Milkweed Pastel
Archival Pigment Print - Giclée on Raw Silk - Giclée on Canvas
Copyright © 2006, 2010 Rose Rita Petersons - All Rights Reserved
Nature photography can be an amazing learning experience. But it also demands many things of you. First and foremost, it demands that you move slowly. And, search. Discover. Observe. Contemplate. Allow yourself to take the time to "stop and smell the roses." It also demands that you be prepared. You have to know your camera intimately - and quickly be able to make it an extension of yourself. It's imperative for you to be ready at the blink of an eye to press the shutter release and capture a moment in time - before it's completely lost to you. These are all key in helping you find those delicate, dramatic and spiritual moments in Nature that you'll feel compelled to capture.
If your plan is to eventually enhance the images you capture, you also have to be willing to open your mind up to other dimensions - and other ways of seeing, feeling and even being like the things that you're observing in Nature. Allow yourself to howl like a coyote crooning in the moonlight... or sing like birds and don't care who listens. Feel as happy as the daisy when rays of sunshine warm it and understand why it lifts itself towards the sun. Climbing trees is optional - but it can definitely help you see things differently when you look at them from a bird's eye view. Nature photography exposes you to all kinds of things - and especially all kinds of weather. You never know what's coming and must always be ready for the unexpected. You've got to have the ability to never be out of sorts if a bird decides to poop on you - or a farmer chases you off with a shotgun from land that's clearly marked as parkland and open to the public. If you allow things like that to bother you, they'll interfere with your ability to get lost in the moment and completely commune with Nature.
There are times you'll pass by the same sights over and over again and find that the time just isn't right for capturing the image you want - even though it calls to you. You absolutely know it's in there somewhere, but you just don't get your shot. Patience. You have to be willing to return many times in order to find and capture the image you intrinsically know in your heart and soul is there. Patience and persevere are key. It's akin to an ancient Asian tale I once heard told. A well-revered calligrapher was trying to capture the true beauty of a poem. He painstakingly painted the same exact calligraphy characters over and over again in his room. This went on a hundred times a day, for years and years. There were times it would drive him into a frenzy, or beat him down with frustration and despair. He never felt he could capture the beauty and full meaning of the poem with his brushwork. After decades of this, one day the calligrapher walked into his room and inked his brush. He proceeded to quietly and exquisitely paint the characters. Only once. Then he put his brush down and left the room. And he never painted that image again. That's because he felt that he had finally been able to capture the unique beauty he'd envisioned in the poem all along. There's a similar sort of Zen involved when it comes to photographing in Nature.
Milkweed is so common in certain areas. You find it cropping up everywhere. Being surrounded by it in a huge field can make you feel hindered photographically. It always seems to be in the way of a shot. There are times when you get sick to death of seeing Milkweed rear its ugly head. Heaven forbid you accidentally knock into it and break off a branch. Its icky sticky ooze will get all over you - and, your camera equipment. Yuck. There came a point where I just couldn't stand Milkweed. Feeling that way about something in Nature really bothered me. I sort of forced myself to make an about-face and try a completely different tactic with my nemesis, actively trying to think totally "out of the box" about it. So, I took the time to really look at Milkweed ... swaying in the softness of sunrise light ... glowing in golden sunset light. Contemplated it during a walk in the rain. The mist, the fog. Marveled as I watched it survive and thrive in acres of hard, dry earth parched by the August sun - while other plants quickly succumbed and died. Took a book and sat under clumps of it, shading myself from the sun. Looked up from under it and watched how beautifully Milkweed could frame clouds and skies. Sometimes looking like one of Jack's magical beanstalks... ready and waiting for you to climb up to some fairy tale land. Watched in wonder at all manner of bugs and butterflies being so drawn to Milkweed's sticky sweetness. They risked getting stuck and captured by the plant, just so they could feast upon it. All this familiarity did not breed contempt. After a while, I actually felt myself falling for the stuff.
In the process, I learned that some of the most uncontrollable, coarse and contemptible weeds can also be as delicate and lovely as a carefully cultivated hothouse flower. When you come to appreciate something you once spurned, you're able to see it in many different dimensions. Your creative Muse reaches out to it lovingly and floats you away with it... taking you to places where you'll want to play with it, shape it, mold it, color it, paint it. Completely create in it. And, completely recreate it. That's what Milkweed taught me. That's how Nature can teach you. And I'm very grateful to them both for that lesson.
Copyright © 2006, 2010, 20013 Rose Rita Petersons - All Rights Reserved - Exclusive Creative Property of the Artist
This photo and all other content may not be downloaded, printed, copied, or forwarded by electronic media from this website or otherwise used without the express permission of the Artist.
Contact: [email protected]
Photo Location: Roeliff Jansen Park - Hillsdale, NY - http://www.roejanpark.org/
New York State Department of Parks, Recreation and Historic Preservation - http://nysparks.com/
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