Trembling aspen (Populus tremuloides) are often called poplar trees (which is a broader group — genus Populus). I have often called them poplar trees when talking with people (and in posts here), but I’ve decided that aspen is a much more attractive and accurate word.
This is a thick young stand of Trembling Aspen in northern Alberta.
I have vague memories of learning about forest cycles in grade school. They involved deciduous and coniferous trees, forest fires, and were probably grossly inaccurate. Is this little poplar sapling the beginning of change in this stand of black spruce? It seemed so full of life in a dark and dying forest.
Taken near Livingstone Falls in the Rocky Mountain Forest Reserve.
After reading a lot of fantasy novels as a kid, moss edged pools of water in dark forests will forever be magical places for me.
Often in landscapes I try to get all the details visible – lots of contrast, but with the blacks never going totally black and the whites never getting so bright they lose detail. Sometimes though, it pays to blow out the highlights. This is one of those things that’s irreversible in an image, and can look bad, so you have to be sure about it. But when it works it can add a mood to a photo that won’t be there otherwise. This is something I’ve seen done in lomo photography, wedding photography and some fashion photography for a long time, but I’ve never really tried it for landscapes. Curtis Round, another photographer who I’ve often had the pleasure of shooting with, has inspired me over the last few years. He often does this kind of thing in his wedding and engagement shoots, and it looks great.
Taken in Johnston Canyon, Banff.
There are photographs everywhere—online, in coffee shops, in museums, on billboards. That makes it easy to be aware of what photographers and artists are doing. Artists are often inspiration to each other, and I have definitely experienced this in my interactions with artists in all kinds of mediums. Sometimes the inspiration is conscious and sometimes subconscious, but it happens all the time. I want to acknowledge some of the photographers who have inspired me, and this could be a long list. So I’ll mention them as they come up. I already mentioned Darwin Wiggett a few days ago. This photo was inspired by Jonathan Martin-DeMoor, which I guess means we have a cycle of inspiration going. That is awesome, and often when you get new and interesting work happening—when two artists spur each other on.
Just so it’s clear, I’m not talking about copying. This also happens all the time, and I’m not a fan. This is one thing I was worried about going out to Abraham Lake after seeing photos of it. You actually have to work at avoiding taking the same picture as everyone else. Or maybe you have to take it to get past it, I’m not sure yet. But I am never happy to have the same composition I’ve seen before, even if the light or the weather is different. I’m a creative person, and I want to interact with the landscape myself, not just see it through someone else’s eyes.
Sometimes I want to go to the same places I’ve seen photographed when the area looks interesting, but I’m never interested in duplicating someone else’s work. That is how the landscape spoke to them, not me. I want my photography to share my personality.
Pine trees after a forest fire in the Kootenay Plains Ecological Reserve. I just love the lines of these hills partly hidden behind the trees. It’s not every day I get to use hatching in my nature photography.
For the next couple of days I’ll be finding some new photos in the mountains. I’m pretty excited – I got some new crampons with a MEC giftcard I got from Uncle Jack for Christmas, so I should be coming back with ice photos of one sort or another. I’ve never used crampons before, and I don’t have an ice axe, so don’t expect anything too extreme, but I’m slowly expanding the places I can get to and photograph.
I’ve scheduled this to post automatically for today, and another for tomorrow, so for those of you who look forward to your daily fix – never fear.
Frost on spruce branches by Cave and Basin in Banff.
Taken on the Hayburger trail in Elk Island National Park while standing in snow above my waist. It was powdery snow, but still – hard to move. Makes me wonder how the animals survive the winter. It must take an incredible amount of energy to move anywhere at all, and food looks like it would be pretty scarce.
Aparently, besides showing photos from my Banff trip, I’m a little focused on birds, thanks to my class. Here’s a Great Grey Owl I spent some time with a while ago. In the last photo, if you look closely at his bill, you can see he’s recently had a meal (if you’re squeamish don’t look too close). Right around his bill (especially on the first photo) you can see his “rictal bristles” which help him feel his food while he’s eating, a little like a cat’s whiskers.
If you’re wondering why I’m using all these terms, no, I’m not trying to seem smart. I’m trying to do whatever I can to remember it all, and blogging about it should help.
I took my first Wildlife Biodiversity and Ecology class last night and it was fascinating. It was a three hour class on Ornithology (birds) and it seemed way too short. It’s always awesome to see a whole new world open up before you, that you vaguely knew was there, but had no idea what it involved. I hope I have the time and motivation to follow up on this brief introduction (although I suspect I’m going to hope the same thing for every other class). John Acorn is a very interesting prof, and I’m really looking forward to the rest of this class.
I thought I’d post a bird photo in honor of the class, but ironically I wasn’t able to identify it. I obviously need more classes and/or experience. So I suspect this is some sort of warbler (maybe a Palm Warbler? edit – yup, it’s a Palm Warbler — Dendroica palmarum). I found it in a poplar forest in northern Saskatchewan.
