Starting April 1st, 2016, Datura Photography is celebrating the Centennial America’s National Parks with a photo a day for 100 days. Follow along on instagram or at the Datura Photography Blog.
Additionally 10% of all profits from this year’s sales will go to the preservation of our national parks through a donation to the National Parks Foundation.
Starting April 1st, 2016, Datura Photography is celebrating the Centennial America’s National Parks with a photo a day for 100 days. Follow along on instagram or at the Datura Photography Blog.
Additionally 10% of all profits from this year’s sales will go to the preservation of our national parks through a donation to the National Parks Foundation.
Sunrises over Crater Lake are always dramatic, but when the smoke from nearby wildfires obscured the sun during my visit there in September of 2015, I was treated to this remarkable scene across the lake. As damaging and dangerous as wildfires can be, I love the way they impact the light of the rising and setting sun.
Sunrises over Crater Lake are always dramatic, but when the smoke from nearby wildfires obscured the sun during my visit there in September of 2015, I was treated to this remarkable scene across the lake. As damaging and dangerous as wildfires can be, I love the way they impact the light of the rising and setting sun.
Sometimes the best shots come at the most unexpected times. I was on my way out of Sequoia National Park on my last day there in 2012, having packed up my camp at the Potishwa Campground near the Foothills Visitor Center when I saw a flash to my left and looked out my window to see this lovely acorn woodpecker land on a nearby oak tree. I stopped the car and threw on a long lens, and managed to snap this shot in the few seconds before he took off for another oak further in the campground.
Sometimes the best shots come at the most unexpected times. I was on my way out of Sequoia National Park on my last day there in 2012, having packed up my camp at the Potishwa Campground near the Foothills Visitor Center when I saw a flash to my left and looked out my window to see this lovely acorn woodpecker land on a nearby oak tree. I stopped the car and threw on a long lens, and managed to snap this shot in the few seconds before he took off for another oak further in the campground.
I’ve mentioned it before, but I love the perspective a macro lens gives you on the world, particularly when I walk by a flowering bush surrounded by buzzing bees. Normally, I avoid sticking my nose into the business of these industrious little pollinators, especially in the deserts of the southwest where they might be a little more aggressive than other bees. With a macro lens on my camera though, my usual hesitation towards getting close to these guys is pretty much wiped away, and I find myself sitting next to them, letting them crawl on my arms, lulled into a sense of calm by the steady hum of their buzzing, and the focus I find trying to frame up the perfect shot.
I’ve mentioned it before, but I love the perspective a macro lens gives you on the world, particularly when I walk by a flowering bush surrounded by buzzing bees. Normally, I avoid sticking my nose into the business of these industrious little pollinators, especially in the deserts of the southwest where they might be a little more aggressive than other bees. With a macro lens on my camera though, my usual hesitation towards getting close to these guys is pretty much wiped away, and I find myself sitting next to them, letting them crawl on my arms, lulled into a sense of calm by the steady hum of their buzzing, and the focus I find trying to frame up the perfect shot.
There’s something about the granite walls of the Yosemite Valley that make it ideally suited to black and white photography. Perhaps its the association with the works of Ansel Adams, my first introduction to the park, or the way the cracks and crevices in the rough-hewn rock accentuate even the smallest shadow. Whatever it is, I find myself fighting the urge to shoot everything in black and white when I’m in Yosemite, and it’s a matter of willpower to find elements of color in many cases to force myself to highlight them.
There’s something about the granite walls of the Yosemite Valley that make it ideally suited to black and white photography. Perhaps its the association with the works of Ansel Adams, my first introduction to the park, or the way the cracks and crevices in the rough-hewn rock accentuate even the smallest shadow. Whatever it is, I find myself fighting the urge to shoot everything in black and white when I’m in Yosemite, and it’s a matter of willpower to find elements of color in many cases to force myself to highlight them.
Photography by J.R. Robinson 