Indian Key 5, by Clyde Butcher

Clyde Butcher is the preeminent master of Florida landscape photography. He is arguably the best landscape photographer in the country today. His stunning black and white images shot on large format film evoke instant longing to go find a Florida back road and follow it wherever it takes you, just don’t forget your camera.

Thanks to my Father-In-Law, I was not only able to attend a lecture by Clyde and his long time friend and fellow photographer Jeff Ripple tonight…I also got to spend a few moments speaking with him. As I drove down to the event tonight (the opening of their joint showing at Bradenton’s “South Florida Museum”) I wondered what I would ask him if I had the chance.

I met my Father-In-Law at the museum and went in. It was the first time I had been to an actual showing of Butcher’s work in all their enormous glory. Shot in either 8″X10″, 11″X14″ or 12″X20″ formats, his images can be printed from 11″X14″ up to 5′X8′. These big, beautiful images take you right where the shots were taken. Standing in front of these images I can feel the earth beneath my feet, wet or dry. I can smell the air, feel the warmth of the sun, hear the birds call. It’s a visceral experience, a virtual absorption into the mind of the artist.

Clyde is 67 years old. He left his career as a successful architect to be a full time landscape photographer a year before I was born. All of the sudden talking to Clyde felt a little daunting.

Clyde Butcher and Thomas Sabo

I bought “Florida Landscape“, a book of Clyde’s images for him to sign. When I approached him I felt instantly at ease. The term “salt of the earth” comes to mind, a friendly and open man.

We spoke about his passion for photography, his leap from architecture to art, and the risks associated with it. I asked if he had any advice on how to “get there” and he gave me the simplest advice I think I’ve ever been given: “Just keep doing it”.

Sometimes I guess it really is that simple.  “Just keep doing it.”

There was something else I needed to know.  I have a close personal attachment to my photographs.  I can remember every circumstance, every feeling, emotional and physical from every shot.  I needed to know if I was the only one.  With a little more timidity I asked him “Do they call to you?“

He looked up, he had been signing my book when I asked.  “What?” he said.

“Your photos,” I replied “do they call to you?“  Wondering if I was sounding as silly if I felt like I was.  Then an amazing thing happened.  He looked me straight in the eye, with a look of complete understanding and replied with one word.

“Absolutely.”

Nothing more needed to be said.  He understood what I was asking and I had gotten my answer.  It was really a wonderful moment, meeting what surely was a kindred spirit.

We attended the lecture in the planetarium where both Clyde and Jeff spent an hour projecting their images onto the ceiling of the dome and explaining each individual shot.  They were generous with both their knowledge and experiences, sharing both the beauty and the environmental importance of the Florida Everglades.  It was a great lecture and I enjoyed it greatly.  If you ever have the opportunity to view Clyde and Jeff’s work, take it.  If you have an opportunity to hear them speak don’t miss it, you’ll be happy you did.

Clyde Butcher and Thomas Damgaard Sabo

There was a good size storm raging over the Gulf of Mexico, about 20 miles to the West. Overhead it was clear and still, stars sparkling brightly. There was no sound of lightning, just some random flashes. I saw them out of the corner of my eye as I stood there. Then I saw a big, single bolt…lost behind the house across the street.

Hmmm. Wish I hadn’t seen that. Maybe it was a fluke, the only big bolt to come down. Wouldn’t be able to capture it anyway with the houses on the other side of the street (I normally shoot off the back of the house where I have a clear view over the lake).

As I was trying to convince myself I could let this one go another huge silent bolt streaked down from the top of this beautiful thunderhead, with additional bolts lighting the cloud from the inside.

Dammit.

OK, the only way I can get this is from my roof. I couldn’t…could I? My wife will surely think I’ve lost my mind. Oh, what the heck…if she doesn’t know I’m crazy by now she probably should get confirmation. I’m doing it.

I rush inside like a tornado, hurriedly grabbing gear. Camera, check. Tripod, check. Wireless shutter release, check. Remote, check. My wife looked at me out of the corner of her eye. “What are you doing?” she said.

“Shooting some lightning in front of the house” I said, “from the roof.” I added quietly, turning as I said it, maybe she wouldn’t hear me.

“The roof? Do you really think that’s a good idea?” she said, quickly adding “storms happen all the time…” she said, kind of singing the last couple words, as if to emphasize how loony she thought I was being.

“Big storm…good stuff…be back in a little while” I said, rushing out to the garage before she could protest.

I grabbed the ladder and headed off like a pack mule around the corner of the house. Moments later I was straddling the peak of my roof, looking over the neighborhood toward the storm in the distance. The worlds largest and happiest lightning rod.

As quickly as I was up there the storm was generating beautiful bolts every 30-45 seconds. It never ceases to amaze me how large and clumsy my fingers are at moments like this.

So I get set up and start shooting, it doesn’t take long to score.

Every dark cloud has an electric lining

I was biting my nails hoping this one would turn out…I think it did.

Nature's Balance, Dual Strikes Over the Gulf of Mexico

And one more:

Running Man in the Western Sky

I sat up there for almost an hour, time melting away with each click of my camera.  My neighbor came out to let his dog out.  I sat up there, quietly, just hoping he wouldn’t look up and see me on my roof in my pajamas.  I wasn’t quite sure what I would say.  I laughed at myself and just kept shooting.  Each time I was ready to pack it up another bolt would streak through the sky, prompting “just one more shot”.

Finally I decided to call it a night, packed up and went inside.  As soon as I uploaded the photos my wife had to acknowledge my idea wasn’t so bad after all.  In fact she wants me to enlarge and frame the second one above.  OK, so far so good

I posted the first shot to my flickr photostream [link] and immediately started getting views, great!  This morning I got up to find the following comment from my Mom on my photo:

“I sure don’t like you sitting on the roof, I don’t want you to be a lightning rod, all the great shots in the world are not worth getting hurt over, but that is perhaps a mothers point of view.”

So I guess I got the shots, but I still ended up busted by my mom. So yes, I was a human lightning rod I guess, but I came through it just fine.  I love you mom!

View from "Space View Park", Titusville, Florida

Living in Florida has its benefits.  Beaches, resorts, theme parks around every corner… that’s the first thing that comes to mind when people think of The Sunshine State.  All of these things are great, but one of my favorites is the space program at Kennedy Space Center.  Space Shuttle and rocket launches that take off from K.S.C. are visible from a large portion of the state, weather permitting.

Space Shuttle Discovery STS-124 as seen from my Tampa home

I remember when Space Shuttle Challenger exploded on launch in 1986.  It’s one of those events everyone remembers what they were doing when it happened.

I was in my junior high library in Casper, Wyoming, working on a computer the size of a Volkswagen.  The principal ran in and pulled one of the media center’s TV’s out and turned it on.  I stood there with the principal and librarian and watched in awe.

My wife grew up in Tampa and was outside with her class to watch the launch (back when launches were still an event to mark your calendar for).  She saw Challenger explode first hand, very similarly to the way the photo from Tampa above looks.  I can’t even imagine that.  She can still visualize it 23 years later.

I live in Florida now and shuttle launches are perfectly centered out the back door of my house.  It’s a photographer’s dream, I never get tired of watching that craft shooting through the sky until it’s just a glimmering speck…and then gone.  I enjoy it every time but have never seen a launch close up.

Space Shuttle Endeavour, STS-126 night launch from my home.

When my parents (who live in Lakeland) called and asked if I wanted to go over for the launch last night I thought they had lost their mind.  The launch was scheduled for a 1:36 AM lift off and there was an 80% chance of favorable conditions.  I wouldn’t get back home until at least 3:30AM…if I was lucky.  I declined, and hung up the phone.  Almost instantly I began to regret the decision.  I started thinking about all the times I was sitting behind my laptop, tirelessly processing photos until all hours of the night.  I started thinking about the opportunity to see a night launch, more importantly the opportunity to photograph a night launch.  It didn’t take long before I was calling them back to make plans.

So the craziness took hold, I decided it would be a great idea to take the whole family and have a spontaneous adventure.  Kim, a Florida native, had never seen a launch close-up either. I convinced her our 7 year-old son would benefit from the educational experience despite the late hour and school the next day, he could sleep in the car.  The decision was made and we piled into the car at 9:30 heading for “Space View Park” in Titusville (reported to be the best viewing site unless you’ve got a NASA pass) [link].

It’s a short 2 hour drive from our house, Northeast across the peninsula.  It became immediately clear there may be a problem as we got close to Orlando. Huge thunderheads were visible to the East, flashing an impressive lightning show.  Kim was certain the launch would be scrubbed due to weather, which I immediately dismissed.  This baby was launching, even if I had to light a match under it.

We kept checking the status as we continued East.  The weather official reported “Green Conditions” for launch as we neared the Brevard County line.  I shot Kim a smirk, I was right as usual.  She scoffed, telling me she’d seen them scrub a launch for storm cells half the size of what we were watching on the radar.  Looking back I believe I heard her say the words the words “there’s no way”…but I think she was talking about something else (at least that’s my story).

So we get to Space View park in Titusville and meet up with my parents who were kind enough to find and hold us a spot.  As soon as I looked off to the East I was happy.  Not only were the launch pad lights beaming spectacularly into the massive thunderheads directly above the Cape, but there was amazing lightning bolts firing one right after another.  I was mezmerized.

I was fumbling with my gear like a freshman boy with his prom date.  With every click, every twist, every setting adjustment the lightning was flashing away.  I knew as soon as I was ready the lightning would stop (I’m a little addicted to lightning as my last post [link] ironically describes).  I was wrong.

Cloud top lightning illuminates thunderheads over Cape Canaveral with Discovery on the pad

Kim sat with my parents and my son raced in between them and my shooting location, checking on my shots.  Time melted away from me as I captured cloud top lightning illuminating the boiling thunderheads with the fan of the pad lights forcing their way into the sky.  All of these shots were just the test  for the ultimate goal, the launch.

I barely heard the announcement over the loudspeakers saying every weather indicator had gone to RED / NO GO.  Visibility, lightning proximity, cumulonimbus proximity, 25 mile rain presence…all RED.  Things weren’t good.  The shuttle was temporarily masked by heavy rain falling  I immediately waited for the visit from Kim.  You know the one, the “I told you so” visit us guys love so much.

Things looked up for a while as the storm began to dissipate over the next 30 minutes, the crowd cheered and clapped with every guarded announcement indicating improved conditions.  The excitement was short lived however, the announcement came shortly thereafter that the launch had been scrubbed.  You could almost feel the crowd deflate as everyone packed up and wandered back to their cars.

My “I told you so” speech was mercifully short.  I think she was happy I enjoyed myself and didn’t want to take away from it (she’s OK some time, I guess I’ll keep her).  We packed up and drove back to Tampa, a little bummed out but still appreciating the adventure.  During the drive we both agreed we would do it again for one of the upcoming launches before the end of the year.

So we’ll see a launch soon, and have photos to show for it with any luck.  Now I have to rectify the fact that even though I’ve lived here for 15 years I’ve never been to the Florida Keys…but that’s a whole different story

The cloud ceiling drops just before the rain falls on Space Shuttle Discovery STS-128

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