I made the decision yesterday morning to keep my camera by my side at all times throughout the day. My personal photographic output had decreased over the past few months so I was looking for something to jumpstart my creativity. To sum it up, the idea was a great success. I was able to capture a handful of images that I am truly proud of. Below is a sample of some of the photographs I made as the sun was setting on the lake. Some family had come over for the evening and paired them with some golden hour light. Enjoy.
After The Storm
As a late afternoon storm rolls Eastward across the sky, the Sun peaks out from the cover of temporary darkness to illuminate the adjacent clouds with its last rays of daylight. The formations now resembling gradients, rather than clusters of moisture, slowly change their shape. They are aided by a gentle breeze, a remnant of the passing storm. There is a great juxtaposition at this moment. The surface of the Earth is calm and quiet, interrupted only by the occasional birdsong. Up above, a fire rages in the stratosphere.
The Nikkor 105
I photographed this series of images using an adapted Nikkor 105mm f4 lens that was given to me by my grandfather. The focal length of this telephoto prime provided the right amount of reach to photograph all the clouds intricate details while not getting too close as to misrepresent the scale of these structures. These older lenses, manufactured for use on film SLRs lack all of the hi-tech coatings and glass that newer lenses have and therefore give digital images a "film like" quality. In the case of these images, I think they have a softness to them while still remaining sharp where it counts. All of the photos were taken at ISO 400 or higher. The subsequent noise adds grain and texture, in some ways it mimics the lingering moisture present in the air at the time.
Foggy, condensation filled mornings are a common occurrence at our home. Drenched windows make for an interesting subject, and I tend to stop and photograph them whenever the opportunity arises. I'm hoping that by the time I'm fifty I have enough misty window content to publish a photo book on them. I can see it now... Moist (Gl)ass: The Michael Mroczek Story. I know I have your interested piqued however, the book is still a little over twenty years away so, for now, the foggy photographs below will have to suffice.