Tranquil is the Dripping Canopy

Under the green shade of giant western trees, I wander with camera and tripod resting on my shoulder. The hanging moss, the thick understory, the thundering roar of waterfall all transform this Oregon woodland into a fable. Tree gods and the spirits that live in the thick detritus remain unseen, but felt. It’s a living cathedral with life exploding in its wondrous northwest way. I’m here to photograph waterfalls along a meandering eight-mile forest path. There are ten of them and, like all waterfalls, each has a different feel, a different character.

Watching falling water is a complete sensory experience. The meditation resides in its simplicity. Photographically, the waterfall is a wonderful subject. The movement offers a wide variety of interpretations. There’s a full tonal scale of bright whites offset by darker surroundings. Tonal structure is important in photography, and even more so with black and white photography. It’s this structure I’m after.

A landscape is a living canvas, and the images found are not created from within but extrapolated from without. It’s what makes landscape photography different from other mediums. The studio is out in nature and to find the canvases requires a roaming around. So I roam, weaving my way past, around, and behind each waterfall. The back spray soaking my lens, the moss dripping with green, and the permeating roar of rushing water all blend into an awareness of landscape art at its most visceral. It’s a marriage of experience with outcome. Landscape photography is the only art form where the artist gets to walk into their canvas.