Yellow Pine

I’ve been trying to bring some discipline to how I organize my photographs. I’ve got about 12,000 slides and negatives (at least!) to manage and I use the Adobe Lightroom database to keep track of everything. I’m starting to own the fact that I’m a photo hoarder. Instead of keeping the best photographs of a subject, I just keep everything, which makes things harder to find and slows down the database.

I was cleaning up my Riding Mountain file and found this photograph that I call Yellow Pine. My finger hovered above the delete key for a second before I relented and clicked “Develop” to see if I could make Yellow Pine presentable, and, hopefully, more interesting that it was as an undeveloped raw image. What was supposed to be a 3-minute quick check turned into over an hour of exploring different looks for Yellow Pine. No regrets: getting lost in the process is exactly what hobbies are for and I’m on holidays.

To be honest, I’m still not sure if Yellow Pine is “there”, even with the multiple incarnations that I’ve presented in the video. Good photo editing requires one to be ruthless in asking tough questions about the technical and aesthetic quality of each photograph. I’ve learned, though, that I can be too critical of my own work and that others need to remind me not to nitpick. So, please remind me! Take a look at the video and tell me what you think - Which is your favourite version of Yellow Pine? Leave a comment on my Kerry Enns Photography Facebook page.

Kerry

C10 at Sunset

C10 at Sunset

Doing fall work was a good time on the farm. The pressure of harvest was over and the crop was “in the bin”. It was cooler outside, which took a bit of the edge off the day and made for better moods all around. There was also some satisfaction in working the harvested stubble to prepare for next spring’s planting. The satisfaction came slowly, though, and was often displaced by the monotony of working a huge field 30 feet at a time. Seeing the blue truck arrive was a good thing. It signalled that it was time for a meal break, or, in this case, that the day had been long enough and it was time to head for home.

This was a difficult picture to take for a number of reasons. At the time, I shot mainly Kodachrome 64 which is known for its tight grain pattern and vivid, deep colours. Kodachrome 64 is a slow film and often requires a slow shutter speed, making camera-shake a concern. The film also had a narrow exposure latitude which means that shadows tend to go to black very quickly and highlights wash-out. Exposure wise, I was bang-on with this one. There is still some shadow detail and the sky didn’t wash out. There isn’t too much evidence of camera shake, although if I’d shot with a tripod I know I could have improved this photo’s sharpness.

I love the colour in this photograph. The Kodachrome 64 was true to its reputation and delivered deep rich tones, particularly in the blue shadow areas of the truck. The blues strike an interesting contrast to the orange/white sunset and the tractor working the field in the distance.

Nikon FE2 w. Nikkor 35 f/2 on Kodachrome 64

Autumn Abstract

Ok, Autumn Abstract is something different. The art of the kind of photography that I do is in finding the beauty and design in the world around me. I try to move beyond purely representational photography (“cow”, “tree”, or “grass”) to find the visual story that is at work in a scene. Autumn Abstract is a picture of a cluster of birch trees, located in the Canadian Shield, displaying their glorious autumn colours. I asked myself, “Where is the beauty in this scene?” By moving the camera during the exposure I was able to create a completely abstract representation of the vivid autumn colours the Canadian Shield has to offer.

When viewing photography, we expect a representational approach that is similar to how we see the world around us. I’d like to invite you to step out of that way of seeing when you view Autumn Abstract. Enjoy the richness and subtle variations of the colour that the forest displays every autumn.

Nikon F-801 w. Nikon 70-210 f/4