Five Frames

Holding It Lightly

“All [travel] has done is distract us for a little while, through the novelty of our surroundings…” — Seneca

I read that while spending a few days in the mountains earlier this week. It was almost as if someone was trying to tell me something. While on the trail, I’d noticed how much lighter I felt and wondered if it was simply because I was exploring somewhere new.

Back at camp, the quote lingered. Maybe this lightness was only borrowed, a brief reprieve rather than a lasting change. I wasn’t untangling problems out here, just carrying them differently, with more space around them. Sometimes you don’t notice the weight you’ve been holding until you step far enough away to set it down.

I stopped at this lake one last time before the drive home. The surface was still, holding the shape of passing clouds without ever keeping them. And I thought, maybe that’s what time away does. It doesn’t erase what’s heavy, but it lets you hold it more lightly for a while.

I came home yesterday and still feel lighter today. I don’t know how long it will last. But I do know I’m planning another getaway next week, because even temporary lightness is worth seeking.

Prompt of the Week: Juxtaposition

Technique: Place two contrasting elements in the same frame.

Why it works: Strong contrasts spark curiosity and create visual tension. When opposites share space - like old and new, rough and smooth, natural and manmade - they push the viewer to look closer and search for connections.

Try this: Next time you’re out shooting, keep an eye out for unexpected pairings. A bright flower growing through cracked pavement. A modern building reflected in an old, weathered window. A hiker in bright clothes against a jagged mountain backdrop. Frame both elements together so the differences stand out and the story between them begins to unfold.

Behind the Capture - The Minimalist’s Lens

At first, I was looking at the whole scene. The bigger scene had plenty going on - shoreline, movement, little distractions everywhere. But then I noticed how the light skimmed across the ripples, turning each crest into a thin ribbon of gold. That was it. The rest could go.

I zoomed in just enough to lose the horizon and anything that might pull attention away. A slight change in angle kept reflections from crowding in, and a hint of polarizer softened the glare without erasing the shimmer I wanted. I underexposed just a touch to hold onto those bright edges, using a fast enough shutter to keep the ripples sharp.

It became all about timing, waiting for a diagonal run of light to sweep through the frame. I kept the tiny bubbles at the bottom; they gave a sense of scale without stealing the show. I also wanted to keep the color of the submerged rocks for a touch of contrasting color. I’d tried a few other approaches, including a longer exposure and a wider view, but each one lost the simplicity that made this work.

In the end, the edit was light: a small crop, a little contrast, a slight warm lift in the highlights, and a cool tone in the shadows to make the gold pop.

Minimalism here wasn’t about taking everything away, it was about choosing what to keep. Just light on water. Nothing else needed.

It’s one of the images in my current collection, now on my site.

A Thought

There’s the moment of making the photo — being in the scene, framing, pressing the shutter.
And there’s the moment of seeing it finished — polished, printed, or shared.

Which do you enjoy more?
Is your favorite part the act of creating or the satisfaction of the result?
Does one feed the other, or do they feel entirely different?

A Quote

“All photographs are accurate. None of them is the truth.” - Richard Avedon

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