Photo of the Week: Mar. 17, 2009

HOW I GOT THE SHOT: Israel exports some 1.5 billion stems of commercially grown flowers every year, but most of the farms are tucked away on far-flung kibbutzim. Occasionally, a commercial field is planted along a main thoroughfare, but they are often covered with netting to protect the fragile flowers from the withering effects of the hot Israeli sun, leaving them in constant shade and not as appealing to photograph. On rare occasions, however, a field is left in the open, such as this anemone farm I discovered on the road south from Beit Shemesh toward Beit Guvrin.

I was set up in the early morning hours and nearly finished photographing when a truckload of foreign workers from Thailand pulled up to begin their day's work, astonished to find a stranger already on the job in their fields. I shot a range of close-ups as well as wider shots, looking for one image that summed up the feeling of standing amid the small sea of red and purple flowers. I like this shot because the effect of blurring the foreground brings the viewer's eye toward the less dominant purple flowers in the middle of the frame. Alternatively, placing the red flowers in sharp focus and maximizing depth of field diminished the visual impact of the purple and yellow at the top of the photo. If digital cameras have provided any new freedoms for photographers, it's the ability to take more pictures at virtually no additional cost. I've made a habit of taking a variety of shots during every shoot, so that I have a wide range to choose from when I sit down to edit the results.

Photo of the Week: Mar. 10, 2009

HOW I GOT THE SHOT: Extra sensory perception – also called the sixth sense – is the ability to foresee things before they happen. I've never been particularly adept at this, but occasionally I make photographic decisions that do make me wonder if there really is a skill to seeing things before they materialize. Returning home from Jerusalem on a wintry morning, I noticed a clearing in the sky and decided to make a brief detour to the Haas Promenade, one of the city's best viewpoints of the Old City. I was hoping to see – and photograph – well, exactly what transpired.

Photographing in inclement weather is essential to capturing unique and transient interpretations of the natural world. I am familiar with the behavior of sunlight in stormy conditions, but have never sought to isolate a fixed part of the landscape in the sun's spotlight. Instead, I have stuck to shooting whatever specific area is enhanced by the unusual lighting. I strolled around the beautiful promenade for about 10 minutes, inhaling the damp air, admiring the glistening stones and watching the light on the horizon. I moved back in the direction of my car, about to give up, but paused to watch a group of about 80 Nigerian tourists, in full African regalia, pose for a group portrait. As the colorful ensemble stood with their backs to the Old City, the sky opened up and the sun cut a swath of light across Jerusalem that seemingly recognized where the walls of the Old City stood. I snapped a few shots and then lowered my camera to admire the view, grateful for my decision to always have a camera near to hand.

Photo of the Week: March 3, 2009

HOW I GOT THE SHOT: Years ago, I took one of my first truly satisfying photographs of a full moon rising above the cliffs over Drakes Bay in northern California. I had read about it in a guidebook and knew exactly when and where to shoot. Ever since that moment, I've been chasing the moon with my camera, but I've never managed to surpass my initial success. The moon is a tricky subject because it's in constant motion – and moving a lot faster than you might think– and it is most visible at sunset or during the night, when little ambient light is available to light the accompanying landscape.

The new moon rises approximately one hour later each day until the rising full moon coincides with the setting sun, polar opposites on the horizon. The best time to shoot the full moon is actually the night before it becomes full, when it rises an hour before sunset and the landscape remains lit with the waning light of the day. It's easy to find moon calendars on the internet which chart both the rising and setting of the moon each day and its position on the horizon.

Despite being a student of the moon's habits, I took this shot spontaneously as I stepped off a bus outside the Ein Gedi Guesthouse near the Dead Sea. We had arrived at dusk and the color of the sky immediately captured my attention. When I saw the moon above the surrounding mountains, I knew I could get a shot that would render the true color of the twilight sky while throwing the mountains into black silhouette. It was already quite dark, so I had to shoot at 1/6 sec, which turned out to be just fast enough to retain the shape of the new crescent. With no time to set up a tripod, I braced myself against the side of the bus, held my breath, and hoped for the best.

Photo of the Week: Feb. 24, 2009

HOW I GOT THE SHOT: Look closely and you may be able to count more than 30 stripes of varying colors running across the frame of this photograph. For some unknown reason, it reminded me of a Neapolitan ice cream bar – three perfect pieces of chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry. I followed the evolution of this view over a period of weeks last Spring as I shuttled my son to and from a Judo class on the outskirts of Efrat, in Gush Etzion. What began as a uniformly brown terrain emerged about a month later as this candy-striped scene.

This small valley lies below the road, so I had a good view each time I drove the carpool. I waited out the grass until it reached a height that added significant color to the shot. I'm not sure why it varies in color, but I'm guessing the fields were plowed at different times or perhaps there are different types of grasses or nutrients in the soil which affect the color. I love it when I capture something beautiful so close to my home. Often we take for granted or become blind to the things we see every day. Yet in the backdrop of our routines lie many hidden treasures, not just the kind that hang on the wall in frames, but those more important blessings in our lives.

Photo of the Week: Feb. 17, 2009

HOW I GOT THE SHOT: Part of my training as a journalist was to report the big picture while also uncovering details of an event that make the story unique and compelling. That experience spilled over into my work as a photographer as I always keep an eye out for the smaller details that often remain hidden to the casual observer. It takes a little time and acute concentration to see your way through the jungle of opportunities, but with practice and patience, you'll at least know where to begin looking.

The first place is always the light. Once you locate good light, you've increased your chances of making an interesting photo exponentially. The next step is finding the right subject/background combination. When these two conditions are satisfied, you can, literally, point and shoot. This shot of a peach blossom was taken on the same day I captured the bigger picture of this idyllic setting in Gush Etzion. (Click here to see the shot.) Since the advent of photography, one way cameras have earned their merit is through an ability to show us aspects of our world that remain hidden from the naked eye. Moving in close and focusing on this blossom with a macro lens, a special lens used for close-up photography, I was able to capture this shot in sharp detail, remove it from the surrounding visual distractions, and enlarge it for greater study and appreciation.

Photo of the Week: Feb. 10, 2009

HOW I GOT THE SHOT: Nothing like a little geological upheaval to play the artist's muse. Unlike some of my other posts, this shot is fresh out of the can, having managed to start my week with a half-day journey to the heart of the Negev Desert. Overall, I was disappointed with what I found. Israel is suffering terribly from a lack of rain and the desert, normally a-blossom with spring wildflowers this time of year, was brown, dusty and dull. Still, I can always say about the desert that no trip is wasted as there is no comparison to the solitude and quiet found there.

I had never been to the Machtesh Katan, or Small Crater, and driving down in the pre-dawn darkness, had no idea where to stop. Following my instincts, I headed for high ground and a spot facing west, so that my subject would be opposite the rising sun and in position to catch the first rays of morning light. I composed this shot while standing on the edge of the crater, a few feet back from the edge of a precipice overlooking a 300-foot drop. Although translated as "crater," a machtesh is formed primarily by erosion and not by volcanic activity or impact with a celestial object. I chose to isolate this particular mountain, situated within the crater about a half mile from where I stood, because I liked the form of its jagged spine recessed with shadow. I also included a foreground section of darker rocks lying near the crater bottom, which give a sense of the dramatic range of colors in this region.

Photo of the Week: Feb. 3, 2009

HOW I GOT THE SHOT: Having lived much of my life in a four-season climate, I am still amazed by the emergence of spring blossoms during months when ice and snow are supposed to rule. But in Israel, if it's the month of Shvat, the almond trees will be in bloom, no matter which secular month coincides with Tu Bishvat, the New Year for Trees, celebrated the year on Feb. 9. Almond trees, likes those pictured here, appear in two forms across Israel. Single trees dot hillsides from north to south. Extensive commercial orchards have been cultivated across the country as well and are a treat to the eyes, nose and heart at the height of their blossoming.

Trying to capture the beauty of the shakedia tree in bloom challenges the photographer to merge a broad sensual experience into a two-dimensional, solely visual media. I've tried shooting from within the groves, but have not yet succeeded in doing justice to God's work. I've had more luck around the edges, and that's the approach I took here, drawn first by the emerald green of new growth in a meadow in the Ela Valley, not far from Beit Shemesh. The variegated and textured greens complement the blossoms, also shown in varying hues of pink. While my main purpose here was to record the flowering trees, the meadow grasses take up more than two-thirds of the frame. In the end, I chose this composition because I was looking for an original way to represent an over-photographed subject. Throwing it off balance in the composition seemed like one way to achieve that.