Glass Hawk

Sometimes you see an image that appears to tell a story, something photographers strive for; in this case, the story of a glass hawk flying past the sun in a dark sky. Every image you see, in real life or digital form, may tell a story but not necessarily tell the truth.

Sometimes it's obvious that what you see is not what it appears to be. Sometimes the image is representative of some portion of the truth, though perhaps a bit misleading. Sometimes the image is crafted to make you think a particular thing, perhaps to make you believe something that is not true or even against your best interests.

Consider the old joke "Who are you going to believe, me or your lying eyes?" Funny, yes … but we should remember that what we see through our eyes may also be lying to us. "A picture is worth a thousand words." We all know that quote. Given the number of times that we have been fooled by staged, cropped, or manipulated photos, especially by the news media, we should always be suspicious of the validity of those picture-generated "thousand words."

Today's photo started out as a shot of a rusty dark brown sign with a cutout of a flying hawk, located in an open field with forest in the background. I positioned myself so that only sky showed through the opening and took the photo. Everything else, the seemingly dark sky and the sun flare, was generated in Photoshop. It looks like a glass hawk flying past the sun in a dark sky, none of which is even possible.

I have seen comments saying that my photos have made folks want to visit Lake Conestee Nature Preserve, where today’s photo originated. I hope they do. But you should never expect to see what I display in my photographs when you get there. I capture what are sometimes heavily massaged memories, not reality. Memories are never perfect recollections; I accept and appreciate that.

The visual field of your eyes is two overlapping circles, creating a rounded oblong shape with one focal point and most things more or less out of focus. A photo has straight sides and landscape photos most often have, by design, a wider depth of field (more stuff in focus) than what the naked eye can see. Your eyes are constantly moving and refocusing. A photo is static. Photography and viewed reality are somewhat at odds with one another. Our minds just don’t care, and appreciate the artistic quality of a good photograph.

In the field, I look for compositions. Sometimes I find compelling ones. Standing in front of a less-than-perfect composition that has potential, I imagine how photo editing can improve what I see. I take that shot too. I zoom in, zoom out, occasionally taking several photos to be stitched together. At home, whatever image I see on my computer screen, I discard it or I try to improve it, using various techniques.

I never strive to perfectly recreate what I saw in the park; I try to make it better. I do often attempt to capture the sense of what it was like to be there, but that’s a feeling, a subjective representation.

I crop almost every photo to a 1 by 2 ratio, for its pano-like effect. I have digitally removed weeds, bushes, tree limbs, debris, and graffiti from photos where those things were distracting. I am not a journalist, I'm a fine art photographer. You will likely enjoy any trip to the park, but you should know before going that it is rough nature, and not always photogenic.

A word of warning: if you think you see a glass hawk flying past the sun in a dark sky during your visit to Lake Conestee, you'd better believe me ... and not your "lying eyes."