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Chiricahua National Monument

WPC: Rise/Set

I’ve seen many beautiful sunrises and sunsets, with most of those happening in Arizona and New Mexico.  Many times I have been in exquisite surroundings, only to have a faint hint of color, or to have the color burst through in a different part of the sky than I was hoping for.  There have only been a couple occasions where the entire sky has lit up and I’ve been in an excellent spot to capture it.  This was one of those moments from Chiricahua National Monument, Arizona.

WPC: Connected

For this week’s challenge, bridges seemed like an obvious choice to visualize connections.  Burro Creek bridge, above, spans a pretty deep canyon, but you’d never know it by this shot.  Winter morning fog was the remnant of a significant storm from the previous days, and made for a great morning photoshoot.

A place renowned for its fog, San Francisco, is where you’ll find the Bay Bridge connecting that city to Oakland and points beyond.  I had clear skies on my last visit there, allowing me to capture this panorama of the Bay Bridge.

the Bay Bridge, San Francisco, California, photo by Steve Bruno
the Bay Bridge, San Francisco, California, photo by Steve Bruno

Another piece of architecture, the downtown Seattle library, looks as though it is three separate structures connected together.

Downtown Seattle Library Building, photo by Steve Bruno
Downtown Seattle Library Building, photo by Steve Bruno

In nature, I came across these hanging flowers in a botanical garden in Hawaii.  They appear to be connected by a long red rope.

hanging flowers in botanical gardens in Hawaii, photo by Steve Bruno
hanging flowers in botanical gardens in Hawaii, photo by Steve Bruno

Also in nature, I visited Chiricahua National Monument in southern Arizona, home of the Pinnacle Balanced Rock.  It’s a pretty amazing sight to see something of that size and weight connected to its base on that tiny spot.

Pinnacle Balanced Rock, Chiricahua National Monument, Arizona. Photo by Steve Bruno
Pinnacle Balanced Rock, Chiricahua National Monument, Arizona. Photo by Steve Bruno

Lastly, the strongest connections you will ever encounter are the human kind.  Emotional bonds are the source of many decisions we make in life, and not always for the best.

For an example of a physical connection, I have chosen this pair of ballroom dancers.  In any type of partner dancing, nothing works if there is not a connection.

Competitive ballroom dancers, photo by Steve Bruno
Competitive ballroom dancers, photo by Steve Bruno

In response to The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge: “Connected.”

Growing up on photography

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My first camera was a Pentax K1000 I purchased at the age of 16. Almost immediately, I had the photography bug. My subject matter was all across the board – friends and family, high school sports, multiple exposures, night time bulb setting shots, concerts, and landscapes. I had given up color negative film very early on. I didn’t need to have a 3×5 print of everything, but those shots that I did want prints of, I wanted to be their best. Color transparencies (slides) were the only way to achieve that.

Concerts were one of my favorite subjects to capture back then. One day a friend approached me to purchase his Cheap Trick tickets. I wasn’t much of a fan of the band, but these were 7th row tickets, and I had never seen a show that close. I was impressed with the band that night, and it was a stepping stone for me. For the first time, I had taken professional level photographs. Landscapes became my other favorite subject. Yes, even growing up in suburban Chicago, I was taking landscape photos. Family vacations across country meant new territory, and were nirvana for me back then. Probably not the most common interest for a teenager, then or now. 02 05

And then my photography bug escalated. I moved to Arizona at the age of 18. The first drive down there was incredible, especially as we came through southern Utah and northern Arizona. I had to stop several times. HAD TO!!!  I had seen pictures before but the mountains and the canyons and the clouds and the light were like nothing I’d seen in person. After I got moved in, I would always keep an eye on the skies to see if I should grab my camera to capture the sunset. Soon I was taking short trips to explore places I heard about and even a few that just sounded interesting on the map. More importantly, I was taking a lot more pictures and I was learning what was working, and what caught other people’s attention.

Initially, I had moved there to go to school as an architecture student. I had taken drafting classes in high school with an emphasis towards home design. Upon starting college, my interest in the subject waned, and was giving way to photography. As it turned out, one of the classes of choice in my junior year was basic black-and-white photography. This turned out to be another major step in my life. The first week of class the teacher gave us an assignment that really didn’t spark my interest, but in week two he set us loose. Any subject was fair game. I was off to the desert a couple days later to capture a saguaro cactus forest I had seen before. My prized photo of that trip was a sunrise shot where the side-lighting made the cactus stand out like ghosts. Later that week I returned to the class and printed that shot in the darkroom. All the other students were producing images of their cat, or roommate, or the buildings on campus. The teacher was practically asleep in his chair until I emerged with my first rough print. “Wow, an image finally!” he shouted as he jumped out of his chair and energetically gave me some pointers to make the next copy of the print that much better. The next week was almost a similar situation. I had gone out to the desert again and captured an equally stunning image that prompted another inspiring reaction from my teacher. Finally, the next week when I came out from the darkroom with another great shot, he had no enthusiasm, but instead looked at me and said “What are you doing in Architecture?” There was no doubt, I had become teacher’s pet. The respect was mutual, though, because he had brought in some of his landscape photos, and I was a fan of his work. Another couple weeks into the class I asked him to show me how to use a 4×5 camera, which I could rent from a local camera shop. I don’t think his instructions lasted more than 5 minutes, most of which was about how to load film holders. I managed to get a couple decent shots that weekend and rented the camera again a couple weeks later.

Around the beginning of that same semester, I had come across an ad in the back of the New Times, a free weekly newspaper I picked up at the 7-11. The ad said “bring in your 10 best slides, and we’ll critique them.” This was to be conducted by two photojournalism professors. I felt as though my work had gotten to the level of publication quality, and this would be a good chance to see what others thought. The judging was done blindly and the profs made comments as to what would make the photos better. When they got to my 10, there were almost no comments besides “nice work.” Afterwards, I spoke to the two gentlemen and inquired how to go about selling my work, specifically to magazines. They gave me some advice, then concluded with “But don’t go to Arizona Highways. Everyone thinks there work is good enough for Arizona Highways. Besides, they only take 4×5 transparencies.” I was 21 years old and this was not the answer I was going to listen to. That was exactly where I wanted to go with my work.

Now, near the end of the semester, after renting a 4×5 camera a couple times, I was off to see about getting into Arizona Highways magazine. I looked younger than I was and when the editorial assistant came out she gave me a puzzled look and said “how many photographs do you have?” I think I replied “about 10” because I was under the impression they only accepted 4×5 film. When she came back with the guidelines sheet, I was surprised to see that they also accepted 35mm and 2 1/4 of “exceptional quality”. In the following weeks I went through my best work, then turned in my first submission to the magazine. I think I had around 50 shots total, most of which were 35mm. I was told I would hear back within a couple weeks.

That was a long two weeks. Then two became three, and started stretching closer to four. I was out running errands close to the magazine’s office and it was nearing the end of a Friday. I wasn’t expecting anyone to be left working, but I stopped by to see if I could get an answer as to whether my photos had been viewed. I was asked to wait a minute by the same woman that had provided the submission guidelines on my previous visit. Several minutes felt like an hour before the door opened again and she asked me to come back into the offices. This seemed to be heading in the right direction. I was taken to the office of photo editor Wes Holden, where Wes greeted me with a smile and a handshake and said, “You’re photographs are so good – I looked at them once, then had to pick them up and look at them all over again!” “Wow” I thought to myself. “This man has seen some of the best photographs in the world come across his desk, and he’s complimenting my work!” “Wow” Despite the elation of that initial visit, I knew the magazine worked months ahead of time, and that actually getting published might be a while. Or so I thought.

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The semester had already come to a close at this point and I decided to put college on hold. I found a full time job that allowed me to pay my bills, which weren’t very much. My parents were not pleased. I explained that I thought it was a waste of money, while they tried to persuade me to choose another major. In the meantime, my teacher from b&w photography asked me to enroll in his color class at Phoenix College the following semester. The class was at night, so I wouldn’t have to miss any work. I soon had enough money to buy a 4×5 camera. It was the cheapest one available – a basic Calumet with one lens. I now had a list of upcoming stock calls for the magazine and was taking weekend trips to try to shoot appropriate material. That summer breezed by and I was starting to get pretty comfortable with the laborious process involved in taking one shot with a large format camera.

Then, one day, I got a call from my mother. “Why didn’t you tell me you were in Arizona Highways” her adrenaline enthused voice blurted at me. “What?” was my almost frantic response, because I was completely unaware of the upcoming issue she was referring to. She had a subscription to the magazine which were usually the first ones mailed out. I had to wait a couple more days to finally see a copy, but there it was – a two page spread of one of the transparencies I had submitted on my first visit. The next work day after my visit, my shot was put into the production process of the issue they were working on. This was so amazing, I couldn’t believe it happened so quickly. By this time I had already submitted more photos, and was not yet aware that the process was repeating.

It was about a week later when color photography class started up. The look on my teacher’s face was a combination of shock and pride when I brought in the latest copy of the magazine. I don’t think he was expecting this from me when he showed me how to use a 4×5 camera for the first time about six months prior. Although I had gotten published, I still had a lot to learn and was glad to be in that class. I was more like a teacher’s aide this time, because students were coming to me with questions when the teacher was busy with another student. It wasn’t too much longer before I convinced my teacher that he should submit his work to the magazine. He eventually did, and also got published.

We can never know our destiny, but I knew that year that mine was going to include photography. I never wanted that enthusiasm to wane as I made new connections and additional steps into new publications. I even had the opportunity to go back to my high school as a guest speaker for the day’s photography classes – a curriculum not available when I was a student. I have many great memories along the way, but none that stand out like my year of “growing up”.

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