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All Things Connecticut The American Northeast

Looking Back at 2014: Some Favorites

There’s no doubt about it: 2014 was certainly a life-changing year for me. My twin daughters, Scarlett and Madison, made their grand entrance in July and they finished out the year able to coo, squawk (for lack of a better term), swing toys and smile with a sincerity that is bewilderingly beautiful.

But you’re here for the photographs, right? Well, my work throughout 2014 was more diverse than ever. I delved deeper into Connecticut’s natural landscapes; still seeking out little-known places, but also making a more concerted effort to find fresh ways of interpreting more prominent natural landmarks. I also made my way out west to New York’s Catskills where I had the privilege of shooting some truly sublime waterfalls.

And undoubtedly one of the most striking shifts in my work during 2014 has been my fascination with farmlands. From sprawling cornfields and time-worn barns to grazing livestock and clusters of round hay bales, I’ve found great satisfaction in broadening my subject matter beyond purely natural landscapes. The reason for this change is simple: after years of landscape photography, I’ve finally discovered that what motivates me —what keeps me forever in search of the next vista— is the gratifying quest to express the essence of New England’s heritage. Not just our natural heritage, but also our cultural heritage: our farms, our old mills, our lighthouses, our covered bridges and our untold miles of fieldstone walls.

So without further ado, here are my favorite thirty photographs from 2014.

Heavenly Bantam
Little Pond, White Memorial Conservation Center, Litchfield, Connecticut

Even though the weather report called for partly cloudy conditions on this humid morning, there was mostly just vacuous, open expanses of sky over these lush wetlands in Connecticut’s Northwest Hills. It wasn’t until I was on the boardwalk heading back to the trailhead that I paused momentarily to take a look at some of the large cattail leaves nearby. Glancing beyond the leaves, I noticed an opportunity to capture the searing glow of the morning sun through a lingering mist which still swirled about landscape.White Memorial Conservation Center, Litchfield, CT

 

Yankee Farmlands № 9
East Granby, Connecticut

This time-worn barn along a rural stretch of road in East Granby had caught my eye weeks before I produced this image. I drove by it on several different occasions as we transitioned into October, waiting for just the right conditions which would conjure the nostalgic feel of a New England autumn. While the barn may be what folks tend to notice first, its stately, half-bare companion tree is really just as much the subject of this image.

Barn in East Granby, Connecticut

 

Legend of Bash Bish
Bash Bish Falls State Park, Mount Washington, Massachusetts

Throughout 2014 I finally began to sincerely delve into the realm of black & white photography. The famous Bash Bish Falls of Massachusetts’ Berkshires was among the first subjects that I tackled and my interest with this image nudged me to keep at it the rest of the year, even if only infrequently.

Bash Bish Falls, Massachusetts

 

Bee Brook Autumn
Hidden Valley Preserve, Washington, Connecticut

By early October, most of Connecticut was still a few weeks from reaching peak autumn color, but the forests of Washington were already ablaze when I visited Bee Brook on a cool, overcast morning. Under spring or summertime conditions, this perspective is somewhat unremarkable, yet it takes on an entirely different character when every square foot of the forest floor is jacketed with a vivid mosaic of fallen leaves.

Bee Brook, Washington, Connecticut

 

Yankee Farmlands № 4
Bethlehem, Connecticut

When I happened upon this horse pasture just minutes after dawn, I knew I had quite a find on my hands. Horses stood quietly upon the hills, seeming almost contemplative amidst the hazy, humid atmosphere. Rendering a sunstar upon the back of the nearest horse was tricky, but I think it worked to introduce a stronger, more dramatic focal point in the composition.

Horse Pasture, Bethlehem, Connecticut

 

Awosting from the Heavens
Awosting Falls, Minnewaska State Park, Ulster County, New York

Several of the waterfalls in New York’s Catskills and Shawangunks feature impressive freefalls into broad, amphitheater-like gorges and Awosting Falls is no exception. For this shot, I used very deliberate framing and the perspective distortion of an ultra-wide-angle lens to create the illusion that the waterfall was dropping clean out of the sky into a dark pool amidst angular boulders and woodlands. In reality, it was plunging into the gorge from a ledge about 60 feet above my head.

Awosting Falls, Minnewaska State Park, Ulster County, New York

 

Black Rock Crescendo
Black Rock Harbor Light, Seaside Park, Bridgeport, Connecticut

The Black Rock Lighthouse is a welcome anachronism that sits upon a small island just off the coast of Bridgeport, one of Connecticut’s largest and busiest cities. When you walk to the island via a 1,000-foot breakwater and stand beside the tower as the sun rises over Long Island Sound, it’s surprisingly easy to forget about the warehouses and smokestacks which crowd the shores of the nearby mainland. I shot this photograph on the last day of winter in 2014 and the sunrise was so astonishingly beautiful —and yielded so many striking images— that I had quite a bit of difficulty selecting a “favorite”.

Black Rock Lighthouse on Black Rock Harbor, Seaside Park, Bridgeport, CT

 

As Yet Untitled
Broad Brook Reservoir, Cheshire, Connecticut

I spent the later half of my childhood just minutes from Broad Brook Reservoir, so its wooded shores and placid waters are inextricably linked to my memories from those early days. There’s just something about this lake which I find deeply comforting, so I felt especially privileged to be there during a positively glorious autumn morning in October just as strong, sharply-angled sunlight illuminated the lakeside forest.

Broad Brook Reservoir, Cheshire, Connecticut

 

Bull’s Crossing at Kent
Bull’s Bridge, Kent, Connecticut

For a good deal of 2013, I had been working on my Old Timbered Crossings project in which I sought to capture the distinctive character of each of the three 19th-century covered bridges remaining in Connecticut. Despite a handful of visits to this iconic bridge spanning the Housatonic River in Kent, it was the only one of the lot that I hadn’t checked off the list before the end of that year. When I lamented to a friend that none of my previous shots quite fulfilled my vision, he suggested trying to shoot the bridge from the opposite side. That simple recommendation held the key I’d been searching for and I managed to produce this photograph just about a week later on a frigid morning in late January 2014.

Bull's Bridge over the Housatonic River, Kent, Connecticut

 

Carpenter’s Summer
Carpenter’s Falls, McLean Game Refuge, Granby, Connecticut

Carpenter’s Falls, a small waterfall in the expansive McLean Game Refuge, was somewhat starved for water when I arrived in late June. I was half expecting this, since waterfalls that are raging with spring rains and snow melt generally tend to grow more and more tame as the months progress, bringing hotter temperatures and reduced rainfall. Sometimes this reduced water volume can sap a waterfall of its aesthetic impact, but Carpenter’s Falls managed to retain its lively character even as a singular braid of wispy whitewater amidst moss and woodland grasses.

Carpenter Falls, McLean Game Refuge, Granby, Connecticut

 

As Yet Untitled
Chapman Falls, Devil’s Hopyard State Park, East Haddam, Connecticut

Chapman Falls is one of Connecticut’s more prominent waterfalls. It is the aesthetic centerpiece of Devil’s Hopyard State Park and probably draws more visitors than any of the 1,000 acres of forest that surround it. As such, it tends to be photographed very often and it’s difficult to create a photograph there which makes an original statement. So, rather than shooting a head-on “portrait” of Chapman Falls, I instead mounted my camera on the tripod just inches from the water and let the swirling foam at the base of the falls do most of the talking.

Chapman Falls, Devil's Hopyard State Park, East Haddam, CT

 

Autumn at the Stone Church
Dover Stone Church, Dover, New York

The Dover Stone Church is one of those natural landmarks that was once quite celebrated during the Victorian Era, but which more or less fell off the map as long-distance automobile travel began to extinguish the novel excitement behind so many local curiosities in the American Northeast. Although it looks to be a deep cavern plunging into the earth, the Stone Church is actually more akin to a small slot canyon. Over thousands of years, the brook I’ve portrayed in the foreground managed to eroded its way down through a massive rock outcropping, eventually chiseling out an impressive, 30-foot-tall hollow in solid stone.

Dover Stone Church, Dover, New York

 

Yankee Farmlands № 12
Avon, Connecticut

The first snowfall of winter this year blanketed the stubble of harvested cornstalks at this farm on the borderlands between Avon and Farmington. This freshly-frosted landscape was positively beautiful, but it was the particularly the bare, sprawling crown of this lone tree amidst the fields that really caught my eye. Composing the shot such that the sun blazed through the silhouetted branches was my way of drawing the viewer’s eyes into the heart of the scene.

Farmland in Avon, Connecticut

 

Yankee Farmlands № 16
Durham, Connecticut

The transitional period between autumn and winter is, for me at least, the most challenging time of year to pursue landscape photography in New England. It’s late enough that the trees have grown bare and colorless, yet oftentimes still too early for a persistent snowpack. The result is a decidedly bleak landscape which sometimes leaves me feeling a bit uninspired. Nonetheless, I still hit the road and roll the proverbial dice in search of rare opportunities. My efforts paid off this time around when I discovered a gated pasture overlooking a wooded hill painted liberally with the warm light of dawn.

Pasture in Durham, Connecticut

 

As Yet Untitled
Bridgewater, Connecticut

Lover’s Leap State Park in Bridgewater offers a spectacular cliffside overlook with panoramic views of Lake Lillinonah, a scenic reservoir on the Housatonic River. I was sure that a blanket of fog rolling over the landscape would make for an epic sunrise photograph from the overlook on this particular morning. Instead, it thickened to the point that I couldn’t see anything more than 100 feet away, much less the sprawling lake below. Thankfully, my favorite image of the day was taken in the dark twilight before I had even made my way to the overlook! The fog was still relatively thin this early in the morning, offering the opportunity to capture a positively ethereal image of this antique iron bridge spanning the shadowy gorge of the Housatonic just upstream of the reservoir.

Iron Bridge Spanning the Housatonic River, Lover's Leap State Park, Bridgewater, Connecticut

 

Kaaterskill Shadows
Kaaterskill Falls, Kaaterskill Wild Forest, Hunter, New York

I had done several hours of online research and looked at dozens of images before setting out into New York’s Catskills to photograph Kaaterskill Falls, but seeing this majestic waterfall in-person still proved to be a genuinely memorable experience. Certainly one of the grandest waterfalls in the American Northeast, Kaaterskill Falls plunges some 260 feet over two impressive drops through a cavernous gorge crowded by woodlands. This black & white photograph was certainly among my favorites from that trip, featuring the upper tier of Kaaterskill as it freefalls 170 feet over a precipitous cliff into a shallow pool below.

Kaaterskill Falls, Kaaterskill Wild Forest, Hunter, New York

 

Last Throes of Winter
Kent Falls State Park, Kent, Connecticut

Kent Falls is one of those places that has, as I oftentimes put it, generally been “shot to death” by Connecticut nature photographers. What I mean is simply that the obvious, scenic viewpoints along the falls have been photographed so many times that it’s extremely challenging to go there and produce images that offer some measure of uniqueness. I had that very thought in mind on a frigid morning in April after a springtime squall dumped a few inches of snow on Connecticut’s Northwest Hills. Instead of shooting for the larger waterfalls, I decided emphasize the more subtle characteristics of the cascades, the striated bedrock of the riverbed and the freshly-frosted forest.

Kent Falls, Kent, Connecticut

 

Winter’s Kiss
Black Pond SWMA, Middlefield, Connecticut

Between the subtle lighting and the delicate frost, this jumble of fallen oak leaves offers me more than just a visual impression… I can feel the chill in the air and hear the brittle, icy leaf litter crunching underfoot as I walk along. When I arrived at Black Pond on this cold morning just about a week before the winter solstice, I had every intention of leaving with a landscape photograph. Suitable conditions just didn’t materialize, but that proved to be a stroke of luck, since I might otherwise have carelessly stepped right over this miniature leafscape.

Leaves ay Black Pond, Middlefield, Connecticut

 

True Niagara
Niagara Falls, Canada

When I initially attempted to photograph Niagara Falls from the west corner of the Canadian horseshoe in early April, I was confronted by an absolutely frigid mist blasting so forcefully out of the gorge that I could scarcely finish a single exposure before my lens was glistening with water and required cleaning. Shooting conditions like that simply weren’t going to work, so I was faced with trying to find an alternative. As it happens, I did ultimately figure out how to shoot these falls without soaking my camera and this photograph, in which I tightly framed the falls, mist and upstream rapids, proved to be my favorite image of the trip. How did I do it? Well, I shot it through a window more than 30 stories in the air during morning twilight… all from the warmth and privacy of my hotel room. Sometimes, it’s best to improvise!

Horseshoe Falls, Niagara Falls, Canada

 

Dominion of the Gulls
Pleasure Beach, Bridgeport, Connecticut

Anyone not well-versed in the fairly obscure story of Pleasure Beach may wonder how so many seashells could find their way on top of a bridge. Interestingly, they were all deposited there by seagulls which cleverly break open snails and clams by dropping them upon the rigid bridge decking from a few dozen feet in the air. Because Pleasure Beach has been abandoned for nearly two decades, there was more than enough time for the fragmented shells to accumulate. (Side note: After several years of abandonment, Pleasure Beach was officially reopened as a city park in 2014, just a month or so after I took this photograph.)

Pleasure Beach, Bridgeport, Connecticut

 

As Yet Untitled
Sleeping Giant State Park, Hamden, Connecticut

One thing is for sure: man-made structures were more prominent in my photography throughout 2014 than they had been for all of the prior years combined. My Old Timbered Crossings project, for example, featured covered bridges and my on-going Yankee Farmlands project oftentimes incorporates barns, silos and fences. In this case, my subject was the ruins of a long-abandoned quarry facility in Sleeping Giant State Park. The old quarry operation blasted traprock from one of the adjacent Sleeping Giant mountains until 1933 when determined conservationists thankfully purchased and preserved the land.

Quarry Ruin at Sleeping Giant State Park, Hamden, Connecticut

 

Saugatuck Whitewater
Saugatuck Falls Natural Area, Redding, Connecticut

By mid to late summer, the Saugatuck River in Redding assumes a fairly tame demeanor as it loses water volume to dwindling rains and hotter temperatures. Head there in May like I did, though, and you’re likely to find the banks inundated and the waters angrily peeling through boulder-laden rapids just below Saugatuck Falls. The powerful impression of rugged remoteness contained in this photograph is one reason why it’s among my favorites of 2014. Looks can be a bit deceiving, though: if I were to walk just 200 feet west from this scene through woods, I would find myself on the shoulder of Route 53.

Saugatuck Falls, Saugatuck Falls Natural Area, Redding, Connecticut

 

As Yet Untitled
Scovill Reservoir, Wolcott, Connecticut

Scovill Reservoir is near and dear to me… and when I say it’s near, I mean that I can drive there in a few seconds. Not only is it my bass fishing hole, but it’s also a fairly picturesque lake in its own right. The advantage to living right beside this wooded pond is that I constantly have the opportunity to make the most of interesting conditions, experimenting with new perspectives or re-interpreting the view from my favorite spots. This photograph of a small cove is my top pick for Scovill Reservoir in 2014 because I was able to bring together so many elements: the dramatic clouds of dawn, the densely wooded shores, the lush vegetation thriving at the water’s edge and fallen pine needles collecting in the shallows.

Scovill Reservoir, Wolcott, Connecticut

 

Yankee Farmlands № 7
East Windsor, Connecticut

This past summer, I began working on my Tobacco Valley project in which I seek to document the rhythms, sights, and textures of tobacco agriculture in the Connecticut River Valley. I’m very excited about this project, but I’ve mostly kept my work on it under wraps until I can complete a year’s worth of shooting and really capture the character of these unique Connecticut farmlands throughout every season. I’ll make an exception for this retrospective, though: this photograph of a shade tobacco farm in East Windsor was certainly among my favorites for 2014 (you can see one more piece from my Tobacco Valley project in this retrospective, also; I just couldn’t help myself!). If you’re interested in seeing the full range of work included in my Tobacco Valley project, rest assured that I’m still out there actively shooting. Keep your eyes peeled in the later half of 2015!

Shade Tobacco Farm, East Windsor, Connecticut

 

Shepaug Rejoicing
Washington, Connecticut

When I captured this photograph of a glorious shaft of light pouring over the forest into the Shepaug River gorge in Washington, I couldn’t possibly have known that my camera would vanish without a trace just a week later. Indeed, one of the low points of 2014 was undoubtedly waking up in early autumn to find that almost all of my gear had been stolen from my truck… right in my own driveway no less! That was a pretty demoralizing blow which came in the middle of one of New England’s most photogenic times of year. Insurance came through, of course, and I was back up and running by early November… but by that time, the forests were more or less stripped bare.

Shepaug River, Hidden Valley Preserve, Washington, Connecticut

 

Yankee Farmlands № 5
Simsbury, Connecticut

This is probably one of the more subtle photographs that made it into my Favorite 30 of 2014. Driving along on a quiet road in Simsbury, I discovered this cluster of large, round hay bales nestled beside a small stand of woodlands just days after they’d been collected from an adjacent hayfield. There’s no eye-melting sunrise here, no majestic waterfall, no dreamy fog; just the quietude at the edge of the farm and a beautiful interplay between light and shadow that just sort of grasps my sensibilities for one reason or another.

Hay Bales in Simsbury, Connecticut

 

As Yet Untitled
Talcott Mountain State Park, Simsbury, Connecticut

Rising nearly 1,000 feet over the surrounding landscape in Simsbury, Talcott Mountain is certainly one of the more prominent traprock ridges of the Metacomet Range. Perched atop the high cliffs is the 165-foot tall Hublein Tower, imparting a unique element to the profile of this otherwise gently-sloping, wooded ridge. I’ve photographed Talcott Mountain several times during every season, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen it looking quite as beautiful as it did on this day in early October as the setting sun cast a warm glow upon the landscape and threw long shadows across the cornfields. I hadn’t even intended on stopping when I drove by, but within moments of passing this vista I knew I had to turn around and get the tripod set up as quickly as possible.

Talcott Mountain, Simsbury, Connecticut

 

As Yet Untitled
Simsbury, Connecticut

In the 1920s and 1930s, roughly 15,000 acres of farmland in Northern Connecticut was dedicated to the cultivation of tobacco. Although some of the world’s finest tobacco still comes from that region, the market has atrophied in the past century and most of the old farms have been supplanted by corporate office buildings, suburbs and woodlands. Drive around enough on the backroads, though, and you’ll occasionally stumble upon decades-old abandoned barns that were once used to dry the freshly-harvested crops. I captured this image inside one of those old barns as bright, mid-day sunlight pierced the weathered siding.

Interior of Abandoned Tobacco Shed, Simsbury, Connecticut

 

The Wild Coginchaug
Simsbury, Connecticut

If you found me out on the Coginchaug River on this drizzly, overcast day in late April, chances are pretty good that I would’ve been donning my waders, fishing vest and trout rod; fishing was really all I had in mind at the time. After hooking into a few, I set my attention to Wadsworth Falls and noticed that the roaring whitewater was churning up patches of foam that drifted quite far downstream before dissipating. I suddenly envisioned an image and returned to my truck, swapping my fishing pole for my camera gear. This was the photograph which was born out of that chance visualization.

Wadsworth Falls, Middlefield, Connecticut

 

As Yet Untitled
Westbrook, Connecticut

Taken in the context of Connecticut’s 100 miles of coastline, West Beach is just a little-known, 1/2-mile sandy beach in the small, little-known town of Westbrook. I suppose that the ordinary person might consider it to be a fairly unremarkable stretch of shoreline. And yet, having grown up there each summer as a child, I cannot possibly overstate the immense role that this beloved beach has played in my life. Years of exploring the sandbars, offshore islands and saltwater wildlife has indelibly etched this seascape into my psyche… perhaps even helped to shape me into the person I am today. I take several dozen photographs of West Beach every year and this past year was no exception, though this piece was easily my favorite of 2014.

West Beach, Westbrook, Connecticut

 

Looking Ahead to a Promising 2015

There you have it… my favorite 30 photographs of 2014. Again, many strong photographs just couldn’t be fit edgewise into this limited-length line-up, so be sure to check out the broad range of work that I released over 2014 at my online galleries. Also, be sure to follow my work on the social network of your choice: Facebook, Flickr, Google Plus, Instagram… I’ve got em all.

But most importantly, I hope you look forward to a promising 2015 and embrace the opportunities and fortunes that come your way, while weathering with resolve the difficulties that may lie between. I leave you now with the words of Henry Ward Beecher:

“Every man should be born again on the first day of January. Start with a fresh page. Take up one hole more in the buckle if necessary, or let down one, according to circumstances; but on the first of January let every man gird himself once more, with his face to the front, and take no interest in the things that were and are past.”

-Henry Ward Beecher (1887)

As part of J. G. Coleman’s Decor Series prints, many of the works seen here are available at Fine Art America. You are encouraged to visit J. G. Coleman’s Fine Art America eStore, or see all of Fine Art America’s nature art.

Categories
All Things Connecticut New Print Releases The American Northeast

Autumn Meditations

Housatonic Reverie (Housatonic River, Cornwall, Connecticut)
“Housatonic Reverie”
Housatonic River, Cornwall, Connecticut
© 2013 J. G. Coleman

That narrow interval during Autumn, when the forests transition to a collage of saturated colors, is always a magical time in the American Northeast. It’s a fleeting crescendo in which we bid farewell to the warmth and past experiences of spring and summer, enjoying one last, vivid hurrah before being plunged into the frigid months that will see us into a new year. Autumn resonates deeply within the collective psyche of New England. But now that winter is upon us, already blanketing the Connecticut landscape in a few successive layers of snow and ice, I’d like to bring us back just a couple months to the warm colors and soothing temperatures of Autumn 2013.

Housatonic River in Connecticut’s Northwest Hills
Cornwall & Sharon, Connecticut

In my new piece, Housatonic Reverie (above), we find ourselves peering out over cold rapids on the Housatonic River in Cornwall, Connecticut. As we follow the undulating waters deeper into the landscape, we are surrounded by woodlands still cloaked in the shadows of twilight. But with fresh morning sun being cast from the east through a veil of mist, a gently-sloping hill on the horizon is set ablaze, becoming a glowing beacon of autumn color in a landscape that is still waking up to a chilly October morning.

Housatonic Reverie is just one of several pieces that I managed to produce as this truly glorious morning on the Housatonic Valley unfolded before my eyes. But if there’s one view of a landscape that I almost never capture, it’s a view which includes me! After all, I’m alone for most of my shoots and I’m generally busy behind the camera. But on this particular morning, I was out shooting with long-time friend and photographer, Ryan Dolan. While I was down on the boulder piles beside the river producing Housatonic Reverie, Ryan managed to frame me up in a unique exposure on black and white film (below).

Housatonic River (Photograph by Ryan Dolan)
Using black & white film, photographer Ryan Dolan captured this photograph of me on the
Housatonic River just minutes after I shot “Housatonic Reverie” (photo at top)
© 2013 Ryan Dolan

His resulting image, which actually appears to have been taken perhaps five or ten minutes after I shot Housatonic Reverie, possesses a fascinating aesthetic that is a world apart from that of my own piece. What I found especially intriguing about his photograph was the timelessness that it so effortlessly conveys. Although we may know that it’s me on those rocks and that this image was taken only a few months ago, when we explore the world that Ryan has framed up here, we find almost nothing that tethers it to modern times. There’s the sense that this image could just as well have emerged from a century-old chest in some dusty farmhouse attic… that the photographer down there on the Housatonic is some anonymous soul of the 1800s that has long since been swallowed up by time and all but lost to history. There’s surely a vein of potent nostalgia in this emotive image, but this piece barely scratches the surface of Ryan’s work. I encourage you to explore more of his photography at ryandolanart.com.

My next piece brings us just a few miles south to Sharon, Connecticut, where the wide, shallow breadth of the Housatonic River snakes peacefully through a deeply-furrowed valley. At every turn the river is flanked by picturesque wooded hills, each one with a distinctive profile wrought in radiused slopes.

Twilight on Housatonic Meadows (Housatonic River, Sharon, Connecticut)
“Twilight on Housatonic Meadows”
Housatonic River, Housatonic Meadows State Park, Sharon, Connecticut
© 2013 J. G. Coleman

Shadowy blue tones, swirling mist and the leafless crown of an overhanging tree conspire to produce a mournful aesthetic in my piece, Twilight on Housatonic Meadows. The conditions on the Housatonic that morning were touch-and-go from a photographer’s perspective, for while the drifting blankets of fog lent a powerfully ethereal quality to the landscape, they also threatened to blot out key elements of the vista. I managed to take Twilight on Housatonic Meadows during a fleeting minute when the dense atmosphere thinned out just enough to reveal sparse wispy clouds and the contour of a distant hill.

Connecticut’s Waterfalls Amidst Falling Leaves
Cheshire, Franklin & Simsbury, Connecticut

Roaring Brook Autumnlands (Roaring Brook Falls, Cheshire, Connecticut)
“Roaring Brook Autumnlands”
Roaring Brook Falls, Cheshire, Connecticut
© 2013 J. G. Coleman

Recently, I released a brand new fine art photography collection titled “Waterfalls of Connecticut“, the culmination of some four years of waterfall photography throughout Connecticut (if you haven’t seen it yet, be sure to check it out). Included in the collection are a few pieces that I managed to produce over this past Autumn, but which were still so new that they hadn’t even been released on my online galleries until now! I’ve finally rolled them out at JGCOLEMAN.COM and here we’ll explore these new works and take a look at how Fall 2013 produced some great conditions for waterfall photography.

Roaring Brook Autumnlands (at right) exemplifies the vivid color palette that we associate with autumn in New England. In this piece, we follow the waters of Roaring Brook Falls as they careen dozens of feet down a cliffside in the woodlands of Cheshire, Connecticut. At the precipice of the falls, we are treated to a cornucopia of saturated colors, from the glowing shades of orange in the forest canopy to the bold blue sky overhead. In truth, it can be extremely difficult to pull colors this “pure” out of any Autumn scene. The critical element in Roaring Brook Autumnlands —the condition that really brought this shot to life— was the magnificent, early-morning sun, which cast warm light upon the forest at the brink of the falls while leaving the cliff-face below painted in shadow. The contrast between dark, glistening rock and fiery, luminous woodlands really breathes life into this vista and reminds us of just how awe-inspiring our landscapes can be during those fleeting months of autumn.

Falls Along the Gap (Ayer's Gap Falls, Ayer's Gap Preserve, Franklin, Connecticut)
“Falls Along the Gap”
Ayer’s Gap Falls, Ayer’s Gap Preserve,
Franklin, Connecticut
© 2013 J. G. Coleman

My next piece, titled Falls Along the Gap (at right), brings us 40 miles east to Franklin, Connecticut, where gentle wisps of Bailey Brook plunge over rocky outcrops layered with a collage of fallen leaves. Connecticut was particularly dry during much of the Autumn season, a condition which can oftentimes leave smaller waterfalls throughout the state nearly dry. In the case of Falls Along the Gap, however, the reduced water volume on Ayer’s Gap Falls was the crucial ingredient which allowed thousands of autumn leaves to accumulate in areas that might otherwise have been scraped bare by swift currents.

Within At the Northgate (below), my new piece from Northgate Falls in Simsbury, Connecticut, fallen leaves have completely blanketed the forest floor, dramatically framing off the reflecting pool at the base of the cascades. This piece captures a different side of the autumn aesthetic: that wistful atmosphere in which the last throws of autumn feel more like a beautiful, bittersweet farewell rather than an eager stride into the coming months of snow and ice.

Here again, the dry months of summer and early autumn had left this branch of Bissell Brook with greatly reduced water volume. Northgate Falls is not a particularly large waterfall to begin with, but it was rendered especially tranquil at this point in late October.

At the Northgate
“At the Northgate”
Northgate Falls, near McLean Game Refuge, Simsbury, Connecticut
© 2013 J. G. Coleman

Wind Gate at the Hudson Highlands
Cornwall, New York

Of course, New England isn’t the only place that offers stunning scenery during Autumn. My next piece brings us 20 miles east of the Connecticut state line to a celebrated place in the history of landscape art: New York’s Hudson River Valley.

Storm King Mountainscape (Storm King State Park, Cornwall, New York)
“Storm King Mountainscape”
Storm King Mountain on the Hudson River,
Storm King State Park, Cornwall, New York
© 2013 J. G. Coleman

In my piece, Storm King Mountainscape (above), we peer out over the wide expanse of the Hudson River beneath a dawn sky awash with color. The facing slope of Storm King Mountain, a prominent, dome-shaped peak that abruptly rises more than 1,300 feet over the river below, glows with with molten color as the earliest sunlight of the morning carves blazing gashes into the shadowy bluffs.

Although Storm King Mountain is the star of this new piece, the photograph was actually taken from the opposite side of the river on a rocky promontory of Breakneck Ridge. Breakneck and Storm King are the distinctive sentinels that form the “Wind Gate”, the mountainous northern entrance into the Hudson Highlands region of New York. While it was early Dutch settlers that coined that term (originally “Wey Gat”), it was the painters of the famous Hudson River School that took to channeling the sublime qualities of this place into profound works of fine art. Throughout the 1800s, Storm King Mountain and Breakneck Ridge were featured in exquisite paintings by Thomas Cole, Samuel Colman, Thomas Benjamin Pope, Regis Frances Gignoux, Homer Dodge Martin and Jasper Cropsey, to name only a few.

A Farewell to Autumn
Wolcott, Connecticut

I’d like to leave you with a piece that portrays barely a foot of the forest floor from edge to edge, but which manages to say just as much about autumn as the vast panorama from Breakneck Ridge or the wide vistas of the Housatonic.

Sugar Maple Castaway (Finch Brook Preserve, Wolcott, Connecticut)
“Sugar Maple Castaway”
Finch Brook Preserve, Wolcott, Connecticut
© 2013 J. G. Coleman

Produced barely ten minutes from my home in Wolcott, Connecticut, my piece Sugar Maple Castaway is a simple, but potent, expression of the beauty of autumn. Da Vinci once wrote that “simplicity is the ultimate sophistication”, and when we draw our attention to just a single lonely leaf beaming with color upon the forest floor… well, there’s no doubt that the old master was on to something.

As part of J. G. Coleman’s Decor Series prints, many of the works seen here are available at Fine Art America. You are encouraged to visit J. G. Coleman’s Fine Art America eStore, or see all of Fine Art America’s new england art or autumn art.

Categories
All Things Connecticut Stories from the Field

Mist on the Copper City Woodlands

Woodbridge Mist (Unnamed branch of Wepawaug River, Alice Newton Street Memorial Park, Woodbridge, Connecticut)
“Woodbridge Mist”
Unnamed branch of Wepawaug River, Alice Newton Street Memorial Park, Woodbridge, Connecticut
© 2013 J. G. Coleman Photography

With winter behind us and the spring renewal ahead, I find myself looking back through my last three months of work in search of the highlights of the past season. There have certainly been plenty, from a golden sunrise over the frigid Shepaug Valley in Washington to the icy cascades of Wepawaug Falls in the forests of Woodbridge (photo above). By far, though, my most enjoyable shoot this past winter was at the Ansonia Nature Center, a 150-acre parcel of woodlands and wetlands in Southern Connecticut.

I’ll be the first to admit that a small nature preserve in the equally small town of Ansonia, nicknamed the Copper City for its manufacturing prowess, hardly seems like a promising place to pursue the wild and rustic qualities that form the core of my landscape work. Factor in the high population density —more than 3,000 people per square mile— and you might just think I’ve lost my mind. But the fact of the matter is that you don’t need a thousand miles of wilderness to feel as if you’re thousands of miles away from the din of civilization. Within this swath of forest in Ansonia, I found a cozy microcosm of Connecticut’s natural landscapes.

Two Mile Solitude (Two Mile Brook, Ansonia Nature Center, Ansonia, Connecticut)
“Two Mile Solitude”
Two Mile Brook, Ansonia Nature Center
Ansonia, Connecticut
© 2013 J. G. Coleman Photography

Every open space worth its salt, for example, ought to have a watercourse of some kind. Two Mile Brook, a small stream that snakes its way through the western side of the Center, fits the bill and even possesses a delightfully dynamic character. When I first crossed this brook, only a few minutes into my hike, I found it lazily meandering through a wet meadow (photo at right). So subdued was its pace that its surface reflected the branches of nearby trees with mirror-like fidelity.

Yet, when I hooked back up with the Two Mile further north, it had an attitude altogether different. Now a lively brook, it weaved its way through the forest, dodging mossy boulders and murmuring energetically with occasional riffles. Indeed, the sound of a woodland brook is an aesthetic must-have that complements the Nature Center’s property nicely!

What’s more, Two Mile Brook has actually enjoyed quite a good deal of attention historically. As far back as the late 17th-century, it served as a useful landmark when drawing up property deeds. When the town of Derby was incorporated in 1720, for instance, Two Mile Brook was cited as its southern boundary. The banks of Two Mile Brook were even home to a number of mills throughout the 1800s, albeit in the more southerly stretches of the stream after it has gained some additional water volume and momentum.

Now is as good a time as ever to mention that, during my visit, the Ansonia Nature Center was cloaked with an absolutely exquisite blanket of mist. The temperature had managed to rise above 50° F, truly a rare occurrence for a late-January day in New England! The resulting mass of warm, humid air conjured a balmy fog that drifted across the landscape instilling an aura of both serenity and mystery. Conditions like this bring a veritable treasure trove of possibilities to a nature photographer, offering a marvelously ethereal means of conveying depth in a scene, as well as impeccably diffuse light that gently coaxes detail from shadowed surfaces.

Needless to say, even this spell of unusually warm weather wasn’t enough to melt away the ever-present traces of winter. Redwing Pond was still frozen over, such that rocks in the shallower sections sat half-entombed within motionless swirls of textured ice. Even along the woodland trails, there was no doubt that nature remained dormant. The only sounds to be heard were the occasional rustle of grey squirrels as they leapt cautiously from tree trunks to the forest floor, digging feverishly for hidden food stores amongst snow and thawed leaf litter.

Memories in Stone (Old Fieldstone Wall, Ansonia Nature Center, Ansonia, Connecticut)

© 2013 J. G. Coleman Photography

Within the woodlands of the Ansonia Nature Center, we also find telling traces of human presence from a bygone era. Much of the acreage of the Center is now bristling with trees which, to the plain senses, might seem to have been here since time immemorial. But the fact of the matter is that this forest is actually relatively young, having slowly regrown upon the grassy expanses of what was once farm land. Evidence of this earlier use is found in the old fieldstone walls that criss-cross the Nature Center property (photo above). Looking at the place now, it’s truly difficult to imagine a time when this tract of land lacked all but a few shade trees and possessed a decidedly bucolic character.

On a quick side note, did you ever wonder how you can tell if an old stone wall delineated crop land or pasture land? The trick is to examine the stones themselves. When livestock pastures needed to be created, the process was fairly straight-forward: first you would cut down the trees, then you’d remove the largest, most obnoxious stones from the landscape and dispose of them by building them into a wall on the pasture perimeter. Thus, stone walls which were constructed around pastures were usually made almost entirely of large, loose-fitting stones. In contrast, land that was to be plowed and farmed required ever smaller stones to be removed from the soil, so the stone walls that bordered crop land would typically contain a wealth of smaller rocks.

The coarse stone walls I discovered at the Ansonia Nature Center were certainly characteristic of those that would’ve been built around pastures. Of course, we could skip a few steps and simply visit the Nature Center’s website, which explains that the property was originally “a small family-owned dairy farm”, but aren’t you glad that you learned a thing or two about how to interpret stone walls?

A Ghost in the Woodlands (Old telephone poles for the Nike BR-04 Missile Site, Ansonia Nature Center, Ansonia, Connecticut)
“A Ghost in the Woodlands”
Relics of the old Nike BR-04 access road
along the Raptor Woods Trail
Ansonia Nature Center, Ansonia, Connecticut
© 2013 J. G. Coleman Photography

Surely, the most perplexing discovery of the day came as I walked through the forest along the Raptor Woods Trail in the northeastern corner of the Center. At one point I came to a straight-away where I could peer into the distance to see the unswerving stretch of trail ahead, flanked on both sides by a seemingly endless expanse of trees, each reaching longingly towards the featureless sky. But as I looked up at the bare crowns above, I was suddenly drawn to a peculiar horizontal shape amidst an otherwise vertical pattern of tree trunks. Right beside me, in the middle of the woods, stood a telephone pole (photo at right).

As I walked onwards, I realized that there were actually several telephone poles along this trail, each one evenly spaced from the next just as they would be along a suburban street. None of them were strung with wires, so I knew that they had been decommissioned, but I couldn’t begin to imagine how or why these telephone poles had come to be intermingled amongst trees almost twice as tall.

My curiosity was insatiable, so after I made it back to the trailhead and off-loaded my camera gear at the car, I decided to check out the visitor center. The building has a rather interesting design, whereby the interior space is basically circular with various exhibits around the perimeter and the main visitor center desk in the center. On this particular day, an older man (I regret that I didn’t catch his name) was manning the desk and I decided to see if he could shed some light on the peculiar telephone poles in the forest. “Oh, yes,” he explained,” that used to be an old access road for a missile base.”

Ah ha! Suddenly it all made sense. During a previous outing in the summer of 2012, I had hiked to the summit of Pinnacle Rock in Plainville, where one can still see the old concrete pads from a long-decommissioned Nike missile base. As it turns out, the telephone poles along the trail at the Nature Center are remnants of the control site access road for a similar installation dubbed “BR-04”, a missile base in Ansonia which was built in the mid-1950s to protect Bridgeport from the threat of bomber attacks.

For those of you that are scratching your heads over all this talk about missiles, here’s the abbreviated history. With the advent of the Cold War in the 1950s, there was concern that the most important cities and military bases in the United States were woefully susceptible to nuclear attacks by Soviet bombers. In response, the US government built anti-aircraft missile installations in strategic areas around each location with the goal of shooting bombers out of the sky before they could drop nuclear warheads. The installation in Ansonia was just one of a dozen sites in Connecticut that were tasked with defending Bridgeport and Hartford. Yet, for all of the effort and expense of building these installations, most of them were decommissioned less than a decade after they were built. By the late 1960s, the facility in Ansonia was one of only three sites that remained operational in Connecticut. All of these remaining sites were finally shut down in 1971. It’s not entirely clear why the old telephone poles along the access road in Ansonia were never taken down, but they make for a fascinating addition to the Raptor Woods Trail.

Winter Pathway (Boardwalk on the Raptor Woods Trail, Ansonia Nature Center, Ansonia, Connecticut)
Boardwalk Through Wetlands on the Raptor Woods Trail,
Ansonia Nature Center, Ansonia, Connecticut
© 2013 J. G. Coleman Photography

I’m always scouting new landscapes, trying to seek out and familiarize myself with places that are uniquely photographic. Inevitably, I return home some days having found nothing of particular interest, so I had no idea what I might discover when I set out for the Copper City on a misty day in January. But within only 150 acres at the Ansonia Nature Center, I was treated to a lively blend of woods and waters where tangible memories of years past lay concealed beneath the forest canopy. The dense suburbs of Ansonia are never more than a mile or two away from even the most secluded trails at the Nature Center, yet the forests here somehow manage to feel wild, remote and timeless.

This is a phenomenon I’ve come across often during the course of producing my landscape photography. The population density of the Nutmeg State is one of the highest in the nation, so in most places, open space is going to be measured in acres rather than square miles. Yet, in several populous areas across Connecticut, there are surprisingly “wild” pockets of land nestled skillfully into areas that are otherwise overwhelmingly tame. The Ansonia Nature Center is a shining example of a natural oasis amidst suburbia, but no matter where you live in the state, you’ll surely be able to find a refreshing piece of the natural world that is astonishingly close to home.

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Categories
All Things Connecticut New Print Releases

Remember Springtime

When the first fresh snowfall hits the ground, I’m truly immersed in the momentum of nature towards a certain serenity that comes with cold and quiet. But the frigid air and disconcerting lack of foliage that accompanies a New England winter always tends to overstay its welcome. Then, thankfully, springtime comes along, breathing vitality back into a landscape that has laid dormant and seemingly barren for months. Indeed, Spring has always been a special time for me; a time of rebirth and revitalization after a winter that’s felt just a bit too long. But with summer having drawn to a close and colder months around the corner, I find myself a bit nostalgic for those earlier months of Spring that seem so strangely distant now. And so I offer you my latest series of fine art print releases in the hope that they will bring back memories of the joyous reawakening of nature earlier this year.

Whittemore Sanctuary

Take, for instance, the fern-laden forest understory of Whittemore Sanctuary in my piece “Whittemore Woods”. During my visit in May, this 700-acre tract of woodlands beside Lake Quassapaug in Woodbury, Connecticut truly embodied the springtime transition: that time of year when ferns are beginning to burst forth from the ground in droves, but the trees are still staging their awakening and haven’t quite filled out yet.

Whittemore Woods
“Whittemore Woods”
Whittemore Sanctuary, Woodbury, CT
© 2012 J. G. Coleman

Originally, these woodlands were owned by a private corporation… a scenario which can too often lead to natural places vanishing in a flurry of development and subdivision when it comes time to liquify some assets. Luckily, beginning in 1965, the land was leased to the Flanders Land Trust which, at that time, was a fledgling non-profit organization bringing fresh ideals of open space preservation to western Connecticut. Who would’ve thought that by 2012, after nearly five decades of tireless work, the Flanders Land Trust would have preserved 2,000 acres of land throughout Woodbury, Middlebury, Southbury and Bethlehem? As it would happen, the trust ultimately managed to pull together the funds to buy all of the woodlands that are now Whittemore Sanctuary, ensuring that scenes like those pictured in “Whittemore Woods” will last into perpetuity.

Pine Brook Preserve

Another of my new releases, “Down on Pine Brook”, brings us 40 miles west of Whittemore Sanctuary to the banks of Pine Brook as it wanders through the forests of Haddam Neck. Our eyes can move effortlessly through this piece, beginning with picturesque cascades in the foreground where Pine Brook struggles furiously against the resistance of boulders. On the opposite bank of the river, sunlight filters through a dense canopy and floods the crowded forest understory in green-tinted light. The course of Pine Brook recedes far into the distance, its surface punctuated by boulders and marbleized with wispy, whitewater riffles.

Down on Pine Brook
“Down on Pine Brook”
Pine Brook Preserve, Haddam, CT
© 2012 J. G. Coleman

Over 20 acres of this intimate riverscape are preserved under the auspices of the Haddam Land Trust, another of Connecticut’s many land conservation organizations that work tirelessly to ensure that nature will have a profound presence in the Nutmeg State well into the distant future. But if we follow the waters of Pine Brook after they leave the boundaries of the land trust preserve, a larger story of cooperative land preservation reveals itself. The “Salmon River Division” of the Silvio Conte National Wildlife Refuge actually abuts Pine Brook Preserve and protects hundreds of acres of land beside Pine Brook for the remaining mile of its course, right up until it empties into the larger Salmon River. Now carrying the waters of Pine Brook, the Salmon River continues a southward journey towards the Connecticut River, first making a wide bend around the 300-acre Machimoodus State Park in East Haddam. Less than two miles further south, the Salmon River eventually empties into the Connecticut River. In this relatively small stretch of Conneticut River watershed along Pine Brook and Salmon River, we find the combined land preservation efforts of federal government, state government and a local land trust. This sort of multi-faceted approach to open space is a refreshing development, indeed. Increasingly, local land trusts have sought to acquire properties adjacent those owned by the state and federal government, or even owned by neighboring land trusts, thereby helping to create even larger unbroken tracts of open space which are ultimately more beneficial to wildlife than smaller areas fragmented by roads and neighborhoods.

George Dudley Seymour State Park

“New England Oasis”, one of my new works from Connecticut’s George Dudley Seymour State Park, brings you to the banks of Axelson Brook at the height of the springtime awakening. A lush patch of ferns and false hellebore lead you to the quiet stream side, where banks lined with moss-laden boulders meander into the depths of brilliant green woodlands.

New England Oasis
“New England Oasis”
George Dudley Seymour State Park, Haddam, CT
© 2012 J. G. Coleman

Encompassing more than 300 acres of forest and flood plains, George Dudley Seymour State Park lies on the eastern side of the Connecticut River in Haddam. Interestingly, within a system of over a hundred Connecticut state parks and forests, it is among a small handful named explicitly after a person. George D. Seymour was born in the mid-1800’s and, while still only in his twenties, he had achieved such success as an attorney that he was able to channel some of his resources into preserving land. He even set up a foundation which has continued making contributions to open space preservation up to the present day. Through his personal contributions of land, and the on-going efforts of his trust since his passing, Seymour “acquired all or part of seven other state parks” in addition to the full acreage of the park that now bears his name.

Another of my new pieces from George Dudley Seymour State Park, titled “The Clark Ruins”, features a long-abandoned stone foundation quietly being reclaimed by nature in the misty gorge of Axelson Brook. While it’s unclear who built the old structure or exactly what purpose it served, chances are that it would’ve been familiar to the Clark family.

The Clark Ruins
“The Clark Ruins”
George Dudley Seymour State Park, Haddam, CT
© 2012 J. G. Coleman

Comprised of three brothers, the Clark family operated a rather successful business in Connecticut producing a range of agricultural equipment from the 1870s through the early 1900s. During much of that time, the family lived on the land that is now George Dudley Seymour State Park. In those days, however, it was named “Clarkhurst” and essentially functioned as the Clark’s private estate. One can only imagine that Clarkhurst would’ve been a magnificent homestead in its hey-dey, a generous swath of land where the Clark brothers and their families could enjoy their private slice of the countryside while rising each morning to spectacular views of the Connecticut River. But those days came and went long ago. One of the brothers, Henry, ultimately bought out his siblings and became the sole owner of the land, only to pass away in 1914 and leave the property to his daughter. She tried to maintain the extensive estate, even developing it as a golf course for some time, but it seems that these efforts simply didn’t work out as planned. By the time the 1930s rolled around, the various structures on property were falling into a state of disrepair and it was clear that Clarkhurst was beginning to succumb to the rigors of time. For another three decades, the property continued to deteriorate from its former glory, changing hands at least once along the way. By 1960, the George Dudley Seymour Foundation had come to recognize the value of the property as parkland and provided funding to help the Connecticut Forest and Park Association buy the old estate grounds. And so it was that this land, once a glorious private estate over a century ago, came to be George Dudley Seymour State Park: a place of natural beauty for the enjoyment of all.

Every time I’ve visited the state park, I’ve somehow found myself entirely alone there. Sometimes, as I pause for a quiet rest along the trails, I try to imagine what this place must have been like so long ago. I try to envision the Clark brothers standing on the riverbanks of Clarkhurst in the 1880s, secure in their achievements as they overlooked the wide breadth of the Connecticut, with the sun slowly sinking behind the hills that rise from the opposite shore and the sky rendered a glowing twilight canvas of wispy pastels. How timeless must such a moment have felt to them? How solid and permanent must their modest empire have seemed? Surely, they could never have imagined that, generations later, their buildings would be reduced to crumbling foundations, their estate would be bristling with forests and meadows, and some lone photographer would walk quietly through the remains in a world that would hardly be recognizable to them. It’s precisely that nostalgic feeling that I sought to capture with “The Clark Ruins”. On one hand, a pang of regret that those things which are important to us are always fleeting. On the other hand, a sense of renewal not unlike that of the springtime… a sense that loss is part of nature’s glory and that a renewed vitality is always just around the corner.


Categories
Photography Tips & Tricks

Analyzing a Polarizer Pitfall

The circular polarizing filter, oftentimes referred to simply as a “polarizer” or “CPL”, is a truly indispensable tool for nature and landscape photographers. Because the light reflected from a given surface is generally all the same wavelength, a polarizer can be used to strategically filter out those reflections. Polarizers are most widely known for their ability to filter out reflected light from the atmosphere, rendering the sky a deep shade of blue when it would otherwise appear very bright and washed-out in an exposure. In my own work, however, I’m generally using polarizers to remove glare from foliage, wet rocks, rivers, waterfalls and ponds. In each of these scenarios, the polarizer can effectively improve contrast, saturation and overall clarity and balance.

But perhaps you’ve heard the advice passed around that polarizers are to be avoided when using especially wide-angle lenses. The warning essentially states that, because lenses with a wide field-of-view can be used to frame a large portion of the landscape, the frame will possibly include multiple areas that reflect light differently. The result? A photograph with patchy polarization, producing strange, unnatural-looking blotches in your exposure. To get a better idea of exactly what can go wrong in such a scenario, I’m going to show you a couple photographs from a recent shoot at White Memorial Conservation Center, a spectacular 4,000-acre preserve in Litchfield, Connecticut.

In this exposure, which is well-balanced, I rotated the polarizer until it wasn’t filtering any reflected light.

Bantam River, White Memorial Conservation Center, Litchfield, CT
© 2012 J. G. Coleman

The exposure to the right is precisely the look I was after in the early hours of the morning at this preserve. Here, the Bantam River can be seen meandering into the distance where it is eventually engulfed in mist at Little Pond on the horizon. As concerns our discussion of circular polarizers, specifically notice how the color and brightness on the river is fairly even. This photograph was taken at a focal length of approximately 18mm, so the field-of-view was relatively wide. Although I did have a polarizer on my lens while taking this shot, I rotated it such that it didn’t filter out any light; you could think of this as the “off position” of a polarizing filter. Because no reflected light was filtered out with the polarizer, you’ll notice that the surface of the Bantam River is seen reflecting the color and light of the sky above.

So, what would have happened if I decided to use the polarizer to block reflected light from the surface of the water instead? On one hand, this doesn’t seem like a bad idea in theory. Hypothetically, I could block the reflection of the sky on the surface of the Bantam River and render the water darker, making it contrast with the surrounding landscape and revealing more detail of the aquatic plant life within.

On the other hand, I would have to be able to filter all of the reflected light from the river for this concept to work. In this case, that’s pretty much impossible. When we examine the scene, a few different problems are noticed. First off, the light in this scene is fairly diffused, resulting from the low light of the pre-dawn hour coupled with the blanket of mist hugging the landscape. This causes light to scatter unpredictably and makes it tougher to filter out reflections, since they aren’t especially uniform. The second problem is the river itself, which stretches deeply into the frame. Nearer portions of the river will reflect light differently than further parts of the river because, from the perspective of your camera, they are oriented differently to the source of light (in this case, sunlight from just below the horizon was reflected by clouds).

In this exposure, I rotated the polarizer so that it was filtering glare from the river’s surface. Notice the distracting and unnatural-looking effect?

Bantam River, White Memorial Conservation Center, Litchfield, CT
© 2012 J. G. Coleman

The bottom-line is that these factors will hamper effective use of the polarizer, essentially making it almost impossible to evenly remove glare from the water. And just in case all of my analysis isn’t enough to convince you, take a look at the photograph to the left. From the exact same position, I spun the circular polarizer until it was removing glare from the river.

Wow… that’s not the effect we were looking for, huh? The large, dark blob in the nearer portion of the river represents the rather small section of the scene from which glare could be removed. It goes without saying that the patchy, unnatural look of the river in this exposure is anything but pleasing to the eye. Instead, it’s exceptionally distracting and disrupts the balance of the entire photograph. In truth, the shot is what I brutally refer to as one of my “throw-aways”. Had I carelessly used the polarizer for my primary series of shots that morning, I would’ve returned home only to be quite disappointed when I reviewed the RAW files on my computer.

Of course, at least one fairly reasonable argument in defense of the polarizer in this scenario might be that I didn’t rotate it to the proper position. Fair enough, I suppose. Indeed, the polarizer will have a different effect depending upon how it is spun in relation to the scene. But, in this case, further rotation of the filter makes little difference due to the same reasons I mentioned earlier. It simply moves the peculiar blob of dark water to a slightly different position on the surface of the river. Take a look at the line-up below where I’ve put the successful shot side-by-side with the previous dud and another failed shot resulting from rotating the polarizer to a different position.

This side-by-side comparison demonstrates the degree to which attempts to reduce glare with a polarizer have ultimately produced rather poor photographs. The keeper shot (above-left) was taken with the polarizer rotated until it wasn’t filtering any reflections, while the filtered shots (above-middle and above-right) show distracting blotches in the river produced by the uneven removal of glare.

Even if the difference between the unfiltered photograph (on the left) and the filtered photographs (middle and right) didn’t seem too drastic when each was viewed by itself, the contrast becomes quite apparent when they are viewed right beside each other. In the improperly filtered photographs, the eye is drawn directly to the dark blotches in the river and the images are rendered rather ineffective as pieces intended to convey the beauty of this misty morning on the Bantam River.

But don’t let this example deter you from using a polarizer. Instead, think of it as an exercise in analyzing a scene before you make shooting decisions. Although the polarizer performed poorly in this scenario on the Bantam River, it can work wonders in other circumstances. The bulk of my landscape work absolutely relies on the benefits of the circular polarizer. Furthermore, I oftentimes use a large 77mm polarizer on my super-wide-angle lens with excellent results, despite the rutted advice that “there’s no need to put a polarizer on a very wide lens”. The only catch is that it’s important to be acutely aware of how the polarizer will modify the light in a given scene and avoid using it in those instances where it will be little more than a hindrance. Admittedly, this may take a bit of practice and will probably involve some measure of trial-and-error before you start to instinctively identify those instances where the polarizer will produce undesirable results. But if you have some spare time during your next shoot, it wouldn’t hurt to produce some of your own comparisons similar to the one I’ve presented here. By experimenting with the polarizer and seeing how it reacts to different conditions and scenes, you’ll sharpen your ability to use this vital tool and make the most of your time in field.