It rained for a couple of days before, leaving a thick cloud cover. I had hoped the clouds would make for an interesting sunrise, but it didn’t pan out that way. The cloud ceiling was very low, and as the sun rose, you could only see a thin line of orange on the horizon with dark blue and purplish clouds blocking all other sunlight.

As is often the case on a photo trek, the subject I thought I would be photographing wasn’t the best shot. I had planned to capture a hillside rising above the sea on the other side of the bay, but after an initial look upon arrival, I knew that was never going to be the shot. However, as that thin line of orange horizon grew brighter, I saw a lady walking with her dog on top of the sea wall with the open ocean on the other side and about to walk right into my camera’s field of view.

After & Before the Edit

It ended up being the best composition of the day; but it still had its problems. There were all sorts of detritus creating distractions throughout the image—other people walking on a lower sidewalk, crab pot buoys floating in the water, an odd life vest hanging on a pole, and a random white box sitting on the sidewalk. So, using Adobe Lightroom and Photoshop, I carefully removed all these tiny distractions. This brings up an important question: how far is too far when editing photographs?

Photographers have been editing their photos since the earliest days of the art. In the darkroom, we would used techniques like dodging and burning to manually edit their photos. Ansel Adams, a master of darkroom techniques, famously said,

“Dodging and burning are steps to take care of mistakes God made in establishing tonal relationships.” ^[1]

As long as a photographer is transparent about their artistic process, who are we to discourage them from executing their art? Photography is not just about capturing reality; it’s about conveying an artistic vision. Editing is a tool that helps bring that vision to life, allowing photographers to present their work as they envision it. In the end, the artistic integrity of a photo lies in the honesty of the photographer about their methods and intentions.

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Unfortunately, my family isn’t as enthusiastic about waiting around while I have an intimate moment with my tripod.

The non-photographers in the travel group, which is everyone but me, are always ready to move to the next point of interest just as I’m beginning to get a feel for the vista before me. If only my camera were capable of magic, snapping perfect shots at the speed of light.

What’s a photographer to do? I wish I had a real answer. In some cases, if I know that I’m going to be able to make it back, I will treat the family outing as a scouting trip, jotting down notes of locations and compositions to try upon my return.

However, sometimes this may be a once-in-a-lifetime trip, and in those cases, there are few options other than risk annoying your family as they wait and twiddle their thumbs back at the car while you endlessly plod around the countryside looking for the perfect photograph.

Photographer Henri Cartier-Bresson once said,

“Photographers deal in things which are continually vanishing, and when they have vanished, there is no contrivance on Earth which can make them come back again.” ^[1]

This quote beautifully encapsulates the photographer’s perspective and the challenge we face when balancing our passion with the impatience of non-photographers. My family might argue that the only thing vanishing is their patience.

Learning to walk the tightrope of chasing the perfect photograph while keeping your family happy is an art in itself. Sometimes, it means accepting that you can’t capture every moment as you’d like. Other times, it involves finding creative ways to incorporate quick snapshots into the family itinerary or negotiating a few extra minutes at particularly scenic spots. Ultimately, it’s about understanding and appreciating both your passion and your family’s desire to enjoy the journey without constant interruptions. So, while I may dream of endless golden hours, I’ve learned that sometimes the best shots are the ones you take quickly, just before your loved ones stage a coup.

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When I plan photo treks, I start with tools like the Photographer’s Ephemeris, which allows me to plot the best location based on the direction of the sun for the time of day I’ll be on site. When the subject is a famous location, I like to do a quick search to see images others are posting. This helps me avoid replicating compositions that thousands of others have already taken, allowing me to find a unique angle.

For this adventure, I set my sights on Cathedral Rock in Sedona. Most photos I found online were taken from the south, looking north as the sunrise illuminates the rock formations. To capture something different, I decided to hike in from the north, hoping to photograph the rock formation with the sun rising between the rocks.

After a nearly two-hour drive, I arrived about 45 minutes before sunrise, giving me plenty of time to make the 30-minute hike to my target location and set up for the shot. The brisk 25°F temperature kept me moving at a steady pace, warming me as I hiked.

Once I reached the general area, I scouted for the best angle for my composition. Knowing I would be shooting directly into the sun, I planned a composite shot. I first took images of the rock formation in complete silhouette before the sun was in the perfect position. These would serve as a mask in Photoshop. Then, I captured several shots exposing for the rock formation and the frames exposing for the sunrise.

In the end, the sky didn’t yield the most breathtaking results, and the sun never quite appeared between the rocks where I hoped it might, but it was still one of the most beautiful mornings I have experienced on a photo trek. The location I chose was perfect—secluded and quiet. I didn’t see another person until an hour or so after sunrise. I had all of Cathedral Rock to myself.

Ansel Adams once said,

“Sometimes I do get to places just when God’s ready to have somebody click the shutter.” ^[1]

For me, this is the essence of being alone in nature, finding the perfect moment to capture its beauty. Being in nature, surrounded by nothing but the vast landscape, allows you to connect deeply with your surroundings and find value in the solitude. This experience at Cathedral Rock confirmed for me the importance of preparation, patience, and being present in the resulting tranquility.

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Being a last minute addition to the trip, I did not have time to use my usual tools like Google Street View or the Photographer’s Ephemeris to plan the shot. As soon as I walked onto the beach, I was struck by the potential of the scene. The stark contrast between the dead and living trees, combined with the open ocean in the background, had all the elements of a compelling composition. However, we were there at midday, with the sun bright and harsh, and I had limited time to find the perfect angle.

As a travel photographer, flexibility is crucial. You must constantly look through the camera’s viewfinder, if not literally then metaphorically, seeking the best composition and snapping pix as you go. Sometimes, what doesn’t seem like the perfect shot in the moment can turn out to be a hidden gem when you review and edit your photos later.

This opportunity was no exception. I kept moving along the beach, analyzing the scene and triangulating where I thought the best location would be to get the shot.

Shot that did not make the cut.

I took several photos from different angles which didn’t quite capture the essence I was looking for. As I moved and adjusted, I quickly found the spot from which to shoot. I then spent a few seconds fine-tuning the composition, aligning the elements to create a balanced and engaging image.

The final shot (at the top of this post), with its interplay of the sky’s negative space, the water’s reflections, the surrounding trees in silhouette and of course the focal point of the fallen dead tree, encapsulates the scene’s natural beauty and my love of contrasting subjects.

One of my favorite photographer’s, Steve McCurry once said,

That’s really the big challenge—finding the right picture and trying to craft the picture out of a situation which is fluid and in motion, and grab that moment. All these elements swirl around in your brain. It’s an instinct. You’re not really thinking. It’s more from your heart” ^[1].

This resonates with the experience I had on that beach in the Philippines. Luck favors the prepared, but being prepared goes beyond location scouting. It also means understanding your own composition process and being ready to adapt and capture the unexpected moments that come your way in order to express your creative spirit.

The post Capturing the Unexpected appeared first on M. Colin Burch.

41 shots in 44 seconds

However, about 15 minutes after the sunrise, I noticed a small sandpiper hunting for its breakfast in the shallow surf. The bird stood in the direct reflection of the sun on the wet sand, creating a captivating scene. Over the next 30 seconds, I took 41 photos of the sandpiper as it moved back and forth. The high tide was coming in, and the surf was choppy with mist blowing off the waves, adding a dynamic element to the composition.

As I continued shooting, my plan began to develop. I aimed to create a three-part composition featuring the sun, a crashing wave with mist in the middle, and the sandpiper at the bottom. After the bird flew away, I wasn’t sure if I had captured anything worthwhile. It wasn’t until I reviewed the photos a day or two later that I realized the 34th image perfectly encapsulated what I was looking for.

This experience underscores the importance of perseverance in photography. Even when conditions aren’t ideal, keep shooting and composing. Sometimes, the most unexpected moments yield the best results. Dewitt Jones, a former National Geographic photographer, said it best,

“The difference between a good frame and a great frame is measured in millimeters not miles”​​​​.^[1]

This quote reminds us that small adjustments and a keen eye for detail can make all the difference in capturing that perfect shot.

Even when things don’t go as planned, keep your camera ready, be open to the unexpected and persevere. Great photos often come from the moments you least anticipate. As a photographer, understanding your own composition process and being adaptable can turn a seemingly ordinary scene into something extraordinary. By focusing on the details and making those small adjustments, you can transform a lousy day into a good photo.

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I had scoped the location, a pedestrian sidewalk on a bridge overlooking the river, before the trip. I used some software to calculate the time a direction of the sun as well as Google Street View to get a feel for the compositions we could expect. But the pre-dawn morning was shrouded in an overcast sky, and I wasn’t entirely sure we would have much success.

The heavy humidity created a thick fog on the river, and as we began to set up on the bridge, I could see it rising and evaporating. My nephew, eager to capture the moment, was using one of my cameras, experimenting with different angles and settings. It was a joy to watch him discover the art of photography, even as I kept an eye on the shifting light and weather conditions.

As the sun began to peak over the mountains on the horizon, the skies started to clear. I was pleasantly surprised to see the sky begin to fill with beautiful colors while the fog on the river added a mystical quality to the scene. With my camera on my Manfrotto tripod, I zoomed to 32mm using my 24-70mm lens to frame the shot. I wanted a long exposure for this particular scene and ended up using a 6-second exposure at f/22 to capture the ethereal quality of the morning light and the movement of the fog.

My nephew watched intently, asking questions about why I chose certain settings and what I was looking for in the scene. It was a teaching moment, not just about photography, but about observation and the patience required to capture a fleeting moment.

In the end, the photo we captured that morning was a testament to the beauty of nature and the importance of being prepared and patient. As Ansel Adams once said,

“You don’t take a photograph, you make it.”

This experience reinforced the idea that great photography is not just about being in the right place at the right time, but also about having a vision, planning carefully, and waiting for the perfect moment to unfold.

That morning on the Youghiogheny River was a perfect example of this, and it was made even more special by sharing the experience with my nephew.

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Two of our clients at Simpatico Design Studio were collaborating to give away a charcuterie board and a selection of food & wine to go with it. We set up the shoot in Cork & Table‘s dining room and Fraser Wood Elements sent over the charcuterie board to be given away.

We spent a little time working out the composition trying a few iterations until we hit on the look we all liked.

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One of our clients at Simpatico Design Studio, asked us to do a photoshoot for their new restaurant’s menus.

We set up before they opened in the dining room as they were doing a menu review with the wait staff.

After a few test shots, we began cycling through all of the dishes as the chef and his team sent them out from the kitchen.

The post Food Photoshoot appeared first on M. Colin Burch.

I had followed my usual plan for shooting sunrises while visiting a national park in Chincoteague, Virginia.

1. During the previous day, while exploring and spending time with my wife, I was keeping an eye out for possible locations to shoot a dramatic sunrise.
2. As I found potential spots, I would check the Photographer’s Ephemeris® app to see when and where the sun would rise in the current location
3. Before going to bed, I prepped my gear, set it by the door.
4. I set my alarm for some ungodly hour to allow for travel and setup time.

Step 4 is where I screwed up. While I did set it for 5:15… it was for PM instead of AM.

When I finally opened my eyes at 6:15 AM, I lay there for a couple of minutes deciding if I even wanted to try to salvage this excursion or just roll over and sleep a bit more.

The sunrise was rising at 7:15 AM. By the time I hiked to the location, it was 7:35 AM. 

It was a chilly morning, with low, fast-moving clouds that completely covered the eastern horizon blocking any hope of seeing the sun.

It was a grey and washed-out morning. There were no splendid colors. There were no dramatic shadows. Just a pale sky and a dark horizon.

I pressed on, set up my gear and began to shoot the horizon that caught my eye the previous day. As I watched, I began to see some interesting patterns to the clouds as they blew past the trees. As I snapped a few frames and took a quick look on the screen, I saw the potential for an interesting black and white composition. I kept at it for another 10 or 15 minutes until I felt I had wrung all I could from the scene. 

I spent the rest of the morning walking through the park, enjoying the quiet and solitude. When I looked through the raw images later that evening, I saw what has become one of my favorite shots of 2017. 

One thing I’ve learned over many years, when you think getting a good shot is hopeless, with a little perseverance something good will usually appear worth shooting. Works in life, too.

The post Salvaging a Shot appeared first on M. Colin Burch.

In March of 2014, I visited Port Harcourt, Nigeria to create some short films telling the story of how SFCC is affecting change in that part of the world.

I visited Nigeria in 2009, but I amazingly neglected to remember just how brutally hot and relentlessly humid this African nation is. During the 2014 trip, the high temperatures and humidity caused my Nikon D-3400 camera to overheat and shut down on multiple occasions. I have read about “operational temperature ranges” in equipment manuals, however, I have never experienced any piece of equipment fail because of extreme temperatures.

So as I prepared to return to Nigeria in early 2015, I began researching how I might be able to avoid overheating the camera by using some sort of cooling device. I was hoping to find an existing product I could simply buy online and have shown up the next day. But I had no luck finding such a product.

I expanded my search and I ran across a site dedicated to Astronomy Photography. Evidently, creating super long exposure photographs with a DSLR causes the camera’s sensors to heat up. And having hot photo sensors creates a grainy effect in the final photo. Thus, there are a handful of astronomy blogs describing how they made various cooling devices in order to create grain-free photos of deep space.

The main cooling component is a Thermoelectric Cooler (TEC). Here is how Wikipedia describes the component:

Thermoelectric coolers operate by the Peltier effect (which also goes by the more general name thermoelectric effect). The device has two sides, and when DC current flows through the device, it brings heat from one side to the other, so that one side gets cooler while the other gets hotter. The “hot” side is attached to a heat sink so that it remains at ambient temperature, while the cool side goes below room temperature.

Diagram of how the camera cooler worked while in moderate ambient temperatures (below 90˚F)

Since one side of a TEC gets cold and the other side gets hot, the heat from the “hot side” of the TEC must be displaced in order to have the unit act as a cooling device. To accomplish this, I attached a heat sink to the TEC along with a small electric fan to create an exhaustive air flow.

I then attached the “cold side” of the TEC to a thin copper frame that wrapped around the camera. I fabricated this frame using thin, malleable copper sheeting. The idea was to have the TEC cool the highly conductive copper thus distributing the cooler temperatures around the camera.

In order to keep the cold temperature close to the camera, I worked with a local seamstress to fabricate an enclosure made from insulation fabric. The enclosure included two clear polyurethane “windows” so I could still see the camera’s LCD displays.

I used a simple metal project box to hold the electronics. I modified it with holes for the power switch and LED, a digital thermometer, and exhaust vents. A portable power supply (used to recharge mobile phones) powered the device.

Once it was assembled, it weighed about 1.5 pounds, not insignificant when it would have to be carried every moment for a week in the African heat.

Diagram of how the camera cooler worked while in higher ambient temperatures (above 96˚F)

The final step was to do a real-world test. The last thing I wanted to do was to try this out for the first time in Nigeria. So, I moved our Dyson portable heater into our small guest water closet, jacked up the thermostat, closed the door and waited for the heat to build up.

I set up the camera rig exactly as it would be used in Nigeria and started recording video. As the small room turned into an oversized Easy Bake Oven, the Camera Cooler did a great job of keeping the temperature inside the enclosure at least 10°F cooler than the outside ambient temperature.

However, as the ambient room temperature passed 96°F, the interior temperature began to significantly rise. Within a few minutes, the internal temperature matched the external, ambient temperature. The device had failed and thus, it did not make the trip to Nigeria.

As I reviewed the Camera Cooler’s design, I considered the fact that for the TEC to act as a cooler, the heat it generates must be displaced. When the ambient temperature is cooler than the exhaust temperature, the cool air being pulled through the heat sink enables the generated heat to be easily removed. However, as the ambient temperature rose and eventually matched the exhaust temperature, it became physically impossible to cool the heat sink.

Even though it eventually failed, it was still a fun experiment.

Fabricating the copper frame. Modifying the heat sink to match the size of the TEC and mounting it on the copper frame. Wiring the electrical components. The modified project box before painting it. The completed cooler components before adding the insulated fabric enclosure. Insulated fabric enclosure concept. The completed camera cooler.

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