Meet Carol Parker | Photographic Artist
I am excited that ShoutOut Arizona Magazine released a feature story about my photography online. This week I thought I’d share it with you. Click on the link below to read the entire article. I hope you enjoy this peek into my background and motivation!
Mother’s Day is almost here. Actually, my husband Mike wished me a Happy Mother’s Day last Sunday until I told him he was a week early and he had to issue a retraction;-)
There’s always something new to learn in our digital world. The recent release of iMovie 3.0 on my iPhone made it possible to very easily create a little video by just throwing in a selection of video clips and photos. The app automagically organizes them into a movie with music, transitions, the whole works. I made the clip above to celebrate moms of all kinds, whether two-legged, four-legged or no legs at all!
I have been running a drawing to win a free print of the polka-dotted zebra foal Tira and his mother. This Sunday I will be selecting the lucky winner. If you subscribe to my newsletter, you are automatically included in the draw. If you, or someone you know, would like the chance to win, go ahead and share this with them so they have a chance to sign up before the deadline.
Click here to enter the drawing >>
A Happy Mother’s Day to all you moms out there. And best of luck to everyone in the free print drawing!
Last Thursday was National Dolphin Day. I’ve been pretty busy fulfilling orders for my Mother’s Day sale but I had time to post this image on Facebook and it got a lot of attention. I thought it would be fun to share some more information about this rather unique shot.
I’m quite proud of this photograph. It was awarded a prize in an exhibition held at the San Diego Museum of Art a few years ago.
We were sailing off the coast of Southern California early one morning, embarking on a passage north to spend the summer in British Columbia. I was perched on the bow of the boat, legs hanging over the side but with one arm wrapped securely around a stanchion for safety, shooting straight down at a pod of dolphins that were riding the boat’s bow wave.
With the rising sun low in the sky to port, the starboard side of the boat’s hull was in deep shadow, which enabled me to capture a clean image with no glare. The result is so abstract that often viewers guess at the subject matter! What you see is the back of a dolphin rising to the surface, dorsal fin just breaking clear of the water as bubbles from his exhaled breath cascade down his back.
This is a true SOC (straight out of camera) image. I love to put my personal touch on my photographs back in my digital darkroom, but there was literally nothing I could do to improve on this image.
Here’s another shot I captured the same morning. These are Pacific white-sided dolphins, abundant off the west coast of North America as well as other parts of the world. Luckily for me, they are renowned for their fondness of riding the bow waves of boats!
The scent of spring is in the air here in the desert southwest. Our daytime highs are headed into the 80s and maybe even a few low 90s (but it’s a dry heat!) this week and next . We never know – a week ago our nighttime temps were in the 30s and last year it snowed right about now.
Seasoned desert dwellers know to judge the true arrival of consistently warm weather by observing the mesquite trees. These hardy natives only leaf out when all threat of frost has passed. In contrast, cottonwood trees offer an early harbinger of spring – they start to bud in February and by now they are fully crowned with new green leaves.
The image above is a favorite of mine. I have it framed and hanging in my home. The pink flowers are Mexican primroses. They bloom enthusiastically every year, showing their pink faces for at least a month before subsiding into nondescript ground cover until the next spring. This was an exceptionally good season for them and my backyard was filled with billows of pink.
To capture this image, I slipped out of the house at dawn. Stretching out flat on the ground on my stomach, I placed my wide-angle lens as close as possible to the flowers while still maintaining focus. Visions of rattlesnakes lurking in the ground cover definitely danced through my head. The mesquite tree in the distance and the glimpse of our Catalina mountain range on the horizon add environmental context to this wildflower portrait.
Another of my favorite spring subjects are the vibrant blooms of the Santa Rita Prickly Pear cactus. The contrast between the profuse yellow flowers and the lavender paddles of the cacti always catches my eye. I have spent hours circling a clumb of cactus trying for close-up compositions. Predictably, I have come away with multiple minuscule needles embedded in my fingers and hands as a result of brushing up too close.
Still I’m hopeful that the chilly winter temps are done for now. I’m in a spring mood!
I wanted to repost a story I wrote a few years ago as the cover feature for Berthon Lifestyle, a yachting lifestyle magazine published in the U.K. It was one of those times when the words came together extraordinarily well to help me express what photography means to me, how I approach it, and why I share my images.
Top Image: Fringing Reef #4 Wavelet | Suwarrow Atoll, Cook Islands, South Pacific
A dozen years ago, my husband and I surprised ourselves by making an impulsive, pre-retirement decision to purchase a bluewater sailboat located in New Zealand, ideally situated for exploring the prime cruising grounds of the South Pacific. My first (as it turned out, naive) impulse was to cultivate an artistic hobby to fill the leisure time generated by our idyllic new lifestyle. Many options – oil paints, watercolors, pastels – were discarded as too messy for a vessel’s tight quarters. Finally I settled on photography and embarked on not one, but two new adventures.The best camera, as they say, is the one you have with you. Photography on a boat can be pursued with a smartphone or a pro DSLR. It is neat and clean and portable, whether on deck or ashore or even underwater. Add a computer and appropriate software for organizing and editing the images, and the onboard studio is complete.
From the deck of a cruising yacht there is a wealth of inspiration and source material that ranges from scenic vistas to wildlife to foreign cultures. These days my photo platform is a rugged aluminum FPB64 motor yacht, supplemented by an aging much-loved inflatable kayak.
All it takes is one simple click to ‘take a picture’, a rectangle, destined to hang on the wall as a print or glow on a screen as a digital image or join a collection in a book. But as a photographer/artist I don’t want to just record a photograph. I want to create art, to meld technical material with creative insight, elevating that rectangle to a higher plane.
The equipment and software available today are sophisticated and powerful, but to transform photography into an art form requires more than just good tools. Is a great novel the product of a good typewriter? It takes more than a good camera to produce an artistic photograph.
My finished photo-based artwork results from multiple technical choices made prior to pressing the shutter button – lens selection, exposure, depth of field, shutter speed, ISO, white balance, dynamic range and more. On the creative side I incorporate composition, light, shadow, color, texture, gesture and motion, all to play their part in capturing the raw image, the first step.
Step two is the selection process that takes place in the digital darkroom (my computer) reviewing and culling to find those select images that resonate with my imagination. The third phase is post-processing, the judicious application of a variety of digital darkroom tools – software and filters, layered and retouched by hand to manipulate the image into its final form.
In the beginning I took a cyberclass that taught me how to get the most out of my Nikon’s buttons, dials and menus. Early on I learned the important camera techniques necessary to achieve the best results. But on a boat, many of those best practices are impractical. Focusing on a cavorting dolphin or a diving pelican while striving for balance on a boat navigating ocean swells is not an ideal scenario for keeping the camera steady. A shore expedition in the company of non-photographers is a source of irritation for those who don’t appreciate a 20 minute pause for setting up and composing the perfectly executed shot.
As a result I’ve learned compromises. On a moving deck I compensate by shooting at higher shutter speeds or raising the ISO setting. To keep my balance I bend my knees and widen my stance to absorb the shock. I jam my elbows into my ribs and mash the camera viewfinder into my eye socket for additional stability. Often I fire off a burst of photos knowing that one of the bunch will by sheer luck be more crisp and clear than the others. There will be a lot of throwaways, but a few will be keepers.
I do a lot of shooting from my kayak. It’s a soothing, soul-satisfying experience to rise just before dawn and glide silently in quest of a sunrise, or a seabird, or a village just starting the day. Again, the gently rocking boat and the low light of early morning limit my choices, demanding compromise.
A good image should relate a story to the viewer, not simply recreate a scene but instead share an insight into the very essence of what first captured the photographer’s imagination. It may be about how the interplay of light and shadow illuminates a seascape for a brief magical moment. It may be about reflections on glassy water, or how a bird’s feathers flare in flight. Perhaps it’s a story of village life, a new friend, a beautiful scene, or the devastation of a storm.
But there’s a second story that accompanies each image, and that is the story that belongs solely to the photographer. The travel, the gear, the camaraderie, the solitude, the discomforts, the challenges, the accomplishments – all are embedded into the making of that simple rectangle. Not just sight but also sound, touch, smell, even taste, are part of the experience. Whenever I review my work the memories come flooding back to let me relive the adventure once again.
To illustrate, this particular image tells the viewer the story of a mother whale helping her new calf breathe in clear blue tropical water. But for me it contains the hidden short story of how she first swam away from me, then changed her mind and returned to within touching distance of her own volition, lingering passively in the water next to me, eye to eye, observing me as I observed her, while her baby slept.
An even lengthier version of that narrative begins with a 6,000 mile journey to the tropical kingdom where the humpbacks congregate. It includes my history of previous whale-watching expeditions led by professionals, where I learned whale behavior and how to observe them in the water safely and respectfully. It is colored by a Sunday morning sail in search of a cooperative whale, and the frisson of excitement as I donned snorkel gear, grabbed the underwater camera, and slid into the water from off the stern of the boat.
Each photo, that deceptively simple click, is embedded with two stories, one for the viewing public and one for the photographer alone. To produce them with forethought, investing time and energy into making them the best they can be, is to embed that memory even more deeply into my being.
All photos are copyrighted and registered with the U.S. Copyright Office. Enjoy but please respect.
I wanted to repost a story I wrote a couple of years ago as the cover feature for Berthon Lifestyle, a yachting lifestyle magazine published in the U.K. It was one of those times when the words came together extraordinarily well to help me express what photography means to me, how I approach it, and why I share my images.
I have to admit I’ve been mildly depressed these past months as we put AVATAR up for sale and our cruising days have come to an end. AVATAR was my main photo platform for many a year and it’s been hard to come to terms with the loss of a lifestyle. But summer sunshine always gives my spirits a lift, so with this blog post I’m renewing my commitment to share my photography with you.
I hope you will take the time to read and enjoy A Photographer’s’ Story. I’ll be back in a week or two with another story, this time from Hawaii. It’s time to dust off the keyboard and get back to my storytelling.
Image: Fringing Reef #4 Wavelet | Suwarrow Atoll, Cook Islands, South Pacific
Equipment: Nikon D700, 1/45 sec at f/4.8, ISO 200, 14mm (14.0-24.0mm f2.8)
A dozen years ago, my husband and I surprised ourselves by making an impulsive, pre-retirement decision to purchase a bluewater sailboat located in New Zealand, ideally situated for exploring the prime cruising grounds of the South Pacific. My first (as it turned out, naive) impulse was to cultivate an artistic hobby to fill the leisure time generated by our idyllic new lifestyle. Many options – oil paints, watercolors, pastels – were discarded as too messy for a vessel’s tight quarters. Finally I settled on photography and embarked on not one, but two new adventures.The best camera, as they say, is the one you have with you. Photography on a boat can be pursued with a smartphone or a pro DSLR. It is neat and clean and portable, whether on deck or ashore or even underwater. Add a computer and appropriate software for organizing and editing the images, and the onboard studio is complete.
From the deck of a cruising yacht there is a wealth of inspiration and source material that ranges from scenic vistas to wildlife to foreign cultures. These days my photo platform is a rugged aluminum FPB64 motor yacht, supplemented by an aging much-loved inflatable kayak.
All it takes is one simple click to ‘take a picture’, a rectangle, destined to hang on the wall as a print or glow on a screen as a digital image or join a collection in a book. But as a photographer/artist I don’t want to just record a photograph. I want to create art, to meld technical material with creative insight, elevating that rectangle to a higher plane.
The equipment and software available today are sophisticated and powerful, but to transform photography into an art form requires more than just good tools. Is a great novel the product of a good typewriter? It takes more than a good camera to produce an artistic photograph.
My finished photo-based artwork results from multiple technical choices made prior to pressing the shutter button – lens selection, exposure, depth of field, shutter speed, ISO, white balance, dynamic range and more. On the creative side I incorporate composition, light, shadow, color, texture, gesture and motion, all to play their part in capturing the raw image, the first step.
Step two is the selection process that takes place in the digital darkroom (my computer) reviewing and culling to find those select images that resonate with my imagination. The third phase is post-processing, the judicious application of a variety of digital darkroom tools – software and filters, layered and retouched by hand to manipulate the image into its final form.
In the beginning I took a cyberclass that taught me how to get the most out of my Nikon’s buttons, dials and menus. Early on I learned the important camera techniques necessary to achieve the best results. But on a boat, many of those best practices are impractical. Focusing on a cavorting dolphin or a diving pelican while striving for balance on a boat navigating ocean swells is not an ideal scenario for keeping the camera steady. A shore expedition in the company of non-photographers is a source of irritation for those who don’t appreciate a 20 minute pause for setting up and composing the perfectly executed shot.
As a result I’ve learned compromises. On a moving deck I compensate by shooting at higher shutter speeds or raising the ISO setting. To keep my balance I bend my knees and widen my stance to absorb the shock. I jam my elbows into my ribs and mash the camera viewfinder into my eye socket for additional stability. Often I fire off a burst of photos knowing that one of the bunch will by sheer luck be more crisp and clear than the others. There will be a lot of throwaways, but a few will be keepers.
I do a lot of shooting from my kayak. It’s a soothing, soul-satisfying experience to rise just before dawn and glide silently in quest of a sunrise, or a seabird, or a village just starting the day. Again, the gently rocking boat and the low light of early morning limit my choices, demanding compromise.
A good image should relate a story to the viewer, not simply recreate a scene but instead share an insight into the very essence of what first captured the photographer’s imagination. It may be about how the interplay of light and shadow illuminates a seascape for a brief magical moment. It may be about reflections on glassy water, or how a bird’s feathers flare in flight. Perhaps it’s a story of village life, a new friend, a beautiful scene, or the devastation of a storm.
But there’s a second story that accompanies each image, and that is the story that belongs solely to the photographer. The travel, the gear, the camaraderie, the solitude, the discomforts, the challenges, the accomplishments – all are embedded into the making of that simple rectangle. Not just sight but also sound, touch, smell, even taste, are part of the experience. Whenever I review my work the memories come flooding back to let me relive the adventure once again.
To illustrate, this particular image tells the viewer the story of a mother whale helping her new calf breathe in clear blue tropical water. But for me it contains the hidden short story of how she first swam away from me, then changed her mind and returned to within touching distance of her own volition, lingering passively in the water next to me, eye to eye, observing me as I observed her, while her baby slept.
An even lengthier version of that narrative begins with a 6,000 mile journey to the tropical kingdom where the humpbacks congregate. It includes my history of previous whale-watching expeditions led by professionals, where I learned whale behavior and how to observe them in the water safely and respectfully. It is colored by a Sunday morning sail in search of a cooperative whale, and the frisson of excitement as I donned snorkel gear, grabbed the underwater camera, and slid into the water from off the stern of the boat.
Each photo, that deceptively simple click, is embedded with two stories, one for the viewing public and one for the photographer alone. To produce them with forethought, investing time and energy into making them the best they can be, is to embed that memory even more deeply into my being.
All photos are copyrighted and registered with the U.S. Copyright Office. Enjoy but please respect.
January 2017
Here’s another favorite from last week’s exploration of Sabino Creek with the water flowing, mist rising in the chill morning air, and rays of light beaming through the naked branches of the sycamores. I have so many winter portraits of bare-branched trees that I call them my ‘Dead Tree Collection’. There is a rhythm and poetry to the silhouette of bare branches against the sky, uplifted and graceful almost like dancers.
I did pay the price however. I have succumbed to some version of winter crud so, as I cough, blow my nose, and guzzle medicine, I’m keeping this post mercifully brief.
Sony a7RII, 1/800 sec at f/8.0, ISO 100, 70mm (24.0-70.0mm lens)
Photo is copyrighted and registered with the US Copyright Office. Enjoy but please respect.
A new year, and back to my photography after a hiatus during the holidays. We’ve been having some lovely rainstorms with snow falling in the mountains. The result is that Sabino Creek, usually dry, is running again. We’ve lost our shortcut across the river, but the enhanced scenery is worth it.
This morning I woke before dawn and saw that a low fog was blanketing the creek. I knew the combination of the coming sunrise and the lifting mist would offer a rare photographic opportunity. I spent a couple of hours at the water’s edge, and even midstream (soaking my shoes) in pursuit of some landscape photographs to add to my portfolio. There were several keepers in the lot, but this one might be the favorite.
Sony a7RII, 1/500 sec at f/8.0, ISO 100, 25mm (24.0-70.0mm lens)
Photo is copyrighted and registered with the US Copyright Office. Enjoy but please respect.
In honor of the illustrious Breeders’ Cup World Championships held this past weekend in California, it seemed appropriate to feature racehorses as the subject for Photo of the Week. In addition I am a member of a professional horse photography group that challenges its members with weekly assignments. This week the topic was ‘Race’. These two not so coincidentally related events reminded me that a few years ago I had photographed the thoroughbred races at the Del Mar track in California. I never did anything with the resulting images, so this prompted me to go back to my files and browse through them until I found this.
Every photograph has a story to tell. The focus of this particular story is the body language and expression of the lead horse trying its heart out to win. The vibrant colors of the race track are a pleasure to photograph, but in this instance they just distracted from the essence of the shot, which is why I chose to convert to black & white. The blurred motion created by using a slow shutter panning technique amplifies the feeling of speed.
Nikon D7000, 1/30 sec at f/22.0, ISO 200, 300mm (28.0-300.0mm lens)
Photo is copyrighted and registered with the US Copyright Office. Enjoy but please respect.
‘Tis the season for fall color photography! Of course here in Tucson fall color can be hard to come by. Plus the temperature hit 97 degrees just the other day – so it’s a challenge to get into the mood! But today is Halloween, tomorrow is the first day of November, and Christmas is right around the corner. So autumn it is and here’s an image to celebrate the season.
Cottonwoods are my favorite trees. We live along the banks of Sabino Creek, one of Tucson’s last living waterways, and so we are privileged to enjoy the ambiance of a riparian environment and we really do see a bit of fall color from the cottonwoods and the ash trees as they turn bright yellow before losing their leaves at first frost. But cottonwoods cling to their leaves for as long as absolutely possible, even if every other tree in the vicinity is stark naked. Usually the last cottonwood leaf falls in mid-December. The downside is that the raking season is extended by several weeks – and cottonwoods are massive trees with a LOT of leaves.
But by mid-February new leaves are already budding out in anticipation of spring, at least a month ahead of any other tree around. Personally I hate the chill of winter, even here in the desert southwest where snowbirds flock to avoid the real winter in the North and East. Those early budding cottonwoods lift up my depressed winter spirits with their optimistic forecast of spring.
Nikon D700, 1/250 sec at f/6.7, ISO 400, 340mm
Photo is copyrighted and registered with the US Copyright Office. Enjoy but please respect.
