Ethics and Workshops

There are a lot of people out there teaching photography workshops these days. In this crowded field there are occasionally workshop leaders who don't follow the rules. There are many rules, both spelled out and subtle. For example, it's a no-brainer that they need to abide by regulations in parks that they visit. The National Park Service sometimes makes this difficult, and a lot has been written about this over the years. For state parks in California, where I live, I am not allowed to photograph in a park for commercial purposes without going through a permit process, and I do that for places such as Bodie State Historic Park. I hate this bureaucracy. However, the rules are there for a reason. Unfortunately there are photographers who have damaged priceless artifacts or delicate plants in the interests of getting the photo they want, and so there needs to be some means for controlling this damage.

More insidious are workshop leaders who bend the rules. They may not provide quality, informed instruction. A male leader might make romantic overtures toward a female client. Or they may not deliver on getting photographers to great photo ops. These can be gray areas. The client might just imagine the overly friendly gestures. The weather might not be cooperating. Travel snafus can happen. Animals can choose to hide. Cameras can drop. Participants get sick. And it's sometimes hard to gauge the skill level of the photographers involved, so the workshop leader might be presenting material that is either too sophisticated or too simplistic. I've seen it all in the years I've been doing this kind of thing. There are no easy answers.

If you're looking for a great photo workshop, do your homework. How long has the instructor or travel company been in business? Google the instructor's name. Email or call with lots of questions. Ask for references. Check out services like Better Business Bureau.

Crossroads Early On

From an early age, like all children, I loved to draw and paint. The image shown here is of a hand study I made when I was six years old, copied from some other sketches. At the time I couldn't even spell my last name correctly and if you've never tried it, hands are hard to draw. Nevertheless, I carried on, dreaming of becoming an artist, doing well in high school and early college classes with inspired and caring teachers and professors.

Then along came a college class where I worked in acrylics. The professor was never there, turning things over to his teaching assistants, who did nothing. Uninspired, I admit I didn't produce my best work. My semester grade was a "C." For the first and last time in my life, I protested my grade, going to the professor's office. I still remember the bluish diffused light from his north facing window (seeing and remembering light seems to be a curse/blessing of artists) as he said, "You have no talent."

Crushed, I abandoned my fledgling art career, turning to more pragmatic courses that would ensure a career. Artists didn't make any money anyway, I reasoned. For a short time after graduation I taught elementary school, then decided to see the world. I found myself in Japan and other photogenic locales. I had been fearful of photography because of my math phobia, but finally bought a little automated Olympus point and shoot. I began applying all those years of art lessons and was bewitched. I embraced my new hobby with a passion, bought a proper Nikon SLR camera and a couple of lenses. With my new gear I ended up in Alaska, set up a darkroom business and there, blessed with the amazing soft light found in northern latitudes, I seriously learned the craft.

I've done well for myself, making a living at what I do. For 20 years I taught photography at a local community college. Often I draw inspiration from wonderful teachers I encountered early in life. Never have I told someone he/she has no talent. That is a judgment call no teacher can make. I've also learned that we can learn from adversity, as I did from the lackadaisical professor. Today, I thank him.

Although I haven't picked up a paintbrush in all these years, I've found joy in the many digital painting techniques that are available. My Wacom tablet/pen have become my artistic tools of choice. I've also learned to mix mediums, learning from the talented Dianne Poinski who creates magic with her black and white photos and pastels.

Half Dome Peekaboo

One of the great icons of the American West proved maddeningly elusive on a partly cloudy winter evening in the Yosemite Valley. Timing is everything when it comes to landscape light. Although on this visit I was in Yosemite for several days, the great Half Dome was either basking in glaring full sunshine or playing hide and seek with clouds. However, I think this image has some merit, for a full-on photo of Half Dome is a California cliché. It's sort of like photographing a deer; everyone knows what a deer looks like, so perhaps the better photo is one that contains some mystery, a departure from the literal image of "deer." So it is with Half Dome.

Whale Encounters

On the national TV news a few days ago there was a brief clip about a tour boat in Hawaii. In the video shown to millions, humpback whales seemed to show curiosity about the humans, apparently even bumping the sides of the boat. Afterwards I thought, why in the heck were they featuring this on the news? These kinds of up-close encounters are common on my Alaska trips. Each year the Maui whales come north to Alaskan coastal waters to feed. They are here by the hundreds. By law our boat isn't supposed to get closer than 100 yards, but fortunately the whales haven't read the rule books. They swim under the boat, and babies in particular are genuinely curious. Sometimes the huge mammals are so close that the steam from their spouts reaches us. A few summers ago we had one 45-foot-giant breach literally ten feet away. Our large lenses couldn't focus closely enough. Fortunately, we've never had a whale bump the boat; their sonar seems to be quite effective in this regard.

On land, we also have up-close encounters with bears. At the beautifully designed viewing platform and blind at Anan Creek (south of Wrangell in Southeast Alaska), we are close enough to touch them, although the rangers stationed here frown on such an activity, as even a stray claw from a well-intentioned bruin could cause major damage to human flesh. However, being in such close proximity allows intimate access to the bears' daily lives, whether it's a cub bawling for its mama, or an old boar showing its salmon fishing prowess.

With or without camera, experiencing these spectacles of nature is something that stays with you forever. After 13 years of such experiences, I have come to expect them. But newsworthy? No. But neither is a baby's first smile or the first daffodil of spring something to broadcast to millions. Bears, whales, babies or flowers: all part of the miraculous fabric of life.