In one of our favorite Madison County barns there is a beautiful old threshing machine, an implement known more simply and affectionately as a “thresher.” Threshers make easier, more efficient work of the task of separating the grains and seeds of small grain and seed crops from the chafe or straw of the plant at harvest time. The thresher here is somewhere between 75-95 years old and has seen its share of harvest moons. There are so many geometries and scales in this wonderful mechanical contraption that it would be easy to spend the better part of a day just playing with the abstracts and intimate landscapes so much in evidence. What really drew my attention to this particular perspective were the spokes of the iron wheel with their enclosing rim, and their relationship to the side of the thresher with its belts and pulleys and levers set in the beautiful old wooden frame of the machine itself. The years-build-up of dirt and grime merely added to the allure. I knew I did not need the entire wheel to tell the story I saw, so I got down to wheel level and used a little more than a quarter of the full part. As we were in the hallway of the building between the two rows of stalls, the afternoon light coming through the opening created an interesting side-illumination. A focal length of 45mm isolated the intimacy of what I saw in my mind’s-eye. An aperture of f/7.1 was sufficient depth of field, considering where I chose for a focal point; and a shutter speed of 6.0 seconds at ISO 100 gave me an overall medium exposure. Obviously, shutter speed time was a big factor in my aperture decision, but f/11 (@ 16 seconds) would have been about as small an opening as I would have used regardless.
Darn! All that time I was focusing on just the hub. And the learning goes on….
Beautiful lighting. The camera placement and focal length must have been like solving a puzzle. Now all the pieces are in the right places with the rule of thirds for the wheel and the vertical board. there are circles, triangles and rectangles scattered around. There is a lot of texture and character. You captured it all beautifully. Thanks for sharing.
Hey Duke and Nancy T. Thank you both for joining me. Duke, I hope all is well in the Sunshine State. Remember, there are often many images in the same scene and what attracts each of us may be very different. It’s what spoke to you and now you have (and had) the task of showing it to your viewers in a way that carries the feeling of what you felt and the story you wish to tell. Remember, too, that while you are present with the scene, try to “see” all of the possibilities and create as many of them as you can. If you are planning to be back in the mountains by late March, I think you would very much enjoy the Smokies workshop. Nancy T., thank you so much for pointing out all of the elements that spoke to you here. You have become so adept at defining the various elements in an image and I really appreciate your pointing them out and sharing them with everyone. It’s always helpful to know what you are seeing and what others are seeing as well. I think all image creation is, to some extent, about solving puzzles, and especially images whose elements are more geometrical and abstract.
Great information and something to try on my own. Thanks for another Sunday morning greeting.
And the beautiful unifying yellow-green color with rust red accents. Or is that splashed blood? Could be another story there….
Great photo and wonderful tips on how you got it. Thanks, Michelle
I find this quite an inspiration to look with new eyes at what’s in front of me. I’m pretty sure I would have passed this by without seeing what an interesting composition it could make. Thank you!
Hi Margaret, Michelle, Nancy Y., and Helen. Thank you all for joining me and for all of the kind comments you have made. Margaret, I am definitely looking forward to sharing this location with you. I have no doubt you are going to love it and all of the others as well. Nancy Y., I hope all is well in Ohio. You are exactly the person I would expect to “see” the colors here, especially the semi-compliments. I have often fantasized about what this machine would have looked like just off the factory floor; and now they seem so muted and subtle, but still quite present. You’ve already begun the next story. I know the story is that barns were originally red because farmers used animal blood to paint them, but I’m not familiar with the version that extends this idea to farm machinery; interesting. Michelle, I appreciate that my descriptions were useful to you. It’s part of what I am led to do as a teacher of photographic art. Thank you, Helen. For me photography is more about learning to “see” than anything else. Actually, the mechanics and the vision are both essential, and in this hurry-up world we have, allowing yourself to slow down so that you can be completely present to what’s around you is one of the hardest gifts you will ever strive to give yourself, but it is definitely a gift worth giving.