I had been up at Father Hennepin’s swimming beach practicing long exposures and also hoping for some lightning (there were storms predicted for the late afternoon/evening so there were few people around). After a while, I toddled on over to Pope’s Point, passing only one other hiker. Reeds Near Sunset was photographed on the way back from Pope’s Point, just north-ish west-ish of the swimming beach. I think I really focused on them after seeing some ducks careering about (I am not much of a bird photographer, their movement snagged my eyes) and noticed how the green of the reeds was reflected in the water. The skies were pretty and pink but would go firey orange in about 20 minutes as the sun got closer to the horizon.
When discussing landscape photography, many people first think of the “grand landscape,” those photographs with sweeping vistas, epic light, surreal compositions, and strange and awesome colors. While these types of photographs have their place, I am drawn more to the smaller scene (probably because I don’t travel a lot), the tableaux that may be overlooked, or the common stream just around the corner. Personally, I find some of the grander style landscape photography to be somewhat alienating and distancing – they are often remote and epic areas that I will never see in person in my lifetime – and to a certain extent, I feel that they create a separation between people and the landscape – sort of like buying your groceries at the store but not knowing where they came from. Our state has so much to offer in its small visions of quiet beauty. This is why I tend to focus on smaller more intimate scenes within our parks. Anyone can see these reeds – if they look, they are ubiquitous around Mille Lacs. Knowing that they are an essential part of the lake’s ecosystem makes showcasing them all the more relevant.