Newsletter #142, May, 2017

 

Newsletter  #142:  May, 2017

© Chris Harris. All rights reserved.

The Gift of Light

Hi everyone,

This is the 142st consecutive monthly photographic Newsletter; my TWELFTH YEAR without missing a single month! Enjoy!

May is the month when I teach my first workshop of the year. I find it an exciting time, for I can sense my mind thinking more deeply about the exciting and varied aspects of photography, and about sharing the subtle nuances of the craft I have learned to love.

I was looking over some of my images from last year’s workshop when I got to thinking about Light. Having received so many wonderful gifts of light over the years; here are a few to share with you.

Our goal at the Chris Harris Gallery is to share photographic adventures and inspire others in the creative process. Please share this Newsletter with friends. We appreciate your interest and continued support for my work.

 

Contents:

1. Morning mist at Tallheo: This is the #1 reason I enjoy the coast

2. Gifts of Light: The ultimate surprise

 

1.  Morning mist at Tallheo: This is the #1 reason I enjoy the coast

Our week-long photographic workshop at the Tallheo Cannery goes extremely fast. One has to consciously take advantage of every moment.

The first thing I do when I arrive at Tallheo is check the tide charts. High and low tides offer unique opportunities. The first thing I do every morning is look outside my window to see if there is a morning mist. It is a condition of Light I never want to miss.

There is something very special about a misty morning. There is a sense of mystery. As water droplets slowly evaporate, a new day miraculously unfolds.

Here are a few misty morning images I made last year. I remember clicking the shutter for each image with absolute clarity. I consider those moments, treasures.

Collapsed cannery building

 Staying in touch; retired pilings;

Solitary piling; still standing tall

 

 

2. Gifts of Light: The ultimate surprise

Early dawn and evening twilight are reminders to me that I am privileged to live in a wondrous world.

Journey toward a new day

Every window blind on the plane was closed except ours. Rita and I peered out trying to grasp the beauty of the moment.

Hay bales and long shadows

Deep within the Fraser River canyon, early morning light entered between two mountains, gifting each bale with a 10 metre shadow.

Shadow – Light

In the foothills of the Coast Mountains, on a moraine left by the Moonlight Glacier, an erratic absorbs the days last rays of light. This rock was our guide and our strength throughout our 4-days in this location.

Warm smoke-filtered light

A smoke from a Chilcotin forest fire warmed the first light that flowed over the hoodoos and silt cliffs high above the Chilcotin River at Farwell Canyon.

Ptarmigan Lake

While returning to camp after a spectacular day of hiking, I lingered behind my group of friends and was rewarded with an extraordinarily beautiful sunset.

Grassland awakening

I had slept in a bivy bag overnight beneath this tree, waking up to early dawn light flooding the grassland valley below.

Sunset at Moonlight Lake

I thought this dramatic sunset spelled good weather for our following four days in the alpine, but in fact, the next night brought a ravaging storm that destroyed our tents and forced us to evacuate to lower elevations.

Evening offering

For three years while photographing for my book Spirit in the Grass, I hiked for miles through evening light awaiting the magic that I knew one day would come. Finally, one June evening in 2005, the dramatic shapes of rolling grasslands were revealed to me like never before. To this day, I continue to hike and seek this gift of light in the grasslands.

Rolling light

Smoke from a Yukon forest fire turned the setting sun into a red sphere. I waited for the precise moment it touched the earth and made this image. Then I watched it rolling down the mountainside!

Simple beauty

On a clear evening walk across a grassland landscape, I became aware that the setting sun would disappear beyond the horizon in the vicinity of a solitary tree. I spent the next hour positioning myself, and choosing the right lens before shooting several rolls of film. This image was a gift of light.

Celebrating the gift of light

One evening Rita and I were enjoying an evening walk through the Chilcotin Grasslands when I visualized this celebration. I stood back and when the gift of light was at its peak, I asked Rita to express how she felt. For me, this image symbolizes the title of the book; Spirit in the Grass.

Enjoy your creative journey. I’ll be back next month!