Colleen Miniuk » You Can Sleep When You're Dead: Blog by Colleen Miniuk » Page 4

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Colleen Miniuk

Mar 232018
 
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Face to Face

“Face to Face” || Prints available from my website at www.cms-photo.com.

When you were a child, did you look up at the clouds and see shapes, objects, and maybe even faces? “It looks just like a dragon!” or “Whoa! There’s Snoopy!” Maybe you still do this? I do!

If you wish to be more expressive with your photography, I’d encourage you to see EVERYTHING—not just clouds, but trees, water, rocks, flowers—through this imaginative lens. When you spot something photogenic—landscape, macro, or something in between—ask yourself, “What else is it?”

Let your mind wander with free associations without judging them. You answers will bring your knowledge and perceptions to the forefront and will help you establish an individual meaningful connection with the natural elements that excite you. You’ll transform the ordinary into the extraordinary.

“A rock pile ceases to be a rock pile the moment a single man contemplates it, bearing within him the image of a cathedral.” ~Antoine de Saint-Exupery

Mar 072018
 
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A Frozen Universe
Are you feeling stuck with your photography? Are you frustrated with always trying to “get THE shot?” Are you looking for ways to be more creative with your work?

If you said yes to any of those three questions (or maybe all of them), then my newest article for On Landscape: “Finding Your Creative Voice” is just for you: https://www.onlandscape.co.uk/2018/03/finding-your-creative-voice/

It shares the story of how I transformed from a photographer who took pretty photographs of classic scenes into a visual artist with a distinctive creative voice (thanks in large part to the Acadia Artist-in-Residence program). It also provides the backstory of why, in my workshops and presentations, I emphasize playing like a 4th grader and running around declaring things like “LOOK AT THAT MUSHROOM!” (Or in my case, LOOK AT THOSE BUBBLES!!)

Along the way, it offers advice on how you too can “find” your own voice, specifically how to get new ideas, release expectations, and handle self-doubt. Hey, if this type-A, overanalytical ex-software engineer can do it, anyone can!

You’ll need a subscription to read the full article, but the inspirational content of this eMagazine is well worth the price. If you aren’t ready to commit to the annual fee, perhaps consider the bi-weekly or quarterly subscription as a taste. Fabulous, super creative photographers like Guy Tal, Rafael Rojas, Tim Parkin, Alister Benn, and others write for this online magazine. It has been–and is–a great source of ongoing inspiration for me and my photography. I don’t think you’ll be disappointed…learn more on their Subscription page: https://www.onlandscape.co.uk/subscribe

Enjoy!

(And a big thank you to the good folks at On Landscape for featuring my article!)

Feb 132018
 
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Letters from Lee's Ferry book

Last year, fellow photographer/writer Guy Tal and I teamed up to lead the inaugural “Lens and Pens” workshop in the beautiful Vermilion Cliffs and Lee’s Ferry area. This educational session was tailored for intermediate and advanced photographers who were comfortable with the technical aspects of photography, but for those who may not have had any previous writing experience. Our goal was to make attendees feel more inspired and confident in communicating their unique knowledge, passions, and experiences in photographs and words.

Participants from the workshop last September independently produced a book of their writings, titled, “Letters from Lee’s Ferry,” which you may read online or order in print form: http://www.blurb.com/b/8443037-letters-from-lee-s-ferry. (As an aside, no one–Guy, me, or the participants–make a profit from this book. The price covers simply the cost of printing and shipping.) It’s an incredible collection of what the group accomplished in the 2017 “Lens & Pens” workshop–we couldn’t be more proud of our participants!

Because our first experience was so enjoyable, Guy and I are offering a second session this year from September 11-16, 2018 once again in the Vermilion Cliffs area. We offer guidance in conveying inner thoughts through your photographs and writing, instruction in several genres of writing, and trips to locations teeming with stories, all in a quiet and intimate setting. No writing experience assumed!

For more information and to register, visit http://cms-photo.com/Workshops/2018LensandPens. Class size is limited to 10 attendees–only 4 spots remain!

We hope you’ll join us for an adventure in creativity, photography and writing, and nature!

Feb 102018
 
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You might have heard of–and even done–a snow angel before. But what happens if there’s no snow around (like where I live in the Arizona desert or where I love to photograph along the Oregon coast)?

Try a sand angel!

Now, when I mention this amazing activity with other people, I sometimes get raised eyebrows. I’m sometimes asked, “What exactly is a sand angel?”

Well, since inquiring minds want to know, I’ve made up a quick two-minute video on “How to Make a Sand Angel:” https://youtu.be/egz8Ki96_3s

You know, just in case your upcoming travels and photographic outings involve sand (or snow)…

Jan 022018
 
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“The only question in life is whether or not you are going to answer a
hearty ‘YES!’ to your adventure.”

~Joseph Campbell

Happy New Year, everyone!

As we put last year in the history books, I am feeling immense gratitude to all of you for your continued support and friendship in this journey. Thank you for all you do to help encourage and inspire my photography, writing, and teaching. As we turn into the new year and all the fresh opportunities it’ll no doubt bring, I look forward to more laughs, photographs, stories, learnings, donuts, cookies, “throwing Wendy’s,” handstands, ballet moves, sand angels, and more with you all! Keep saying “YES!”

To celebrate all that transpired in 2017, I’ve compiled 16 of my favorite photographs I created last year (in chronological order. Prints available! Just click on photo to visit my website to order or shoot me an email at cms@cms-photo.com):

Here’s Looking at You
From January to June 2017, I took on the interim Executive Director position with Outdoor Writers Association of America (OWAA), which limited my outdoor and photography time for the first half of the year (for more on that: “Setting Sail Again“).  One morning in March, though, my friend, fellow OWAAer, and fabulous wildlife photographer, Tim Christie, invited me to photograph the burrowing owls on the west side of Phoenix with him. Now, I normally don’t shoot wildlife unless it runs into my landscape scene…in fact, I had never photographed an owl before. From the moment saw these astounding creatures through Tim’s 600mm fixed lens (a.k.a. the Hubble telescope), though, I was hooked. That trip inspired me to discover a couple locations where burrowing owls lived just 15 minutes from my house–that I’ve lived in for 16 years!!

Here's Looking at You

 

Just Bloom
When I saw these two sego lilies intertwined near the Barnhardt Trail in April, a quote by Zen Shin came to mind: “A flower does not think of competing to the flower next to it. It just blooms.”

Just Bloom

 

So Many Flowers, So Little Time
I had no intentions of photographing while walking to the City of Rocks State Park Visitor’s Center to pay my fee for my campsite. But the camera always comes with me anyhow! You never know when a bunch of claret cup cactus blooming along the side of the parking lot will grab your attention and yell, “Make my picture please!”

So Many Flowers, So Little Time

 

River Bliss
In 2017, I introduced my new brand, Sheography™, which represents my women’s-only photography workshop offerings. And boy, did we kick things off with a bang! On the inaugural trip in May 2017, sixteen wild women (and two awesome male guides) launched on a fabulous adventure down the Colorado River through the Grand Canyon. This was from day 4 in our 119.8 Mile Right camp, which we affectionately renamed “Tres Burrito Camp.”

River Bliss

 

The Yin to My Yang
Read about how and why I made this image in my blog post, “Patience Young Jedi

The Yin to My Yang

 

Little Bubbles on the Prairie
In July, I attended the Fishtrap Outpost, a five-day writing workshop at the Nature Conservancy’s Zumwalt Prairie in Oregon led by one of my absolute favorite authors, Craig Childs. What an incredible experience it was! While on our first hike, I saw BUBBLES!!!  In the algae along Camp Creek. I know, I know, I was supposed to be focused on my writing, and I did! After I lost all two marbles in my brain when I saw these and made a photograph of them…Can you imagine a year going by without me photographing bubbles? Yeah, me either.

Little Bubbles on the Prairie

 

Bakunawa, the Moon-Eating Dragon
When photographing this scene while at Fishtrap Outpost on the Zumwalt Prairie in Oregon, I thought of Bakunawa, the moon-eating dragon…it was 5:00 a.m., and I had not been caffeinated properly yet…

Bakunawa, The Moon-Eating Dragon

 

Worlds Collide
From my happy place, Acadia National Park in Maine, during a two-week visit I made to the Schoodic Peninsula with my parents. After spending almost 400 days in the park since my first of three Artist-in-Residencies in November 2009, Acadia still remains my “heaven on Earth.”

Worlds Collide

 

Morning Glory
I’ve spent the last eight autumn seasons in Acadia National Park, and last year’s trip was completely EPIC. Some of the best color and light I’ve ever seen in the park! Plus I had awesome workshop participants and friends from near and far to enjoy it all with. I shared this incredible sunrise along the coast with friends and fellow photographers, John Putnam and Bob Thayer. Acadia never disappoints! (Shameless self-promotional plug: join me on my Winter in Acadia and Autumn in Acadia workshops in 2018! Whoo!)

Morning Glory

 

The Point of It All (a haiku)
Hiding in shadow
Rebirth, persistence, beauty—
The point of it all.

The Point of it All

 

Songs of Serenity
At the start of my second “Autumn in Acadia” workshop, Mother Nature treated our group to an unforgettable sunrise at Little Long Pond on the Maine Land and Garden Preserve near Acadia National Park in Maine. First, we had cotton candy pinks in the sky pre-dawn. Then overcast skies and no wind (perfect for reflections!). Then the fog rolled in. Then the sun started spotlighting Penobscot Mountain through the fog. (I don’t photograph a lot on my workshops, but this was even too much for me to sit and watch without photographing!) Then the skies cleared. All in a span of about two hours. Have I mention how epic this autumn trip was? As epic as bubbles.

Songs of Serenity

 

Lighting Up My World
From the magic hour (an hour after sunrise on a clear day) at the Tarn in Acadia National Park in Maine.

Lighting Up My World

 

In the Flow
Read more about how and why I made this image during my first visit to the Great Smoky Mountains in Tennessee in November on my blog post, “In the Flow.”

In the Flow

 

Make a Splash
In 2017, I made a habit of saying “yes” more to new adventures and experiences, even if I didn’t know what might materialize when I did so. In this case, I said “yes” to visiting a friend of mine (another OWAAer), Tim Mead, in North Carolina for a few days after speaking at the Great Smoky Mountains Photography Summit. Not only did I get to see a beautiful part of the country I hadn’t seen before (at the height of fall colors), but I also found out Tim and I had a lot more in common than I originally knew. As we hiked around South Mountains State Park, fished in Mountain Island Lake, and drank beers on the back porch of his home, he offered loads of advice and insight into questions I had been struggling with in my life–an unexpected gift. I think I’ll keep saying “yes“…

Make a Splash

 

The Winds of Change Stirring
Full-time freelance photographers don’t get an allocated set of vacation days like people who work in Corporate America do. Some may think we’re perpetually on vacation (we aren’t…), but photographers know the eyes and brain don’t ever turn off, especially in beautiful places where many non-photographers would take their vacations. Late last year, I decided I needed some downtime, a true vacation from the crazy year that was 2017. In what was the first dedicated vacation for me in years, I booked a long weekend in one of my favorite places, Cannon Beach, Oregon, to refresh and regroup for the new year. My intent was to spend four days sitting on my hotel’s beachfront porch, drinking coffee, napping, and staring at the waves. Well, there must have been something in the ocean breeze, because I rose well before sunrise on the first morning (which, mind you, was almost 8:00 a.m.!), grabbed my camera (and coffee mug), and hit the beach. Although I hadn’t planned it, the next four days were some of my most productive and enjoyable creative times of the year. The moral of the story? Take more vacation days in 2018. That, and, you can sleep when you’re dead...

The Winds of Change Stirring

 

Heartbeat
Last year was full of beautiful surprises. Through it all, I learned how to listen to my own voice and to feel the beating of my own heart. This beach scene from Oregon reminded me of a pulse, of the beauty of life and its impermanence, and of the gift we have each and every day to create meaning through the triumphs and the struggles so long as our heart still beats.

Heartbeat

 

And that’s a wrap for 2017!

If you’d like to see my favorite photos from previous years, please visit:

The above posts were featured in Jim Goldstein’s annual “Best Photos of the Year” blog project, which not only provides endless inspiration by so many talented photographers, but also offers the chance to gain insight into how your own work and style has evolved over the years.  Check out the 130+ photographers who contributed this year at www.jmg-galleries.com/blog/2018/01/10/photos-2017-jmggalleries-blog-readers.

As we look to 2018, make every new day an adventure. Make every new day meaningful. And while you’re at it, make every new day grand! Hope it’s your best year yet! And hope our paths cross during this wild adventure.

~Colleen

Nov 192017
 
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In the Flow

“In the Flow” || Waterfalls cascade down the Little River along Tremont Road in autumn in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park, Tennessee, USA (Click on photo to order a print)

When visiting a place, like the Great Smoky Mountains National Park in Tennessee, for the first time (as I did a couple of weeks ago), it can feel a little overwhelming. So much beauty, where does one even start?!

Before my responsibilities at the Great Smoky Mountains Photography Summit began, I took a quick scouting trip along Tremont Road. I made a few “happy snaps,” but mainly so I could start sorting out my budding connections with the Middle Prong of the Little River. I continued visualizing possible images while leading two of my three summit groups to the spots that had initially grabbed my attention. When I teach workshops, teaching always takes precedence over making my own images, so I didn’t click the shutter once.

When I happened to get a few hours off from my workshops and presenting, I rushed back to the Lower Tremont area to try out some of my photographic ideas. But each time I set up along the shoreline, I felt like I was forcing things to happen too much. I stopped photographing and started listening to the river.

I took my shoes off, rolled up my pant legs, and walked into the flow with my tripod acting as my stabilizer. To feel the water, to be the water. The refreshing coolness of the stream, the pulsing current, the smooth shape of the rocks beneath my arches. It felt comforting. It instantly put me into my own flow state.

After only a few minutes of wading around, I turned to look upstream and saw this composition with little to no thought running through my brain. I fell in love with the scene, so I made this image…which was infinitely more appealing than anything I had previously visualized.

The value of my earlier visualizations, though, did not go to waste. The purpose of visualization–or picturing your pictures before you photograph them–is not to develop a strict checklist of “what you MUST photograph.” Rather, the process helps you practice and prepare for the “big game.” For me, it was a way to strengthen my bond with the location without any pressure or expectations to photograph a scene, ask a bunch of “what if I did this…” questions, and understand my photographic vision in a place I had never been to before which, no doubt, helped me eventually create “In the Flow.”

Sep 142017
 
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Earlier this week, while camping in northern Arizona, I had the fortunate chance to witness the birth of an evening primrose flower as it slowly unfurled from its green bud at dusk. We watched a first bloom for almost 45 minutes; a second one nearby took less than 7 minutes to open. It was one of the most beautiful natural events I’ve ever seen.

If you’d like to see it too, check out the video I just posted of the second bloom at 2x real time speed (so it’s about 3 minutes long):

Enjoy!

Aug 252017
 
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Last Monday, unlike millions of people, I was not in the path of totality for the highly anticipated solar eclipse. Instead, I found myself sitting alone by choice (well, save for the seagulls) in my favorite place, the Raven’s Nest in Acadia National Park, Maine, where forecasters estimated the moon would only cover the sun at 50-60% at its peak.

I had no intentions of photographing the solar eclipse, wanting instead to soak in the entire experience as it happened in the place where my own path had led me. There were few noticeable changes in the seagulls squawking, the outgoing tide splashing, or the gentle sea breeze stroking the pines when the moon started making its move on the sun. In fact, if you didn’t get the memo about the eclipse or didn’t have those goofy-looking special magic glasses–things the Wabanaki Indians (natives living on this land for an estimated 12,000 years) obviously lacked–you might not have known something different in the universe was even happening. Until just before the peak.

Ready for the solar eclipse on the Schoodic Peninsula’s western shore in Acadia National Park, Maine

At about 2:30 p.m. EDT, the wind held its breath. The waves stilled, settling one-foot swells into a sheet of navy blue-stained glass. The normally sherbet-colored granite cliffs suddenly turned silver. Only the seagulls ongoing squeals indicated that time, life, the movement of the Earth had not momentarily stopped.

As if to simply prove to myself that I could still move, I stood up to make a photograph with my telephoto lens through my eclipse glasses. Mind completely blown. I then decided to make a picture about every five minutes from that point on. The above is what resulted, a composite of 16 images from just before peak to conclusion. I know it doesn’t show the prized totality, the Baily’s beads effect (the “Diamond ring”), or differ than all the other partial eclipse photos ever recorded. But I howled joyfully like a coyote after every frame, and for me, that’s all that matters.

The next day, I repeated this moment on Raven’s Nest at sunset. Seagulls chattered, the cobbled clapped in the outgoing tide, the sea breeze stroked evergreen branches. I peered (through my protective glasses, of course) at the now naked sun, shining in its full glory. The waxing crescent moon now smiling, smugly almost, as if it was proud of itself for the commotion it had caused the day before. I wondered how many other people of the millions who experienced the eclipse yesterday had bothered to sit and enjoy today’s ephemeral moments? I felt so grateful that I have the freedom to taste, enjoy, and appreciate the natural world essentially any time I wish. Others, through circumstance or choice, are not so fortunate.

Sarah Gilman wrote an eloquent essay recently, which summed up my sentiments perfectly: “How would we come to understand our world if we learned to turn this attention on its everyday wonders? What would we save from our own ravenous appetites? If hordes of people pulled off the highway randomly to stare at an old growth Douglas fir, if they did it to watch the way a stream carves through a canyon, or even the way a swarm of flirting gnats become a galaxy when lit by a sunbeam?”

YES, THIS!!

Read the full piece, “Lessons in the moon’s shadows,” here: http://www.hcn.org/articles/essay-people-places-lessons-from-the-eclipse.

There’s big hype for the next solar eclipse throughout Maine, for on April 8, 2024, the path of totality will split the state in half.  In a place where I already spend two to three months a year, I have a feeling I know where I’ll be then. Maybe I’ll photograph it. Maybe I won’t. I’ll decide how to celebrate yet another fleeting moment, as I did on Monday and all days, precisely when it happens.

And that, I think, is living life, not just a single moment, in the path of its totality.

Jun 302017
 
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From the Green River in May 2016, but representative of how I feel today. Photo courtesy Guy Tal.

I’ve been a little tired.

Yes, you’ve read that correctly. Those words actually came out my mouth…and now that I’ve slept for three days straight, I can explain!

As of this past Monday, I’ve completed a six-month term as the interim Executive Director with the Outdoor Writers Association of America (OWAA) following the conclusion of our 90th annual conference in Duluth, Minnesota. Juggling three businesses—OWAA and two of my own, CMS Photography and Analemma Press—during this time sometimes made me feel like I was testing the outer limits of “you can sleep when you’re dead!”

But I wouldn’t change a thing. Although my time at the helm at OWAA has come to an end, I can safely say that the organization has changed my life for the better twice now. Here’s how:

When I walked out of my unfulfilling corporate America job at Intel Corporation in February 2007, I had asked many of my photography mentors (many who had been in the outdoor photography industry for 30 or more years) what it would take to be successful as a freelance. The overwhelming feedback I received was that I would never make it as a full-time landscape photographer for two reasons: one, the photography industry had changed so much (the digital revolution had just begun) that opportunities to make a living were rapidly diminishing; and two, as a woman, I would never cut it being alone for extended periods of time in the wild.

Despite the latter being exactly what I loved to do, having five semesters of college-level photography instruction, and experiencing enough success in both the fine art and editorial outlets with outdoor photography to quit a six-figure salary, I listened to them. When I left my corporate job on February 28, 2007, I photographed everything but nature photography (and weddings…No. Just no.) I focused on shooting jewelry, trucks, yards, food, products, architecture, senior portraits, soccer, and golf (I didn’t know anything about golf!) for various commercial clients.

I made a lot of money, but after each shoot, I came home bummed out. I wasn’t having much fun, and I asked myself, “Is this really what I left Intel for?”

My phone rang in 2009. On the other line was an enthusiastic man I had never met. He introduced himself as Jim Smith. He explained he had received my name as a possible speaker for his local photography club and asked me if I would be interested in presenting an educational presentation with his members. I eagerly agreed to do so in early 2010.

After my presentation, Jim invited me to speak again. This time though, it was for an organization he was a member of and found helpful in his own profitable outdoor photography business. He also handed me a piece of paper and said, “I think you’d really like this group. You should apply.” Jim handed me an application to OWAA with his signature already on the “Sponsor” line.

I didn’t heed his advice right away. After all, the outdoors was not factoring much into my photography business at that time. I wanted it to! A few months ahead of my speaking engagement at their annual conference in June in Rochester, Minnesota, I decided, “What the hell?”

I walked into the event and saw over 400 outdoor communicators totally rocking the industry in every way—writing, photography, TV, video, books, newspapers, cartoons, you name it. I naively thought, “If they can do it, why can’t I?!”

I subsequently returned home to Arizona with an extra pep in my step and dropped all my commercial clients except one (who was a friend from my time at Intel) to focus entirely on what I loved, photographing the Great Outdoors. I pursued new editorial outlets, calendar companies, etc. I didn’t previously know about or had access to. I also left conference with crazy ideas on how to publish my own books. To be an author had been a pipe-dream for me since senior year in college. I could have never imagined having three books to my name (plus six more in the hopper!) after starting my own publishing company—Analemma Press.

Game-changer #1: I became a true outdoor photographer and writer–and publisher!–thanks to OWAA.

Fast forward five years…Jim sadly passed away in January 2015. Then, my life took an unexpected left-hand turn in April 2015 when my husband (and best friend for 22 years) and I decided to mutually separate—two weeks before our 14th wedding anniversary and four weeks before my 40th birthday. To help with sorting out the devastation and chaos, I had this wild idea to stand-up paddleboard the 141-mile length of Lake Powell in the Glen Canyon National Recreation Area on the Utah-Arizona border. My mom and I embarked on that journey in late November 2015 but ran into an unpredicted windstorm four days into a 14-day trip, which led to an unexpected rescue and conclusion of a trip.

In the year that followed, I learned many things, including that I was not a photographer who liked to write, but rather a writer who liked to photograph—perhaps a seemingly small distinction to the outside world, but a major shift for me and my priorities. I learned more about letting go, happiness, and as the title of the book I started writing about my Lake Powell trip and life indicates, simply how to go with the flow. In reliving the memories of the separation and Lake Powell paddle trip, though, I still noodled on many things like what I was doing with my life, how I wanted to live, and what I wanted to be when (if) I grew up.

Then, in late November 2016, I received a call from Brett Prettyman, OWAA’s President, suggesting the current OWAA executive director (ED) had unexpectedly turned in his resignation. (I serve as OWAA’s Secretary, and thus the Executive Committee where these types of matters are discussed.) He mentioned the idea of possibly hiring an interim ED, requested I think of good candidates for the position, and hung up.

Was the Universe throwing me a possible answer to the questions I pondered? I needed to find out. Despite having 10 years of freelancing under my belt, I felt if I were ever to return to a desk job, this would be the one I’d pick.

I wrote Brett a lengthy email on Tuesday, less than 24 hours after hearing the news, starting with, “Soooooo I’ve given it a tremendous amount of thought since we talked (I even made up a spreadsheet about it!), and would like to formally throw my name in the hat for the interim ED position, should you decide to pursue it.  I do so with the possibility of me applying for the ED position next year.”

I was named the interim ED by the following Monday. After spending time with Tom Sadler (the resigning ED) in December to facilitate a smooth transition, I took the torch from him in January 2017 for 20 hours a week. I submitted my resume and cover letter for the permanent position.

While learning how to run a non-profit organization and enjoying the new experiences, something didn’t feel quite right. I seemed to have little time to write, photograph, and travel while trying to keep up with the demands of the different three jobs. I missed my wandering freelance life. So much so, that I withdrew my name (twice) from consideration for the permanent position—one of the most difficult decisions I’ve ever made.

To say I am incredibly grateful for the opportunity to serve OWAA in this capacity would be an understatement. As I look back at the six-months, the experience presented “Game-changer #2” by helping me put four exclamation points behind what OWAA helped me declare seven years ago in 2010:

  • I’m a freelance writer, photographer, author, publisher, speaker, teacher, and more!!!!
  • I’m a wanderer of the outdoors!!!!
  • I love to help people enjoy the Great Outdoors through workshops, books, and everything I do!!!!

I’ve now passed the torch to our new ED, Brandon Shuler. When I left Intel to become a free bird in 2007, I shared what has become one of my favorite quotes with my colleagues, which I feel is equally pertinent now as I start to flap my wings and fly back into the freelancing life once again:

“A ship in harbor is safe — but that is not what ships are built for.”
~John A. Shedd

No matter the journey you are on or may take, may you always possess the wisdom to know the difference between “safe” and “your true self,” to know in your heart what you are made of and for. And to have the strength and courage to sail your ship out of harbor when your soul calls to you to set sail.

Many thanks to the OWAA Board of Directors for their confidence and support in me, to staff members Jessica Seitz and Kelsey Dayton for showing me the ropes and keeping me in line, and to Tom, Brett, and Bill Powell for their help throughout the transition. Finally, I am eternally thankful to OWAA and it’s inspiring and encouraging members for changing my direction in outdoor communications not once, but twice, and for helping me become exactly what I’m built for. (And I just know my late friend Jim is laughing his head off about all this from above. I can hear his voice say, “You’re such a hoot” as he often told me.)

The sea of freedom calls…and it’s a big ocean out there teeming with so much life. Lots more adventures, workshops, books, and more ahead!  Because, as the saying goes, “You can sleep when you’re dead”…and remember, I’ve just woke up from sleeping for three days straight…

Time to set sail…time for new adventures!

Jun 022017
 
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Arizona_Grand Canyon National Park_01162_c

“The Yin to My Yang” || Abstract rock pattern formed by calcite in the Supai Formation in the Grand Canyon, Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona, USA (Prints available! Click on photo to order)

“Adopt the pace of nature: her secret is patience.”
~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

While rafting the Colorado River through the Grand Canyon a few weeks ago while leading my Women’s Photography Retreat, immense landscape scenes certainly live up to its name. However, I found the little things as equally fascinating…especially the bizarre patterns in a rock overhang at our lunch stop on the first day of our trip.

My rafting group last year stopped at this same spot, and upon seeing this rock overhang for the first time, I literally lost my marbles. All of them. I had never seen anything like it!

I made some images then, but could not settle my enthusiasm into making any sort of meaningful expressions in the limited time we had here. (I guess, technically, the photos I did make were representative of how I felt, which was nonsensically spastic… :D)

When our guides for this year’s trip asked my input as to where we should stop for lunch, I pleaded with them to take our group to this unnamed location, one, so I could show the participants on my trip this amazing occurrence in the Supai Formation, and two, so I could see how my vision and approach changed from last year.

Although I experienced the same immense excitement for this subject (I still lost my marbles…), I felt more at ease seeing my “old friend” while walking along the ledge and pointing out different curious patterns with my group. Then, together, we started to make order out of chaos…not with our cameras, but with our minds and eyes first.

We talked through visual language-light, shape, balance, color, etc.-and their individual effects on expressing emotions. We shared why “this” shape grabbed our attention more than “that” shape nearby. We discussed what that line was contributing to the scene. Most importantly, we walked through what we liked about a possible composition, what we didn’t, and how we might approach with a camera. We spent a healthy amount of time simply visualizing and responding in our own ways, then photographed.

The above photo titled, “The Yin to My Yang” is one of several I created in this process.

We spent even less time here than my first trip, but yet, I felt I made better images (and think my participants did as well) because we stopped to patiently and mindfully notice and appreciate the scene first instead of randomly blasting away in “spray-and-pray mode.”