Maricopa – On the road with Jim

Ghost Town Gears: Vulture City’s Mechanical Past Picture of the Week, Vulture City, Arizona

Antique differential gearing linked to a hit-and-miss engine, showcasing the mechanical history of Vulture City. — Vulture City’s Mechanical Tale: A Flywheel’s Connection to a Bygone Era

Welcome back, intrepid explorers, to our final haunting episode in Vulture City. Today, we’re diving deep into the mechanical heart of this ghost town and a peek at the commendable efforts by the caretakers to ensure its stories are preserved for eons to come. Remember last week’s little misadventure? Let’s stick close together; one ghostly escapade is quite enough!

This week’s spotlight is a relic from yesteryears—an old gas-powered engine. Not the vroom-vroom kind in your garage, but a stationary titan engineered to power the weighty machinery of its time. Its genius? To be fuel-efficient, it was crafted to ignite every other cycle, creating an unmistakable bang-pop-pop sound. This rhythmic cadence christened them “Hit-and-Miss” engines. Much like the nostalgic rhythm of a gramophone, the beat of these engines is Vulture City’s undying echo from the past.

Surprisingly, despite their robust build with cast iron and boilers, you rarely find them in old abandoned mines. Why? Because most were sold or, unfortunately, scavenged for scrap. But in Vulture City, these pieces of history stand tall, painting a vivid picture of the bygone era.

Visiting Vulture City is akin to stepping into a time capsule. But don’t be fooled by the town’s pristine appearance. Recent photos showcase the harrowing reality of dilapidated structures just a few years back. However, the new stewards have tirelessly worked to resurrect the town. From rusty Core 10 stainless steel rooftops to stabilized walls, every corner has been touched with care. And while some artifacts aren’t precisely period-authentic, they enhance the visitor’s experience manifold.

OMG—They Do Exist!

Humorous Halloween scene in Vulture City's brothel with playful pumpkins, hinting at a night of mischief. — Haunted Brothel: Pumpkins Celebrate in Style – Have you ever wondered why the Great Pumpkin never appears before the ‘Peanuts’ character, Linus? Here’s why. The Pumpkin has better things to do than hang out with kids all night.

Have you ever met pumpkins with more charisma than the guests at some fancy parties? Thanks to Ray Villafane’s magic touch, the pumpkins at Vulture City are a sight! Having showcased his prowess on HGTV, Ray’s uncanny ability to breathe life into gourds has added a spooky charm to the town’s Halloween festivities. For a deeper dive, check out this article here. All these initiatives spotlight the town’s undying spirit and commitment to entertaining and educating visitors year-round.

Thanks for tagging along on our ghostly gallivant this month. We’ve been overjoyed to share our tales and would be thrilled to hear yours! We invite you to share your Halloween or even brothel stories in the comment section below. Drop by my website for a closer peek at the engine here, or visit its gallery on Fine Art America here. Next week? A new location and saga you won’t want to miss. Be sure to tune in.

Till next time, keep your spirits high and your humor dry.
jw

Techniques: Shapes as Compositional Muses

Close your eyes and imagine… Oh wait, bad idea! Let’s explore the transformative power of shapes in photography. Do you think a plain signpost is mundane? Tilt it a bit, and you’ve got a story! Here’s a dive into how shapes craft a picture’s narrative:

Horizontal Lines: These lines evoke a sense of tranquility and restfulness. Imagine the horizon during a sunset; it exudes peace and serenity.
Vertical Lines: These lines impart strength, rigidity, and stability. Think of towering skyscrapers or tall trees reaching up to the sky.
Circles: Representing wholeness and unity, circles can create a focal point that keeps the viewer’s eye engaged. The never-ending loop of a circle often symbolizes the circle of life or eternity.
Triangles: Triangles can provide a sense of balance and stability in a composition, often directing the viewer’s eye to the top or base of the triangle. They can be dynamic or stable depending on their orientation.
Curves and S-Curves: These lines are graceful, flowing, and can be sensuous. S-curves, in particular, can guide the viewer’s eye through the composition, providing depth and interest. Picture a winding river through a landscape; it captivates the viewer into the scene.

Mining Memories: The Silent Sentinels of Vulture City Picture of the Week - Vulture City, Arizona

Headframe: Vulture City's towering relic from its mining past — Mining Memories: The Silent Sentinels of Vulture City – Dive into Vulture City’s history, and you’ll discover mining relics, quirky tales, and even pumpkins with legs. Your unexpected desert journey awaits!

Hello again from Vulture City, where the unexpected is just another Tuesday! As I’ve continued my explorations here, I uncovered stories hidden in the shadows and surprises around every corner. I have butterflies in my stomach, and I can’t wait to tell you that I was right about those menacing pumpkins—but let’s talk about this week’s photo first, and then we’ll get to the paranormal.

Leading the tour today, we’re craning our necks to take in a lofty structure known as a headframe. No, it’s not the latest in chiropractic care; it’s an essential tool in mining. Headframes served as the backbone (pun intended) of many mines, hauling not just ore but the brave souls who ventured deep underground. While the exact inventor of the headframe remains a debate for the history books, these mechanical marvels evolved from humble hand-powered origins to the might of steam and electric prowess.

In our arid southwest, standing headframes are rarer than rain. Given that lumber had to journey to these barren expanses, and the indigenous trees weren’t quite up for the task, it’s hardly surprising. The smaller mines often skipped the theatrics, as their digs weren’t exactly the stuff of Jules Verne novels. However, tread cautiously if you’re trekking across the desert and spot one (or just heaps of sturdy wood)! There’s likely a yawning chasm lurking beneath.

The sentinel at Vulture City isn’t the grandest I’ve encountered, and it’s been repositioned away from the original mine shaft. I surmise it’s a safety maneuver to stop kiddos from taking unplanned trips down under—after all, youngsters aren’t toast. They don’t pop back out when they’re done. With its singular pulley setup, this headframe likely relied on sturdy equine muscle power. Imagine that—an equestrian gym session! These timber titans might be mute but resonate with tales of grit, ambition, and underground treasures.

When I thought Vulture City couldn’t get any more bizarre, the town proved me wrong. As I walked through the displays, I saw one building marked with a Brothel sign. Of course, I had to check it out because—that’s the kind of guy I am. I expected to see an excellent museum-style exhibit featuring swanky furniture and feather beds covered with hand-made quilts. You know, the usual dust-covered stuff. But what did I find when I walked into the Brothel’s waiting room? Three pumpkins casually lounging on the sofa, arms and legs crossed, discussing the weather (I presume—I don’t speak pumpkin). But the moment they saw me, it was like I’d flipped on the lights in a New York City apartment at midnight—those pumpkins scattered faster than… well, pumpkins with legs!

Three orange clients spending their free time looking for social media. — Ghostly Gourds: An Unexpected Brothel Encounter – You’ll never know who’s already in line when you unannounced into a brothel’s waiting room.

I was lucky that I already had my camera at the ready. I was able to squeeze off one clear shot before all of that dust was kicked up. They scattered in different directions so fast I sprained my eyeballs tracking them. You see—I was right about these pumpkins, and unlike the fuzzy Sasquatch photos you see in the check-out counter rags, this one’s sharp as a tack.

As we inch closer to the spookiest day of the year, keep your camera ready, and more importantly, keep a wooden stake and garlic clove nearby! Who knows what might be lurking around the next corner? If you’d like to examine the headframe closer, it’s on my website (Jim’s Web page) and a page at Fine Art America (FAA Link). Join me next week as we conclude our Vulture City voyage and, fingers crossed, solve the pumpkin enigma.

Till then, keep your spirits high and your humor dry!
jw

Techniques: The Art of Capturing the Unexpected

The most mesmerizing snaps in photography often arise from serendipity—like those jaw-dropping space launch vistas captured by eagle-eyed air travelers. Hence, when queried about the best camera, I quip, “The one you’ve got handy,” which, nowadays, is probably your phone.
Photography, much like life, is peppered with unforeseen marvels. Whether it’s anthropomorphic pumpkins or whimsical backdrops, mastering these fleeting instances demands foresight and improvisation. Here’s my toolkit for seizing the spontaneous:

• Stay Vigilant: Your camera should be an extension of your arm. Magic rarely sends an RSVP.
• Opt for Rapid Shutter: The key to pinning down swift, fleeting moments in pristine clarity.
• Experiment with Perspectives: An unusual viewpoint can accentuate the oddities of a scene.
• Keep a Cool Head: When faced with the unexpected, breathe, tweak, and click.
• Welcome the Unscripted: Don’t shun the anomalies; let them enhance your photographic narrative.

Remarkable snapshots often sprout from impromptu events. So, let spontaneity be your muse, and you might clinch that once-in-a-lifetime frame.

BTW:

I just added another YouTube video to my On the Road series. This one covers my Arizona Mountain Portfolio. If you’d like to watch this six minutes of eye candy, you can see it here: https://youtu.be/pN0dbZ2tBj8

Desert Artistry: Vulture City’s Frankentruck Picture of the Week - Wickenburg, Arizona

Desert Artistry: Vulture City’s Frankentruck – Patchwork truck made from various parts, standing guard outside Willard Miller station in Vulture City, Arizona

Have you ever heard the saying, ‘Money can’t buy you happiness?’ Well, Henry Wickenburg might’ve echoed that sentiment. While our Prussian immigrant struck gold in the quartz shelf, there’s a vast difference between finding and monetizing gold. Being a prospector and not a miner, Henry didn’t venture much further than his initial discovery. Delving deeper into the earth to pursue gold requires a workforce and resources. And before we wade into the treacherous waters of math (and I’m watching Queen Anne for any eye-rolling), it’s essential to understand the intricacies of return on investment.

Although the Vulture Mine produced gobs of gold—the top gold-producing mine in Arizona history—it wasn’t that profitable. Its poor standing is because the mine is out in the middle of nowhere, with no water, timber, transportation, or other resources needed to bring the yellow ore to the market. The nearest river is the Hassayampa, some 12 miles away. In 1864, you couldn’t just stroll to your local Harbor Freight and grab a generator. Those hefty stamp mills required steam, which needed water and fuel, be it wood or coal. So, the ore dug from the Vulture Mine had to be hauled to the mills for processing, either by pack mules, wagons, or in your pockets.

Henry’s solution was genius. He sold the diggings to speculators by the ton. It’s sort of like people buying unclaimed storage units at auctions. Buyers paid a set price at the mine and transported it to the river mills. Sometimes they made money; sometimes they didn’t. But Henry always got his cut.

Funny thing about naming towns back then. Often, they didn’t have formal names until a need arose. When the community sent a plea for protection against marauding tribes to the Army, the soldiers referred to their destination as the return address on the letter—Wickenburg Ranch. At his ranch, Henry lived a comfortable life. Investors like Baron Goldwasser (Goldwater) threw money at him, and he was able to give back to the growing community. He donated land for the town’s first church and invested in the hair-brain start-up company Jack Swilling’s Ditch Company—which you may better know by its current name, the Salt River Project. But as he aged, he gave a large chunk of his fortune to his caretaker, Jesus Maria Martinez.

In 1905, in a plot twist befitting a murder mystery, Henry was found dead with a gunshot to the head. And though the gun was right next to him and was ruled a suicide, not everyone was convinced. The twists? The bullet wound was on his right temple, despite Henry being left-handed. Just last week, an article in the Wickenburg Sun questioned the shooting. The people the paper interviewed called for a new investigation using modern forensic tools. They implied that his caretaker was involved in the death to get the rest of Henry’s money.

This week’s photograph makes me smile. What seemed like another rusted relic was an artist’s whimsical touch—a sculpture concocted from disparate vehicle parts welded together to birth this fantastical mine truck. Other than an art piece, it’s useless; it doesn’t have an engine or frame, and the barrel is held in place with chains. Its colorful yellow cab certainly caught my eye and is the essence of mining equipment at ¾ scale.

Pumpkin’s Silent Vigil in Deserted Cabin – Pumpkin sitting on a window ledge of an old, cracked wall in Vulture City.

On a darker note, there’s an issue with this week’s other photo. When I went inside the assay house, I saw the crumbling plaster and deep window frame needed when building with adobe blocks. So, I took this shot using the wonderful natural window light. But when I viewed it on my computer—I saw the pumpkin. It wasn’t there when I took the shot—I swear. I warned you from the outset of this series there’s something spooky and evil about these creatures.

Thanks for joining our journey through Vulture City’s history. Do drop by next week as we delve into the town’s leaner times. If you want to examine the ‘art’ truck closer, please visit my website (Jim’s Website) or the page I created on Fine Art America (FAA Link). In the comments below, we’d love your stories of makeshift repairs, gold mining, or mysterious pumpkins.

Till next time
jw

Techniques: Enhancing Photo Narratives

What’s your story? Um, let me rephrase that. What are you thinking about when you take a photograph? No doubt, you’ve heard the phrase, “A picture is worth a thousand words.” As a photographer, those words should be reverberating through your head while looking through your lens. If you’re memorializing your kid’s first step, your wet dog’s first bath, or taking a shot of your cat napping on the windowsill (ew), snap the shutter—capture that unique moment. But then, you should think, “How can I frame this better?” Look beyond your subject. Is there too much clutter in the rest of the frame that you can eliminate by moving closer? Is there something that you can include to support the story? I always take at least two shots, but not identical (unless I know I blurred the first one). In my subsequent attempts, I either move or shift the camera and when I edit, I pick out the better photo and hide the rest. You have to be ruthless about that.

Take this week’s photo, for example. I could have framed the Frankentruck tighter and let it fill the frame. But I included the fake gas station because it tells a richer story. Over the past two weeks, I’ve presented two versions of the same photo. A building in decay with an old vehicle in front of it. But their stories are different. In Echos of a Bygone Era, we see the assay office with a rusted hulk out front. The car supports the building by introducing a period into it. On the other hand, this week’s Frankentruck is the subject, and the shed adorned with auto memorabilia gives it context. You understand the truck’s purpose—everything else is the movie set.

So, always seize the fleeting moments when you’re out with your camera. Yet, elevating your narrative is about more than just a click; it’s about the intention behind that click. Every frame is a canvas, every shot an opportunity to share a tale. With each focused intention and deliberate choice, you’re not just taking photos but crafting stories. And trust me, with time and practice, this art of visual storytelling becomes an innate part of your craft.

Echoes of a Bygone Era: Vulture City’s Assay Office and Vintage Relic Picture of the Week - Vulture City, Arizona

Historic rock-faced Assay Office in Vulture City with a rusted 30s-era Ford sedan in the foreground, set against a clear blue sky. — Echoes of a Bygone Era: Vulture City’s Assay Office and Vintage Relic – Vulture City’s Assay Office: Where tales of gold and dreams converged, with the silent witness of a bygone era—the rusted Ford—standing guard.

Welcome back to the ever-mystifying Vulture City. Every corner here whispers tales of yesteryear, and as we look closer, I must admit it feels like someone—or something—is watching. Spine-tingling.

Imagine our main character, Henry Wickenburg. Not your typical gold-seeking caricature, but a slender gentleman in a coat and tie. I know; I, too, sometimes imagine prospectors as chubby caricatures in tattered hats with picks in hand, somewhat like that character the Arizona Lottery loves to flaunt. But Henry? Far from it. This Prussian immigrant, born Johannes Henricus Wickenburg, once mined coal back in his homeland and found himself on the wrong side of the law for poaching the King’s coal on the family farm. Landing in New York in 1847, the lure of California’s gold rush pulled him westward to San Francisco.

Henry’s journey, like my attempt at a diet, seemed doomed. He hit the Bay area just after the gold had panned out. Journeying further, he reached Yuma, only to find he was late to the party again when prospector A.H. Peeples and his crew discovered the Rich Hill find. Still, Henry, ever the optimist, pitched his camp beside the Hassayampa River, holding onto his golden dreams.

Then, as luck would have it, during an expedition with King Woolsey—an Arizona rancher, businessman, and Lieutenant-Colonel in the Arizona Militia—Henry spotted a promising quartz outcrop. While he failed to convince his comrades to investigate, he returned the following year in May 1864 with a new crew. They filed a claim, establishing the Vulture Mining District, and birthed one of Arizona’s most prolific gold mines. But as you’d expect in such tales, it wasn’t all peaches and cream, but more on that next week.

Today, the assay office stands proudly, echoing those golden times. Its walls, crafted from mine tailings rumored to contain gold, house tales of affluence and decline. The preservation efforts by the current owners ensure that its stories won’t crumble to dust. Though not from the gold rush era, the yard’s rusting Ford provides a curious juxtaposition against this historical backdrop.

Rusted drive wheel of Vulture City mine's headframe, with sunlit highlights against a shadowed background. — Whispers of Work: The Aged Artistry of the Mine Wheel: The headframe’s drive wheel, once the heartbeat of Vulture City’s mining operations, stands frozen in time, its rusted patina telling tales of labor and gold.

Stay tuned as next week, we’ll dig deeper into the Vulture Mine’s intricate tapestry. To get up close with the Assay Office, swing by my Website (Jim’s web page) or its dedicated Fine Art America Page (FAA link). And, with Halloween around the corner, beware of the naughty pumpkins lurking in the shadows. Stick close, and stay alert.

Until next time
jw

Techniques: The Evolution of Architectural Perspective—From View Cameras to Photoshop.

Those towering buildings can play tricks on the eye in architectural photography. Point your camera up or down, and suddenly, those sturdy, straight lines appear to lean and converge. We’ve all seen those dramatic New York skyscraper shots that seem to stretch forever into the sky, making the buildings look as if they’re toppling.

Photographers had two main tools to correct this perspective distortion in the days before digital took over. The first was the view camera—which looks like an accordions and requires you to drape a cloth over your head. These cameras allowed for lens and film plane adjustments, ensuring buildings stood tall in photos. But they were bulky, required a tripod, and slowed you down.

Then, there was a clever darkroom method for those who didn’t have access to a view camera or wanted to correct images in post-production. Photographers could wrestle those leaning lines back into place by tilting the easel while projecting the negative. It was a delicate dance: tilt too much, and parts of the image would blur. While not as precise as today’s tools, it showcased the hands-on artistry of photography.

With the digital era in full swing, these older techniques are primarily of historical interest. Software like Photoshop provides a handy lens correction tool that quickly straightens skewed perspectives, found under Filter→Lens Correction.

Consider this week’s image of the Vulture City Assay office. I got up close and personal with my wide-angle lens to capture the sedan and the chimney. However, this meant some verticals weren’t… well, vertical. Enter Photoshop’s lens correction tool. A few tweaks and everything was right again.

However, as with all things digital, this magic touch has critics. Some purists argue that such corrections can degrade image quality. While this is a valid concern, especially for large prints, it’s generally a non-issue for images meant for online display. Like with any tool, the key is using it judiciously.

Fading Echoes: Vulture City’s Cantina After Dark Picture of the Week - Vulture City, Arizona

Weathered metal exterior of Vulture City's Cantina featuring vintage food and drink signs, captured in dim light after sunset. — The weathered metal exterior of Vulture City’s Cantina features vintage food and drink signs captured in dim light after sunset.

October has finally graced us with its presence. That’s significant for us desert dwellers for a couple of reasons. Most importantly, summer’s relentless grip has finally loosened. It’s still hot during the day and will be for several more weeks, but we can go out on the back deck, enjoy a cup of java, and watch the doves run for their lives in the cool mornings. The other nice thing about October is that it’s the beginning of the festive gauntlet, where celebrations stack up on one another. If the calendar were a wheel, we’d have to take it to the tire shop to balance it.

Queen Anne’s favorite holiday is Halloween, of course. What else would you expect from a woman who wears a black pointed hat and always has a broom at arm’s length? All through the month, she buys bags of miniature Heath Bars at Safeway—not to give to kids trick-or-treating at the door (they don’t grow out here), but so she has plenty of stock when she watches Spaced Invaders looping constantly. So, what better way to celebrate Halloween than to spend the month in a ghost town? It’s one we haven’t visited before and is at the bottom of Vulture Mine Road. Of course, I’m talking about Vulture City, the mine that gave birth to Wickenburg.

A rusted, vintage Ford truck stands in a ghost town, framed by timeworn buildings and a sky punctuated by twisted arrowhead-shaped cirrus clouds. — Iron Beauty: Aging Gracefully in Vulture City – his Ford’s not going anywhere fast, but its enduring character keeps it forever at home in the forgotten corners of Vulture City.

Vulture City’s history starts long before any crusty prospectors unstrapped a pick from their burro. Judging from the mix of rocks you can see along Vulture Mine Road, the Vulture Mountains formed through a symphony of molten eruptions and earth-shattering shifts over millions of years. The evidence is the basalt layers and limestone blocks you see along the road. The area is rich in gold because hydrothermal activities carried gold from the Earth’s mantle to the crust. Like Queen Anne, Mother Nature has a flair for flaunting her geological bling.

Before European settlement, the Hohokam primarily inhabited this region and later the Apache—specifically the feared Yavapai Apache. While there is no definitive evidence, native tribes did engage in rudimentary mining and likely found semi-precious stones, but gold was not their primary focus. The natives considered many of the natural formations sacred, adding an extra layer of mysticism to the area. It was as if the land crooned a mystical siren’s song long before tourist-hot-spot was even in the lexicon. And then came the white man, which we’ll get into next week.

This week’s photo is of the mining town’s cantina, mess hall, cafeteria, or whatever they called the place where they fed workers. Ho ho! Staring at a sleeping princess may feed the soul, but you need sustenance to swing a pick all day in a dark mineshaft. When I took this image, it was well after sunset on a cloudy evening, so the lights were on, and I was captivated by the geometric dance of perpendicular rectangles. The porch light infuses a golden glow to the otherwise cold and dusty scene. Although the food signs jammed into the window frame add color, I don’t believe they’re authentic to the period. I mean, 15 cents for a hot dog would have been a lot of money back then—besides, I don’t think Costco yet invented the little sausages of mystery meat.

I’m pleased that you joined us on this month’s spooky adventure. Stick close together unless you fancy being spirited away by one of Vulture City’s resident phantoms who takes on pumpkins’ color and shape. We’ll return next week with stories of the mine’s beginnings and how one man was responsible for a town’s creation. If you want to search this week’s image closely for ghostly apparitions, visit my website (Jim’s web link) or the Fine Art America page I made for it (FAA link). Don’t go near the pumpkins—they’re cute, but bite your face off.

Till next time
jw

Techniques: The Soft Glow of Overcast Skies—A Detail Photographer’s Dream

Capturing minute details in photography often feels like trying to corral a greased pig—you think you’ve snagged the perfect shot, only for the little nuances to elude you. But here’s where the misunderstood overcast sky swoops in like a caped crusader. Acting as nature’s softbox, it scatters sunlight to tone down harsh shadows and even out contrast, setting the stage for those intricate details to take the limelight—from the weather-worn wood of a rustic barn door to the delicate veins of an autumn leaf. However, be warned: while overcast light is your friend for showcasing detail, it can sometimes render textures like corrugated metal or rocky surfaces a bit flat. For those, a dash of direct sunlight might be the secret sauce to elevate the texture to center stage.

Think of overcast light as the sotto voce of the photographic world. It’s the quiet, unassuming tone that lets the content shine. Where bright, direct sunlight is the boastful tenor, belting out high notes and obscuring the subtler instruments, an overcast sky gently elevates the bassoons and cellos—the intricate details that offer richness and depth. This makes your subject the show’s star, allowing viewers to appreciate complexities they might otherwise overlook.

Of course, while overcast light provides a naturally diffused glow, you’ll still need to stay vigilant about your exposure settings. Cloudy skies can occasionally trick your camera’s metering system into underexposing the shot, making it appear gloomier than intended. A quick tweak to the exposure compensation can often rectify this, ensuring your details stand out crisply without veering into the realm of the overblown or washed-out.

BTW:

If you’re curious about our previous adventures, my new YouTube video on the Colorado Portfolio just went live. Feel free to take a gander.

Storm-Lit Skies Over Date Creek Range Picture of the Week - Congress, Arizona

Golden-light silhouette of Joshua Trees with a dark, stormy sky over Date Creek Range in Arizona. — Storm-Lit Skies Over Date Creek Range – Caught in the golden embrace of the setting sun, the Date Creek Range and its Joshua Tree sentinel defy an impending storm. Can you spot the elusive rainbow?

In last week’s US 93 escapade, I put the pedal to the metal, racing the encroaching dark clouds to bask in the vanishing golden hour. I even detoured to Burro Creek campgrounds, where the only thing I found was…more clouds. Alas, as soon as I wrapped up my Burro Creek pit stop, those looming clouds won the race, swallowing the sun whole.

Disappointed, I set aside my camera’s relentless search for that perfect shot and started a leisurely drive home. No rush, right? Queen Anne was busy wallowing in precious metals at the jewelry store with her gal-pals, and I had miles of asphalt ahead of me. Soon enough, the highway carried me through the Joshua Tree Parkway, and then it began—Arizona’s version of ‘will it or won’t it’—raining from the sky.

Yes, this arid state has two kinds of summer rain. First, there’s the gully washer, the frog strangler, the cob-floater, a torrential rain that I can’t even see the house across the street. This type of downpour is the VIP guest that shows up uninvited, fills up the washes, and turns rattlesnakes into accidental Olympians. You should see them. Snorkels on their snouts, doing the backstroke like they’re auditioning for ‘Snakes on a Swim Team.’

Then there’s the other kind, today’s specialty: a rain so indecisive it could give Hamlet a run for his money. It’s like the weather gods couldn’t agree, and we get this annoying drizzle that teeters on the edge of being useful. You find yourself in this wiper-limbo, perpetually toggling between ‘kinda need it’ and ‘oh, the horror of that screeching noise.’ The local washes don’t even bother to fill up; rattlesnakes smirk and break out their snorkels for practice laps, just waiting for the next aquatic extravaganza.

Just when I was about to award myself the title of ‘Arizona’s Rain Philosopher,’ the universe decided to show off. The sun, ever the dramatic artist, slipped beneath the heavy cloak of the western clouds, making a brief but stunning encore. It was as if it said, ‘You thought I was done for the day? Hold my solar flare.’ And just like that, the golden hour was back on stage for its final act.

Dodging highway traffic and raindrops, I perched myself by a barbed-wire fence to capture what I’ve aptly named Storm-Lit Skies Over Date Creek Range. The Joshua Trees pop like jack-in-the-boxes from a golden sea of creosote, crowned by the glowing Castle Rock. For the eagle-eyed among you, squint a little harder. A subtle rainbow makes a cameo on the right of the taller Joshua Tree.

If you’re squinting at this on your smartphone, do yourself a favor—upgrade to a bigger screen. Trust me, this photo deserves it. You can see the bigger versions by browsing my website [Jim’s Page] or checking out my Fine Art America gallery [FAA Page]. Do make sure to swing by next week. The best is yet to come.

Till next time
jw

Techniques: Capturing Storms: The Drama Before, During, and After

Grab your umbrellas and wellies because today, we’re talking storms. And I don’t mean the kind you have with your spouse over who left the toilet seat up. We’re diving into the cinematic, the dramatic, the eye-candy kind of storms that would have made even Ansel Adams pause and say, “Well, would you look at that!”

Ah, the golden hour. That ethereal moment before the sky erupts into a Van Gogh painting or descends into gloom. But have you ever tried capturing a storm during this time? The universe throws you a curveball, saying, “Hey, here’s beauty and chaos, all wrapped in a corn tortilla of opportunity.” Remember Ansel Adams’ Clearing Winter Storm? The dude knew when to click that shutter.

You might think, “Jim, storms are just wet messes! How am I supposed to capture that?” Ah, my dry-weather fans, this is where things get electrifying. Capturing lightning requires some specialized equipment or mad reflexes. But the results? They’re shockingly good.

The storm has passed, but don’t pack up that camera yet. The sky now looks like hungover clouds meandering aimlessly, bumping into mountains, and trying to remember where they parked their cumulus cars. The aftermath can offer as many Kodak moments as the storm itself.

So, the next time you see those dark clouds looming, don’t just think about whether you’ve left the laundry out. Think about the once-in-a-lifetime shots that could be waiting for you. Embrace the wild mood swings of Mother Nature. After all, when the weather can’t decide, it might just be helping you make up yours about that next epic shot.

Do you have any of your own storm-chasing or weather-defying photography tales? We’d love to hear them! Please share your stories in the comments below, and let’s swap some epic weather adventures.

Mountains, Canyons, and Sycamore Creek: Swimming in the Beauty of Arizona’s Wilderness Picture of the Week - Sunflower, Arizona

Scenic view of the Mazatzal Mountains and Sycamore Creek Canyon in Arizona. — Mountains, Canyons, and Sycamore Creek: Swimming in the Beauty of Arizona’s Wilderness – Immerse yourself in the breathtaking beauty of the Mazatzal Mountains and the picturesque Sycamore Creek Canyon.

Welcome back to our journey through the picturesque Mazatzal Mountains, where nature’s timeless artistry unfolds beneath our feet. In our continued exploration, we delve into the geological wonders that have shaped this majestic range, revealing the secrets of its ancient past. Join us as we uncover the captivating stories etched in rock and discover the remarkable forces shaping this rugged landscape.

With this terrible heat, wouldn’t it be nice to walk into Baskin Robbins and order a delicious burgundy-cherry cone? Although the ice cream cools your tongue, the heat melts it so fast you have to lap it up to keep it from running down your arm, and you get brain freeze. Wait, I can make it better. What if you returned inside with the empty cone and asked for a free refill? That’ll never happen, but that’s sort of the geological story of the Mazatzal Mountains.

The Mazatzal Mountains, with their rugged beauty, hold within their rocky layers a fascinating geological history that spans millions of years. Formed through intense tectonic activity and volcanic eruptions, these ancient mountains have witnessed the collision of ancient island arcs with the North American continent, creating a massive mountain range. Over time, erosion and subsequent uplift events shaped the Mazatzals into the awe-inspiring landscape we see today. Composed primarily of Precambrian and Paleozoic rock formations, these mountains showcase the power of tectonic forces, as evidenced by their uplifted and tilted nature.

On our imaginary drive through the Mazatzal Range, we reached Rincon Pass near Crabtree Butte. We stopped at this spot to shoot this week’s featured image. East of the Beeline Highway is a 400′ deep canyon carved by Sycamore Creek on its journey to the Verde River at Fort McDowell.

As we stand at the top, soaking in the awe-inspiring beauty of the canyon, the west-facing slopes still lie in shadow while the rising sun casts a warm and enchanting glow on our side. Like interlocking fingers, the ridgelines gracefully descend into the canyon, creating a mesmerizing pattern of diagonal lines. Through the distant haze, our eyes are drawn to Mount Ord, adorned with a majestic crown of communication towers. Rising to an impressive height of 7,128 feet, it proudly claims the title of the highest point in Gila County. Amidst this picturesque scenery, we can’t help but feel a sense of hidden treasure, including the irresistible allure of a rumored swimming hole waiting to be rediscovered.

My previous dentist told me that there was a deep swimming hole at this canyon’s bottom. It held cool water throughout the year, where you could soak in complete isolation. He was an avid backpacker, so we took his word for it. I can’t vouch for his story because the creek isn’t visible from the highway. The only way to verify his story was by hiking down to it. As I’ve whined before, I’d need a personal riding drone—but I’ve grown older since then, and today, I’m looking for a flying walker.

Close-up of a desert bush adorned with delicate white flowers in Arizona. — Weeds or Wildflowers? – Witness the delicate beauty of native Arizona flowers as a desert bush showcases its intricate white floral clusters.

As we conclude our stop at the top of Rincon Pass, we find ourselves halfway to Payson, but our adventure through the breathtaking Mazatzals is far from over. The beauty and allure of these mountains extend beyond the Beeline Highway, waiting to be discovered on either side. If you’d like to experience a larger version of Mountains, Canyons, and Sycamore Creek, click on this link (Web Version) to visit the web page or this link (FAA Version) to view my upload on Fine Art America. Join us again next week as we take a refreshing detour along the enchanting Sycamore Creek.

Till next time
Jw

Technique: Setting an image’s black point and white point

Ansel Adams was the master photographer that influenced my work the most. Setting aside his spectacular subject matter and sense of composition, I’m awed by the full range of tones he got in his prints. If you’ve never seen one in person, you’re missing out—the reproductions in magazines and books are different. It’s the equivalent of listening to your favorite music on a cheap transistor radio instead of a live performance. The tune is recognizable, but the song’s not right without the deep bass and sparkling trebles.

Throughout his long career, Ansel worked with a technique called the Zone System. In those days, black and white photo paper could only reproduce ten distinctive shades of gray from the blackest black (zone 0) to paper white (zone 10). His experience meant that he could look at a scene and visualize how it should look on paper. He got his desired results using different exposures, developers, papers, and toning. I tried to learn the Zone System, but I’ll never be that meticulous.

Fortunately for those like me, digital photography has made it easier to master getting full-range photographs, and the PhotoShop tool I use is Levels (all photo editing software have a variation of this tool). After cropping and color balance, my workflow’s third step is setting the black and white points. So I can go back and tweak it later; I always work with adjustment layers.

A screen shot of PhotoShop's Levels Tool. — PhotoShop’s Levels Tool – This handy tool makes setting the black and white points in photographs easy.

You can make several modifications with the Levels Tool, but I’m a simpleton, so I use the default settings and only make these small changes. Within the tool, a histogram (graph) sits on a baseline and three sliding arrows beneath it. Under the arrows are three boxes with value numbers tied to the sliders. If you move the arrow, the numbers change; if you change the number, the slider moves.

To set the black point, I move the left arrow to the right until it aligns with the graph’s left value. The right arrow will affect the white point, so move it to the left until it’s under the graph’s right end. If the histogram goes from wall to wall, the points are already good, don’t mess with them. I’ve done this process so often that I can usually type in the needed values. The final setting I make with the Levels Tool is setting the midpoint. Its default setting is 1. If my image is for the internet, I set the midpoint (gamma among the in-crowd) to .90 by shifting the center arrow to the right. If I’m making a paper print, I need to lighten it, so I move the center arrow left to set the value to 1.10 (the difference is that the first is a translucent light source, and the second is a reflective light source). After you’ve made your adjustments, you can click on the eyeball icon to turn the layer on and off to see the effect. Your picture will look livelier with rich blacks and sparkly whites.

Have I thoroughly confused you? Well, good. To help you, I found a YouTube tutorial explaining the levels tool (YouTube Levels Tutorial). You can ignore all the other gibberish in this video, but pay attention to his explanation of Adjustments vs. Adjustment Layers and what happens when he moves the sliders. After you watch the clip, you can return here and reread this section—it will make much more sense then.