Tunnel View Evening, 2018
Sony A7ii
Zeiss Loxia 35mm f/2
1/320 at f/6.3, ISO 100
A MILLION FOOTSTEPS
No man has the right to dictate what other men should perceive, create or produce, but all should be
encouraged to reveal themselves, their perceptions and emotions, and to build confidence in the creative spirit. -Ansel Adams
What possesses anyone to make a photograph in the exact spot where–quite literally–millions of others have captured the same view?
Perhaps no scenic vista on Earth is associated with one photographer and iconic image as is Tunnel View in Yosemite Valley. Even people oblivious to the name and legacy of Ansel Adams have likely seen the seminal ‘Clearing Winter Storm’ that he exposed on his 8×10 view camera from that spot in 1935. Arguably, it stands as the most recognizable landscape photograph of all time.
I recently had the good fortune of visiting Yosemite for the second time in the last couple of years, this time with my family along. And nobody would argue that a stop at Tunnel View for sunset is a bad idea. You can’t actually call a spot like Tunnel View cliché, no more than you can dismiss a Van Gogh as overdone, or say that you don’t want to see The Sphynx, because, dude, it’s the sphynx–people have been looking at it for millennia. Some things just transgress all that. Tunnel View is one of them.
There are quite a few reasons a photographer might want to capture an image–The Image–from Tunnel View. I’m not talking about the iPhone selfie here. I’m talking about a photographer going with a pre-conceived intention of making an image that millions of others have made. A few of the major classes might include:
A decisive moment: This is a moment of happenstance. You are fortunate to be there at a moment when there are truly exceptional conditions, whether of light, of atmosphere, of people, or maybe just the rapture. Great locations make for great photos, and combined with rare circumstances, well, that’s what made Clearing Winter Storm possible.
A personal testament: This opportunity is about you. You are there to record an image precisely because, in fact, you are there. An image bears witness to you being there and serves as a memento of your intent and journey.
Artist as pilgrim: At sites around the world, pilgrims seek a greater connection to things larger than themselves. They go in some cases explicitly because they are following in a million footsteps. And this category is why I chose to make this Tunnel View image during the recent trip. I don’t think anyone seriously goes to the Ganges believing its waters will treat them distinctly from the billions of others who’ve abluted there. Likewise, few go on the Hajj to experience something unknown or unexpected. And thus I didn’t go to Tunnel View to make a photo I believed would be exceptional in any way. Rather, it is the mere act of doing it that makes the larger context. The image is, intentionally, inconsequential. Of course you try to do your best, but that is an act of homage, not expectation.
On the evening in question, Tunnel View was resplendent, but not overly dramatic. It presented fine cumulus clouds, golden and mottled light, and even a place to park without queuing. In fact, for a late May evening at 8:30 p.m., it wasn’t even particularly crowded. A dozen or so photographers edged up to the low retaining wall at the vista, and I joined in the ritual of extending the tripod, looking for when clouds would provide the right mix of sun and shadow, and eyeing each other’s setup with feigned indifference. I made four exposures of just the view, before turning my attention to some portraits of two of my daughters in front of the grand spectacle. My wife and other daughter sat back behind the action, people watching and tired from a day of vigorous hiking. We spent only 15 minutes or so looking out through the valley and watching the people watch the sunset. It was our last view as we headed down Wawona Road and out of the park to our lodge for the evening. In the morning, the experience was over and the realities of travel and logistics took over as we headed back to SFO airport and destinations far away. I felt the experience complete, and only now a month or more on, have revisited the images to reflect on this pilgrimage and its larger meaning. I don’t think it will be the last time I’m there–I hope it won’t be–and the next time, I’m sure I’ll partake in the exercise again and feel just as enriched, regardless of the image produced.
I use my journal to share thoughts and experiences related to photography. Whether it’s the results of an unexpected shoot, a new technique I’m focused on, or perhaps a piece of gear I’ve found, the journal is my outlet for sharing with the larger photo community. Please add your comments!
A Million Footsteps
TECHNICAL DETAILS
Tunnel View Evening, 2018
Sony A7ii
Zeiss Loxia 35mm f/2
1/320 at f/6.3, ISO 100
A MILLION FOOTSTEPS
No man has the right to dictate what other men should perceive, create or produce, but all should be
encouraged to reveal themselves, their perceptions and emotions, and to build confidence in the creative spirit.
-Ansel Adams
What possesses anyone to make a photograph in the exact spot where–quite literally–millions of others have captured the same view?
Perhaps no scenic vista on Earth is associated with one photographer and iconic image as is Tunnel View in Yosemite Valley. Even people oblivious to the name and legacy of Ansel Adams have likely seen the seminal ‘Clearing Winter Storm’ that he exposed on his 8×10 view camera from that spot in 1935. Arguably, it stands as the most recognizable landscape photograph of all time.
I recently had the good fortune of visiting Yosemite for the second time in the last couple of years, this time with my family along. And nobody would argue that a stop at Tunnel View for sunset is a bad idea. You can’t actually call a spot like Tunnel View cliché, no more than you can dismiss a Van Gogh as overdone, or say that you don’t want to see The Sphynx, because, dude, it’s the sphynx–people have been looking at it for millennia. Some things just transgress all that. Tunnel View is one of them.
There are quite a few reasons a photographer might want to capture an image–The Image–from Tunnel View. I’m not talking about the iPhone selfie here. I’m talking about a photographer going with a pre-conceived intention of making an image that millions of others have made. A few of the major classes might include:
A decisive moment: This is a moment of happenstance. You are fortunate to be there at a moment when there are truly exceptional conditions, whether of light, of atmosphere, of people, or maybe just the rapture. Great locations make for great photos, and combined with rare circumstances, well, that’s what made Clearing Winter Storm possible.
A personal testament: This opportunity is about you. You are there to record an image precisely because, in fact, you are there. An image bears witness to you being there and serves as a memento of your intent and journey.
Artist as pilgrim: At sites around the world, pilgrims seek a greater connection to things larger than themselves. They go in some cases explicitly because they are following in a million footsteps. And this category is why I chose to make this Tunnel View image during the recent trip. I don’t think anyone seriously goes to the Ganges believing its waters will treat them distinctly from the billions of others who’ve abluted there. Likewise, few go on the Hajj to experience something unknown or unexpected. And thus I didn’t go to Tunnel View to make a photo I believed would be exceptional in any way. Rather, it is the mere act of doing it that makes the larger context. The image is, intentionally, inconsequential. Of course you try to do your best, but that is an act of homage, not expectation.
On the evening in question, Tunnel View was resplendent, but not overly dramatic. It presented fine cumulus clouds, golden and mottled light, and even a place to park without queuing. In fact, for a late May evening at 8:30 p.m., it wasn’t even particularly crowded. A dozen or so photographers edged up to the low retaining wall at the vista, and I joined in the ritual of extending the tripod, looking for when clouds would provide the right mix of sun and shadow, and eyeing each other’s setup with feigned indifference. I made four exposures of just the view, before turning my attention to some portraits of two of my daughters in front of the grand spectacle. My wife and other daughter sat back behind the action, people watching and tired from a day of vigorous hiking. We spent only 15 minutes or so looking out through the valley and watching the people watch the sunset. It was our last view as we headed down Wawona Road and out of the park to our lodge for the evening. In the morning, the experience was over and the realities of travel and logistics took over as we headed back to SFO airport and destinations far away. I felt the experience complete, and only now a month or more on, have revisited the images to reflect on this pilgrimage and its larger meaning. I don’t think it will be the last time I’m there–I hope it won’t be–and the next time, I’m sure I’ll partake in the exercise again and feel just as enriched, regardless of the image produced.
It’s decidedly not about the picture.