Rudy Lopez Photography » Philosophy

Getting away. Hwy 20 From Seattle to Spokane.

Rudy Lopez — Sat, 03 Sep 2011 02:07:27 +0000

The odometer ticks up and my hands are tight on the wheel. NPR is filling my idle mind with the steady, patient cadence that only seems to appeal to people of a certain age and sensibility. There are three NPR stations available on the satellite radio, I switch from one to the other, until I find a story that I like. Short story after short story fills the time as the geography slowly changes from the dense, tangled forest of western Washington to the dusty sagebrush of the eastern part of the state. Huge mountains with jagged peaks loom over my little blue Jetta as I snake my way further along the dark gray roads, the bright yellow line separating the direction of traffic. With my mind pleasantly pliable from the pot, thoughts of varying weight appear and recede through my consciousness. I’m concentrating on the road, my eyes scanning the margins for abandoned buildings, a favorite subject for my photography. Being on the road has always had the effect of defragmenting my mental hard drive, untying knots of confusion and frustration. This is how I get away.

Leaving the city is the least calming part of any road trip, but it’s not unpleasant. Fighting the traffic, stopping at the red lights, dealing with the multitude of people. While annoying, it’s actually the counterpoint to the time, just a few hours later, when there is nothing but the sound of nature. Nothing but the wind, the river, the birds. So I embrace the traffic, the stoplights, the pace. It is the other side of the coin. I make my way out of town like an Apollo capsule exiting the atmosphere, shedding layers of friction and heat until the only thing left is peace and quiet.

I am a city person. I feel comfortable in and around large urban areas. I thrive on the sounds, smells, tastes, and aggravations of city life. If I have anything to say about it, my family will keep moving to larger and larger cities until, I suppose, we end up in some monstrous tower in the middle of Kuala Lampur or something. That being said, I feel a deep connection to small towns and rural areas. There is something about the actual, physical dynamic of the small town that I find endlessly fascinating. They are all pretty much laid out the same way, with a main road, usually a state highway or other regional artery, flanked by a clean, efficient grid system. Commercial zoning along the main drag, homes ordered neatly on the outside of the grid. These small towns almost all have a large store, a large school, and several small businesses, as well as municipal buildings and things like that. It’s the random combinations of these elements that gives each small town its unique personality. The pace of a small town is slow compared to city life, but very fast compared the slow, measured speed of farming, the most common industry. So regardless of how small, each town has its own sort of metropolitan vibe. It is the center of the local culture, however it is defined. Many towns have a Wal Mart, or a McDonalds or other national stores. From my experience, these places do not detract from the soul of a small town, the opposite seems to be true as the McDonalds and the Wal Mart have evolved their own country feel. Ironically, as much as I love small towns, I don’t feel like I belong in them. I am distinctly uncomfortable in these places. I am perfectly aware that this problem is entirely in my head, I have only ever met really nice people in small towns. But the fact is that I am different from at least 99% of the locals, and I can’t help but feel completely exposed and conspicuous. I know how aware I am when I run into someone from the country in downtown Seattle, so I am sure I am being noticed in a place like tiny Twisp, Washington. With my German car, big glasses, and vague-yet-clear ethnic brownness, I notice people looking at me. A smile and a friendly nod is what offer, and it is always returned. When I tell folks that I drive around country roads taking pictures of the beauty, they all are surprised that I see the same beauty they do. They assume city people thinks it’s boring, and they are right. Most people don’t see the beauty of rural areas until someone like me posts 3000 shots of it on 500px.com. People are content and drive by the corn or wheat, unaware.

Back to highway 20. Between the small mountain towns you can catch glimpses of the silvery blue streams between the dense trees. Free stone streams run down the mountains from glaciers high above. These streams are teeming with fish, but dealing with the treacherous rocks and steep grade makes them less than ideal for fishing. Speeds are generally lower on the mountain roads, but more dangerous. Impatient people dart in an out of traffic, determined to see as little of the beautiful landscape as possible, putting everyone else at risk in the process. I do not speed and I do not cross the yellow line, not even to pass. I am what the speeders hate. Occasionally the winding, curvy mountain roads open up to a wide valley or basin. Picturesque farms and orchards dot the landscape. At the right time of the day, these scenes are as marvelous as any postcard. In these open areas small, rushing mountain streams change to calmer meadow streams. Perfect for fishing. It has been said that fly fishing is a great way to scrub your brain. I agree 100%. Concentrating on good casting, making a perfect drift, choosing the the correct fly and landing the fish, plus the sound of the river is a very effective way to balance yourself. There is peace in fly fishing. These basins and valleys are my favorite part of mountain geography.

Heading east out along highway 20 you begin to leave the mountains behind. The grasses and pine trees give way to scrub brush and sandy soil, the air is much dryer. It is the first place along the highway where the horizon isn’t as close as the next mountain pass. The vistas are spectacular, with enormous lakes and vast rangeland. During the week you can drive for 30 minutes without seeing another soul, passing through sleepy towns like a breeze. From the main road you can zig zag through the adjacent country roads. I find these side roads to be rich with photographic opportunities. In my days I have traveled literally thousands of miles along the dusty country roads of Colorado and Washington, capturing the scenes of depressing decay and inspiring beauty (sometimes in the same photo). Sometimes I will turn off the car and just listen to the sound of the wind in the grass and the birds over head and I think about the noise of the city.

And so the highway continues east, mile after mile of farmland. Small town after small town, each mile further opening my mind and recharging my senses. I generally spend 12 hours driving, finally finding a place to stay at the last minute. From Seattle and following highway 20, a 12 hour drive will put you in Spokane. Getting a cheap motel room, a few 16 oz PBR’s and a hamburger from Zip’s and a little local TV puts the lid on the day. I get up in the morning and head west towards home, listening to NPR and taking photos, getting my mind ready to re-enter the atmosphere.

That specific kind of blue

Rudy Lopez — Wed, 30 Jun 2010 05:21:12 +0000

This is my favorite piece of art, The Blue Room by Picasso.

For me, it captures that wonderful point in time each evening where the remains of the day are barely clinging to the the textures and shapes of our surroundings. This is the moment in time that seems the most filled with the depth and emotion. The light is simultaneously intense and subtle, poignant yet elusive, shadows have weight and highlights are just brighter versions of the shadows. Ordinary objects reveal their deep, soulful existence ordinarily obscured by the starkness of daylight or the emptiness of the dark. It is my perfect time of day.

The nice thing about that special blue time, is that it happens every day regardless of time of year or weather. You just have to notice it. This was my blue time tonight, the last of the light falling into the garage.

I am obviously no Picasso. The point isn’t necessarily the subject matter, but the richness of the moment. I’m going to use this image as my raw shot of the day, a photo challenge issued by TheChrista.

On accepting a challenge and opening doors.

Rudy Lopez — Mon, 28 Jun 2010 03:24:38 +0000

I admire the Florida-based photographer called Christa Watson, she has a fantastic eye and her people pictures express a certain truth that has always seemed to elude me. Her recent blog post encourages photographers to kick out the crutch of editing by trying to capture a great scene with only the camera. It seemed right up my alley considering I have been caught in this sort of over edited haze, and I am anxious to shake it. This challenge seems like the perfect opportunity to address the problem.

I approached the challenge pragmatically, the scene I had in my head was a simple shot from my garage. North light pours in over stone steps, across a weathered green door, onto an old ladder. The scene is only 10 feet from my desk so it met the convenience/laziness requirements as well as the interesting lighting requirement. I wanted no editing whatsoever. I set the ISO to 400 to reduce the noise while still being able to shoot handheld. I opened the aperture of the 12mm Sigma to 7.1, enough to accomplish a deep DOF without reducing the shutter speed (1/40th) to a point where I couldn’t control it.

Here is the shot:

Now, it’s not bad. Jen likes it. I wanted to capture the softness of the light with the texture of the wall, enhanced by the subtle green door. After looking at the shot for several minutes, I came to the realization that while it has a certain tone, it needs more attention. The cement wall texture was not clear enough, the details in the dark parts of the ladder were lost in the shadows, and the colors were flat. The more I tried not to think about it, the more the thought that the shot needed editing kept creeping into my mind. While grilling tonights chicken I kept thinking how a nice 4×5 crop and a little added contrast would go a long way to capturing the tone of the image, and a targeted increase in the saturation/white balance adjustment in the door would make things pop a bit more.

The fact of the matter is, for me at least, is that the editing is at least as important as the capture when it comes to expressing the feeling behind a photo.

Here is the edited version:

I like it better. But I think that it’s entirely in my head. For years I have loved photos that people have been indifferent to, and I have been embarrassed by shots that people ended up loving. I still have no idea how to purposely target an emotional response from someone, I generally let my heart do the work and people seem to respond.

I loved this challenge because it reminded me that creating a photo is sometimes more than having tech skills and being at the right place at the right time. For me, editing is part of the meditation of photography, a chance to get personal with the pixels.

Road Trip – Dec 20 shortest day of the year.

Rudy Lopez — Wed, 23 Dec 2009 18:09:59 +0000

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Sunday was a fantastic day for shooting. The weather was beautiful and I was anxious to get some good shots. I went shooting Friday, but it was one of those days where absolutely nothing was in sync. No new locations, boring sky, and very little motivation meant a long day of driving and nothing to show for it.

On Sunday, I stumbled across two places that I had visited early in the spring but had not been back to. The light was great and there was plenty of color, shadows, reflected light, and contrast to make things really interesting. It was one of the rare times where everything clicks and the time flies by. After an hour at the first location, I made my way north past Siebert, Colorado to the second location. This property is one of the most interesting , it is very close to the end of its existence as a standing structure. This house was once occupied, then it languished for years, and by this time next year, or maybe two, it will be gone. Rubble behind a stand of trees.

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Two things strike me when I am at a location like this. The lack of permanence of things, or more precisely, the illusion of permanence we assign to things. It only takes forgetting about something to destroy it. The other thing that strikes me is the power of nature. Throughout this spring and summer, I witnessed the power of nature in it’s most impressive form, scary ass storms. But the more subtle power, the more powerful power , if you will allow it, is the capacity the earth has to refresh itself. In 100 years, only people that know what they are looking for will know that this place existed. Very few things we build will be able to survive this ultimate fate.

The final location of the day was a fantastic abandoned farm on the outskirts of the little town of Arriba, Colorado. This tricky location is easily reached if you get off the highway at Arriba, but if you miss that exit, it is a round trip of 30 miles to return. I have missed it more times than I can count, and I rarely double back to a location. Must. Move. Forward. I was determined on this day to capture this farm at sunset, so I drove along the country roads until the time was right, listening to music, pondering things that need pondering. Mental maintenance, I guess. I arrived at the farm with about 15 minutes of sunlight remaining. The low sun poked through the pane-less windows, bathing the inside of the colorfully painted rooms with a very special kind of natural light. I spent the rest of the daylight in that zone where the camera is just an extension of the brain.

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The final 15 minutes of the shortest day of this year at a place like this. A fitting end to my time in Colorado. More daylight the next day, and a new season of adventure in a new place. I am very excited about the future and a brand new path. For me, this is what life is all about.

Here are the shots from this day:

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Weekend Wedding

Rudy Lopez — Sun, 28 Dec 2008 17:59:55 +0000

This weekend I shot a beautiful wedding in the Colorado foothills. I’ve always enjoyed photographing weddings because happy people make for better photos.

Gear

Nikon D300 and Nikon D200. Sigma 12-24mm, and Nikkor 18-70mm. Twin Speedlight SB-800 flash units. 32″ Gold reflector. Edited in Aperture 2 with Tiffen Filtering.

Contact me if you need a photographer for weddings, parties or any kind of event.

An examination of existence, from Roxborough State Park

Rudy Lopez — Sat, 02 Aug 2008 04:30:18 +0000

There are some things that seem to bring a person closer to their essential being, closer to whatever it is that defines ‘you’. There are things that we experience that are so personal that there is simply no one on earth that could understand but you.

Now that I look at it, that statement sounds a little more grandiose that I intended. I mean to say that there is something in each of us that connects to our souls in a way that cannot be described. It doesn’t matter whether it’s watching your favorite NASCAR driver succeed (whatever it is that is considered success), or being able to lay down a nasty blues riff, it is that connection is what makes a person an ‘individual’.

Now, there have been billions of people that have existed since the beginning of time for whom self awareness and gaining perspective were not priorities. They were born, struggled, worked, then died. After all, if you have a farm, the plague, etc., the last thing you are thinking about is whether or not the human capacity to help to is weaker than the capacity to hurt. (It is). These people, while probably very nice, never explored their basic human-ness. It has been my experience that most people are clueless, and perfectly happy not exploring. That’s fine for them, whatever.

But there are people that have a more existential view towards life. I mean existential as it was originally defined, as an examination of our sentience. Our awareness of ‘other’, if you will.

For me, I am closest to ‘other’ when I am far from civilization, checking the tall grass for snakes as I approach an abandoned homestead, the old walls leaning, hoping to find an image that will convey the enormous sense of isolation that consumes the scene. The only sounds are my breathing and the wind as it pushes itself through the trees. This is the essence of exploring, all five senses acute, the ‘fight or flight’ reflex only a heartbeat away. It is at this moment, when I pause at the apogee of my exhale, before the next inhale, when time is still, the instant before my brain tells my finger to engage the shutter, when I am myself.

That is who I am.

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