The Reward of Being an Artist in Residence

I have had the opportunity of working as an Artist in Residence for the National Park Service four times. The last residency was for Buffalo National River in Arkansas. In the spring of 2020, I got a call from one of the managers for the National Forest Service in Wyoming, wanting to know if I would be interested in coming to Wyoming to do a residency there in Bighorn National Forest, which I was glad to do. So, in early September 2020, I loaded up my gear into my Bronco and headed to Wyoming!

A very nice benefit of serving as an Artist in Residence for any of these National Park/Forest entities is that they provide housing inside the park where you are working. They are never luxurious and are usually ranger cabins that aren't being used, but they are dry and warm.

Each morning when I arose, there were at least six doe mule deer in the front yard, which was very nice. I drank my coffee with the does before going to work.

One of the first greeters I had the first morning was Mrs. Bulwinkle. There had been, no kidding, 8–12 inches of snow in the night. When I first saw her, she was standing on a ridge just outside a cabin where I was to have a safety meeting with some of the National Forest staff. At first, she looked like a very leggy horse in silhouette: very tall, very leggy. As I moved around her, I realized that she was a cow moose, and I was at pretty close range. After going into my meeting, she walked around to the back side of the cabin and laid down in the snow, posing for me, I think. Thankfully, I remembered to carry a camera into that meeting with a Canon 70-200mm L lens attached!

Shell Creek is the centerpiece of the national forest, at least on the north side, having cut a swath that is several hundred feet deep and a very rugged canyon.

A thing to always remember when making landscape photographs is to always use a tripod. When I photograph, the first thing that happens is that I set up my tripod, zeroing it out before even getting a camera out of the bag. In this case, the hill on the downward side was very, very steep. One false step and it would be a long climb back up. The tripod legs on the downward side were fully extended, and on the uphill side, where I was standing, they were not extended at all. The thing that was attractive about the photograph to me was that the sun was low in the sky, and the west side of the trees and rocks were in full sunlight, while the opposite wall was in full shadow. I knew that by reducing the developing time of my film, I could hold detail in the highlights, and by giving more exposure than normal to the film, I would have deep, rich shadows. The strategy worked, as many years of experience told me it would.

There were, however, serious roadblocks to making landscape photographs in the national forest when I was there, primarily smoke. Forest fires were burning in Washington, Oregon, and Northern California, hundreds of miles to the west, and the smoke from them literally filled the canyon to the degree that, at times, I couldn't see from one rim to the other. Oddly, there were no winds to clear out the smoke. Sometimes it would clear out somewhat in the night, but for the most part, it was just one of those things that a landscape photographer has to deal with. Challenges, and figuring out how to solve them, will make your work much more interesting.

A lot of times, what seems like an obstacle can be turned to your advantage if it is viewed from the proper perspective.

A smoky forest worked to my great advantage in this case. I was walking in the forest on the other side of the mountain, looked up, and realized that something very cool was happening in the forest looking up the mountain; and, by the way, if you're wanting to include a ridgeline or a horizon line, photographing up the hill will serve you well. If you don't want to include a ridgeline or the horizon, find a way to aim the camera downwards. Standing in the right location made the light "bend" around the trees and created sunbeams. The decision was then made to render the image very light, or high key, rather than full range. It is often a mistake in black-and-white photography to force an image to have a fully black, or no-detail, shadow area. Sometimes your image will want to be very light—and it's best to let it have its own voice.

A thing to always be aware of when you are working outdoors, especially when you are alone, as I often am, and in a potentially dangerous situation, is where you put your feet and what is under them. I was walking down a very steep embankment to get to this little stream. I placed one foot on what looked like stable footing, but it was loose gravel, and I fell backward, and then forward, before rolling into some bushes. Thankfully, nothing was broken or seriously injured, although my chiropractor at home said I had a bent rear axle!

In all, I spent three full weeks there in Bighorn National Forest. That national forest is immense, and sad to say, I couldn't begin to see it all. The last afternoon I was there, the sky, amazingly, was clear. Around midday, I noticed that it was clouding up, and I made the decision that I would go back and clear out the cabin to leave the next morning, knowing that I could drive to Cheyenne easily, spend the night, and then drive on home—about 10 hours. As I was preparing to leave, it began raining lightly at first and then became a torrential mountain deluge. When the sky began to clear, it was obvious that something magical was about to happen, so I grabbed my backpack and beat feet to a place that I knew would be good. By that time, the wind was horrendous and icy cold. I was able to park my truck in such a way that it made a semi-good windbreak. This is one of those times when you take a chance and make the photograph, even though conditions are crap, thinking that it might work out. So you know, this exposure was four minutes long because the light level was so low, and due to a thing we deal with when using film called "reciprocity opportunity." Some old-timers call it "reciprocity departure"—the technical name—but I see it as an opportunity for something very nice.

For anyone interested, there are many Artist in Residence opportunities each year offered, mainly by the National Park Service, but also by the Forest Service and BLM. Here is a link that you may find useful: National Park Service Artist in Residence.

People often ask me where I find film for my cameras, mistakenly thinking that film is no longer available. I get mine from B&H Photo. Here's a link to this company and the film they offer: B&H Kodak T-Max 400. Keep in mind that there are several brands of film that are good; I just happen to use Kodak and have for forty-plus years.