I’ve been taking photographs ever since my parents gave me a Kodak Instamatic 44 as a Christmas present in 1970. In all that time I’ve never considered myself more than a practiced amateur, staying clear of the technical nuances of the craft like film speeds, f-stops, and the like. This came mostly from not having equipment capable of such settings. Nonetheless, like Schroeder practicing his Beethoven sonatas on a piano with painted-on black keys, I persisted in the endeavor. I took encouragement from Ansel Adams’s 1978 book on Polaroid Land photography; even without a full palette or a complete set of brushes, pretty good art can still happen.

With this post, and future ones like it. I want to share some photos I’ve made over the years that came out even better than I expected. Some were the result of planned effort; some came as serendipity. But I’m proud of them, and want to show. The first examples are from recent attempts. As I dig into my (less-than-organized) archives, or as I create new gems, I’ll post them for view. I’ve never taken any formal courses in photography, but I’ve picked up a few pointers of my own in my times behind the lens. For example, I’ve learned the benefits of a good, tight shot that fills a frame. And please, for the love of everything, don’t ever ask me to take a group photo of people around a dinner table.

When possible, I include the date and type of camera used in the photo. Enjoy!

Emma

20 May 2016  •  iPhone 6s

Emma is our Belgian Malinois mix, about eight years old at the time of this picture. She loves stretching out on the cool concrete floor when the day is hot. She also sheds proficiently, as evidenced by the loose strands in the picture. Sweet dog. I’d love to say that I was going for a Richard Avedon-ish half-lit view here, but actually my greater influence in lighting technique comes from Edward Hopper paintings. Unlike the occasional human subjects in Mr. Hopper’s work, Emma does not appear at all creepy when she looks at you from the picture.

We said our final goodbyes to Emma on 6 June 2020. This is how I’ll always remember her.

Saguaro Blooms

20 May 2012  •  Canon PowerShot SD1300 IS

I love the Giant Saguaro cactus, so it’s fortunate that I live in the relatively small part of the world where they grow. For a short time in late spring (and lately, sometimes in about November), the ends of the saguaro spears and arms sprout waxy white flowers. Though I’ve photographed this sight many times, this particular shot is one of my favorites because it features a pollinator (bee) near the upper-left corner. I like bees.

Night Blooming Cereus

16 May 2017  •  iPhone 6s

I suppose I like photographing desert flora as something of an assertion that the desert is a living place, unlike the popular images spread by movies such as Lawrence of Arabia, which depicted a barren wasteland populated by now-dead actors. Plants also tend to be patient subjects for pictures, although this specimen by its nature offers a brief window for viewing its bloom. Several hours before this shot, the plant showed an unopened bud; by the following morning, it was in full wilt. Somehow I achieved a remarkable [he remarked] balance of light and shadow here. One could argue that I could crop a bit from the top to place the bloom more prominently, but if one does, one should do it nicely and not be a jerk about it.

Arivaca Lake

21 August 2017  •  iPhone 6s

I came to southern Arizona from northeast Oklahoma over 40 years ago. If asked, I tell people that while I don’t miss the Sooner State’s high double-digit humidity and the attendant mosquitos, I do miss the sight of fireflies and regular access to lakes. ‘Tis said (largely by people inclined to use the word “’tis”) that Oklahoma has more man-made lakes than any other state, a reaction to the droughts of the Dust Bowl days. But Arizona has its open waters as well, enough to maintain healthy sales of recreational boats, even if they travel more miles on driveways and highways than on actual water. Arivaca Lake is located a few miles north of the international border, near the Buenos Aires National Wildlife Refuge. The area is actually classified as marshland. I took this shot from the end of a rickety pier; just how rickety is evidenced by the ripples in the foreground. What inspired me to this particular picture was the strong color arrangement, in various blues and greens, with puffs of white. Not until much later did I notice the soft-focus mirror effect from top to bottom. Such a bonus. I was unable to stay in the area after dark, so I don’t know what kind of firefly light show I might have seen.

Bicyclist With Lady Friend on Skateboard

14 November 2017  •  iPhone 6s

I took this photo while catching my breath during a bike ride on the Rillito River Park path. Once I saw this couple rounding a bend, I had less than ten seconds to pull out my phone and capture the shot. The composition, lighting, color, and even the puffy clouds at the top were total chance. I did not get the opportunity to talk to the subjects, but I shall assume that the lady holding the tether does not disapprove, judging by the gesture from her other hand. For those viewing this shot who are unfamiliar with the desert Southwest, the territory between the railing and the buildings is indeed the Rillito River. (And sí, Spanish speakers, the river’s name is an example of bilingual redundancy, one of many this arid land has to offer.)

One Dewy Morning

16 February 2018  •  Nikon Coolpix L840

This is my Thumb Cactus (Mammillaria matudae), a birthday gift from my friend Katherine. In its five year residence it has grown from a single spear to a cluster (of siblings? babies? appendages?). One morning following a winter rain, I headed out in search of a good opportunity to try the macro setting on my camera. I did not have to go far. Here are two photos from that shoot: an aerial view of the beauty, and another that’s not so much in-your-face as it is piercing-your-cornea. Once you get past the pink (does this qualify as “shocking”?), you see the subtle variations of green that are shot through by angular lines and refracting drops, a blending of color combined with contrasting of shapes. Can you tell from the description that I’ve never taken an art appreciation class? Of course you can.

Thanks Vermilion

17 March 2018 • Nikon Coolpix L840

[As much as I would love to claim the splendidly terrible pun of the title as my own, I give proper credit to the marketers of the long-gone Ford Maverick, for which this phrase was an actual color option, along with Hulla Blue, Original Cinnamon, Anti-Establish Mint, and (my fave) Freudian Gilt. Sure, it was a transparent attempt by Big Auto to appeal to already-waning counterculture tastes, but I applaud the effort.] 

The wary avian pictured above is a Vermilion Flycatcher (Pyrocephalus obscurus mexicanus). I spotted him one sunny Saturday morning at Brandi Fenton Park, near the Rillito River Park (see above). This was another lucky shot, as the closest I could get to my subject was about ten meters. A good zoom lens and surprisingly steady hand yielded this gem, pleasantly centered (no cropping, I swear), and with the color splash overcoming a slightly busy background. The light-colored branch behind the neck is not ideal, but hey–that’s serendipity for you.