Stephen Johnson Photography News

May 2019

Rain Clouds and Rays at Dusk. Carrizo Plain National Monument. 2019.

Arriving late in the day left me little time to take in my surroundings. I kept driving south to explore, toward the darkness on the horizon. I drove into rain, took a gravel road into the fields of grasses and distant bands of color. I found myself completely alone, quite content and finally feeling my heart start to slow into the rhythm of the real world. That had happened earlier in the day as well, alongside another lonely road with great cumulus clouds above the flower covered hills. The rain stopped, light rays broke through and here is my attempt to hold that moment.

THE VIEW FROM HERE
by Stephen Johnson

Road Visions

This spring’s wildflower superbloom kept urging me out to the road for weeks. As is often the case, other tasks and workshops were keeping me close to the studio. When I was able to break free, it was concerned I might be too late. My intuitive destination was the Carrizo Plain National Monument, southeast of Paso Robles near Kern County. When I hit the road, I didn’t know for sure where I would end up. The plain has always had a mystique about it, and tales of the wildflower carpets abound.

I did make it down, and not too late, but toward the end of the color wonder. What I was able to see was still amazing, and challenging.

The photographic challenges of recording something so remarkable are real. Wonder, it seems, is often a challenge to record. I don’t think I would have it any other way. Hitting the road takes me right to those challenges.

Sometimes these challenges evolve recording a broader experience than the still frame. As it happens, my first stop to photographs on this trip was as much about the wind making waves of grass across the purple flowers I stopped for. Sometimes a still frame is just not enough. The wind on these grasses was a beautiful dance of life, wind and sun. I was so pleased to have the leisure to record some video.

Being on the road is a complex set of seductions and challenges for me. Unless the trip is being financed by a workshop, a commission or an assignment, I am on my own dime. All trips are some kind of adventure, all adventures build vision, and like most people’s adventures, all cost money. But I was also needing exactly this kind of space and time, so it was the right moment.

There is a mystique to being on the road. It is freeing. It is mysterious because you don’t know exactly what will happen. Discovery, however small, is seductive. The road is adventure. The road is newness. The road is in my soul.

The road is freedom like few other experiences. I know it is a built path, directing me to a point, I know the points are places others have been. That is all true.

Sometimes that does seem limiting. I’ve found ways of blending the destination and the experience. I rarely make it over the high Sierra without parking and just walking into the wilderness. I treasure that, particularly when it can stretch to hours. That can almost become a mini back-packing trip, with no equipment to carry. Wandering the desert is often the same. I just have to be more careful there. I’ve often said that I like my backpacking trips to be long enough to forget what day it is. I haven’t allowed for that in years. Any trip long enough to indulge the wandering is potentially a great trip. Exploration is way too limited if it is always surrounded by destination.

It may be peculiarly American, this sense of the open road. It is part of how we measure our freedom, even if that is a little strange. It is also emotionally resonate. I sense it. I feel it. I hunger for it.

But the road can also be lonely. I just recently came across a little handwritten note from a motel next to the Kennedy Space Center. It doesn’t mention the excitement of the day at the Space Center, it talks about missing my kids. The road can be value clarifying.

Sometimes there is great clarity when moving across the landscape. Detached from daily routine, into a different rhythm, perhaps more in tune with the coming and going of the sun and moon, the shape of life and the future can be seen in different ways.

Part of all of this wandering is the unexpected ordinary. I remember a trip to Death Valley when my daughter was about 8. We stopped alongside the road heading back from Ubehebe Crater and just walked into the desert. The vari-colored stones, coral-like succulents, red to brown, to almost black soil. It was a remarkable 15 or 20 minutes that I remember clearly to this day.

It is also true, that nowadays, it is not possible for me to do a road trip without thinking about the gas and air pollution I will consume and create. It is hard to escape understanding where we are at with all of this carbon being poured into our precious air. I don’t even want to escape that awareness. I want to be cognizant of the real impact of all my actions. Trips with only seeming financial consequence were never a full measure impact, and now I cannot go without taking the air fouling into account. Quite properly, this issue came up on our 2009 Antarctica Voyage as well. Transitioning to an electric vehicle would help. There seem to be trade-offs everywhere we turn.

I remain a dreamer heading down a remote path, trying to understand what I see.

On the way back home I stopped to see one of my oldest friends, Marsh Pitman. Now living in Monterey, A professor of Ecology at Merced College, Marsh became a friend 50 years ago. I was entering high school with my 13 year old aspirations to make a difference against the war in Vietnam, and Marsh’s involvement in local Democratic politics led our paths to cross. Eventually we became county co-chairs of the McGovern Campaign in 1971, Marsh about 45, me 15, and have been friends ever since.

On my last visit back in December, Marsh showed me his basement library that he is sorting through. I was quite taken with the sight of him among his books, shelved and boxed. I said I would like to come back and photograph him down there and he agreed that would be fine.

There was no way my few photographs could sum up my feelings for this wonderful man and friend, but it was a first take on it, and I hope I’ll get to make more on a future visit. I always enjoy his company and warmth.

Meanwhile, back at home, the sea is always present. I have long since folded my seaside home into understanding of reality. I treasure that. Even from my house, the distant low level roar of the the surf can be a constant. When the breeze blows just right, and the surf is rough, it is clearly a roar.

How many photographs can one make of the sea and sky? It is almost like asking how many photographs can one make of those we love. It is an endless impulse to hold the moment of beauty (and affection) that we feel privileged to witness. Not many will make it to print, but some do, and they do seem to have formed quite a set. They might need to be big. They might not. Gathering the prints I have made together to explore would be fun to see.

That is partially the subject of my workshop at Maine Media Workshops this June, Your Vision, Your Craft. Consider joining me to work on creating and refining bodies of work.

Another Visit to Golden Gate Park

Most any visit to Golden Gate Park in San Francisco is a varied experience with all of the possibilities there. My last real time there was for the Hardly Strictly Bluegrass Festival last fall. The trips often include the California Academy of Sciences, as did last week’s short 11 mile ride up to the park. This time we stopped by Stowe Lake as well.

Please consider joining us on one of our upcoming workshops. Enrollment is the key to continuing to offer these classes and keep the studio running. We hope to hear from you.

We would enjoy hearing from you. Email us any essay comments you may have.

On Commerce: A Few Questions from all of you.

— What is affordable to purchase or enroll in right now?

Featured Print

Stephen Johnson Edition Print

I’ve always been drawn to historical photographs and maps. I’ve been collecting 19th century books, engravings and now making scans of photos and maps. Printed on just the right paper and sheen, the reproductions are often vey special in their own right. So I’ve decided to make some of these prints available as I print them and discover more.

The first few are from the San Francisco Bay Area, local to my home in Pacifica, We’ll make them both available as 8x10 ($35-$45) and 11x14 ($75-$85) with larger sizes available for quote. The Gallery of current offerings where you can place orders can be found here.

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Many of my mentoring students have wanted help with their printing, often to make sure they can produce a specific print. Consequently, I am starting a Print Mentoring Program that sets up a 2 hour time slot and the production of a finished print, all with the tutorial video of how we did it together. Prints can be up to 16x20 and on either Hahnemühle Museum Etching or Photo Rag Pearl paper. Fee is $500. Email for more information and to set up times. 

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