Winterizing the Photographer's Soul

I took a small break from my blog to attend an out-of-state wedding and to kick back and enjoy the final days of fall in preparation for winter's approach. Reaching the midpoint of November. I am still enjoying those trees, which have retained their fall color through blustery days, and the sandhill cranes and other birds migrating through the area. The time change last weekend opened the door for darkness to sneak in into our lives and souls by 5:00 PM. "Hello, darkness, my old friend." The austere expression on my friend's face  summarizes how many of us older photographers feel about winter's emerging cold and darkness making the glass appear half empty.

I don't want to turn this week's blog into a rant on aging and winter, but they are part of life, and nobody ever said that life was unchanging or easy. At Friday coffee this week, we discussed photography in the winter season during the winter years of our life. I used to make it a point to go out with my camera during the harshest days of winter because I got to see what those fireside photographers miss, like the designs created by fresh snow and wind, and wildlife behavior that is instinctual and unique to surviving in difficult weather conditions.  The photos taken never disappointed me and even built a stronger connection between me and my place in time and creation.  As the years have piled on, I find that venturing out on a walk through 6-8 inches of snow no longer feels like walking in a winter wonderland, and the thrill of driving unplowed country roads gets my heart pounding like drinking a case of energy drinks during an IRS audit.  

Our weekly coffee group may be described as vintage but never would be found waving a white flag. Recently, we all have been involved in preparing our homes and property for the winter season, so we shared plans for our photography during the approaching Midwest winter months when the outdoors is gray,  barren, and hostile to older bodies.

My good friend Ed, (who self-references as Ole Blind Ed Melon Chitlin), shared this double exposure photo he created this week using the multiple exposure feature on his camera. The results are both surprising and whimsical, pushing back against the bleak outdoor landscapes and lack of depth and color. This is one way to learn about the many features on our cameras that we never would consider exploring during those inviting spring and summer days. It is an activity that can be shared with a photo buddy who is willing to try explore novel approaches to photography with you. Others at our table suggested photographing minatures, holiday lights, and learning to control light creatively by experimenting with still life photos.

During this week, I was thinking about my photography for the coming winter season and came up with the idea of ICM, intentional camera movement. This photo was taken a half hour before sunset from a moving car—a warm moving car. There are numerous YouTube videos that explain how to produce beautiful artistic images using a variety of ICM techniques. Some may label this kind of photography as gimmicky. However, every type of photography contains an element of novelty, luck, or serendipity that comes from outside the camera or photographer. Besides, if you know that near-zero temps will make you violently shiver, why not adapt and learn to use that shiver to deliver some imaginative ICM photos?  

As I close this week's blog, my mind is playing a verse from Elton John which reminds me how important it is to keep seeking the light in photography throughout the approaching dark winter days.  

I can't light no more of your darkness.

All my pictures seem to fade to black and white.

I'm growing tired, and time stands still before me,

frozen here on the ladder of my life.

Don't store your camera -- recondition your imagination.