About Me

My love of photography started when I was child, when I got my first 110 film camera, a real point and shoot. But my passion didn't start until after a trip out to Fort Collins Colorado to visit my parents who had recently moved there.

It was a blistering hot day in Fort Collins, Colorado, “A typical July day”, according to my parents. After a late night out watching a spectacular fireworks show the night before, we decided to spend the day at their house, relaxing in the air conditioned townhouse before going to Estes Park the following day.

My mom and I decided to go to the video store and rent a movie to watch later in the evening. As she drove, she told me about this photography class she had taken. She spoke in technical terms like ISO, exposure and aperture. For the most part the conversation was 20,000' over my head, but because I had always had an interest in photography, since I got my first camera at age 10, I listened intently soaking up everything she was saying.

She said one thing that left me perplexed and has remained a staple part of my knowledge. “You don’t need an expensive camera to take a beautiful photo. It is the photographer that makes the photo beautiful.” I tried to argue the point with her, but she ended the argument when she said, “If a person is a bad photographer, a expensive camera will take just as bad a photo as a cheap one.”

When we got to the video store, picking a video to watch was easy for me, as I already knew what I wanted to see. We rented Tim Burton’s Sleepy Hollow, a new release at the time and drove back home.

With dinner filling our bellies and the Sun already set behind the Rockies, we settled in the living room. My dad plugged the movie into the VCR (yup I said VCR) and pressed play. As the credits started rolling, I heard what I thought was distant thunder.

We were about twenty minutes in to the movie when the storm moved in on us with a fury I had not seen since the time I spent two weeks in Iowa as a teen. Lightning flashed in the sky violently, changing the dark skies outside into an ominous sight one flash at a time. The flashes of bright light were quickly followed with rumbling explosions of thunder rattling the windows.

I looked over at my mom and she thought that I was nervous about the storm so she said, “This is normal.”

I wasn’t nervous, but rather inquisitive. With the photography conversation from several hours early as fresh in my mind now as it was then I asked, “Wouldn’t be cool to get a photograph of lightning?”

My dad answered with, “You can’t take a picture of lightning because it is too fast.”

“What,” I asked.

He continued, “By the time you see the lightning and press the shutter, it will be gone.”

I said, “People take pictures of lightning all the time.”

My dad responded by adding, “Yes, but they have expensive cameras.”

I have never been one to be told what I can and cannot do. I believe that anything accomplished; it only takes time and money. Sometimes more of one than another, but anything is possible. So with my philosophy and the new found knowledge that it isn’t the camera, but rather the photographer that makes the photo, I said with the utmost confidence and ego, “I’ll bet you $20 that I can get a photo of lightning tonight.”

“You’re on,” he responded with equal confidence. He stopped the movie.

I said, “Where’s your camera and film?”

My dad grabbed his camera and four rolls of his film. I loaded the film into the camera and my mom and I walked out the backdoor into the shared backyard of their neighborhood which like a small park. I did not know the first thing to even try, but I tried anyways.

I stood outside, amongst trees, in one of the most violent lightning storms I had even seen in my life with my mom standing at my side. This is not recommended, for obvious reasons. I think back to that time now and realize that I could have easily been one of the Darwin Award nominees that year.

But I wasn't.

I figured that if I couldn't be faster than lightning, I would have to be smarter than the lightning. I set the camera to A mode (Aperture priority) and began taking photos. With each shot, the shutter stayed open for five seconds.

If figured that if I couldn't catch the lightning, I would let the lightning come to me.

Although I handheld the camera as steady as I could for each shot, each time the lightning flashed my mom squealed like the lightning had just missed us by inches. And though each time she squealed I would jump a little inside, I held the camera steady. It shouldn't have startled me so because I knew that if either of were hit by lightning, we were both toast.

I shot two rolls of color film and two roles of black and white film without a tripod. Once the four rolls of film ran out, my mom and I went back inside and we finished the movie.

July 6th
My mom and I headed out early to Rite Aide. We dropped the four rolls of film off and then walked over and returned the movie to the video store. We went to Starbucks and got something to drink, she had her coffee and I, never a fan of coffee, had a hot chocolate.

We walked back over to Rite Aide and paid for the photos. My mom handed me two packages and she took two of them. We sat in the car and starting going through them, unable to wait until we got home. My mom squealed as she saw the first photo of lightning. I let out a whoo-hoo as I found one.

After each of us found several photographs, my mom started jumping up and down in her car seat. She found the grand prize winner of all of the photos. We drove home anxious to share them with my dad, to rub it in a little and of course collect my winnings from my dad.

While I was able to capture a dozen or so pictures of lightning each as exciting as the previous shot, the above photo was far and away the most remarkable and rewarding of the set. I found a new love in photography and proved to myself to I am capable of anything. It is this photo that I look to every time I have doubts about my creativity. It is this photo that I look at when someone tells I can't create something. It is this photo I reference each and every time someone says the word impossible. While this photo is my inspiration, my mom is the person who taught me everything I need to know. It isn't the camera; it is the person behind the camera that makes the photo.

Thanks mom for the advise and thanks Dad for the challenge.