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Wednesday Oceana County

Cool Sunrise

I made a picture I felt good about earlier today of a small sapling rising out of ice-coated snow. But this winter night's view of the Michigan Power Cogeneration plant on Sixth Street in Ludington finds me backing my car up to take a better look. Yes, this scene definitely stands out as my 365 picture of the day. F4.0 at 1.6, ISO 100, 12-24 mm lens at 24 mm

Curtains of Light

The first day of shooting for the 365 Project and I finally feel like I have a purpose with my shooting. With my anxiety of not knowing what our next project would be lifted, the world is instantly clearer to me and I see photos everywhere I look. I am off to photograph the Badger in a snowstorm. F8.0 at 1/20, ISO 100, 18-50 mm lens at 18 mm

My wife Betsy has eyes that look like sunflowers. I have always wanted to photograph one of them with my macro lens. This 365 Project has allowed me the artistic freedom and motivation that I haven't felt since I got my first digital SLR back in January of 2004. I feel like I am getting closer to where I want to be as an artist. F4.8 at 1/20, ISO 800, 105 mm lens at 105 mm

Winter arrived in Ludington today while we were gone. This is my view of the Lake Michigan shoreline at Stearns Park upon my return. After donning a lot of foul weather gear, I venture into the blizzard-like conditions to make this shot. This weather is beyond exhilarating.

365 Week 05

Grand Island Ice Caves

Barn Between Traverse City and Sleeping Bear

Eben Magic

The sand hitting my face feels like shards of glass as I make my way to the water's edge at Stearns Park to photograph the Ludington North Breakwater Light. The winds over Lake Michigan at times exceed 60 miles per hour. Magic light, white clouds and dark blue sky behind are my backdrop. Now I just need a huge wave. Bingo! F5.6 at 1/1250, ISO 100, 300 mm lens at 300 mm

First thing this morning I am back to catch the early morning light hitting hay bales in Lavern Sobieralski's field at the corner of Victory Drive and Conrad Road. Just as I had pre-visualized, the hay bales stand out in the morning light along with Roger and Marcia Hansen's barns at the adjacent Cherry Hill Farm. F22.0 at 1/25, ISO 100, 80-200 mm lens at 105 mm

I have always admired the bravery of the commercial fishermen who venture onto Lake Michigan year around whenever possible. While making this shot of the Indian-owned and operated fishing tug Eagle, I wonder about the rugged vessel's life history; oh, if she could talk! F4.0 at 1/250, ISO 100, 12-24 mm lens at 14 mm

After having the flu for several days, photographing this beautiful horse was definitely a bright spot in my day. I worked hard at making the horse comfortable with me so I could pose him just the way I needed for my photograph. The key to this composition is how the red sumac behind the horse looks like a musical score and his ears and head relate to the background.

The day was November 10, 1975. It was—and still is—the roughest I have seen Lake Michigan. I was amazed by the 20- to 30-foot waves slamming into the Ludington lighthouse. The roiling sea engulfed the breakwater. Hurricane-force winds made it nearly impossible to stand up. I braced myself against a tree and held the camera as still as I could. Sand blasted me and my Nikon camera. Of course, I could not know that within a few hours, the Great Lakes freighter Edmund Fitzgerald would succumb on Lake Superior to what meteorologists would later describe as the “Perfect Great Lakes Storm.” What I did know without a doubt was this was the fiercest storm to hit the Ludington area shoreline since the Armistice Day Storm of 1940. I knew this storm was more than a match for even the mighty self-righting 44-foot Coast Guard motor lifeboat at Coast Guard Station Ludington. Thank God my shipmates there didn’t have to try to go out that day. The barometer dropped to the second-lowest level ever recorded in Ludington. Even the waves inside the Ludington pierheads appeared mountainous. The breakwater leading to the lighthouse was not even visible because the waves rolling over it were so large and storm surge so great. The waves were so big inside the harbor it was impossible to discern where the submerged breakwater was. This was a day for the history books. It was not the only big story I covered that day as a reporter and photographer for the Ludington Daily News. I had been sent earlier that day to a farm an hour away near Chase, Michigan, where a group of farmers herded their dairy cattle into a massive pit excavated in the middle of a farm field. The farmers surrounded the pit and shot and killed dozens of the cattle to draw national attention to the fact that their cattle and some farm family members were being poisoned by PBB that had been accidentally mixed into cattle feed they had purchased. The slaughter was a gruesome undertaking, carried out in pouring rain. I drove soaking wet back to Ludington. Upon reaching downtown Ludington, just before turning off Ludington Avenue onto Rath Avenue, where the newspaper was located, I could see the mountainous waves on Lake Michigan a half mile west of my location. I didn’t make the turn. Instead I drove straight to the west end of Ludington Avenue, jumped out of my Ford Bronco and began photographing the greatest Great Lakes storm I had ever witnessed. After a half-hour or so, I was too numb to shoot anymore. Incredibly, when I crawled back in my vehicle, I realized the hurricane force wind had blown all my wet clothing dry. I headed straight to the Daily News because I couldn’t wait to develop the 400 ASA Kodak Tri-X black and white film containing my storm shots. I was not anxious to see the cow-killing shots. Give me a great storm to photograph any day!

This is the second day I have been home sick on the couch with bronchitis and I am getting restless. A few moments ago I snuck outside with my camera and photographed the morning light hitting the frost on the hood of my red truck. Shhhh, don't tell Betsy! F9.0 at 1/200, ISO 100, 18-50 mm lens at 18 mm

I have always admired the bravery of the commercial fishermen who venture onto Lake Michigan year around whenever possible. While making this shot of the Indian-owned and operated fishing tug Eagle, I wonder about the rugged vessel's life history; oh, if she could talk! F4.0 at 1/250, ISO 100, 12-24 mm lens at 14 mm

Orvis the dog watched intently as professional fishing guide Chris “Uber” Raines defied the wintery weather to fly fish for steelhead on a flies-only stretch of the Pere Marquette River near Baldwin. The stretch of the National Wild and Scenic River known as the Claybanks looked like a winter wonderland as the biggest, stickiest snowflakes I had ever seen clung to everything in sight. “There is something almost magical about standing in the river as the water sweeps past you and the snow is coming down; it’s mesmerizing,” Raines said. This was a perfect day for die-hard fishermen, Labrador Retrievers and photographers. It didn’t start out that way. January 17, 2012, started out with pouring rain. Brad and I had committed to a yearlong book project, photographing Michigan all day each Tuesday of the year. This was the third Tuesday, so we had to find a way to make good images despite the ugly weather. We say, “bad is good” in outdoor photography, meaning that often the best images are made in the worst weather. I spotted and photographed misty-looking Emerson Lake near Walhalla with a giant weeping willow in the foreground making the scene appear more mystic. Ten more miles down the road Brad spotted a scene sure to brighten the gloomiest shooting day—bright red winter berries amidst cattails. The rain and mist softened the swampy background and made the winter berries rocket out of the scene far more than they would on a sunny day. Even with two good images in the bank, it looked like a very challenging day to make strong book images that would wow people. But onward we went; we were not about to give up. Michigan would surely find a way to deliver on her worst day. By mid-morning we had worked our way to the Pere Marquette Lodge Orvis fishing shop south of Baldwin, hoping to learn where we could photograph some trout fishermen. While owner Frank was obliging us by arranging for us to rendezvous with one of his guides who’d be doing some off-duty fishing, we noticed the rain was turning to snow. A half-hour later, when we started hiking a wooded trail to the river at Claybanks, the world had been transformed into a fairyland. Chris was hoping the fishing would be good. Brad and I knew at that point we were going to catch some magical photographic moments. We each did. This image wound up being my favorite shot of the entire year-long book project, during which I tripped the shutter more than 20,000 times. I sure was glad we overcame our gloomy attitudes at the start of that rainy morning and kept on keeping on. “Don’t be a quitter,” is a lesson my dad insistently taught me, and I’m glad the lesson stuck.

I have been trying every which way to make a portrait of this beautiful horse utilizing some nearby sumac as the backdrop. I concentrate on seeing the relationship between the horse and the sumac while also trying to capture a moment when the horse looks best. My telephoto zoom lens helps me simplify and fine-tune the composition.