2101_0281 Ice Edge
I returned to this location last week, and conditions have changed. The ice edge seen here has expanded, pushing out of the shadow of the tall riverbank behind me. Consequently, the cool-warm contrast that I've been playing with is no longer present. There was still some open water, but not much. I think this amazing combination of colours and shapes is gone until next winter.
But that's why we do it, don't you think? Being a nature photographer is to recognize the temporal beauty of all things wild and cyclical, and to feel a compulsion to capture some of the essence even as it fades or makes the transition into something else. And to understand that every moment is unique. The clouds above that peak will never again look precisely like this; the combination of lines, shapes, and textures in front of my lens right now will never be repeated, no matter how long the future stretches out for our species. It's the same with human faces, with fingerprints.
And yet, even as the ice melts away - or in this case, expands until the river fully freezes over - I experience a sort of speechless wonder when I'm out there, especially when I'm alone, as if I have entered a zone of timelessness. This seems to happen most often when I'm shooting macro. Somehow, the viewfinder image becomes the world. After twenty minutes or so of intense concentration, I may look up and feel astonished, because I've lost track of the larger world and where I am in it - in this instance, lying flat on the ice with my tripod, a few inches from the edge of a rushing river. It's almost an out-of-body experience. It's when I feel most alive.
Photographed in Grasslands National Park, Saskatchewan (Canada). Don't use this image on websites, blogs, or other media without explicit permission ©2021 James R. Page - all rights reserved.
2101_0281 Ice Edge
I returned to this location last week, and conditions have changed. The ice edge seen here has expanded, pushing out of the shadow of the tall riverbank behind me. Consequently, the cool-warm contrast that I've been playing with is no longer present. There was still some open water, but not much. I think this amazing combination of colours and shapes is gone until next winter.
But that's why we do it, don't you think? Being a nature photographer is to recognize the temporal beauty of all things wild and cyclical, and to feel a compulsion to capture some of the essence even as it fades or makes the transition into something else. And to understand that every moment is unique. The clouds above that peak will never again look precisely like this; the combination of lines, shapes, and textures in front of my lens right now will never be repeated, no matter how long the future stretches out for our species. It's the same with human faces, with fingerprints.
And yet, even as the ice melts away - or in this case, expands until the river fully freezes over - I experience a sort of speechless wonder when I'm out there, especially when I'm alone, as if I have entered a zone of timelessness. This seems to happen most often when I'm shooting macro. Somehow, the viewfinder image becomes the world. After twenty minutes or so of intense concentration, I may look up and feel astonished, because I've lost track of the larger world and where I am in it - in this instance, lying flat on the ice with my tripod, a few inches from the edge of a rushing river. It's almost an out-of-body experience. It's when I feel most alive.
Photographed in Grasslands National Park, Saskatchewan (Canada). Don't use this image on websites, blogs, or other media without explicit permission ©2021 James R. Page - all rights reserved.