Attention

Attention is contagious. I am more likely to pay attention to things you pay attention to. And so we have the power to affect what other people pay attention to, whether they agree or disagree with us.

This simple truth has helped me figure out my love/hate relationship with social media. I love directing people’s attention to nature – mostly I focus on the visual beauty with photography. But I also love the sounds of wind in the leaves and the birds singing. The smells of walking through wet autumn leaves or of pushing through a fir thicket. I love the feeling of the wind, sun, and rain. Social media lets me share bits of this. But at the same time as it lets me share, it takes the attention for itself. It is mixed in with a long feed of thousands of other companies and people all trying to get your attention, and all decided by algorithms that are designed to keep you engaged (often by infuriating you). It becomes a tool of advertising. It becomes a business opportunity for a multi-billion dollar corporation. It changes a wholesome thing into a competition – a measuring stick of your value against the value of others. It becomes a tiny bit of data on how long it grabs your attention so that they can get more effective at keeping your attention in the future. It takes an honest communication between people and shortens it, cheapens it, twists it just a tiny bit. It changes the context of an interaction, and context matters.

And so what is my response? Do I disengage? Delete my accounts? I often disappear from social media for months at a time. That is definitely not good for business, but it is good for my soul. But I often find myself coming back, because I like being able to draw people’s attention to nature. And I like the people I have connected with on these platforms. But I hate the platforms. So this is not a goodbye to social media, and it is also not a promise to keep posting. It is just a promise to try to engage with people honestly and deeply, when I can and in ways I am able to. And this rarely happens online for me.

One response is to guide trips in the wilderness. Being physically in a place surrounded by nature requires sustained attention and rewards it.

As a photographer, a self-serving response is physical prints. I recently installed a set of prints in a house and I got the rare (for me) chance to see my work in the context it will be. A physical print stays there. You can’t scroll to the next image. The place and the light keeps you company in the morning when you have coffee, and is still with you in the evening at supper. It becomes familiar and comforting. You actually have time to develop a response to an image and have coherent thoughts about that response.

So I want to draw your attention to nature. But I also want to draw your attention to yourself and your relationship with it, and that takes more time and attention than social media is willing to give you.

I’ve been reading “How to do Nothing” by Jenny Odell, which is fantastic and is prompting many thoughts, including this post.

Solar Activities at Night

A couple nights ago we got a spectacular display of northern lights here. Elk Island National Park is a dark sky preserve near Edmonton, and it was a great place to view them. Although a lot of people had a similar idea.

Also, if you missed the update on my last post, you can sign up for a Wildlife Photography Course I’m teaching at the Edmonton Valley Zoo here: City of Edmonton > Activities > Courses

12mm, f2.8, 20 seconds

Coyote

This fall I have a NAIT student doing work experience with me, and on our outing this week we ran into this friendly fellow. In fact, he was a little too friendly for his own good, and I worry about him, but I still really enjoyed hanging out for a while.

f5.6, 1/1000 of a second

Playing in the Snow

I just got some excellent snowshoes to make my winter excursions a little easier than in past years (I’m used to slogging it with just my winter boots). And hopefully I can get out to a bunch of new places. I tested them out in Elk Island National Park today and had a lot of fun. I came across this herd of bison hanging out with some unusual friends. Click on the image to make it larger to make it easier to spot them.

300mm, f5.6, 1/200 of a second

When There Was No Snow

Sometimes the light hits an un-extraordinary subject in just the right way and creates an extraordinary scene. My favorite part of this photo, though, is going to depend on your monitor being a reasonable brightness. In a print this is something you can easily control but online it gets harder — I love the dark fall tones and subtle evening light in the background.

Taken in Elk Island National Park, 150mm, f2.8, 1/800 of a second.

Drawing in Space

In my design studies at university, we had a fascinating sculpture assignment called “Drawing in Space”. We used strips and small blocks of wood to create a sculpture with interesting lines when viewed from any angle. Both the lines and the negative space they defined were equally important. I really enjoyed framing spaces and cutting into volumes of space, and that is something that I don’t get to do quite as much with photography. But when opportunities present themselves, as they did this last week, I get lost in the creating. I’m not sure how long I spent in this particular treasure trove of grass curls. The shallow depth of field I’ve used here really adds to both the ethereal-ness and the depth of the photo, letting you almost feel the space around the grass.




All taken with my 5d, 150mm macro, f6.3, 1/200 – 1/640 of a second.
Taken on the Beaver Pond Trail in Elk Island National Park.

If you’re still reading and interested, I’ll just write a quick note about composition. In the last two photos I’ve done something that is generally disapproved of in standard compositions – there is a strong line running vertically through the frame (even directly in the middle of the frame! the horror). In these cases I think it works as an unusual visual device to emphasize the depth of the photo. If the grass curls did not wrap around the vertical line it would not work.

Stand of Aspen on an Elk Filled Fall Evening

This photo was taken in Cooking Lake Provincial Rec Area. Actually the name is “Cooking Lake – Blackfoot Grazing, Wildlife Provincial Recreation Area”, but that’s a ridiculously long name, and I don’t intend on typing it out every time I mention it. Anyway, this is the area just south of Elk Island National Park. It’s almost exactly the same, except it has a few fields and no bison. And you don’t have to pay to get in. All in all, a great area to go hiking.

This was an overcast day, and a little misty. There were water droplets on the grass and a bit of a breeze rustling the leaves too. It was in this muffled darkening atmosphere that I first noticed the elk. The bull was watching me, with his herd off to the side, behind a copse of apsen.


I crouched down and watched them for a while. A calf was still nursing, and many of the elk were grazing, but the bull kept watching me. As the light faded along with my vision, the herd moved off into the trees. That first photo was taken in the trees where the elk disappeared into, after it had become quite dark.

Twisting Grass

The curving lines of dry grass provide so much picture fodder.

Taken in Elk Island National Park.


Taken near Beaverhill Lake.

If anyone knows what species of grass these are, I’d be very curious. I’m getting better at my fauna taxonomy, but when it comes to grass, I’m lost.

Red Squirrel Moulting

I’ve never actually seen a Red Squirrel ( Tamiasciurus hudsonicus ) moulting into it’s summer pelage before, so I found this pretty interesting. And squirrels are always cute.

Taken in Elk Island National Park.

Friendly Wildlife

Some animals don’t require much of a telephoto lens. The chickadees at Elk Island (and almost everywhere else too) are a lot of fun to photograph, and are quite brave. They will come very close, even sit on you (briefly) if you stay perfectly still or if they think you have food. They’re also very acrobatic in the air, so it’s fun to try to catch them in flight.

This was taken with my slow-focusing and not very telephoto 150mm macro.