PixelatedImage Blog

Today Jeffrey Chapman and I are announcing two new photographic adventures for 2012. The first, in July, timed to coincide with the Naadam festival, is in Mongolia. The second is late November/early December, to Antarctica. More details are on the site HERE for Mongolia and HERE for Antarctica, and I am so excited about both.

Mongolia – July 6-16, 2012

The first, to Mongolia is a great itinerary. I was there in February a few years ago and since then, captivated by the landscape and the people (though not the food!), I’ve wanted to go back. In the past we’ve struggled to really communicate clearly on these, so this time I’m trying a different tack. This is not a workshop. This is a chance to go with two experienced photographers and travelers, to a place they have wanted to explore. We’ve done our homework, and we’ve picked the itinerary that we want to do. We’re inviting you to come with us, to explore with us, to have an adventure in places where there is sand, unusual food, potentially lumpy beds, and maybe even mosquitoes. There will be no 5-star hotels, though we’ve done our best to make sure we’re all safe, warm, healthy, and happy. There won’t even be lectures. What there will be is an organic travel experience to a new place with two photographers who want to discover a place, with cameras in hand, as it is. The group is small and we’ll be taking the first applicants, unless any of you seem completely insane, and then we’ll be skipping you and moving on.

My hope is to continue to travel with people who love new places and strange adventures, and to teach about this art we all love and spend so much of our time and energy on. To that end we’ll spend time each day in discussion about photographs themselves – not in image critiques, but discussions about the photographs themselves. And in between there will be times at meals, in vehicles, and while shooting, to ask questions, to explore this place and this art, together.

If that sounds like your kind of thing, and it isn’t for everyone, then we’d love you to join us. Who is this for? It’s for people who want to share an adventure and who love that adventure as much as the potential photographs. It’s for people who don’t mind a little sand in their teeth, don’t gag at the thought of different foods (I’m not talking about making you eat bugs), and can roll with changes in schedule. It’s for people who want to learn their craft in an organic, slow-burn kind of way. Who is not for? If you’ve done a bunch of photo-workshops, and want to be making photographs for 18 hours a day, we love you but you might be frustrated by our approach. We believe people are more creative when they slow down, watch the light, experience a place, and pursue better photographs not just more of them. Our approach is different.

Anyways, check out the itinerary, and if it appeals, drop us a line. But do it fast because these adventures usually sell out within the first two days, if not sooner.

Antarctica – November 29 – December 02, 2012

I went to Antarctica this December with Quark Expeditions and from the moment I entered Antarctic waters I was enchanted. I went expecting to shoot black and white photographs of a black and white world, and what I came back with was a body of work full of blues I didn’t know existed. Antarctica stunned me with its beauty and it’s not often that happens. So I came back and told Jeffrey we had to do this trip. We’ll be with Quark again, on a larger ship, but we’ve got our own Zodiac and lots of time to be together as a group and talk about photography, discuss images, and enjoy one of the most amazing places I’ve ever been. Quark is a top-notch operation and I was impressed from start to finish. The ship was great, the staff was amazing, and Antarctica was an adventure from beginning to end.

Yes, the Drake Passage was rough. People (not many of them, mind you) fell out of chairs. Lots of people staggered around the boat like they were drunk. Some of them might have been. Many spent the crossing in their bunks waiting for the calm of the Antarctic waters. But I didn’t hear anyone say they had regrets. And I thought crossing the Drake was an appropriate price to pay for entry to a place so magical. We’ll spend time photographing from the ship, from the zodiacs, and from the shore. We’ll walk among penguins and seals and see icebergs in shades of blue you just didn’t think existed. And there will be plenty of time (we aren’t going anywhere else, you know) to learn from each other on the ship during the voyage. If you’ve ever wanted to see the frozen continent, or the 7th continent, this is an adventure you’ll never forget.

More details about the itinerary on the website. Feel free to ask Jeffrey questions. This one needs a quick sell-out in order to secure our small group on the boat, so if you want to join us, let us know fast. *This is not a traditional workshop. Please read the description of the Mongolia trip; it’ll help you understand what we’re doing.

For more information on Mongolia, check out the website HERE.
For more information on Antarctica, check out the website HERE.

I want to join my little penguin friend in wishing you a very Merry Christmas. If you celebrate Hanukkah, like much of my family, then a happy Hanukkah to you. If you celebrate something else, or nothing at all, then I wish you the same: peace, joy, and a new year that is filled with the same. I still celebrate Christmas, and I celebrate hard. It pains me that it’s so commercial, the heart of it being so much the opposite of all we seem to strive for at this time of year. Christmas to me is deeply personal, a celebration of the possibilities and hopes of the deepest longings of our hearts: peace on earth and the making right of all that brings us sorrow. It’s the annunciation of the angel to the world that God sees our tears and chooses not only to wipe them away but to share them. Some days it takes more faith than others to believe. Still, I believe.

2011 was a rough year. Like all years. It was also amazing. I lost, to cancer, a friend who was dear to my heart, and gained others. I mourn her loss, and celebrate the others. I celebrate this world of wonders in which we live, and the fact that not only can I still walk, but I’m still alive. I love this line from a Marc Cohn song: Maybe Life was curious to see what you would do with the gift of being left alive. Indeed. And I celebrate you all, gifts to me from a God whom I still believe to be good and kind, despite evidence to the contrary at times. In this season I am profoundly grateful for what, and whom, I have, both to God and to all those who by choice are gifts in my life. Thank you for every comment, every email. Thank you too for supporting me and my Craft & Vision team; every eBook you buy is a gift to me, keeping me and the 13 other authors and 5 others on my team at least partly fed. Your purchase of my books not only gives me an audience but a livelihood, and I don’t take that for granted, either. From the bottom of my heart thank you. And from all of us over here, we wish you the happiest of holidays, the merriest of Christmasses, and a 2012 filled with peace, joy, health, and the fullness of a life lived in gratitude. Merry Christmas, Friends.

I am a Ninja. Antarctica, 2011. Photo by John Birch

I am officially going off the grid on December 19. No more twitter, FB, blogging, or otherwise. I turn 40 on December 24, and will be offline, cuddled up, and celebrating 40 years. I’ve already got a wallpaper posted for January 01, and that’ll go up as the new year turns on the east coast of North America. From there I’ll post postcards as I can; I’ll be in Ethiopia and Kenya and Tanzania until February 01, then I’ll be back in full force. See you then. And until then, my very best of the season. Cheers!

Over a year ago I released Vision Is Better, essentially an eBook version of this blog, and it’s become one of the best-selling titles under the Craft & Vision umbrella, which I think is (a) awesome and (b) amusing. I’m not quiet about the fact that Vision Is Better, and now Vision Is Better, Volume 2, is really just a great re-hash of this blog; the last thing I want is to quietly sell you something you could get for free. The reason we offer it is because, well, you really can’t get this for free. We’ve taken the blog, pulled out a ton of the somewhat dated content, announcements, and general chaff, then we added a couple previously unpublished essays, took out some (but not all of the original typos) and had our Design Ninja, Luke Taylor, re-package it. And it’s yours to access on your iPad, or laptop, whenever and wherever you like. No surfing, no frantic looking for a wifi signal, no huge data bills just to find that essay you want to re-read.

Vision Is Better 2 is similar to the first in that we’ve collected the best essays from the blog, and bundled them together. It differs because this year was profoundly different for me, and so there’s some of that journey too. If you read this blog (and you do, don’t try to tell me you don’t!) you know this year wrapped itself around an unexpected life-changing adventure for me, and some of that is in there too. So is the Life is Short stuff. And the usual rants. And bigger photographs than what you get on the blog. Frankly, it’s what this blog should be, but isn’t because I’m busy and these walls don’t just fall off themselves, you know. (Inside joke which you will totally find hilarious if you buy this ebook.)

If you read this blog (see comment above!) then think of this as your yearbook. If we meet in person I’ll sign it. If you do not read this blog (ahem), then you’ll still want it because, I believe, it can make you a better photographer. No, not like that new lens was meant to do. If there’s one thing I believe will make us all stronger photographers, it’s mindfulness. Intent. (Please don’t make me use the word “vision” again.). The subtitle for Vision is Better was Free the Mind, Free The Camera. This time it’s Free The Mind, The Camera Will Follow. Same, same, but different, (as they say in S.E. Asia) because the reason I continue to write remains the same: the way we think is the way we see, and we’ll make better photographs when we spend as much time honing our minds and our hearts as we do memorizing the buttons on the camera.

As you can imagine, there’s a ton of pages in this thing. If you love this blog and don’t want to shell out $5, it’ll still be here as it always is. Free. But if you want to access this content over and over again, in a format that’s easier to read, a little more intentionally curated, and includes a couple essays I’ve never published, then it’s all yours, as it always is, for only $5. Unless you buy it this week, then it’s only $4. And of course, those of you with a subscription to the Craft & Vision Community, this is yours to download for free this month.

Save $1 – Pay just $4 if you use coupon code VIB4.
Save $3 – Get the Vision is Best Bundle for $7 if you use coupon code VIB7.
Save 20% – Get 5+ PDF eBooks for less if you use the discount code VIB20.

These discount codes expire Wednesday, December 21 at 11:59pm (PST).

Emily, just back from the final trip to the outfitters and ready for February.

A friend once told me to watch the Pixar movie UP. Aside from the fact that I was crying like a little girl within the first 10 minutes (be warned), there was something about it that resonated powerfully with me. Part of that was the exploration of the idea of adventure. The phrase “Adventure is Out There!” is sounded often in the movie, like an anthem, and while that adventure generally refers to the journey of the unlikely heroes to Paradise Falls, South America, it’s also clear that, for at least one of the characters, the greatest adventure was love. It’s touching, and it should be no surprise to anyone the comes here once in a while that I’ve come close to having Adventure is Out There tattooed over my heart.

In February, a year after I started the adventure that went wildly off the rails, I’ll resume my road-trip, but it is not a resumption of the adventure; the adventure never stopped. No adventure ever goes to plan, and if it was adventure I wanted when I set out in my ’93 Land Rover Defender, JESSIE, it’s adventure I got. I made photographs in the rain all the way down the Oregon coast with my friend Dave Delnea, until he got into the Poison Oak, became so hideously deformed he was scaring children, and had to leave the country. I photographed and camped in Death Valley with my best friend and manager, Corwin, and then through Monument Valley and Zion, and into New Mexico, camping the whole way, and photographing as we went. I drove to the Gulf of Mexico. Spent time in New Orleans. Hung out with friends in Atlanta. I flew to Italy and fell in love. I also fell off a wall and shattered my feet. I came home and crawled my way through healing until my bones mended and I went to rehab. And then a couple days after they let me go home I jumped a plane for Laos, Cambodia, and Thailand, where, among other things, I joined 8 new friends as we floated down the Mekong River in a long-boat. And then there was Oaxaca, and Roatan, and then Antarctica. So much of it was unexpected, so much didn’t go to plan. And all of it was gloriously life-giving. And as strange as it sounds, I truly wouldn’t change a thing. This has been one of the most extraordinary years of my life.

I don’t want it to end. Being nomadic is teaching me so much, and while I’ve been sojourning at my family home for the last few months, and while I learned to walk again, I got more time with my family than I’ve had in 20 years. You can see why the idea of returning to so-called normal doesn’t really appeal. So on February 01, I return from travels in Ethiopia, Kenya, and Tanzania, and pack EMILY (above. I’ll do a Jeep-geek post some other time) and head out.

Adventure is out there, but it’s also in here. It’s an inner game. What separates adventure from the mundane is an openness to the unexpected and a willingness to embrace it, laugh your way through it when you aren’t gritting your teeth, and learn from it. It’s not a freedom from fear, it’s an unwillingness to let it have even one day of your already beautiful, short, fragile, one-of-a-kind life. It’s being present, 100% in your art, your relationships, the way you raise your children, and the way you open your heart to strangers. You can do that from a hospital bed, unable to move, and you can do that from the base camp of Everest. It’s a choice, a posture of the mind and heart. It is not the exclusive domain of the privileged, the healthy, or the strong. It is for all of us that, if you’ll pardon the worn cliche, are willing to hear the music and have the courage to dance without shame.

Tonight we launch Vision Is Better 2, the follow-up of the first one of the same name. It’s 44 essays, almost all previously published here on this blog, about the photographic life and craft. It includes much of my own adventure from this year and lessons learned. And it includes a couple un-published essays. Essentially it’s a sweet re-design of the best blog posts from the last year, available in one place, off-line, and always available. It’ll be available right here on the blog, with discounts as usual during the first week after launch. Whether you chose to buy the book, or not, thanks to you all for being part of this amazing adventure. Some of you were with me, in this blog, Twitter, and FB, through my darkest times, and made them lighter. Some of you were with me in Italy when I fell, in Laos when I made my first scared steps back to traveling, or in Antarctica as I experienced what it feels like to create work I love for the first time in a long while. Thank you so, so much. You remain my fans, friends, and family, but more than that you remain, in the most sincerest terms, my heroes. Thank you.

Mangroves in the waters just outside my front door in Roatan. Spent 20 minutes last night sitting in the warm shallow waters. Gitzo Ocean Traveler tripod, small aperture, long exposure, Singh Ray Gold’n'Blue Polarizer, and a gin on rocks waiting for me beside the hammock 30 feet behind me. For all my bitching about how hard this craft can be, including my last post, there are days it just all comes together. Hard to do anything but be grateful right now. These are the days I love my art more than almost anything.

Hello from Roatan, in the Bay Islands of Honduras. I’m limiting my movements to snorkeling and reading in the hammock and foraging for nuts and berries at the bar, so if this is all you hear from me this week, that’s why. Please don’t send search and rescue, I like it here. Yesterday I left Oaxaca far earlier than I’d have liked to. Here’s the stuff I scraped off the inside wall of my heart while I reflected on this trip.

Last year I traveled back to Kathmandu, a place in which i feel very much at home. Despite this ease-of-being in that visually rich place, I wrestled with finding anything remotely close to a vision of the place. I wrote about it publicly here on the blog and was flogged by at least one reader who felt my angst was exhausting. Generally that kind of feedback discourages me, can even flatten me for a day while i regain my perspective, but in this case it’s given me something to laugh about for over a year. Man, if my angst exhausts you, you should try being me. I need a nap just writing about it.

I don’t do angst. I do hope. But I understand, too well sometimes, what it feels like to be an artist. If you pick up a camera in order to simply play with large lenses, make perfect exposures, or gather material for your latest cookie-cutter over-texturized HDR photographs and this week’s Flickr love-fest, then I understand why you might find my honesty about my own life as an aspiring artist a little wearying. But I hope to one day be a visual poet whose work echoes more clearly the voice in his mind and heart. And that journey isn’t easy.

In the six months since my fall in Italy I’ve had high moments. My photography is not among them. I’ve now been back in the field, walking through the world with tentative steps, in Cambodia, Laos, Thailand, and Mexico. What I had hoped would be journeys of renewal have been anything but. I’ve had long days of pain, fallen over gravestones during the Day of the Dead in Oaxaca, had my cane stuck in the mud of Laotian rice-paddies. Mostly I’ve just laughed, because I get a little stronger every day. What shows no evidence of strengthening is my nerve. I’m slow. I can’t move the way I once did. I can’t squat or kneel on one knee without looking like a slapstick performer and falling over. I can’t get where I want to be to make the photograph, or easily carry the gear I need to make it.

But if this sounds like a building storm of pity, it’s not. It’s simply the recognition of a new reality. A reality, like yours, that is full of constraints. But while art flourishes in constraints, it does not do so easily. I am slowing down. I am back in school. And like many of my own students, having a melt-down on the first day of a workshop, I’ve come back to that place where nothing – nothing – comes easily. What has this new reality given me? Time. It has slowed me down. It has forced my hand to the making of the photographs I truly want to make, and while I’m still failing in those efforts, I’m learning.

I was in Oaxaca last week for the Day of the Dead. I don’t think I emerged with a single photograph of the festival. Instead i made some still-lifes, and a few portraits. I shot less than 500 frames, almost none of them even close to my hopes. In the past, I might have judged this a failure, but in the face of feeling like I might not be able to do this anymore, like my best work is behind me, or that I just won’t make the same photographs again, these few portraits are new, faltering steps back towards my art. And I’m right: I won’t make the same kinds of photographs. They’ll be different, because I am. And as long as they’re honest, I’m hoping they’re also going to be stronger. Slowing down isn’t a bad thing. Less so-called “keepers” isn’t a bad thing. Honest photographs matter. Hard-drives full of images don’t.

My friend Fernando. (I can hear the drums…)

Everyone I know rides the ups and downs of creative life, beaten around by our circumstances, our failures, the latest work of that photographer whose talent we secretly envy. Sometimes it’s just the disparity between what we see in our mind’s eye and what we’re capable of creating with the camera in our hands. I don’t know a single so-called pro whose work I respect that finds this always easy. Rewarding? Profoundly so. Difficult? Also so. Your work will be judged on what it is, not what it isn’t. It will resonate beautifully with people who don’t know how hard it was for you to make it, and even more for the few who do.

Huge thanks to the amazing people and new friends who shared last weeks adventure in Oaxaca with me.

Manfrotto School of Xcellence, Monday Oct. 24, 2011. 2pm – 3pm PDT
More information on the Manfrotto site HERE

On Tuesday morning I jump in the Jeep and drive down to Syracuse, NY to join Jeffrey Chapman for some spectacular Cambodian/Thai food before we jump an early morning flight on Wednesday to Oaxaco, Mexico for our Oaxaca Within The Frame, Day of the Dead Adventure. Very excited.

Tomorrow (Monday ,Oct 24, 2011), I’ll be on the air at 2pm PDT / 5pm EDT for the Manfrotto School of Xcellence (don’t get me started on alternate spellings. Just plain goofy.) giving a free one-hour webinar presentation about Building Better Photographs. The presentation is largely based on the principles of the newest book, Photographically Speaking, though in a much distilled form. I’d love you to join us. These presentations are always fun (read: fraught with tech issues) and I’ll be glad to have some friends in the audience. Join us! (Follow the link at the top to the Manfrotto site)

Manfrotto School of Xcellence, Monday Nov. 21, 2011. 2pm – 3pm PDT
More information on the Manfrotto site HERE

Next month, same time, I’ll be doing another one called Confessions of a So-Called Pro. Here’s the blurb: When professional photographer and best-selling author David duChemin left a 12-year career in comedy to pursue his first creative love, photography, he tried very hard to be the “professional” he thought he was meant to be. What he discovered along the way was that being a productive photographer that loved his craft had nothing to do with getting paid. More than that, he learned many lessons about the craft of photography that apply to everyone, from so-called amateur to so-called pro. Join David in a candid discussion about the journey of photography.

I’d love you to join us for that too. Between now and then I’ll be in Oaxaca shooting the Day of the Dead, and on Roatan, Honduras, doing nothing at all. The last trip I went really light, this time I’m taking a Nikon D3s, Sigma 20/1.8, Nikon 24mm PC-E, and Sigma 85/1.4. 4 batteries, no charger. 2 x 64 GB SanDisk cards. Gitzo Ocean Traveler tripod, and a couple Singh Ray filters. It’s a fraction of what I once carried but already it feels like I’m packing for an expedition! I’ll carry it all on my back in a Think Thank Photo Airport Acceleration, until I get there, when I’ll pop my working gear into a Think Tank Retro 30. Wow, that was a lot of gear talk in one paragraph. Let’s move on.

Lastly, Photographically Speaking is now shipping and I’m getting really beautiful early comments and reactions. Thank you again for the support! I think this one is the strongest of the so-called vision trilogy. If you haven’t got one yet, you can do so on Amazon.com HERE or Barnes & Nobles HERE. If you’ve already got yours and don’t mind leaving a quick review on Amazon, I’d be grateful.

Will try to check in from Oaxaca and Roatan and send postcards! See you when I get back!

Last week I got a call from FedEx in Vancouver. They tried to deliver the first copies of Photographically Speaking to an address I’ve not lived in for 9 months. Sigh. Getting the first copies of a new book – I mean literally the first two copies off the press – is a thrill and I’m a little sad I’m not there to get them. But it means – and this is the point – the book is out and within days now some of you should be getting first copies!! I can’t wait for you to have it in your hands, though there’s a good chance now that some of you will see it before I do, which seems a little unfair.

If you get the book, I wonder if you’d do me a favor and share. I’ve got three ideas how you can do that.

1. Share with me.
Would you let me know you got it? I’d love to see its progress as deliveries happen. It’s a thrill to see people around the world pick up something you’ve worked so hard on.

2. Share with the World!
If you enjoy the book, would you help me out by telling the world? If you have a blog or use Facebook or Twitter would you point people to the book on Amazon? Would you consider writing an enthusiastic, but helpful and honest, review and posting it on Amazon? These reviews are so helpful and they help offset the occasional rants and weird personal attacks. No need to write a novel, or undue praise, just a short comment and honest rating would be great. Thanks in advance. While you’re at it, feel free to do that for any of the other books you’ve read, by me or any other author – it’s a small thing but it means a great deal to us.

3. Share with your Community.
If you’ve got a few extra shekels, would you consider donating a copy to your local library? There are a lot of students that would benefit from this book but library budgets get tighter and tighter every year. I’d love to know people can read my books and never pay a penny to do so.

If you don’t have a few extra shekels, but you know a student or struggling photographer that could use a copy and can’t afford one, would you please leave a comment below and tell me about them? You can use first names only, or change names to protect the innocent, I just want to pass along some love. I’m going to ask Peachpit, my publisher, to send 20 copies to photographers that simply can’t afford them. We’ll select them, and then send the copy to you to deliver in person. Cool?

Where Within The Frame was sometimes perceived as just a book about travel photography, Photographically Speaking is for everyone. It addresses the most fundamental stuff of our craft – photographs themselves. It talks about the language of photographs and how an understanding of the visual language can make our images stronger. My hope is that you find this book important enough to you to share with others.

You can find Photographically Speaking on Amazon.com HERE, and if you haven’t seen it yet, there’s a brief intro video to the book HERE. Anyways, book’s almost here. Thanks, as always for your support.

Almost a year ago I bought a 1993 Land Rover Defender named Jessie. To say we had a rocky start is an understatement. There were days I was torn between loving that Defender and wanting to drive her into the ocean. Things took a while to smooth out for Jessie and I, but I bribed her with a new transmission, and at the end of February 2011, I packed up my Vancouver condo, sold most of my possessions, and packed what remained into the Defender and began what was to be a one-year nomadic life as I traveled around North America.

And then I fell off the wall in Pisa, and took 4 months to get Jessie back from Atlanta where I left her to fly to Italy. In all the chaos of recovery I needed to register and license Jessie in Ontario, my temporary home while I recovered. That registration required a safety certification which I learned Jessie would never pass. Not even close. Extensive corrosion in the frame forced me to take her off the road. There’s a good chance repairs are not an option, leaving me two choices – replace the frame (in other words, re-build her completely), or sell her to someone with more time and resources to do a restoration. I’m still mulling it over, but the end is the same: if I want to resume my nomadic life – and I do – then Jessie and I need to say good-bye. If you want to say “I told you so,” get in line. In the meantime, I’m unrepentant – Jessie and I had a great time while it lasted.

So, enter Emily. Emily’s a 2011 Jeep Wrangler. And in February, when I get back from Ethiopia and Kenya, I’ll finally (finally!!) pack my gear up and resume my journey. This time I’m taking much more time to see, and photograph, the American west, spending as much of 2012 as I can. If I move back to Vancouver it’ll be late Autumn 2012, but the nomadic life suits me very well, so we’ll play it by ear. Until then I’m living lighter and lighter as the days go by – a desire of mine made easier by the fact that there’s just a lot less room in the back of the Jeep than the Land Rover. This return to simplicity, something I once embraced much more easily, has made more room in my life and my heart & mind for the most important things. The last year has been the most profound gift.

I’m still choking on the need to take Jessie off the road, but as much as I love the Land Rover, it is the journey and the adventure I love most. So yes, the Jeep is sexy and new, and she’s comfortable and fast. But character is earned, not purchased, so she just needs some adventures and some miles under her wheels before I enjoy her nearly as much as I did Jessie.  I spent this past weekend enjoying the fall colors on the snowmobile trails at my family’s cottage on the south edge of Algonquin Park, and I think Emily and I are going to get along just fine.

Can’t wait to pack my cameras and tripods into the back and get back to the journey. We’ll head south along the eastern seaboard fairly quickly (give me a break, it’ll be February and I’ll be camping!) and after a week or so in the Florida Keys, I’ll head west. I plan to spend as much time as I can, slowly, in places like Utah, New Mexico, Arizona, California, Nevada, etc. And I’ll be at the Overland Expo in Arizona for the middle of May. If there are any overlanders among my readers, I’d love to see you there and buy you a drink.

3 Boats, 1000 Buddhas. Photographed at the cave of 1000 Buddhas on the Mekong River in Laos. And I’m posting this from Bangkok. So it’s not really so much a postcard from Cambodia. That’s the next photograph.

 

Banteay Srei, Cambodia, Photo by Eve Hannah

Sitting in the departure lounge in Siem Reap, it’s hard to believe this trip is over. In some ways it’s one of the longest, slowest trips I’ve ever made, everything taking much more care and thought than it’s ever taken before. But yesterday marked 5 months since my accident and I celebrated this morning by dancing in the rain, soaked to the bone, at a small temple called Banteay Srei on the outskirts of the Angkor complex.

Angkor was amazing, but it stirs in me the usual regrets and longings. Unable to climb a steep and muddy hill on the first evening here I sat with a cold can of Angkor beer, watching the tourists, and thinking how much I just wanted to photograph this magical place in great light, without the tourists and the touts they (we) attract, and that I was probably 100 years too late. It’s hard to get to upset about the tourists, without also considering my own complicity. I’m part of these crowds, and I kind of wish I would go away so I could enjoy the place alone. In the end I may be one of the few photographers who has always longed to photograph Angkor and left without taking more than a couple scouting shots and deciding I was happier just wandering the ancient ruins slowly or watching monkeys jump out of trees into the flooded puddles below.

After 2 weeks with the Fuji x100, I’ve decided that traveling this light is bliss, and it’s a luxury I may seldom have. The camera itself is beautiful, well made, and small. It turns on quickly enough, but focuses like most compacts (slowly) and suffers from just enough shutter lag to make it occasionally annoying, and sometimes closer to useless. I still put the battery in the wrong way at least half the time, which is odd because it shouldn’t take much to make a battery compartment that takes a battery only one way, nor to make a battery that lasts a little longer. And I hate the weird gymnastics I need to do to change a focus point. But for all the quirks it’s a great little camera and I like using it, and the photographs it makes, better than any compact camera I’ve ever used.  I’ll keep in in the Jeep and it’ll be my go-to camera for traveling, but I can’t wait to get back to using a dSLR.

And now I’m off to Kho Samet for a week to sleep in, eat pad thai, swim in the warm waters of the Gulf of Thailand, and do all the stretching and strengthening I neglected over the last 2 weeks. When I get home the new book will be nearly out, and I’ve an ailing Land Rover to tend to and Thanksgiving to enjoy with family before getting ready for Mexico and Honduras. See you soon.