Discs and Lenses

Over the last month, I’ve grown to love my new Coronavirus hobby- disc golf. For those who aren’t familiar with the sport, disc golf is very similar to traditional golf, but instead of using clubs to get a ball into a hole, you throw plastic discs into a metal basket. There are dozens of discs one can buy for every possible scenario; putters made from soft plastic, rigid midranges that glide far, or drivers that turn left and fade back right. Interestingly enough, as I played more rounds of disc golf, a strong connection to photography began to emerge for me.

Both disc golf and photography have a unique, but fundamental objective. In disc golf, the goal is to get a disc into a basket in as few strokes as possible, with a potentially wide variety of discs at your disposal depending on the flight path you choose. In photography, the goal is to capture and immortalize a moment, with a potentially wide variety of lenses at your disposal depending on how you want the moment to be depicted and remembered. Although there are many discs in disc golf and lenses in photography to choose from, I’ve come to realize that having more ‘tools’ does not necessarily improve skill.

Last week I was playing at the Greystone Woods Disc Golf Course when I accidentally threw one of my midranges into a 90 foot-deep lake near hole 9. I was very angry with myself for losing a disc, and told myself I’ll buy two more to replace the one I had lost. However, I soon realized this was the wrong mentality; instead of buying more discs, I should focus on mastering throwing the discs I already have. A bag of 30 discs for every possible scenario would not improve my baseline ability to drive, approach, and putt, just as a bag of 10 lenses would not improve my baseline ability to capture a decisive moment.

Master the fundamentals with what you already have, before expanding your toolkit.

Shadow Walk

There was something special about the shadows this morning. The sun was exceptionally bright and cast rich, black silhouettes of objects against lighter surfaces. My eyes scanned the ground for intricate patterns of light and dark as I made my way from downtown Orwigsburg to Albright Woods Park.

The photographs in this series were taken within a 30 minute span. Although all of the images share a common theme of abstraction, they document a distinct transition from a concrete jungle to sprouting nature. Only in the last photo do I reveal my own shadow, a symbol of natural and living growth.

Yellow Lines

For the past two weeks I’ve been going on morning walks to explore the area around Orwigsburg, PA. I never follow a predetermined route; instead, I pop in my ear buds, turn up a podcast, and let my mind, eyes, and feet wander freely.

Last Thursday I strolled along a road that led me out to Route 61, before looping back to Orwigsburg down West Market Street. It was cool and overcast, and there was a stormy tension in the air. As I walked along the right shoulder of the road, I found myself constantly looking left and snapping photos of the changing scenery with my phone. The way the road’s center yellow lines and electrical wires bisected the landscape was fascinating and eye-catching to me.

While walking back towards Orwigsburg, I documented a farmhouse and barn, an assisted living center in a beautiful brick building, a Dollar General, a car body shop and Napa autocare center, an abandoned gas station, and the first houses on the edge of town.

Who knew that you can create a photo series just by occasionally looking left.

Small Town Puddles

On Saturday morning I woke up after a night’s rain and the first thing I thought of were puddles. Puddles offer a unique opportunity to capture abstract, dream-like photos that are a blend of two different perspectives of the world in a single frame. I walked into downtown Orwigsburg in hunt of the biggest puddles I could find.

The first photograph in the series is of the lone stoplight in Orwigsburg that proudly directs sporadic traffic. Telephone wires in the second frame draw the viewer’s eye horizontally and the yellow arrow guides the viewer toward the Boyer’s sign in the third image, the local grocery store and a staple of the town. The series continues with three photographs of houses; the first with bricks and dirt as the sky, the second with a reflection of a black car that looks as if it’s parked in the driveway but is actually across the street, and the third which is framed by the sidewalk and a telephone pole.

I wanted to end the series with a feeling of spring, and the tulip beginning to bloom in front of the third house fills the role perfectly, symbolizing thriving life. We too, will thrive once again.

Wrinkle in Time

Last week I ventured into downtown Orwigsburg again, this time under the cover of night. When I left my friend’s house at 8:30 the stars were already out. I stared straight up at the sky and as I walked I saw the North Star and Orion. A gentle wind rustled the leaves, I heard the trickle of water from a brook, and a family of deer crossed the road in the distance. The Earth was at peace.

Orwigsburg was dimly lit. I searched for a subject to photograph, but everything seemed too dark. I felt dejected. Suddenly, the reflection of the illuminated town clock in the local pharmacy window caught my eye. In that instant, I decided to create a series of photographs capturing the reflection of the town clock in store windows surrounding it.

I did not find my subject, but rather time’s light found me.

Covidsburg, PA

As I continue my stay in Pennsylvania during the Coronavirus pandemic, I ventured into the nearby town of Orwigsburg this past Friday. It was a bright, sunny afternoon with American flags waving bravely in the light breeze. I passed just a few people on my walk, most notably a young couple leaving the local pharmacy in a hurry. Cars drove by stores and small businesses that stood deserted and lifeless, save for a few restaurants with curbside takeout and Boyer’s, the local grocery store.

Through my images of downtown Orwigsburg, I tried portraying everyday life with only subtle cues of the pandemic. Scenes are void of life (except for two people hurriedly walking back to their cars at Boyer’s) and signage in almost every photograph hints at the gravity of the situation.

Although the downtown sidewalks were empty, yards were full of life. A brother and sister were bouncing and laughing on a trampoline while their mother watched from the porch. An old man was doing woodwork on a picnic table by his shed. A father was helping his son with his baseball swing.

It’s rather incredible how panic and crisis can bring family together.

Graffiti Highway

During this time of uncertainty, I’ve spent the past few days in Pennsylvania living at a friend’s house. Yesterday I had the chance to explore Graffiti Highway, an abandoned section of Route 61 that’s become a popular tourist attraction near the ghost town of Centralia, Pennsylvania. The town’s history is rather tragic.

In 1962, Centralia’s inhabitants decided to clean up a 300-foot landfill by setting it on fire. Historically, the area had been a prominent coal mining site, and the fire spread through the mines under the town. Every time one fire was extinguished, another one popped up somewhere else and the constant smell of burning trash and coal became unbearable. Centralia was condemned and the fires would continue to blaze for decades.

In the 1990’s, the continuing fires compromised the structural integrity of a section of Route 61, a highway that ran south of Centralia. The Pennsylvania Department of Transportation bypassed this section, and the one-mile stretch of road was abandoned. Throughout the 2000’s, artwork began appearing on the abandoned asphalt and by 2010 the majority of the highway was covered in graffiti.

I had a very eerie feeling walking along Graffiti Highway. Large parts of the road surface were covered in spray paint, and several trees on either side of the road were also doused in color. The art ranged from symbols and icons to text relevant to current developments, such as “It’s Corona Time.” A dead piece of history has been immortalized through art.

Experiments with Flash

For my third shooting assignment in Photo III I was given the task of experimenting with various techniques using an external flash. The external flash provided manual control over the power of the emitted light as well as the focal length of the light beam.

It was my first time working with flash, and I quickly realized that capturing images in an intentional way is largely an act of trial and error. Finding a balance between the flash exposure and ambient exposure (natural light) proved to be most challenging, as the subjects in early photographs were either too bright or the background too dark.

Shutter Drag

Key Soft

Outside Fill

Outside Key

Shutter Drag

Key Hard

Techniques I explored included

Key Hard: flash is the key light, and is pointed directly at the subject
Key Soft: flash is the key light, and is bounced off of another surface or diffused
Outside Fill: flash is used as a fill light in daylight
Outside Key: flash is the key light in daylight
Shutter Drag: stop motion with flash using a long shutter

While I was initially skeptical, the ability to freeze subjects and create dramatic lighting using an external flash has made this tool grow on me. Keep an eye out for flash in my future projects.

A-Frame Breakfast

I photographed the A-Frame Breakfast series for my second shooting assignment in Photo III. In this series I built upon the theme of place from the first assignment and incorporated elements of nostalgia, tradition, and ritual.

This past weekend I went up to my family’s weekend house in upstate New York for the first time in several months. We call the house an ‘A-Frame’ because the roof mimics the shape of the letter A. On Friday night my mom mentioned that she would make pancakes for breakfast in the morning, and I was immediately hit with feelings of sentimentality from my childhood.

Up until the beginning of high school, my family and I would drive to upstate New York almost every weekend. In the winter I remember waking up early to the smell of bacon and eggs, muffins, or pancakes before getting dressed to go skiing. It was a weekly ritual, one that I wished to relive and chronicle in the present.

This series begins with an image of an oven mitt which says ‘welcome’ to establish a homely feeling, before proceeding through the process of my mom brewing coffee, assembling the ingredients for pancakes, and making them on the stove.

A CD Display Series

Last week I was assigned my first shooting assignment in Photo III, the final class I have to complete for my photography minor. The goal of this “Mini Series” was to find a place you can visit at least once a day and study it. This place had to be explored through changes in light, point of view, and perception.

For my place I chose a small CD display cabinet in the music wing of the Dorothy Young Center for the Arts. I pass the CD cabinet almost every day when I go practice french horn, and the change in lighting through a nearby window always intrigued me at different times of day.

My final series features images taken primarily at night because the soft lighting proved to be so eye-catching. The series begins with a narrow field of view and provides little context to make the viewer wonder what the place is. Gradually, every photograph reveals more and more until it is clear that individual images contain unique elements of the CD display cabinet.