beauty

Shifting Light and Form

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I‘ve had several inquiries about how I go about photographing macro flora images to achieve the look that I want, so I thought I would share a few techniques here. This particular set of images are all from one type of flower in my garden that is currently going to seed and I am not sure what it is, actually.

I’ve mentioned before how I find the shifting forms of seed heads so visually interesting, but also I am interested the whole idea of transitioning and transformation in nature.

When are we not in transition?


The seed head series that I’ve been working on generally have light backgrounds and subtle lighting on the subject. How this is done is quite simple. All of these particular flora images are taken outside but I am using indirect back-lighting and shade to bring out a little bit of mystery. I also am using the smallest depth of field I can and keep the lens in the manual adjust mode for control over where I want to focus.

The subject is usually photographed in indirect light. So if I need shade I will create it by blocking the sun with my body, however I am always looking for a lighter background than my subject so I frame the (shaded) subject in front of a background area that is brighter, such as sunlit grass or rocks, or whatever is nearby. I experiment with various strengths of light and shade as I’m working to find the look I want.

In the images you see here the light backgrounds are actually the sunlit rocks from around my flowerbed. If I was using lit grass as my background, the colour behind the seed head would be a green or yellow, and the colour of the subject might shift also. I love the blues that come out in the greyish seed heads when they are shaded in this way and have a more neutral background colour.

I also find it fascinating how the forms sometimes come out looking like insects, or other creatures. Well to my eye, anyway…


I often shoot early in the morning or late evening for warm and interesting light, but one of the things I like about applying these techniques is that even in the harshest noontime light you can still find a way to make a little magic.

To see the rest of the series, click here: In Transition: Seed Head Series

All images © Karen McRae, 2012

Wildthings?

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I was beside the river a couple of days ago and glimpsed dark slipping movements out of the corner of my eye. The observer was being observed. A few moments later I was almost face to face with this little mink. Just an arm’s length away. We are, apparently, mutually curious creatures.

The mink slipped away into a crevice. “Come”, I said gently. And briefly, it returned.

I am always a little awed by these fleeting brushes with nature.


Of course some wild things are easily coaxed to your hand…
Ground squirrels in the British Columbia mountains. Someone has been ignoring the “Do not feed the wildlife” signs; they were very comfortable posing in front of the camera.

Our backyard chipmunk. Simultaneously bold and skittish.

And the birds. It’s hard to describe the feeling of an almost weightless chickadee perched so gently on your fingertips. A bit blissful.

All images © Karen McRae

The Weight of Water

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The heady fragrance of rain is filtering in through the windows. A rain that has been holding off for so long it is welcomed. A smell that feels like a luxury, much like putting your head on a pillowcase that has spent the day outside tracing shadows on the ground. Sun drenched. Rain drenched. It is the balance that is perfection.








A West Coast garden

All images © Karen McRae

Connections, Disconnections

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Cape Breton: The Island That Almost Isn’t an Island

The Strait of Canso lies between mainland Nova Scotia and Cape Breton Island. In 1954 over 10 million tonnes of rock were used to build a causeway connecting the island to the mainland. This snaking rock wall is 65 metres deep in places, making it the deepest causeway in the world. There is a canal that allows ship traffic to pass through. If this remaining thread of water wasn’t here, Cape Breton would really, no longer be a true island.

I am struck by the simultaneous connection, and disconnection, of such engineering. On one hand, a community has been bridged. On the other, a community shut out. A safe harbour has been built. But also, an impasse. We are nothing, if not a contradictory species.

These images really, have little to do with what I have written about here, except that they make me think of how we impact our environment. Of how I impact our environment. They make me think of what gets left behind. What could be left behind. They make me want to tread a little lighter on this intriguing planet.






The above 3 images are of a decaying Pilot Whale, washed up onto a Cape Breton beach.


This large engine, is reportedly from an old steamship wreck, I was unable to find any other information about it.

It is doing it’s best to blend into the environment…


Cape Breton Island, Nova Scotia

*If you are interested in reading more about the environmental effects of blocking the Strait of Canso, there is some interesting reading here, here and here.

All images © Karen McRae

Cape Breton: Textural Diversity of the Shoreline

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There are many tucked away cobble and sandy beaches between the rocky outcroppings along the shorelines of Isle Madame. A visual feast of shifting textural beauty.


Sadly, the lighthouses are being decommissioned and are slowly disappearing off the island, replaced by lit channel markers.
A beautiful vista with a coastguard boat far off in the distance.

The view at the trailhead of the Cap Auget Eco-Trail on Isle Madame.



A velvety hidden-away beach, not easily accessible.
This lobster fishing boat was accidentally run aground on a sandbar. It  returned to service at high tide the following day.

All images © Karen McRae

Shell Games

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There are several different kinds of mussel shells in the river each with their own subtleties  that I find intriguing. (okay, I don’t get bored easily…) As the outer layers of the shells are abraded away over the seasons it’s as though tiny luminous landscapes develop on the surfaces. This is what catches my eye.

A bit of trickery: I’ve photographed some of these shells on a mirror while reflecting a white surface onto the mirror at the same time.









All images © Karen McRae