We went to the Sierra Nevada this past weekend, as we have in the past, to spend a few days amidst the color of autumn in the mountains, and among the aspens in particular.
As pure spectacle goes–what really attracts most people–it wasn’t its best. But any day in the mountains is a good day, and I begrudge nothing.
It’s impossible to avoid the photographers. Hundreds, possibly a thousand or more, in total, circulate through the standard routes on a weekend. Most everyone is taking the same picture.
It’s hard not to stop at some of the creek crossings below Lake Sabrina, or Surveyor’s Meadow below South Lake. It’s very beautiful.
But as a subject for a photograph, it’s treacherous, if only because–mainly because–ten thousand photographers have stood in the same spot, with roughly the same cameras, the same point of view, the same weather, the same tripods and filters and care and technical competency, and produced photos that mostly look the same.
I have no interest in that.
Somewhat as a test, or perhaps as training, aside from what I have been trying to do–aside from my efforts to look elsewhere entirely, to look harder, to go further, or go where no one with a camera really thinks to go–is also be in those same spots and see if I can see something in those same spots, or coax something out of the scene that isn’t so obvious.
Mostly, it’s a failure.
This one is okay. Not great. But it’s reasonably flattering, technically proficient, and a mild twist on an otherwise hackneyed theme. I do like the flatness of it, and relatively soft light, and lower contrast. The blazing hot yellows and oranges and reds are fun, but they are fatiguing.