The Aurora Strikes Back!

On October 10, 2024, as predictions of a strong geomagnetic storm played out, sightings of the northern lights (aka aurora borealis) were reported throughout continental Europe in places that do not normally witness this amazing phenomenon. It became apparent that we were in for a treat in the US too. 

Five months earlier an unusually strong solar storm dazzled much of the temperate and even tropical latitudes with amazing auroras — in the US, the northern lights could be seen as far south as Florida! Unfortunately, while that spectacle unfolded, I was in Utah under overcast skies and unable to witness the magic. Earlier in the year I photographed the aurora over snow-covered fjords in Norway, so I was especially excited, and then disappointed, at the missed opportunity much closer to home. 

I photographed this “astro-selfie” in New Jersey under an incredible aurora borealis

As the October solar storm developed, I made preparations to shoot after sunset. The weather forecast called for clear skies — an auspicious start to the evening. In the New York City area it is difficult to find truly dark skies: the best options are usually the beaches of Long Island or the Jersey Shore, but those face south and east … 

So I traveled 45 miles northwest of Manhattan to a section of the Appalachian Trail that features a raised boardwalk over marshy grasslands. The trail snakes around a valley in the New York-New Jersey Highlands region, near the border of the two states. I chose this area for its meandering path and largely open field, providing multiple viewpoints and alignments in different directions. 

I arrived at about 9:00 PM to a crisp 45ºF. Here is how the aurora developed that evening: 

At first just a hint of green to the northwest. Truthfully, I would have been happy with this, but there was more to come…

More color looking northeast

Green and purple later on. The setting quarter moon behind me was so bright it cast shadows across the boardwalk.

Showtime! A substorm flared up shortly after 10 PM. Moments after I captured this image, I set up for the “astro-selfie” at the beginning of this blog.

Some have asked me what the aurora looks like to the naked eye. Surely it cannot be as brilliant and saturated as these images, right? And the answer is yes, that is true of most celestial bodies and cosmic events, except perhaps for the moon. Nonetheless the aurora is very much visible to the naked eye and the colors and textures readily apparent. There’s no way we can see light the same way as a long camera exposure, but that doesn’t diminish the incredible experience of witnessing the northern lights. 

Approximation of what the human eye sees (left) versus the camera (right)

I shot this event with my Canon EOS R5 camera body stacked with a wide-angle RF 15-35mm F/2.8L lens. For a vast night sky, a wide field of view is the preferred choice, so most images were shot at the widest 15mm. 

You don’t need an expensive camera to photograph the aurora, however. Many smartphones released in the last few years are packed with impressive optics. This image was photographed with my iPhone 15 Pro. 

Fingers crossed for another aurora event sometime soon. And for clear skies to see it.

Farewell to the SS United States

The SS United States in her glory years. The ship has been out of service since 1969.

I recently visited the SS United States, one of the last remaining ocean liners from the generation that followed Titanic and other famous ships of the 20th century. Numerous celebrities and US Presidents set sail on the United States in its relatively short career, as did the Mona Lisa for special exhibitions in Washington and New York. The ship is 990 feet long (easily surpassing Titanic) and held the record for the fastest crossing of the Atlantic by a passenger vessel. Sadly it has been deteriorating in Philadelphia for decades, and a series of more recent legal setbacks have forced the ship from its berth toward an undetermined fate. The situation continues to develop, but it is quite possible the next time I photograph this ship it will be underwater as an artificial reef… **

** UPDATE: As of October 2024, the SS United States will transfer into custody of Okaloosa County, Florida where it is expected to become the world’s largest artificial reef. 

The SS United States is challenging to photograph in its Philadelphia home. While its gargantuan stature is visible from a distance, the ship is in a restricted area behind a tight chainlink fence with openings too narrow for anything but a cell phone lens. Various utility vehicles and stacked palettes obstruct the view from ground level and overall compositions are few. (A bit later we’ll examine the shot from ground level, through the chainlink fence). Over the years the conservancy managing the ship has provided very limited opportunities to visit the ship, often at prohibitive cost. 

The original drone shot. The cleanest and most effective way to shoot this subject was with a low-flying drone. A common misconception is that drone photos require high aerial viewpoints, but the drone is capable of so much more than this! The scale of the ship is difficult to comprehend. Look at the size of the railing on the main deck and you can imagine the size of a person for scale.

Given these obstacles, I planned a drone shot for sunset (to ensure the west-facing subject would not be backlit), hoping to capture the ship in good light with a dramatic sky. Notably, the airspace surrounding the ship is within what’s known as “Philadelphia Class B”, i.e. controlled airspace in the vicinity of Philadelphia International Airport (PHL). Drones are permitted but only with FAA pre-clearance. I put off this shoot for years — there was always something else to do and I rarely found myself passing through Philadelphia with an opportunity. But with the deadline looming for the ship to be removed from its home, I made the trip on a rainy August afternoon, hoping for a last glimpse this historical wonder. 

A common misconception about drone photography is that it is the same as aerial photography. While it’s true that a drone can achieve many of the same views as a low-flying airplane or helicopter, drones are more versatile and have the ability to capture unique perspectives. In the case of the SS United States, the shot I wanted was not necessarily at great elevation — I simply wanted something unobstructed and higher than ground level. The resulting image showcases the impressive bow and bridge, but the stacks and rear part of the ship appear small and distant. This is one of the downsides to shooting a relatively wide angle (the drone shoots at 24mm): objects close to the camera appear exaggerated and larger, dwarfing more distant elements. This is why you should avoid taking close portraits with a wide angle lens to avoid the unflattering rendering of facial features. 

This is a telephoto drone shot, using the DJI Mavic 3 7x telephoto lens, equivalent to 162mm. High compression gives the ship a stout appearance.  

After the primary shot, for an alternate perspective I flew higher and farther away to capture additional images. The DJI Mavic 3 actually has two cameras: a primary Hasselblad camera at 24mm, and a second telephoto camera that shoots roughly 162mm, or 7x magnification. Shooting far away at the higher focal length gives the ship a compressed, stocky appearance. Both focal lengths available on the drone present the ship in different ways. The sweet spot, in my opinion, is somewhere between the wide and the telephoto lenses. 

The ship photographed through the chainlink fence. Using multiple exposures and post-processing techniques, most of the fence is neutralized in this image, but some artifacts are still evident (notice some dark blotches in the foreground). Compare the before and after images.

For a final shot, I visited on foot and used my primary camera. The challenge here is that obstructing chainlink fence that I mentioned earlier. But all is not lost if your only option is to shoot through a fence. There are some mitigating techniques you can employ to reduce the impact of the fence on your final image: 

• Telephoto is your friend. A higher focal length is less impacted by distractions close to the lens, in this case, the chainlink fence. The image above was shot at 70mm, at the upper end of my Canon RF 24-70mm F/2.8L lens. I would have preferred an even higher focal length, but I did not have my 70-200mm lens with me at the time. 

• Take multiple exposures of each shot, especially if shooting hand-held. This means for each shot, take 3-4 images rapidly and try to move as little as possible between shots. Later on, in Photoshop, you can use a feature to filter out some of the fence while retaining the subject. The image above was created by feeding four images into the Statistics engine of Photoshop. (Statistics looks at what is constant within a set of images versus what is different. In this example, the ship is constant, but the fence is slightly different in each exposure due to tiny hand-held movements. Photoshop averages out the differences which reduces (but does not completely eliminate) the appearance of the fence.) 

Just for fun, I asked AI to render a vintage postcard of the SS United States. Not bad at all! 

Murderers in the Marshlands

Young and enchanted, I spent my childhood glued to the television whenever I could find nature documentaries. Options were limited: most of the shows aired on PBS (known in the New York City area as “channel thirteen”), and new content arrived in a slow trickle. My favorite episodes featured predators like sharks, African cats, reptiles, and wolves. One memorable program was dedicated to carnivorous plants, with close-up footage of hapless insects becoming prey items to these beautiful deadly species. I knew plants could be harmful in a defensive posture —  poisonous berries, rash-inducing leaves, or painful thorns — but never before had I seen plants as predators. 

The world-famous Venus Flytrap is endemic to the wetlands of the Carolinas.

Since those formative days I’ve had the opportunity to photograph many of the spectacular animal species that I first saw on TV, and more recently, I fulfilled a long-planned photoshoot of those famous carnivorous plants that I first witnessed on the small screen. In my imagination the Venus Flytrap was an exotic specimen living in a faraway jungle but it turns out this world-famous bug eater makes its home in the wetlands of the Carolinas. As I researched other species, I was astonished by the number of carnivorous plants native to the United States, including quite a few along the east coast. Some pitcher plants live in New Jersey’s Pine Barrens, Cobra Lillies grow in the Northern California meadows, and sundews are found in almost every state. 

Biologically it makes sense: all of these plants live in nutrient-poor environments: bogs, wet savannah, marshy thickets; and therefore developed an adaptation to extract nutrients from prey items, primarily insects and arachnids. Many carnivorous plants have developed brilliant colorations and interesting fragrances to lure prey to their fatal traps.

Cobra lillies, pitcher plants named for their resemblance to a rearing cobra

The Southern Thread-leaved Sundew, possibly my favorite carnivorous plant

As I planned my photoshoot, I quickly learned the biggest logistical obstacle is how widespread the different species are geographically, often in inaccessible environments (think about the challenges of hiking into marshy wetlands). A better alternative, I decided, would be to visit an independent garden or nursery that specializes in carnivorous plants. It’s not my preferred approach to take photographs in controlled environments, and while I won’t pursue portfolio shots of animals in a zoo, I don’t believe the same ethical concerns exist with photographing plants in a nursery or a botanical garden. So in June I arranged a visit to the Carnivorous Plant Nursery in Maryland. 

Carnivorous plants are relatively small. The Venus Flytrap — imposing on the television screen, and larger than life in Little Shop of Horrors — presents like a tiny succulent with traps usually not more than an inch long. After all, they are (as the name suggests) trapping flies and other insects of similar size. No surprise then, that this photoshoot would more closely resemble a visit to a butterfly house than a botanical garden, and my primary camera setup would attach a macro lens and flash. When shooting with artificial light, its very important to control the intensity of the flash with a diffuser. There are many varieties available for different budgets as well as home-made options. If you are a serious macro photographer, I’d recommend the AK diffuser. 

Although it looks like this fly is about to become dinner, it has already been consumed… the digestive enzymes dissolve the soft parts of the prey and leave behind the exoskeleton 

Generally carnivorous plants fall into four different categories:

Most pitcher plants of the Nepenthes genus are old-world tropical varieties

1) Venus Flytraps are a single species with multiple variants and hybrids. Flytraps ensnare prey items in their collapsible leaf ends using sophisticated triggers to trip the jaw-like traps. 

2) Pitcher plants of both tropical and temperate varieties drown their prey in deep vertical reservoirs. Downward-facing slippery hairs along the sides of the traps make it almost impossible for victims to climb out and escape. Cobra Lillies also trap their victims inside long vertical tubes. Their translucent bulbs fool trapped insects with the illusion of false exits, while the real escape route remains hidden. 

3) Sundews are living glue traps. Tiny sticky droplets not only reflect light with dazzling effects, they grip the unsuspecting insects that land on them. 

4) Bladderworts hold their traps underwater on the surface of ponds and marshes, using a high pressure mechanism to suck in tiny organisms that brush against the trigger hairs. 

Sundews are living glue traps. The come in a variety of spectacular colors.

Most of these images were created by shooting multiple exposures in rapid succession and compiling the result using software. Close-up photography is necessarily limited by very shallow depth of field (in other words, only a narrow portion of the image is in focus.)

Venus Flytrap — Akai Ryu variant, aka "Red Dragon". See the behind the scenes image below.

You can witness this effect by holding a spoon very close to your face and focusing your eyes on it — notice how everything other than the spoon becomes very blurry. To expand the area that is in focus, the camera moves the focal point gradually with each exposure and the raw images are then “stacked” in post-production. The result achieves a far greater in-focus area than any single exposure. In some instances a few dozen exposures might be required to produce a satisfactory outcome, but in this set the final images are stacks of about 10 to 20 raw exposures. 

North American pitcher plants belong to the genus Sarracenia

Photographing the Venus Flytrap — Akai Ryu variant, aka "Red Dragon". The large black cone on my camera rig is a flash diffuser to soften each burst of artificial light.

If you’re interested in nature macro photography, I highly recommend starting out with small plants rather than live insects or small animals. Absent a breeze, plants keep still and are much more cooperative subjects. Houseplants allow you to shoot without leaving home. Christmas trees and their ornaments make great practice subjects, especially when there is less opportunity to shoot outside. And of course, botanical gardens, arboretums, and nurseries are wonderful places to create beautiful images of plants — carnivorous or otherwise :)

High Desert Adventure

A typical canyon view in Utah. It is easily a top contender for the state with the most natural beauty.

I’ve visited most of the 50 states and while I’d like to see them all, that goal is constantly pushed out as I return to my favorites over and over again. The deserts and mountains of the American west are my top places to visit in the US, most recently to eastern Utah and the alien landscapes of the Colorado Plateau. The buttes, badlands, arches, and canyons form some of the most famous and iconic structures in the country: one, Delicate Arch, is instantly recognizable from its appearance on the Utah license plate. 

I concentrated on eastern Utah in part because of its remoteness (the nearest airport served by major airlines is in Grand Junction, Colorado) and because of the many interesting formations in the backcountry areas. Three of Utah’s big five national parks are in the region (Capitol Reef, Canyonlands, and Arches) and they are less crowded than the two in the western part of the state (Bryce Canyon, Zion) both of which are within a few hours’ drive from Las Vegas. Dead Horse Point State Park and Goblin Valley State Park both feature fantastic photo opportunities and the locations in BLM (Bureau of Land Management) areas are spectacular. 

The only photo I have of myself on this trip. A solid 4x4 is a must for off-road locations.

Although this was primarily a landscape photography trip, I also planned several drone shots and, with the help of clear weather, a couple of attempts to photograph the Milky Way in the night sky. I timed the trip to occur in the days after a new moon and before the arrival of the summer heat. Although I visited nearly six weeks before summer solstice, the days were already long: sunrise shortly after 6 a.m. and twilight at nearly 9 p.m. The Milky Way galactic core appeared just before midnight, leaving only a few hours to sleep at night. When I first began my journey in photography, I would wake up for sunrise regardless of the forecast, but over the years I’ve become more discriminating and less inclined to force an early rise if conditions aren’t favorable for the shot I’m trying to achieve. In any case, the itineraries for this trip were jam-packed to take advantage of the best light each day, 

To get around safely, I secured a high-clearance Jeep 4x4 designed for backcountry exploring. Most days I drove to at least one off-road location, often miles away from a paved highway. Some roads were simple dusty trails; others were rocky, snaking paths with deep washboarding and sandy dugouts. Significant pre-planning and many hours of research were critical to identifying the routes and plotting the locations. Alright, enough preamble: let’s get to the images!

The portfolio shot from this adventure

My favorite image of the trip turned out to be this sunset drone photo of a sandstone butte. It is illegal to fly in the national parks so I knew that opportunities would limited to locations outside those areas. Thankfully Utah has many amazing features in more drone-friendly places. 

Top-down drone shots can produce interesting abstracts

Another drone shot I captured was outside of Hanksville at the “Rainbow Hills.” This one required minor off-roading and precise navigation — drone locations aren’t always obvious at ground level. Timing was key to achieving this image: blue hour after sunset cast a turquoise hue onto the sandstone hills. With the sun below the horizon, the light glowed with a soft, cool tone.

Temple of the Moon (center) bathed in golden light

One of the more adventurous itineraries was an afternoon trip in the Cathedral Valley section of Capitol Reef National Park. More than 17 miles of winding rough road led to the iconic Temple of the Sun and Temple of the Moon. I shuttled between the two pinnacles looking for compositions and taking advantage of the best light. After some time at Temple of the Sun, I hiked behind Temple of the Moon to photograph it in between two other giant slabs during golden hour. The secret to a shot like this is using elevation to align the three formations to similar heights in frame. I prefer to walk around to different vantage points to compose an image — and that means in three dimensions whenever possible. Eye level is the most conventional but frequently not the best perspective from which to shoot. 

As the sun dipped toward the horizon, I hurried back to Temple of the Sun hoping for a dramatic sky. Clouds had formed throughout the afternoon so I thought there was a possibility to capture strong color at sunset. And what a show it turned out to be! 

Temple of the Sun and (in the back left) Temple of the Moon. The monoliths are similar in size.

For all images on this trip I used my Canon R5 mirrorless camera. Recently I traded in my Canon EF 16-35mm F/4L IS lens — which was my primary landscape and underwater lens for many years. That lens served me beautifully, and many images in my portfolio were shot with it, but it was time to make a change for two reasons: 1) I wanted a single lens for landscape, underwater, and astrophotography and 2) I wanted a lens native to my mirrorless camera without having to use an adapter. So in Utah I debuted the Canon RF 15-35mm F/2.8L as my wide-angle choice.

When I first took an interest in landscape photography, I was constantly chasing colorful sunsets, and while I still do appreciate a brilliant sky, I find that my favorite images often are golden hour landscapes in which the subject is bathed in magical light. Likewise, blue hour is my preferred condition for cityscapes, even more so than spectacular sunsets. Of course in the desert boring blue skies are common, especially in the cooler months, but during my week in Utah I experienced a mix of sun and cloudy skies — so often in fact, that on a few nights clouds obscured the night sky and prevented me from photographing the Milky Way. Eventually the weather cleared and I was able to take advantage of Utah’s famously dark skies. 

One of the most peculiar locations I shot is called the Moonscape Overlook: a bluff carved out over magnificent badlands. Early morning sunrise unquestionably is the best time to photograph this spot and only while the sun just peeks over the horizon. I set my alarm for a 4:30 a.m. wakeup and arrived in time to scout compositions and find my preferred angle. A few other photographers and campers were there too, and one adventurous woman volunteered to step out onto the pinnacle overlooking the canyon. I have to confess some anxiety as I watched her step out onto the landing, knowing that I’d be powerless to help in the event of a tragedy. But she was surefooted and confident and turned out to be an excellent model for the few photographers capturing the sunrise. Normally I try to avoid including people in my shot, but in some instances a well-placed model can help to provide scale, especially in vast panoramic settings.

A beautiful sunrise in the Moonscape. The woman standing on the pinnacle said she had no fear of the 1400 foot drop to the canyon below.

After a few days it was time to travel east toward Moab where I would focus on subjects in Arches and Canyonlands National Parks. I originally wrote off Mesa Arch in Canyonlands. It is one of the most photographed locations in the southwest, drawing an assembly of photographers in the middle of the night to camp out and claim one of the few prime spots for sunrise.

Mesa Arch, despite its name, is in Canyonlands National Park, not Arches National Park.

I did not have any interest in repeating that shot, so I went in the late afternoon just to see the location. I expected crowds and no photo opportunity, but to my astonishment, there was no one at the arch when I arrived! So I quickly took a few photos and enjoyed the quiet view. A few minutes later, a number of people showed up and the arch was once again crowded. 

My final stop was in Arches National Park to photograph the iconic Delicate Arch. I began the long uphill hike in the late afternoon, with dinner and beverages packed along with my camera gear. As the sun dropped toward the horizon the light took on a rich amber tone, painting the sandstone in gold. In settings like this, when the light is right, a great photo is a slam dunk — you simply need to put yourself there at the right time. The light faded and I enjoyed a sunset dinner. It was time to begin the downhill climb and rest a few hours. At midnight I would attempt another Milky Way photo and the next morning I had to catch a flight out of Grand Junction, two hours away. 

Delicate Arch — icon of the Utah license plate — is arguably the most famous arch in the United States.

The Northern Lights

Note: In this post I use the terms “aurora”, “aurora borealis”, “northern lights”, and “the lights” interchangeably. 

The northern lights have been on my shortlist for years and this winter I finally visited the Arctic Circle to photograph them. It’s not for lack of trying: previous attempts in Alaska and Canada were uninspired at best due to low clouds and faint auroras — though in fairness both were outstanding wildlife trips where the northern lights were sought after as a bonus, so I can’t really complain too much. 

Try again: less-than-amazing attempts to photograph the aurora on previous trips to Canada (L), and Alaska (R) where the faint glow above the horizon barely registers as a sighting!

The aurora borealis, also known as the northern lights, is a natural phenomenon that has captivated people for centuries. The lights occur when charged solar particles collide with the earth’s upper atmosphere. The North and South Poles act like magnets drawing the solar activity to far northern and southern latitudes (the southern lights are known as the aurora australis — more on the scientific explanations here.)

As I was researching locations to observe the northern lights, I weighed the tradeoffs - in particular for Fairbanks, Alaska; Iceland; Yellowknife, Canada; and Lofoten, Norway. (I expect at some point to visit all of them!)

Lofoten has so much natural beauty that it almost guarantees portfolio-level images. This image was captured flying a drone very close to the surface of the water.

Fairbanks has excellent aurora sightings but lacks many photogenic locations otherwise. Iceland, while incredibly scenic, is prone to slightly less favorable weather in winter. Yellowknife, like Fairbanks, is relatively featureless tundra and is arguably the coldest of all the locations. Lofoten is the only location of the lot that is firmly within the Arctic Circle and the micro climates there can lead to more viewing opportunities, though weather is nonetheless unpredictable and dynamic. And like Iceland, Lofoten is visually beautiful so in the event that I did not see the aurora, I would be virtually guaranteed to come home with some great winter landscape photos.

Some locations require visiting in more than one light condition. Above: a fishing village at sunrise and during evening blue hour.

I flew across the Atlantic on a three-flight hop up to Lofoten, descending through a snowstorm, and landing in a complete whiteout. I’ve seen my share of sketchy weather but I’m still not sure how those pilots made the runway. The next morning, recharged with a good night’s sleep and some hot tea, we began our tour of this Arctic wonderland.

Lofoten is an archipelago connected by land bridges in between small fishing villages. Towering fjords frame these tiny hamlets to the east and natural beaches to the west. Weather changes often and sporadically: one morning we left a sunny fishing town into a blizzard on the other side of the mountain. Of course, dynamic weather presents an opportunity in landscape photography and is without question preferred over blue skies.

Lofoten is an archipelago of towering fjords and picturesque seaside fishing villages. Photographic opportunities are everywhere.

Most of the winter imagery that I capture at home is of quaint New England vignettes: a covered bridge, a small church, a waterfall in the snowy forest, etc. One of my goals on this trip was to bring home images of snow-covered landscapes that were quite different from what I photograph at home: icy ocean scenes, Arctic fishing villages, snow-covered fjords, and, of course, the northern lights. 

The “Dragon’s Eye”: a colorful tidal pool within a rock basin along an Arctic beach

Foreground elements need not be complicated: A snow-covered bridge creates leading lines toward the subject.

Each day I went out for sunrise and sunset, at times returning to the same locations to capture the same scene in different light conditions. After dinner, I monitored the aurora forecasts and waited for my guide to confirm shooting time if we were to get lucky with a light show. Aurora chasers know that clouds are the enemy, but even on clear nights, we still need good solar activity to see the northern lights.

This makes it very different from Milky Way photography: in the right time of year, all you need is a dark sky location, clear weather, and you are guaranteed to see the Milky Way. (Ok, it’s a bit more nuanced than that: certain latitudes won’t see it, and you need to know what time of night to be out, but for the most part the Milky Way is a slam dunk as long as the weather cooperates. The aurora is much more elusive.)

The afternoon weather was clear and expected to hold overnight. Solar activity forecasts changed suddenly from a KP 2 to a KP 5 (a higher KP indicates a greater probability of seeing the aurora). My aurora forecast app displayed live webcams picking up sightings in Finland and Sweden — things were looking promising. And then, at about 10:30 p.m., the northern lights arrived right where I was waiting for them. I worked with a few different compositions and took time to experiment photographing with my iPhone in addition to my primary camera. 

This shot required two exposures: one for the northern lights and a second to mute the harsh streetlights in the fishing village

Like other night sky images, the northern lights require a long exposure but there is a point of diminishing returns if the shutter speed is too long. Because the lights are a moving phenomenon, too long of an exposure will result in a cloudy green sky and potentially over-exposed image. I found that the sweet spot was between 6 and 13 seconds depending on what the lights were doing. Aperture generally was left wide open on my Canon EF 16-35 F/2.8L III lens. Of course night sky photography and long exposures require a sturdy tripod and I was quite pleased that even in strong winds my Gitzo carbon fiber tripod provided a stable platform.

In astrophotography, artificial light can become blown out even if the sky is correctly exposed and this was absolutely the case as I photographed the aurora over a fishing village. The trick here is to take at least two exposures: one for the sky and at least one for the village houses in order to mute the strong effect of the streetlights. The raw images are combined in post-processing to create a single image. This is a common technique in landscape photography when there is a high dynamic range of light.

Above: iPhone photo of the arriving aurora. Phone cameras have come a long way!

The portfolio shot: aurora borealis over Norwegian fjords

Aerial shot using a drone. Most drone enthusiasts go for shots from this perspective, but the drone can offer incredible opportunities to shoot anywhere you can’t plant your feet.

Prior to my trip I applied for a European drone license and passed the course to fly legally in most European countries. When the winds were calm, I sent up the drone for some aerial images and footage. One of my favorite photos was achieved flying quite low — just a few feet above the water. Many drone enthusiasts use it too narrowly as a device only for aerial perspectives, but I see it as a tool to take photos anywhere I can’t plant my feet. Today’s drones fold up and fit comfortably in a backpack and some of them like my DJI Mavic 3 are equipped with excellent cameras!

Ice shards and snow melt make compelling foreground subjects. Leading lines and geometric shapes are constantly changing as fresh storms freeze and thaw the shoreline.

In the daylight hours I sought interesting compositions to showcase the Arctic landscape. The snow-draped fjords are stunning by themselves, but adding a good foreground element can take a photo from pleasing to spectacular. It’s easy to overthink the foreground, but a basic subject is all that is needed. Along the beaches I searched for ice shards and geometric shapes. Other times a simple fisherman’s cabin provided a humble contrast to the powerful and majestic mountains. 

As the week developed, the weather grew progressively worse and I realized how lucky I was to see the aurora. And in the weeks after my visit, aurora sightings were scarce and much of the snow gave way to rain, washing away the magical winter essence. Outdoor photography is almost exclusively the domain of natural light and this means surrendering to whatever nature provides on a given day. Though my previous visits to northern latitudes did not yield successful aurora images, persistence and patience paid off: this trip was one for the books.

Tropical oasis? The water color on sunny days resembled the Caribbean.

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Twinkling Lights

The holiday season truly is a magical time of year to visit New York City. You’ll be hard-pressed to find a more festive city between Thanksgiving and New Year’s Eve (though I don’t recommend ambling anywhere near Times Square on December 31st). The most famous displays are in store windows along Fifth Avenue in Midtown, and the centerpiece is of course the tree-helmed ice rink at Rockefeller Center. There are many more commercial displays throughout the city, but some of my favorites to photograph are the ones put up by resident New Yorkers outside their homes. Manhattan doesn’t have the space for giant lawn fixtures, but that doesn’t stop it from having truly elegant Christmas decorations in many neighborhoods.

The Upper East Side of Manhattan has some of the most elegant displays in front of beautiful townhouses.

Photographing holiday lights is a simple task for most: the display is a stationary subject you can easily capture with a phone camera. But producing a high quality image is trickier than you might think. My first step is to find the right subjects — generally I find the Upper East Side of Manhattan to have the best residential holiday displays in the city. (If you want a more extravagant but suburban display visit the Dyker Heights neighborhood in southern Brooklyn — it is famous for its Christmas decorations.)

Another beautiful Upper East Side display.

I recommend a wide angle lens (mine is a tilt-shift 17mm) on a full frame camera. One challenge is that most streets in New York are lined with parked cars, so photographing from across the street means you’ll have a row of ugly vehicles in your shot). There isn’t much alternative to setting up on the narrow sidewalk right in front of your subject, or just off to one side — thus the need for a wide angle point of view.

I’ve seen photographers shoot in daylight, but holiday lights often are not switched on until dusk. I prefer evening and nighttime images. Since we’re relying on artificial but ambient light from the displays, streetlights, or home lighting, we require a relatively long exposure: anywhere from half a second up to 30 seconds. A tripod is a must with these long shutter speeds.

My favorite technique is to “stop down” or tighten the aperture to a narrow range, usually f/16. Narrow apertures on wide angle lenses produce brilliant “starburst” renderings of bright lights by effectively forcing the camera to “squint”. This creates a twinkling of the lights for an added magical touch to the subject matter. 

The tradeoff to a narrow aperture is that it increases the required exposure time and potentially the ISO.

“Twinkling” lights or starburst effects are achieved by stopping-down (i.e. narrowing) the aperture to f/16 or less.

While a 25-or 30-second exposure is not a problem for a tripod-mounted camera, if there is even a trace of wind it will cause motion blur on any moving elements in the image (tree branches, or loose hanging ornaments.). Therefore it’s best to shoot on calm evenings with low wind. You can increase the ISO to help bring down the exposure time, just remember that higher ISO produces more noise and reduces image quality.

Lastly, exposure for holiday lights can be tricky. I typically underexpose my image by about two-thirds stop or even a full stop to avoid blowing out the bright highlights. In post processing, I raise the shadows and increase exposure to bring out the background and low-lit areas. I also apply vignetting and selective dodging and burning to draw the eye toward the subject. For a dreamy look I sometimes apply a minor Orton effect. Lastly, I use a selective color filter to tilt the greens toward the cool side — think blue fir tree — for a more wintry look.

Use a selective color filter to tilt the greens toward the cool side for a more wintry look.

10 Tips to Photograph in Harsh Light

We know the most fundamental principle of photography is the quality of light. Outdoor photographers learn quickly to shoot in the periods near sunrise and sunset for soft, directional, and colorful light. The quality of light is the magic: a fairly mundane subject bathed in golden light can look brilliant, while a spectacular icon in poor light can be profoundly uninspiring. Consider these two images — which photo is more pleasing?

In the first example (L), a slab of limestone glows during the golden hour in the Florida Keys. In the second photo (R), the iconic Colosseum stands surrounded by tourists at lunchtime.

Even the most committed Europhile can see that the sunset image is the winner, and that the contest is decided entirely by the superior quality of light. But high quality light is fleeting and elusive, and most of the time light is either harsh (in sunny weather) or diffuse (when it’s cloudy). Overall the opportunity to photograph in high quality light is approximately one hour in the morning and another in the evening — if the weather cooperates. 

So what are we to do with the many hours of daylight where the quality ranges from mediocre to terrible? (Top answers from photographers: “edit photos”; “travel to the next spot”; “get some sleep.”)* Although harsh light creates a jarring contrast of unpleasantly bright highlights and dark shadows, not all harsh light is untenable. In some instances it even provides superior opportunities to shoot. Let’s look at how we can make the best of these daylight hours.

*Not an official poll

1. CROP OUT THE SUN. To begin, we should qualify that harsh light is not a singular condition — it varies by time of day, time of year, weather, and location. In general daytime shooting is better in the winter when the sun is relatively low throughout. In this wintry scene, the sun provides bright but directional light onto our subject, while the snow acts as a natural reflector and brightens the darkest areas.

Winter is arguably the best season for daytime photography because the sun is always relatively low, especially at the more temperate latitudes.

2. SHOOT DIRECTLY IN TO THE SUN. I know, it sounds crazy, but when the sun is not directly overhead, we have an opportunity to include it in our shot. Think about a child’s drawing that includes the sun in the corner, beaming down onto the scene. In this example the morning sun (approximately 9:45 a.m. in autumn) radiates across a blanket of clouds below Mt. Washington, New Hampshire. I used a tight aperture (f/22) to achieve the sun-star effect. For a cleaner image, make sure to remove any filters from the front element of your lens before shooting directly into the sun. 

In this example the subject makes the shot. The harsh light is forgiven because we are looking down a road above the clouds.

The next several examples are related in concept: each involves using a natural filter to control or block out the overhead light. 

3. SHOOT UNDERWATER. Underwater photography is one of the few instances in which bright overhead light can be beneficial. A signifiant amount of ambient light is absorbed by water, especially at depth where most shipwrecks lie. In this case the ship (L) is in water approximately 65’ deep so bright filtered sunlight is a welcome addition to our scene. We don’t need to dive down into the depths to appreciate the overhead sun, however. A southern stingray (R) swims in waist-deep water as the morning sun creates a web of texture across the sandy bottom. 

In deep water we need all the light we can get so midday sun is welcome.

Not a diver? No problem. This was shot in water three feet deep.

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4. USE THE FOREST CANOPY. Trees act like a giant colander that can create dappled light, and — in humid conditions — sun rays. Each day is different and the light changes constantly throughout the day. Below: Midday sun streams through the forest canopy onto the ravine below, lighting up this magical gorge. 

5. NARROW YOUR SCENE. Look for locations protected from the harsh daylight such as narrow streets and natural canyons. Near the Arizona-Utah border, direct light hits narrow slot canyons only for a short period of the day, and only in summer months. 

6. SHOOT IN THE SHADOWS. Focus in on smaller scenes and details in the even light of the shadows. Maybe you’ve found an interesting sculpture, a beautiful doorway, or an unusual plant. The key here is that your complete scene should be in shadow and protected from the blinding sunlight. I took this portrait of two Bedouin friends in a tent at about 2PM while the sun was blazing over Wadi Rum, Jordan. 

7. EMBRACE THE WASHED OUT LOOK. You can use the harsh daylight to your advantage if you want to incorporate silhouettes and more muted color in your scene. In this image, shooting toward the sun creates a washed out look. Silhouetted palm trees contrast with a bright sky and the whole scene takes on the look of a vintage postcard. I applied additional edits in Photoshop to accentuate the effect.  

Harsh light can give a diffuse washed-out look a scene. Moody shots like this work best when clouds filter a portion of the sunlight.

8. SHOOT EDITORIAL / DOCUMENTARY. When the daylight offers prosaic scenes, record some of the details of time and place. There is value to capturing images “behind the scenes” even if those photos will never become portfolio pieces or social media shares. Below: after a morning of photographing Atlantic Puffins from a blind on Machias Seal Island, I photographed the blind and the remote island itself to include in an article about the experience. 

This image won’t win any awards, but it is not meant to… it tells a story in a larger collection of photos.

9. SEND UP THE DRONE. Shooting directly down in midday sun creates an even, brightly lit scene — similar to  shooting under an overcast sky, just brighter and warmer. Look for interesting patterns and textures. Remember that you can easily over-expose bright colors in this light, so if you want to retain detail in the highlights, you may need to underexpose by one or two stops. This beach image was inspired by Neopolitan ice cream, and captured under the blistering Maldivian sun. 

In between dives in the Maldives I sent up my drone to record some b-roll footage for a video about underwater photography. The sun was scorching and there were no obvious photo opportunities so I took a few top-down shots and packed it up. Later while reviewing the photos I cropped this beautiful beach scene from what looked like a throwaway shot. It has since become one of my more popular images.

10. SHOOT INDOORS. This might seem like a cop-out but if your goal is to make great images and the light outside is just not happening, why not take the shooting inside? Consider this an opportunity to experiment with different locations and compositions. Shooting indoors is also good practice to work with low light conditions and push the capabilities of the camera. My favorite place to shoot in New York City is actually indoors in the period rooms at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. 

The period rooms at the Metropolitan Museum of Art always deliver a stunning visual experience.

Of course, we’d prefer to shoot scenes in the morning golden hour or at sunset, but if that sweet light lasted all day the resulting images wouldn’t be nearly as special. Next time you find yourself in harsh light conditions, consider all the opportunities you still have to create great images.