The sea has always spoken to both Arnie and me. Having grown up sailing, I can smell the salt in the air quite a distance from the coast. Images of spray flying off the curling crest of a wave, gulls and other shore birds, lighthouses, and the unusual appeal to me.
The Outer Banks of North Carolina, where we just finished up a workshop, was hit hard by Irene in September. Route 12, the only road that heads south out of Nags Head, was washed out in several places. The “new” New Inlet reappeared after many decades. Bulldozers were seen everywhere, cleaning up, shoring up the beach, reclaiming the road where the high winds had piled up sand.
Here, the deep tracks of a large ‘dozer caught my eye. I liked the patterns, and like many of us, admired all the work they had done to restore access to these barrier islands.
The banner at the top shows the aftermath of a nor’easter storm. The seas had calmed down a bit, but this wave came in with its elegant lines, and I could not resist capturing it.
One morning, we took our group to Bodie (pronounced body). We love how the light hits this lighthouse pre-dawn, and as you can see, it makes a great backdrop to a star-studded sky.
While there were a number of shooting stars, I didn’t catch any here. After all, we were concentrating more on our participants than clicking our own shutters at the optimum moment for some sky action.
For me, the subtlety of colors and patterns of wispy clouds (those darker areas in the sky) added to the drama of the early hour.
After the stars faded, the group split up for more photography. Arnie’s group headed over to the sound side, while some stayed with me, and we photographed the marshes.
The constantly-changing light is a photographer’s delight. It can also be a curse, when one is waiting for one effect, and something else presents itself.
A cloud comes over and refuses to budge. A truck drives in a parks in exactly the wrong spot for a compelling photograph.
Still, that “golden hour” is, indeed, magical. The grasses go golden. The silhouettes sing. The way it highlights the wind patterns on the water and those calm areas right by the grasses is amazing!
Sometimes— and one never knows when — an alien drops in, checking us out!
One cannot come to the Outer Banks and not visit the iconic Cape Hatteras Lighthouse. With some 248 iron steps, it is the height of a 12-story building and the tallest brick lighthouse in the country.
Often known as America’s Lighthouse, it is known for it’s spiral, “barber-shop pole” stripes and reddish base a portion of which is shown here.
It is always a challenge for Arnie and me to photograph something so iconic and rendered so often. We want to do something different each time, not settle for “just another pretty postcard.”
Sure, Great Aunt Minnie would love it (our alumni know all about Great Aunt Minnie), but we want more.
Yet, in photographing any iconic landmark or scene, we always like to keep an element that identifies it. In this case, none other than Cape Hatteras Lighthouse.
Over the years, Arnie and I have photographed in a number of fishing villages, from Newfoundland to Florida, from Menorca to Mykonos, from the west coast of North America to Australia. These villages belong to the working men and women of our various countries. There is nothing glamorous about them, but they each have their charm.
In one of our favorite fishing villages on the North Carolina coast, we always find plenty of photographic fodder to keep us busy. So do our students. Arnie and I enjoy pointing out this or that possibility to them.
It is a working village. No prettified buildings. No historic markers. Just the piers and slips with various-sized fishing boats tied up and the seines, floats, and other necessary items often piled on the pier next to the boats.
There are several work horse that have been around a long time. The texture and color of their hulls is wonderful for a photographer. Their pilot houses are usually slightly rusty. After all, they live in a harsh climate and are constantly battered by the Atlantic Ocean.
This visit, one of the boats was out of the harbor, but the other one was ready for us. Ahhh, so many images to make. What will it be this time?
In this image, I was struck by the simplicity of the lines and the way the light reflected off the plexiglass window.
So, the next time you go out photographing, make the scene yours. Make it different. Sure, take that safe one for Great Aunt Minnie, but don’t settle for it for yourself. Go beyond and push both your boundaries and your comfort level.
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