by Mike Derzon
Armed with a borrowed camera and tripod, I stepped out of my rental car into the cool evening air of Death Valley, CA. I was embarking on my first photography workshop ever, and it had been twenty-five years since I’d taken my one short high school photography class. I was wondering if I could keep up. I was wondering who the leaders would be. I was wondering if I could figure out how to work all the buttons and wheels on the digital camera that hung around my neck.
During the first evening meeting at Furnace Creek Ranch, we met our leaders, Moe Witschard and David Middleton, who I would soon learn were tremendously capable and approachable experts in their field. Introductions and itineraries were followed by a short lesson on how to approach our first shoot. Talk of foregrounds, depth of field, and “leading lines” swirled about. Cookies were passed around. The playful banter that characterized our four-day workshop began. By the end of the meeting I felt excited to get underway, even though our meeting time was an early 5AM the next morning.
After what turned out to be a remarkably short sleep, I joined the others under a starry pre-dawn sky. We caravanned to Cow Creek and Moe led us down to salt flats that were traversed by scores of thin rivulets that ran off towards the Panamint Mountains to the west. As we spread out, David began his mantra to me: look for what you like in a scene, find the best example of it, and compose your shot around that. I wasn’t sure exactly what it all meant. It was all beautiful. Narrowing my focus didn’t really seem possible. I looked around and it all looked good.
That first morning I started out with my ISO accidentally set on its highest possible setting and my first 20 pictures were as grainy as pepper flakes. I fixed that, but struggled with my borrowed tripod, holding it sideways while I tried to compose my pictures. Unable to get it as low as I wanted, I put two legs on the ground and propped the camera on my knee. I found myself buzzing around trying to find shots that were staring me in the face had I just stood still. I needed some assistance.
And in it came. With a few straightforward suggestions and comments, Moe and David were there for me. David showed me how to extend the legs of my tripod out to the side and use the center post as a third leg. Moe was realistic when I told him about the ISO: “You won’t make that mistake again,” he said. That sunk in. After that I checked it every time I started out. And they both tried to have me slow down and look for my shot. “Don’t bother with pictures that aren’t great. Wait for the light. Find those leading lines. Don’t just push the shutter release.” I would have to hear those words a few more times before they sank in.
After breakfast I received my first essential post-processing lesson from my new-found friend and fellow participant, Larry. Thank goodness he knew how to work the imaging software I’d just bought. He was patient and extremely helpful as we worked on those first few images and I started to learn the new vocabulary: levels, contrast, hue, saturation… I was on a challenging crash course on Photoshop Elements and it was fast and furious. I was hanging on by a thread.
Next we gathered to have our first “classroom” lesson. David started out with a stunningly accurate mimic of a certain student’s tripod misuse that had us all rolling; I think I had tears of laughter rolling down my guilty face. Throughout the workshop, the humor was dispensed as liberally as the information. Moe then presented his “Six Essential Elements of a Successful Landscape Photo.” Well prepared, clearly organized, and extremely informative, he laid out a great template for success. We analyzed a few great images and prepared for our afternoon trip to Golden Valley. With my ISO corrected, my tripod technique improved, and my goals more clear, I was ready to try to start putting things together.
A second shoot, a beautiful spot and I was still taking too many shots. But I was taking better shots. The lessons were starting to sink in. When we returned to the Ranch, I didn’t even want to go to dinner – I just wanted to see my images. I started to like the pictures I was taking, and Larry helped me to make them presentable.
The Critique was the next adventure. Repeat participants knew the drill: bring in six pictures you’ve taken and expect an honest assessment of where you went right and where you went wrong. Concept, composition, exposure, dust on your sensor… whatever element of your photo needed attention, Moe and David provided pithy advice that cut to the heart of the issues. The critiques were insightful and helpful and often hilarious. We had three sessions during which we shared our pictures, and they taught me endless concepts and skills.
More early mornings were followed by more beautiful places and more excellent teaching. I was beginning to get a feel for the craft, and I became more and more excited about the images I was able to capture and the way I was learning to approach the subjects. David’s messages from the first morning finally sunk in at Dante’s view when suddenly it became clear what he had meant about deciding what you like and finding the best example of it. I took a shot of purple ridges receding into an orange sunrise that I will soon print and hang on my bedroom wall. It’s the most pleasing picture I’ve ever taken.
On the final morning of the workshop, in the quiet pre-dawn at the famous Zabriskie Point, David gave me the assignment to slow down, relax, develop my ideas, and then just shoot the good ones. I slowed down. I relaxed. I settled into this new passion I’d gotten myself into. As the sun finally peeked up in the east and the light fell on the tops of the ridges all around me, I was ready. I felt the flow of the moment. I stayed in one small area and saw pattern after pattern in the land around me. I took a lot of pictures, and I tried to make them good ones. In four short days, I had stepped into the world of photography, and now I’ve found that I don’t ever want to leave.
