Story and photo by Tom Till, master landscape photographer
Utah Outdoors Magazine, September 2002
AS I READ email messages and talk to people I meet in my gallery, I'm asked a few questions again and again. With this column, I wanted to take the time to answer these queries, even though some are tough and I certainly don't have all the answers!
The first question takes on several guises. People want to know if, after 25 years of working in photography in the field, I've retained my enthusiasm for the art form. The answer is a resounding "Yes." Since I approach photography at least partially as a vocation, and since successful image-making has economic consequences for me and my family beyond that of the average advanced amateur or aspiring professional, I work hard at trying to keep the fun factor high. When situations get frustrating in the field, or I tire of the mountain of office work I'm often faced with, I merely have to remind myself of how many people want my job -- whether they know the difficulties and pain that is sometimes involved or not -- and how lucky I am to be able to make a living at a craft I love, while being physically surrounded by the world's most exciting scenery and experiencing some of the world's most exciting adventuress. Evert with the difficulties and pain of travel today, and even with the discomforts of and dangers of heat, cold, bugs, backbreaking hikes, and crazed members of my own species, I try to maintain a Zen-like state of appreciation for where I am and for the beauty around me. And this can be anywhere from the other side of the globe to my own background.
The fun continues for me and for most photographers when my film comes back from the lab and I get to see the hard copy payback for all my hard work. Opening the boxes of 4x5 film is like unwrapping a special Christmas gift, and I love the joy of pouring over my images looking at some I thought would never work, but did, and accessing my successes and failures. With 25 years of experience behind me, I find it easier and easier to get results that please me, and with those successes comes a great deal of personal satisfaction, no matter what others think of my work.
When an image doesn't work, I resolve to do better next time, and the great thing about photography is that there is always a next time, always another chance to get it right or to come back with that transcendent image. I can think of few moments in life when the results of one's striving are so quickly and easily brought forward for assessment and contemplation.
Finally, I still get a thrill from seeing my work published. Although not every one will experience this high, with work and determination, most people who are serious about their photography can get their work before the public eye. I started out doing slideshow and music productions for my friends and family whenever I could sit them down to watch and listen. As a musician, this pairing came naturally for me, and eventually the shows got good enough that people actually clamored for them. In a way, I get the same validation today on a larger scale, and if you'd ever told me that I would have full page and double-page spreads of photographs in Life and Time magazines, within a few weeks of each other then, I would never have believed it.
Another question I get is "How do you always seem to be at the right place at the right time." The answer is that I'm not, but it may appear so because of a combination of patience, perseverance and luck. These factors came together on a recent trip to Newfoundland where I grew discouraged after 10 days of almost constant rain. I was definitely not in the right place at the right time, though I tried to make the best of the situation The nasty North Atlantic got the best of me day after day. In frustration, I added a few days to my trip, hoping to not go home empty-handed, made contact with a local kamikaze guide and headed into the Gros Mortie Mountains as the rain continued to gush from the ever-present clouds.
After an epic hike over rain-soaked boulders, up through rising waterfalls, and over countless slippery deadfalls, we finally reached out goal, a viewpoint 5,000 feet above a magnificent fiord snaking toward the distant ocean. I made a few images before rain drove me to my tent where the deluge continued, replaced at dawn by a fog as thick as mud. With no photo possible, and a boat pickup to catch, we slid and slithered back down the mountain to wait for our boat - for the next 30 hours. Fog had reduced visibility to such an extent that tour traffic had halted, and we were tapped by the same terrible weather I’d suffered though for weeks.
Finally, near sunset, with the fog throwing no sign of lifting, I escaped to our tent to leave the hordes of mosquitoes and blackflies that had turned my ears to swollen, itching throbbing wounds. But, as I began to get settled, a miracle occurred. A bolt of ethereal pink light shot through the tent, and I rushed out through the rainfly to see the fiord magically transformed. The fog had lifted almost instantaneously, but had left enough tendrils around to add drama to the intense storm light dressing the half-mile high walls - all reflected perfectly in rater - as calm as the preceding storm had been violent, A 800-foot waterfall radiated a magenta glow as it fell from the heights, now transfigured by alpenglow. Fortunately, I had plenty of film to capture this moment, but the truth is I was at the right place at the right time by being trapped, not because of my great skill or supernatural powers. The true key to being in the right place the right time involves planning. including discerning the best time of year to be at a particular location, gathering information about weather, wildflower blooms or other special events; and frankly, putting in the time. My success in the field is directly proportional to the amount of time I spend in the field. In any given year, I work with my camera an average of 250 days, and I enjoy every one of them. This statistic brings me back to my number one edict for improving photography and enjoying it more: shoot, shoot, shoot.
As I finished with this month's article, I received word of the untimely death of the great photographer Galen Rowell. Next month I plan a tribute in these pages to Galen and his great impact on outdoor adventure and nature photography, while at the same time celebrating the 100th anniversary of the founder of color nature photography: Eliot Porter.
