The Inner Art of Photography

Hello!

As glamorous as photography seems to be, and as simple as it seems to point-and-shoot, photography is far more an inward art than a digital product. Photography rides on being open and prepared for the “perfect moment”. The more I learn about photography, the more difficult it seems to find such moments. I used to be happy taking photos in the middle of the day, until I came to learn that low light really seems to accentuate the picture with depth and contrast; now getting up early or staying up late for photographs is normal. I used to be happy photographing a scene during a cloudless sunset, until I discovered that clouds can give a picture prominence. Additional lessons I’ve faced include framing and angle, colors, focus, lighting, speed, and much more. It seems that what used to be a simple camera click has transformed into a smorgasbord of components, settings, and opportunities that must be somehow aligned in order to actually capture that “perfect picture”. 

Setup for Old Faithful Geyser (If the geyser would only erupt!)

This lesson has been really standing out to me this week. For two days in a row I have been set up for the perfect picture: I arrived early to take a few test photos to ensure I wouldn’t miss the perfect moment. The first night, I had hiked to Observation Point for a birds-eye view of Old Faithful at sunset. The second night, I spent my evening poised near Riverside Geyser for another perfect photo at sunset. Only one problem: both geysers erupted ten minutes after sunset! 

Old Faithful Geyser from Observation Point, ten minutes after sunset

No matter how much I wished things happen the way I plan, nor how much preparation I do to capture the perfect photo, there is so much of photography that is beyond my control. No matter how much I learn about it or spend time scoping out locations, control will always be beyond my grasp. 

Setup for Riverside Geyser (If the geyser would only erupt!)

During my days off, I visited Grand Teton National Park just south of Yellowstone. My plan was to capture some scenes before the snow receded up the mountains. In the midst of my explorations though, my photography waned as several thunderstorms rolled through, obstructing the mountains and blighting my idea of capturing great moments. For several hours I sat in my car reading my book while a heavy rain enveloped the car, enjoying the delightful pitter-patter upon the windshield. As my hopes of capturing the perfect moment waned, I decided to instead spend my time in prayer and silence—thanking God for the opportunity to enjoy such beauty even though it would not be captured by the camera. 

Riverside Geyser, ten minutes after sunset

As the afternoon sun set over the mountains, I was positioned directly across from these jagged peaks enjoying my time. To the north, clear skies were turning into beautiful accents of low light, and to the south thunderhead clouds were beginning to turn pink. Either direction held beautiful light, but where I sat, a large, dark cloud obstructed the view. Chasing the sun in another direction would take too long. Instead, I sat watching the scene in gratitude despite my disappointment. 

As the sun dropped behind the mountains, the clouds were illuminated by its light, transforming a mundane scene into a majestic panorama! I was breathless witnessing this beauty as luminous clouds wrapped around the peaks of the Tetons and then unfurl in glorious color. 

Grand Teton Sunset

The next morning I awoke at 4:00 AM after a short night filled with a thunderstorm. With such a storm passing through, it was likely that these clouds would block the sunrise. Nevertheless, I started to drive, hoping to find a good spot to capture the sunrise…if there was a sunrise at all. I sat on the shore of Jackson Lake, and to my astonishment, the passing storm muted the sunrise, but in its place, I watched the most beautiful sunrise unfold before me. I was caught up in wonder and praise. Like my high school choir used to sing, “How can I keep from singing?”

Grand Teton Sunrise over Jackson Lake

No matter how much equipment a photographer has, no matter what sort of techniques the s/he has mastered, and no matter how well Photoshop can edit unwanted flaws, a photographer remains at the mercy of her/his surroundings. Devotion to the art keeps driving the photographer out of bed to set up for another sunrise, but it is the ability to release control over the scene that makes photography a spiritual experience to me. It is my privilege to show up and witness God as He takes a scene and makes something beautiful of it.

The Power of Resurrection

Hello!

One of the greatest delights of time is being able to watch something progress. Even when something might not be noticeable on a daily basis, over a span of time, those minute adjustments that occur daily and hourly compound into significant changes. This was my experience this past week.

Bison at Gibbon River

I can remember the first time I ever walked through Mammoth Hot Springs. It was three summers ago, and I nearly wept. After reading numerous books that depicted this hill of collective hot springs in terraces of orange, yellow, and white, I discovered the majority of these springs to have dried up, leaving its grey terraces to be trampled by herds of elk and bison. Finding the hillside grey and scarred was jarring; all that remained were a few hot springs that showed signs of receding water. This was confirmed the following year when I returned to Mammoth; of all the remaining hot springs, many of them were in recession with ash-white terraces like sepulchers. It seemed as though after centuries of prominence and fame, I was witnessing Mammoth’s demise. 

Palette Spring 

(The ash white are dried terraces)

My first visit to Mammoth this year was met with delight. Several springs that were in recession were slowly improving. This was a great encouragement to me, as I was not prepared to watch mammoth die completely. As I walked the hill of former hot springs, little had changed: broken terraces were strewn across the hill, beaten down by migrating herds. As I had followed the progress of this hill for four years now, the signs of decay were no longer shocking. 

Mound Spring (Former Mound Spring behind)

Despite all the discouragement, there was a small glimmer of hope. Three years ago there was a new hot spring called Mound Spring. Geologists explained that the former Mound Spring, which had dried up, had created a new channel in a low niche off of the former giant. I reckoned the new Mound Spring with a slight degree of disdain, as this was evidence that the former hot spring would never be able to regain its former glory. It was a leech that drained the life supply of its predecessor. While the former mound had developed a system of terraces and channels, the new hot spring held little definition beyond the thermal bacteria growing in its stream. The following year, the spring was developing some basic terraces, but it remained primarily a stream of thermal water. 

New Mound Spring Terrace

As I ventured further up the terraces to where Mound Spring is located, I rounded a corner to discover that over the past three years, the new Mound Spring has matured into a glowing series of cascading terraces and pools, colored in yellows, reds, oranges, whites, and even some green—not from algae, but from thermal bacteria! Though surrounded by decay, here was a spring that overcame its surrounding death and was thriving. It was such a majestic sight that I spent nearly half an hour staring at it, projecting how the entire hill might look like what this small spring reflected.

Angel Terrace

It is amazing how something small and progressively slow affects me. Three summers ago, I was crushed at the widespread death that had swallowed up Mammoth Hot Springs. The following year, I reported that the springs had receded even further, following the processes of nature. In a situation where the facts of life indicated that the glory days of the hot springs were lingering, I determined that I would cherish the little that remained, but inwardly I would still yearn to have seen it in its fullness. The only power that is more incredible than life is resurrection—reversing the natural progression of decay, brokenness, and death to bring life, healing and renewal to places where hope was lost. I have experienced this personally through the gift of Jesus Christ, and have witnessed it in multitudes of friends and family—ways I have come to regularly expect—but to see this happen within the realms of God’s natural world, where I do not expect this—only heightens my hope in God’s ability to restore all things and make all things new again.

Bright New Horizons

Hello!

Final exams are complete. The last paper submitted. The graduation stage crossed. 

It seems so unusual to finally be finished with my college work. The past seven years of my life, like a chapter in a book, are finished and I am pressing on into what this story holds. I am stepping out into something both old and yet new. As this is my seventh summer employed in the national parks, I am stepping into an arena that has become very familiar to me. This year I am employed at Yellowstone National Park working at the Old Faithful General Store. I have worked here for two summers before (2011 and 2012). Returning, I have reunited with some good friends from years past, and am reacquainting myself with the cyclic rhythms of Old Faithful’s eruptions, each one sending a new wave of tourists and shoppers to our store. 

Old Faithful

I have arrived earlier than previous years, and I am delightfully surrounded by snow. Nearly each day has held a new snowstorm that has blanketed the ground and melting quickly afterwards. Each day the snow recedes, urging me to capture these pristine moments before they thaw and the landscape transforms into summer. Despite the snowfall and wetness, my lips are still dried and cracked from the low humidity of this place. I already miss the greenness of the Willamette Valley, yet with only a short walk from my dormitory, the wilderness greets me with the excitement and attraction of its nearby geysers. Hardly a day has passed that has not been spent exploring these gems—each one a familiar sight to me, yet always astounding and humbling. I am overwhelmed by the intricacy of God’s creation as even the smallest detail lures me into prayer and contemplating the mystery of the One who would create such a place. 

Firehole River

In the midst of the old and familiar, this summer marks many new milestones and new opportunities. For starters, I am employed as an assistant manager—basically a manager-in-training. Upon the successful completion of this summer, this can open up new management opportunities in successive years in the national parks. I am entering a new level within the national park concessionaires. There is a lot to learn in the process though. I am already doing a lot of homework reading through the manager’s binder and being trained in all departments. There is much to learn, and this has been exciting and challenging for me. In addition to this, this is my first summer not volunteering to minister with A Christian Ministry in the National Parks (ACMNP). The purpose was twofold: as I now must follow jobs according to their availability, I have to remain flexible towards my ministry commitments. Furthermore, I am now pursuing a career with the National Park Service (NPS) with the hopes of becoming a park ranger. As I have volunteered for ACMNP over the past six years, I haven’t been able to pursue a park ranger position yet, and need to build my qualifications. So this summer I am trying to become a volunteer ranger and develop my qualifications. 

Crested Pool

Finally, this summer marks a new page towards my hopes of entering ministry as a writer. Without the presence of summer studies, I have been released to direct my energies towards practicing and developing my writing and photography skills. I am fresh to this sphere, so it will take some diligence and commitment to regularly practice. This summer also opens the opportunity for greater practice in spiritual disciplines in wilderness settings, learning to be still, listen, serve, and learn. Already I am seeing that such an ambition must be devotedly pursued; otherwise it will become consumed by distractions. Yet in the midst of this, I am praying that God will guide and teach me so that I can follow Him wholeheartedly in the journey ahead. 

Clepsydra Geyser

There is a lot of exploration to be done in the months and years ahead—both physically and spiritually. I am excited to launch into this summer participating in this journey of faith and learning. 

As this is a period of transition for me, this is also a time of transition for “Tobyn’s Travels”. As I start developing my writing skills, I am reimagining what this blog might transform into. Hopefully in the weeks to come you will begin to see this blog develop and transition as well. During this process, please feel free to contribute your thoughts towards this process, noting elements that are helpful, enjoyable, confusing, or bland. Part of this process is to learn from you, my readers, as much as I hope to share this journey with you—sending you messages and pictures of inspiration.

Old Faithful Inn

Blessings to you in the summer ahead! I look forward to sharing the journey and trail together.

Tobyn