Fire Over Hurricane

During the culminating Colorado Plateau field trip that my Regional Field Geology class took in the summer of 2014, we passed through the town of Hurricane, Utah. We had driven past some small and distant brush fires during the day, and then camped in a state park on a reservoir outside the town. But as darkness descended, we realized that the fires were bigger and closer than they had seemed, and appeared to be looming just behind a ridge over Hurricane. After dinner, I stood on the back bumper of one of our vans and balanced my camera on the roof to take this 30-second exposure. Neither us nor the town were in danger though, so we just watched in awe...and started singing "I set fire to Hurricane" to the tune of Adele's "Set Fire To The Rain."

Christmas Moon

The neighbor across the street from me, Mr. Farmer, has always decorated his house for Christmas. He's expanded to other holidays too—he has inflatables for pretty much every occasion. Halloween is almost bigger than Christmas in his yard. His displays draw crowds each year, and he welcomes visitors to walk across his lawn and onto his front porch to take in everything. Candy canes dangle from the branches overhead and Christmas lights cover everything. A few years ago, when I walked across the street to take in the spectacle through my camera, I looked up and saw the moon shining through the branches, surrounded by colored lights. It inspired me to capture this very different take on the standard moon photo.

Seagull Chase

I've gone to Block Island with my dad for about a week every summer for the past 10 years at least. I always use this commitment-free opportunity to improve my photography and develop new perspectives on familiar subjects. This past summer, I devoted some of my efforts to sunsets, which rarely disappoint on Block Island. One evening while I was down on the beach, I encountered a seagull in the surf, and immediately envisioned this shot. But I had to work for it: I chased this poor juvenile back and forth for half-an-hour, trying to simultaneously keep the camera level, keep the bird framed with the sky, and run, all while trying to predict the direction the bird would flee and periodically adjusting the camera's settings as night closed in. So by the time I got this shot, neither I nor the seagull were anywhere near as calm as this photo appears.

Steam Vents

Night photography thrills me, but my equipment consists of nothing more than a tripod, so I am always looking for alternative sources of light that will provide an atmosphere suitable for long exposures. On the night I took this photo, the sunken gardens at the College of William and Mary were draped in fog. I had to go out and shoot because I knew the fog would beautifully diffuse the light from the lamps lining the walks; as it turned out, the steam vents in the ground provided another diffuser as well as an interesting focus. At the College, students pass down legends about secret tunnels accessed by these steam vents, so with this photo, I tried to convey both the ethereal quality of the night and the enigmatic nature of these tales.

Fortuitous Test

During the first month of my freshman year at William and Mary, I went on a field trip with the geology department. We camped next to the James River and then canoed down it the next morning, stopping to look at geologic features along the way. It was great, and a significant factor in my decision to major in geology. However, there were unadvertised class 2 rapids, and my canoe flipped, dumping me, but more importantly, my camera, into the James. It was completely immersed for at least 10 seconds, so I took no more photos that trip. I let it dry out for an entire stressful day and took it out to the sunken gardens the next night to test it out. A product of that tentative shoot, this photo thankfully confirmed that there didn't seem to be any water stains inside the lens.