make to capture the Bristlecone Moon image?  Here’s the photograph again.

bristlecone_moon_2008Bristlecone Moon (2008)

This shot poses some interesting challenges and here’s a link to the first post that spells out the situation in case you missed it.

Photographic Challenge – the Situation

The planning for this photograph actually began several months before. I had the idea of photographing a bristlecone pine with the full moon as it rose behind it through the earth shadow.  The earth shadow is that ribbon of color that is projected in the sky above the horizon directly opposite the rising or, in this case, setting sun.  So the first step was to select a full moon weekend, contact my buddy, Eric Winter and head up to Grand View campground in the White Mountains.  We arrived three days before the full moon to scout the area and find a tree that had everything I was looking for – an open view to the east that looked down on the Great Basin below.  I also new I needed to have enough room to back away from the tree so I could use a telephoto and thus increase the relative size of the moon.

There are only two named bristlecone groves in the Whites – Schulman Grove where the oldest tree is found (4,700 years old) and the remote Patriarch Grove.  The Schulman Grove is at the end of the paved road and just a few miles from Grand View campground.  The Patriarch Grove is another 8 miles down a dirt road and when the rangers say it’s a 45 minute drive you’d better believe them cause it is.

The first day we scouted the Patriarch Grove but unfortunately, it is in a broad   depression that has a large hill to the east.  There weren’t any trees that had what I was looking for.  The next day we killed some time in Bishop and dropped into Vern Clevenger’s gallery.  Vern and I chatted and I told him what I  had in mind.  He advised me to get the shot one or two nights before the full moon, not the night of the full moon.  It turned out to be a critical piece of advice that I needed.

So back up to the Whites and back out the dirt road in a search for THE tree.  We scouted a couple of places but none worked out.  We climbed back into the truck and continued down the road.  “What about that tree?” Eric asked as we drove by.  It was perfect.  Throwing the truck into reverse, we backed up and parked off to the side of the road.

The tree had a clear view of the eastern horizon.  There was a large hill to the west but all that meant was that the tree would be dropping into a shadow long before the sun dipped  below the horizon.  There was enough space to use my 70-200 lens and back up far enough to fill the frame with the tree.

I had printed the moon charts from the internet so I new the precise time and azimuth of the moonrise and was able to figure out where I wanted to position myself.

I started working with compositions well before the moon was due and decided to crop off the ends of the branches because I liked the proportion better.  Then I sat on Mother Earth and quietly waited.  The shadow from the hill to the west crept across the road toward the tree and finally swallowed it.  I sat, looking to the east, waiting for the moon to rotate into view.  Sitting up high on the side of the White Mountains I got a strong sense of the earth turning on its axis, rotating until the moon appeared above the horizon.  One moment it wasn’t there and the next it was.  It was time to go to work.

The moonrise was playing out just like I had hoped.  This is when I get nervous.  “Slow down, don’t make a mistake,” I kept telling myself.  Depth of field: f/16.  Shutter speed: 1.2 sec at ISO 100.  Too slow.  Bump the ISO to 200.  I heard Ansel Adams speak years ago at Pasadena City College.  He told the story of taking “Moonrise over Hernandez.”  He didn’t have time to take out his spot meter and do his usual zone thing.  So he exposed for the moon.  He knew it was in full sunlight and he knew what its luminance was without having to measure it.  So he put the moon in Zone VII and fired away.  I was thinking of him when I realized that I needed to shoot HDR if I wanted the moon to be more than a blank white disk, if I wanted to catch the man in the moon.

So I turned on the camera’s Highlight Tone Priority function to gain a little extra dynamic range, kept the ISO at 200 and bracketed the exposure by one stop.    The focal length was 185 mm and the total elapsed time for the three exposures was about 2 1/2 seconds.  At 185 mm you have 3.2 seconds to get your shot off without the moon (or stars) moving perceptibly.  (There’s a formula for calculating that.  It’s 600/focal length in mm.  It’s a handy formula to know.  See Ten Tips for Exciting Nighttime Photography.)

So that’s pretty much the whole story.  There are other ways go solve this challenge.  Carefully exposing the moon to fall at the right end of the histogram without highlight clipping would result in a capture in which both shadows and highlights could be recovered in Lightroom or Photoshop.  A graduated neutral density filter is problematic because it would cover part of the tree.  So HDR works well in this situation because you get a good exposure on both the moon and the tree.

I’ve returned to this tree several times since September of 2008 when this photograph was taken.  It’s one of the stops on our Eastern Sierra workshop.  Each time I return it has a different feel to it, a different mood.  Here’s what it said to me this year.

bristlecone_dusk_2010 Bristlecone Dusk (2010)

It’s a remarkable tree and I plan to keep on coming back.

Join me on an upcoming workshop.

To see more of my photographs click here.

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Composition – Rule of Thirds

A short discussion of the rule of thirds with examples.

There’s a simple compositional technique you can apply to quickly improve the quality of your pictures.  It’s fun and easy and works in so many situations.  It’s called the “Rule of Thirds,” and it goes a little something like this.

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The Making of a Photograph Part 2 – Exploration

In the first post I talked about photographing Yosemite Valley at sunrise from Tunnel View in a snow storm.  I imported the images into Lightroom and reviewed them there.  One stood out.  See The Making of a Photograph Part 1 – Selection.

Yosemite_1

The next step is to explore the image for possibilities.  I do this in Lightroom, making virtual copies of the image that I can then adjust.  I adjust such things as color temperature, exposure, highlights, shadows, fill, contrast, saturation, hue and more.  The goal is to see what’s in the image and what it’s capable of expressing.  I’m also looking for something that gets me excited.

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The Making of a Photograph Part 1 – Selection

I spent a night in Yosemite Valley a few weeks ago.  See 24 Hours in Yosemite.  It was great to be back; no, it was fantastic to be back.  Both sunset and the following sunrise were shot from Tunnel View, the parking area just as you emerge from the tunnel on state highway 41.  You can always count on company, especially for sunset.

I’m working on one of the photographs taken there that weekend.  But before showing you the image, let’s start with some comments about the light.  Sunset was a near cloudless sky.  The only clouds were a few cotton balls floating over Half Dome.  The rest of the sky was clear.  As the sun set the shadows filled the valley, eventually claiming to the tops of the cliff faces.  But as they did beautiful warm light embraced the the mighty granite but gradually gave way to approaching night.

The morning was quite the opposite.  During the night the anticipated storm rolled in and rain started to fall.  The valley was now full of clouds swirling about, shrouding the eternal granite.  And snow flurries came, keeping all of us at Tunnel View on our toes, protecting our camera gear and warming our fingers.

It was an image from the morning shoot that I selected to work on.  There were long periods of waiting.  The snow flurries passed over us and moved on up the valley obscuring most or all of it.  Then they would pass but the clouds wouldn’t be in the right positions.  Eventually a wonderful, exciting light came shortly after sunrise, imparting a very faint warm cast to some of the clouds.  The rest of the scene was cool, both in light quality and air temperature.

Yosemite_1This is the image I started from as it appears unaltered in Lightroom.  I selected it because of the sense of mystery created by the clouds that just give us glimpses of Bridle Vail Falls and the Cathedral Spires on the right and towering El Capitan on the left.  The hints of the beautiful warm hues in the clouds that I would try to pull from the image are present but not apparent in this image.  Rather, we see the predominantly cool mood.

Over the next several posts I’ll take you through the process of trying to recreate what I saw and felt that morning as well as what I discovered in this image.  There were some wonderful surprises in store.  So stay tuned.

The journey continues – read part 2.

To see more of my photographs click here.

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24 Hours in Yosemite

It had been way too long, too many years, since I was last in Yosemite Valley.  I’ll tell you how long it was.  I didn’t even have a decent camera at the time.  So a chance to spend just one night there was, well, something I was not going to pass up.

It was late Saturday afternoon when we arrived in the valley.  The sky was clear with a few scattered clouds.  My wonder at the immensity of the walls was reawakened as I drove to Curry Village.  There was enough time to check in and make it back to Tunnel View for what was to prove to be a very nice sunset.  It wasn’t one of those million dollar sunsets but nice nevertheless.

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Eastern Sierra Workshop – Mono Lake Morning Song

 

The sunrise was about the orange sky and the blue water.  There were only about 20 or so of us on the lake shore that morning.  The water continues to recede.  There wasn’t a cloud in the sky but it didn’t matter.  It was an intense orange.  And the water was an equally intense blue.  Some mornings on Mono Lake are violent, wind-tossed affairs.  But this morning was tranquil and energetic, both at the same time, a peaceful glory, a song that touches the soul.

 

Mono Lake Morning Song
Mono Lake Morning Song

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