Summary

A photographer recounts the journey of revisiting Yosemite to capture a unique image inspired by a chance encounter with another photographer, emphasizing the value of human connections and the pursuit of originality in art.

Abstract

The narrative revolves around the photographer's quest to create a distinctive piece of art, influenced by a conversation with a fellow photographer, Bradley, on Second Beach. Despite the initial disappointment of missing a perfect sunset due to overcast skies, the photographer is motivated by Bradley's subsequent work to return to Yosemite and seek out a personal interpretation of Lower Yosemite Falls. Over three days, the photographer captures the desired image, reflecting on the importance of time and the impact of serendipitous meetings. The experience reinforces the idea that originality in art is challenging but can be achieved by adding a personal touch to existing subjects, and it underscores the enriching nature of engaging with strangers.

Opinions

The author values the enrichment of experiences through extended time allocation, yet recognizes the paradox of larger goals consuming this additional time.
There is a belief that meaningful interactions with strangers can lead to unexpected inspiration and personal growth.
The photographer expresses a sense of camaraderie and healthy competition within the photography community, as evidenced by the admiration for Bradley's work.
The narrative suggests that while completely original art is difficult to create, personal interpretation can breathe new life into familiar subjects.
The author promotes the idea of embracing serendipity as a guiding force in both personal and artistic endeavors.
The photographer's approach to art is characterized by persistence, as seen in the effort to revisit and capture the perfect shot of Lower Yosemite Falls.

FULL FRAME

Simply A Falling Of Water — Yosemite

Why You Should Talk To Strangers

I am 100% certain that I am not alone when I make the following statement. In fact, I am so certain of its validity that I would bet real money on it. But I have little money and am not a betting man so the point is moot.

Yet I stand before you today to say,

“I wish I had more time.”

When presented with a full season, no schedule, unlimited time even, there is still not enough of it. My travel partner and I found this out as we embarked from Vancouver, Canada with one single goal in mind.

Ride these bikes to Tijuana.

To abbreviate two months of travel, our terminal end became San Francisco. Our most spoken observations to one another were, “I wish we could spend more time here,” or “We have a lot of miles left to go.” In addition to the other cult classic, “I thought the West Coast was in a drought…how come it rains every day?”

One tool I have utilized to mitigate this scarcity of time is to revisit some of these places at later dates. By car. With what should have been more time.

Yet paradoxically the more time I give myself, the bigger the goals that must be reached, and intrinsically less time available. This is the situation I found myself in, in 2022. Driving back up the coast of Oregon and Washington, I nostalgically pointed out to myself, “Oh, we slept there,” and “I’m pretty sure that’s where we got those buttermilk donuts. It was, right?”

What we hadn’t done on that trip, was much in the way of photography. Making images of places requires things we lack substantial amounts of. Tripods, preplanning, sunsets, clear skies and such. I vowed to return one day, and here I was seven years later, making good on the promise.

So on Second Beach near La Push, when I met Bradley, I was in a bit of a hurry. The rocks were nice, the beach was grand, but the sky looked terrible. I wanted one, just one, sunset on a beach. My weather app suggested clearer skies to the north, at Cape Flattery. The northwestern-most point in the Continental US. I might be able to make it if I ran, so I ran.

As the story goes, Bradley dug his heels in and was rewarded with some nice sunshine at the last minute. I on the other hand got close but failed.

I opted to follow Bradley’s work on Instagram. This spring he posted work on a route similar to my upcoming travels.

His portfolio became my inspiration for my second visit to Yosemite. One image in particular struck me, a shot of Lower Yosemite Falls. I did not want to copy it but I wanted to chase it, to find it, and make it my own.

Three days it took me to find it, photograph it, then photograph it again with better conditions.

Pano stitch from 11 images on a 100–400mm lens. Nikon Z9

In the end, had I not met this stranger on a beach, thousands of miles from home, I would have never taken this photo. Therein lies the reality. To this day I have yet to see his composition elsewhere, though I find it hard to believe there is much for sui generis imagery left in the valley.

Completely new and original art is hard if not impossible to create. Yet we can find those who move and motivate us to add our own spin to the work they have forged before us.

I say, from time to time at least, let serendipity step in be guided by her wisdom.

This story is part of an ongoing series, “Why You Should Talk To Strangers”. Humanity fears what it does not know. We don’t know a lot. Strangers are scary, everywhere is dangerous, let’s stay home and stream. I hope to challenge that with my own experiences. The idea will spread if even one person is inspired, and that is a success. It’s my own little Positivity Ponzi Scheme.

Why You Should Talk To Strangers

This story is part of an ongoing series, “Why You Should Talk To Strangers”. Humanity fears what it does not know. We…

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