She appeared not wanting to be there.
There is a story waiting to be told from within this image.
The couple waded into the early evening water just after sunset.
At this moment, their body language told more than a conversation could have.
He appears confident.
She–hesitant; looking for an escape.
The outline of her shadow provokes curiosity.
The image brings forth the question of why?
A hundred stories could be made up and told.
All would be based on our own frame of reference.
Reflections of our own individual memories–
Reminiscent of the past, or a dream for the future.
The couple is unknown and so is the real truth of the mood.
Writing
Even with the curtains drawn
to put privacy between the inside and out,
a sunset reminds me to come out and play.
Simple things.
Simple everyday things that pass for being taken for granted are more complex than they seem.
This is just a spoon–some sugar in the raw;
yet the shapes, patterns, and mood are so much more than what appears.
Simple things that are lost in a complex world.
A world driven by time rather than the senses;
driven by volume rather than the individual parts of the whole.
A world that cannot be without each piece playing a part to whole.
A world without the spoon? A world without the individual parts?
What strikes me about this photo?
It is the eye–an emerald-like green that contains a reflection of this bird’s world.
The detail of the feathers that blend to another impression at a distance.
The beak is long and portrays a working life–it transcends the depth of field.
The light is low, bright and wintery.
Imperfections in the image build on this bird’s personality and character.
There are questions of where this image was taken
What else is hidden from the edges.
This photo talks to you and provokes an unsaid conversation.
I captured this image with my iPhone as we were leaving a garden store in Denver one evening.
The sunset was absolutely beautiful and I hesitated with even trying to capture what I was seeing because of the urban clutter in the foreground. I thought it was timing and a just a matter of not being in the right place. Still, I propped myself up against a column and took a shot at that moment knowing that the composition was not right and that I would probably end up deleting the image.
Today, I rediscovered this shot in my photo stream and the image evoked a completely different perspective from the original view that evening. Lately, I have been frustrated with the noise that pounds us on a daily basis. With that perspective, what I found captured within the chaos of urban life, the traffic, the noise, the price of gas, the ugliness of strung wires in every view, is a subtle reminder. A reminder that we have to step back and see through the noise that clutter our lives every day. A reminder that the our world–which at times seems overwhelming and all-encompassing–is really pretty small in the big scheme of things. There is a reminder of being positive. If you see the wires, the shot is ugly and you miss the beauty. If you see the colors of the sunset, the wires fade to where they belong, in the background.
Copyright © 2012 Gary Cooper Photography. All Rights Reserved.
Aurora, Colorado
It comes together,
with patience and persistence–
determined like Fall.
Copyright © 2012 Gary Cooper Photography. All Rights Reserved.
When I started getting serious about photography and began posting images on Flickr, I was extremely protective of my images. In my mind, everything was copyrighted–I owned the rights to my images and no one was going to use them without my permission for at least 75 years after I died. I wanted control and did everything I could technically to limit the ability for anyone to use my images. I also trusted that viewers would respect the © and not copy my images without my permission. It was no surprise, but that was a naive mindset and I found some of my material illegally posted on other websites.
My initial response was to pull the plug–remove everything, remove access. In the big scheme of things, removing my presence online was not the answer–nor even a real option. I still wanted to share my work.
As I struggled through a way ahead, I stumbled upon an interview with Tim Ferriss and his book “The Four Hour Work Week.” In a nutshell, he told the story of finding his book pirated and posted online for free. His reaction was what any of us in the creative world (photographers, writers, musicians, etc.) would have been–theft and the loss of sales. A colleague of Tim’s made the comment that the people who downloaded his book for free, probably would not have bought it anyway. In the end, what he was loosing in sales, he was gaining in exposure.
One element that all photographers (and writers) want (and need) is exposure. To make it, to break out, we need exposure. “Exposure” and helping others changed my view on copyrighting everything I own.
I decided to open up a significant number of photos under a “Creative Commons” license for anyone to use with the assumption that whoever used the images would attribute them to me. This mental shift put me back in control of my work. I release the images I want to release under creative commons. Anyone can go through those images and use the ones they need. My better work, I still copyright. My best work, never makes it to the internet.
Here’s the cool thing–it is really neat helping another blogger with my images. There is a good feeling helping others–helping strangers convey their story better. To see those creative commons images and my name on another website is extremely rewarding.
So, you’re out there taking a million images a day. You have shots of pencils, tools, tomatoes, blurred dogs, and a bunch of other things not worth printer paper–nothing spectacular, nothing worth a frame.
For photographers, there just might be a blogger out there who is looking for a pencil jammed into a blurred tomato for a story their working on. Scratch that writer’s back–share your gift.
For writers, scratch back and give credit to the “other creative” who helped your story.
Copyright © 2012 Gary Cooper Photography. All Rights Reserved.
A few years ago I bought a hand-held GPS to take out hiking. The next trek I went out on, I powered that baby up and headed out on the trails of Manassas, Virginia. I walked along and watched with wonder and amazement how this little piece of electronics was following my movement with 12′ accuracy. This was cool–I was feeling cool. At least until I walked into a tree.
After pulling the sticks and leaves out of my hair, and taking a quick glance around for anyone that might have seen me, I took a mental step back and reflected on what happened. Here I am, out on a hike, away from it all, in a place I love to be, recharging, and my entire focus was somewhere else. Instead of enhancing my trek, it was detracting from it. I was missing the very essence of being outside.
This afternoon I went to Starbuck to write. I ordered, sat down, and immediately buried my head into my journal scratching away thoughts, ideas, and frustrations. My entire focus was on filling the blank pages and emptying my head. I was totally oblivious to any and everything going on around me. At least until I looked up. I was struck and in awe of the things around me. I was seeing things that I haven’t seen before. The view struck me to the point I could not write anymore.
I can go on with similar stories with my camera(s). We’ve all been there–getting wrapped up in the settings, buttons, the cool widgets, light, and on.
I love technology–sometimes too much, but there are times that I wonder how much I miss because of that technology. Or in the case of writing, how much of the world do I miss?
For me, I have come to realize that there is balance. I still take my GPS with me, but its attached to the top of my pack. Sometimes I take a smaller camera or I just put it in “auto” and focus my energy on the world I hope to capture. With writing, I still focus with intensity, but I take the time to look up (before or after) and “see.”
For me, photography and writing is more about learning to see the world around me, than learning the electronics or completely putting my head into the blank pages.
Copyright © 2012 Gary Cooper Photography. All Rights Reserved.
This shot is a reminder to me that the key to great photography is to get out and take as many shots as I can–and then some more. Rarely can I aim, frame, push the shutter just once and expect something great–unless I’m lucky. This particular image is one of a thousand (literally) shots I took over a three-week period.
My challenge, get out and do it again. And again. Then again.
The same philosophy applies to writing–do it again, and again, then again.
Copyright © 2012 Gary Cooper Photography. All Rights Reserved.
