Wizard Island in Winter, Oregon
My hope for the next few months (when I’ve finished finals this week) is to select images from my copious vault of slides (yes, kids, once we used E-6, and we liked it), and have them remastered to digital files. It’s expensive, so I’m only having my favorites done, but this is one–from a long time ago. It’s framed and on a wall in my house, a reminder of the days where my wife and I lived in the state which was the target of one of the largest migrations in human history: Oregon. This spot, Crater Lake, is spectacular any time of year, but especially so in winter.
Keep in mind, this is just a macro shot of the un-retouched slide, so the corners are blurry, there is lint, there are scratches, and there is dust. But the image remains.
Kentucky Falls, Oregon
April, 1998 (I think)
Years ago, as I worked to define my voice as a photographer as being beyond that of a simple landscape, this image helped me to begin the journey. Is it my best? No. In fact, years later, I would say it has no life. But it began mine, as it is now defined in photographic terms; I began seeing anew that day.
Because occasionally, we find a moment that helps us learn to think in different ways, to see in different tones. This image was the start of that exodus for me.
Heceta Head Lighthouse, Yachats
I used to live on the Oregon coast, and amid the cacophony of photographic opportunities, I was often drawn to the lighthouses and their inherent visual romanticism. The Heceta Head lighthouse, with its precarious position reaching into the Pacific, was about 40 minutes north of my home, and I visited often, looking to express the essence of the place. One evening, as a westerly storm drew nearer on the horizon to the south, with its gale winds tearing at my tripod, I made this 30-second exposure of the lighthouse, the Pacific ocean smoothed into giant, glass-covered swells.