Welcome to the landscape photography blog by Chuck Derus. Thanks for looking and for your comments!
Animal Portraits
Up close and personal. The word portrait evokes a frame-filling face or full body shot of the species. Who would travel to Africa’s Serengeti without longing to capture a viewfinder-filling image of a zebra, for example?
The usual goal of an animal portrait is to reveal an adorable expression, capture a defining behavior, or to showcase a majestic coat of fur or colorful feathers. Ideally, only the animal is in focus with the background blurred. This way, the subject stands out with no distractions.
The photographer’s lens of choice is a big telephoto lens. It does a superb job of filling the frame and blurring the background.
But there is another kind of portrait. An environmental portrait is a landscape image with an animal included. Using a normal or short telephoto lens allows the photographer to show off the animal in its domain. The focus is about storytelling rather than documentation.
Wildlife Photos?
If you follow the Friday Photo, you know that if it moves, I don’t usually photograph it. But there are exceptions.
Last April in Patagonia, we had the opportunity to experience some of the wildlife. The South American gray fox, the Patagonian mara (rabbit), the crested cara cara, and the Andean condor all made appearances.
But the most common critter was the guanaco (ghwuah-NAH-koh). It’s a camelid native to South America. You might be more familiar with its domesticated relative, the llama.
Like all camels, Guanacos are herbivores. They graze on grasses, shrubs, herbs, lichens, fungi, cacti, and flowers.
Guanacos live in herds composed of females, their young, and a single dominant male. Around one year of age, young males are expelled from the herd.
The reproductive groups tend to remain small, often containing no more than 10 adults. Bachelor herds may contain as many as 50 males. Though typically mild-mannered, guanacos often spit up to six feet when threatened.
Preyed upon by puma (aka mountain lions), they can run at 35 mph per hour, even over steep and rocky terrain. They are also excellent swimmers. A guanaco's typical lifespan is 20 to 25 years.
The Shot
None of us on the photo tour were wildlife photographers. However, another reason to capture an image of the Andes mountains was appealing. While the mid-afternoon light was terrible for a pure landscape image, it could create magical backlighting of an animal.
As we cruised the road, we kept an eye out for guanaco. After a short drive, we spotted a herd and exited the car. We slowly walked towards them to nudge them into position.
It required 30 minutes or so, but finally we had a solitary guanaco outlined with a glowing halo of fur with the towering Andes in the distance. I hoped this photograph would tell their story.
Thanks for looking,
Chuck Derus
Show Time
Breathtaking. Enthralling. Dazzling. Words seem inadequate to capture the breathtaking beauty and captivating mystery of the Northern Lights.
Alaskan author Eowyn Ivey comes close in her novel The Snow Child: “She looked directly up into the Northern Lights, and she wondered if those cold-burning specters might not draw her breath, her very soul, out of her chest and into the stars.”
Some cultures believe they are the spirits of ancestors dancing in the sky. Other cultures considered them omens of good fortune and prosperity. Today, we have a scientific explanation for this magical experience.
Each display is one of a kind. The random nature of charged particles from the sun colliding with the Earth’s atmosphere creates unique and unpredictable vibrant displays of greens, pinks, purples, and blues.
Witnessing the Northern Lights is truly a once-in-a-lifetime experience. It leaves an indelible impression that connects us to nature.
The Shot
Wintertime blankets chaotic and distracting foreground details with beautifully simplistic snow. This makes the photographer’s goal of moving the viewer’s eye through the scene much easier.
The rime ice-covered trees bent towards each other creating a wonderful frame for the background. And the small mound of snow in the foreground was an unexpected bonus.
The image is a composite of a pre-dawn image of the foreground and an early evening image of the Northern Lights. Both were taken near Coldfoot, Alaska last February.
Thanks for looking,
Chuck Derus
Back in Time
Factory Butte rises majestically above the alien and barren Caineville, Utah badlands. This striking, menacing sandstone peak appears to be equal parts Mordor and Mars.
The butte was named by early settlers. Its outline resembled the Provo, Utah woolen mill, a huge factory building.
According to photographer Eric Bunch, "Visiting Factory Butte is like going back in time. The views feel ancient and stir my imagination towards images of dinosaurs roaming the land, while cinder cones pour molten lava into the valleys, and the long-lost oceans of blue waters teem with life."
Located just east of Capitol Reef National Park, this 6,302-foot monolith was once home to dusty coal miners. These days, the butte and surrounding lunar-like badlands create a photographer’s wonderland. The root-like combs, crags, and shoulders that snake towards the hilltop give it the appearance of an enormous, ancient rock stump.
The Shot
Last October 29, I was in the area with friends Scott Fuller and Steve Horne. Our attention was focused on Moonscape Overlook to the east of Factory Butte.
Moonscape Overlook, the opposite direction of Factory Butte
But photographers should always remember to turn around and look behind. As I turned, the morning light began breaking through the clouds and onto the Butte.
I quickly abandoned my “big” camera and launched my drone. Flying towards the massif, I stopped to include a photogenic, smaller feature in the foreground of my composition.
After landing the drone and packing up our gear, it was time to thaw out our hands in the truck while heading back to Duke’s Slickrock Grill for breakfast. Duke’s is the best (and only) restaurant open in nearby Hanksville, Utah during the off-season.
Thanks for looking,
Chuck Derus
River of Black Mud
It was 1875. Chicago had been a city for only 38 years. The great fire was merely four years in the past.
That’s when a young priest first set his eyes upon the hardly recognizable intersection of Webster Ave. and Osgood St. (now Kenmore Ave.). It was the barely civilized fringe of Chicago. He saw truck farms, dirt streets that became rivers of black mud in the rain and the snow, and an occasional home breaking the monotony of a sweeping prairie.
Forty-one-year-old Rev. Edward Smith, C.M., had been summoned by the Bishop of Chicago to establish a new parish. He had $5,000 to purchase property and to build a new church. For almost a year, he used the small chapel at nearby St. Joseph Hospital to serve the 75 German and Irish Catholics in the area.
Working with parishioners, he purchased land and commissioned the construction of a small brick building on the corner of Webster and Osgood. On Christmas Day of 1875, they celebrated their first Mass together in the roofless building still under construction.
The original St. Vincent de Paul multipurpose building commonly known as “Father Smith’s Farm” from Then & Now · DePaul University 125 Anniversary
The top floor was the church. The first floor the pastor’s home, schoolrooms, and a parish hall. The building was finally finished and dedicated on April 30, 1876.
By 1891, the original building was clearly inadequate to meet the needs of a now booming neighborhood. Planning began for a magnificent replacement church.
It was slow going. The depression following the closing of the 1893 World’s Fair and concerns about the exact location of the elevated railway running from downtown to Wilson Avenue delayed progress.
When the new church was finally dedicated on May 2, 1897, there were few churches that could rival it in grace or architecture. That holds true today, as well.
One of its unique features is unobstructed sightlines. Normally, multiple columns are required for support. Steel supports reduced the number of columns to only four.
With the original building vacated, it was heavily remodeled along with the addition of a third floor. It became the home of the new St. Vincent's College in 1898. That school is now known as DePaul University.
On dedication day, the new church was very plain. The altars and floors were wooden, the walls were bare and most of the windows were plain glass.
It took 17 more years to furnish and decorate the church. Stained-glass windows came from Franz Mayer & Company of Munich, Germany. A first-class Lyon & Healy organ was installed. The High, Blessed Virgin, and St. Joseph Altars were built along with a marble altar rail. The sanctuary was tiled.
The Carrara marble High Altar
After fire destroyed a large portion of the church interior in 1955, the damaged south Rose window required replacement. The new 22-foot window was created by Conrad Schmitt Studios of New Berlin, Wisconsin. The theme is “Sun of Splendor.”
The Rose window replacement and some of the Lyon & Healy organ pipes.
The Shot
The Chicago Streets and Beyond Meetup photography group regularly sponsors photo walks and tours. Ever since my sister-in-law’s wedding there in 1995, I’ve wanted to return to admire its beauty. The Meetup on November 23 was that opportunity.
Thanks for looking and Happy New Year,
Chuck Derus
Winter Light
There’s something magical about the light in winter. Experiencing the edges of the day (sunrise and sunset) in cold weather imbues photographs with a sense of tranquility.
The winter sun’s position is much lower in the sky. This softens and diffuses the light, adding calm and serenity.
In addition, this is the season of cool tones. Blue colors contribute a captivating sense of depth and moodiness.
And snow further brightens compositions. Winter light captures the texture and intricate details of snow. During the “blue hour,” the sky takes on a deep blue color that contrasts beautifully with the pristine whiteness of snow.
Cedar Breaks
On October 30, I was visiting Cedar Breaks National Monument in Utah. The hoodoo rock formations in the park are like nearby Bryce Canyon National Park, but without the crowds.
The wild and rugged land of Cedar Breaks was known to early Mormon settlers as "Breaks," due to the difficulty of travel. President Franklin D. Roosevelt named Cedar Breaks a National Monument in 1933. The Monument is now managed by the National Park Service.
Given the name, you’d think the place is filled with cedar trees. But there isn’t one in sight. Instead, there are juniper trees that the early settlers mistook for cedars. This is a high elevation environment dominated by aspen and spruce. It’s also home to bristlecone pines, thought to be the oldest living thing in the world.
The single amphitheater is filled with the beautiful shapes and subtle colors of eroded limestone formations. Surrounding the amphitheater are high alpine meadows covered in wildflowers.
Twilight at the Cedar Breaks amphitheater
Because of its 10,000-foot elevation at the rim, snow often makes parts of the park inaccessible to vehicles from October through May. When I was there, the rim visitor center was closed, but the road hadn’t yet been closed for the season.
The Shot
On the afternoon of October 30, Steve Horne, Scott Fuller, and I dressed warmly in anticipation of single digit temperatures at the rim. Snow made the drive “interesting,” but not treacherous.
We started trekking to the bristlecone pines, but slippery conditions at the edges of the half-mile deep canyon caused us to pause at an overlook halfway there. From our vantage point, we could survey the entire amphitheater.
Just as the sun kissed the horizon, I took a picture of the amphitheater. Remembering the adage to “always look behind you,” I turned around.
Wow! Trees coated with rime ice glowed magically in the winter light. As I watched, an intense Belt of Venus rose behind the trees. The Belt’s arch of pinkish backscattered sunlight over the deep blue shadow of the earth created a perfect background. It was time to take a picture.
The trek back to our truck was cold, but exhilarating. We scraped the frost off the windows and drove back to Cedar City enjoying the simple pleasure of the truck’s heater.
Thanks for looking,
Chuck Derus