Thematic Interruption: Just Point and Click…or Don’t

A number of years ago, I was given a scouting report on the progress of fall color development in the Hiawatha National Forest in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan.  “It’s so beautiful here right now,” I was told, “that you can point your camera just about anywhere and take a great picture.”  The statement was intentionally hyperbolic, meant to convey that the forest was at peak, but the words chosen to express that point have stuck with me.

I’ve often had the sense that many photographers, when presented with truly exceptional beauty or awe-inspiring scenery of any kind have a tendency to–for lack of a better way of putting it–kind of flip out and effectively take the above-quoted line literally.  Be it peak fall color in the North Woods or the jaw-dropping immensity of the Grand Canyon or the incomparable beauty of the Canadian Rockies or the Oregon coast–or any scene that produces an “oh, wow” reaction for that matter–there’s a natural inclination, I think, to be mesmerized and lose track of the process of effective image-making.

Cape Royal, Grand Canyon National Park – North Rim, Arizona

I’ve been a victim of this syndrome myself.  I remember my reaction when I first visited White Sands National Monument in New Mexico about ten years ago.  I was virtually awestruck and had to “snap out of it” to regain my senses and return to image making.

Earthshadow, White Sands National Monument, New Mexico

Avoiding–or at least swiftly recovering from–the “Oh Wow” Syndrome is easier said than done, of course, and is probably best accomplished by some sort of wary cognizance of the very fact that the syndrome exists.  Awareness and recognition can mitigate the effects.  And mitigation is necessary because, I’m here to tell you–in the unlikely event that you don’t already know–that it’s quite possible to point your camera at something indescribably beautiful and come away with an image that’s suited for nothing but the round file.  It may indeed be a lesson that we all need to learn through direct experience.

Elliott Peak from White Goat Lakes at Dawn, David Thompson Country, Alberta

The key, of course, is to avoid repeating the mistake.  And that’s where awareness of the syndrome comes in to play.

Sunset, Face Rock State Scenic Viewpoint, Oregon

One of the reasons that I always try to give myself ample amount of time at a given location is so that I can “adapt” to my surroundings.  I may never quite overcome a sense of awe that stems from viewing a beautiful scene; indeed, I wouldn’t want to do so.  But once I acclimate myself somewhere–as I ultimately did at White Sands, for instance, after spending several days in southern New Mexico–I’m better able to home in on the image making process.

Fall Splendor, Little Indian Road, Hiawatha National Forest, Michigan

This happened again during peak fall color in New England this autumn.  The reds, in particular, were deeper and more numerous than anything I’ve ever seen before and I’m pretty sure that a brief bout of “Oh Wow” Syndrome set in before I regained my bearings.

Easton Road Color, Grafton County, New Hampshire

Recognition of the syndrome, and its symptoms, surely helped me recover more quickly than otherwise would have been the case.  Awareness is the best antidote; it can work for you, too.

Forest Kaleidoscope, May Pond Road, Orleans County, Vermont

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