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Sometimes the greatest boost to creativity is time. And time is what we have when we sit inside a blind to photograph a snowy owl incubating a new clutch of eggs. The bird may do nothing noteworthy for five or six hours at a stretch. So to pass the time, we count the mosquitoes on the ceiling or systematically execute them with self-satisfying stealth and steadiness. We play with our camera straps, fiddle with the frayed knees on our jeans or, best of all, dig the dried mud out of the tread in our hiking boots. In between these important activities, we peak outside to see what is happening in the real world, and sooner or later we notice the subtleties around us: the wispy tail of a passing cloud, the verdancy of a tangle of ground-hugging willows or the kaleidoscope of lichens splattering a boulder. Patterns in nature exist everywhereyou only need to develop an eye for them. Photographing such patterns can challenge and stimulate your imagination. Once we started to focus on patterns, our photography improved in two ways. We expanded our vision and sensitivity, discovering new ways to capture a subject on film. Oh yes, there was a third benefit: photographs of patterns sell, sometimes for big bucks, a consideration that probably doesnt interest any of you.

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Candle ice on a Swedish Lake taken with a Nikkor 500mm f/4 on Fujichrome Velvia.

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To help you get started weve made a list of patterns in nature that weve photographed, and for each weve included some common examples.

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Spirals: These include the unfurling head of an angel fern, the threatening coil of an irritated viper, the dew-laden strands of a spiders web, the bulky curl of a bighorns headgear, the textured surface of a chameleons tail or the empty shell of an apple snail.

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Rays: Think of the fleshy gills on the underside of a mushroom cap, the tail of a sage grouse in spring, God beams penetrating a layer of clouds or the seed head of a dandelion.

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Stripes: Recall the layers in an ancient bed of sandstone, aspen trunks in a winter forest or the patterned flanks of a zebra.

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Autumn labrador tea in Jasper National Park, Alberta, taken with a Micro Nikkor 105mm on Fujichrome Velvia.

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Repetition: These patterns include the scatter of cones beneath an aging pine tree, the muddy cracks in a drying pothole, the fluttering leaves of an autumn maple or the fleeing ripples on the surface of a prairie slough.

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Circles: Common examples include the floating leaves of pond lilies, the growth rings in the sectioned trunk of a tree, the polished pebbles on a wave-battered beach, the false eyespots on the wings of a butterfly or the penmanship of a raindrop in a sidewalk puddle.

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Polygons: Consider the abandoned hive of a colony of paper wasps, the rainbow bubbles that form along an arctic lakeshore, the sun-washed neck of a feeding giraffe or the polished scales of a garter snake.

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Curves: Think of the cresting edge of a Saharan dune, the curling lip of a wave on a California beach or the gentle sweep of a glaciers tongue.

Most of these patterns are known to you. Yet, how often have you seen them and never thought to capture the image on film? Get out there. Get down on your knees. Get creative. An eye for patterns doesnt develop overnight, but here are five tips that may help develop the artist in you.

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Frost on fireweed taken with a Micro Nikkor 200mm on Fujichrome Velvia.

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Explore the Subject Before You Shoot:

Purposefully explore your subject from different angles and heights. A natural tendency is to photograph a subject from the angle you first noticed it. Next time, walk around the subject (this tactic is not advised if the subject is a polar bear), get down on your belly to see what a beetle might see or climb overhead to get an eagles eye view. Once youve exhausted all these possibilities, the final image will be stronger, and you may uncover patterns youve never noticed before.

Think Laterally:

Youre camped beside a remote northern lake and the setting sun dips behind a bank of clouds, igniting the horizon. You leap for your camera and let the motor drive rip. Later, at home, you review your slides, but youre disappointed.
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Moose droppings taken in northern Saskatchewan using a Micro Nikkor 105mm on Fujichrome Provia 100. Dont laugh. Weve sold this photo half a dozen times.

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The horizon is ablaze as you remember it, but the foreground is black and empty and most of the sky is bleached and dull. What happened? Well, chances are you were seduced by the colorful horizon, and rather than concentrate on that, you included the rest of the planet in your photograph. Twenty years ago Wayne read the insightful words of the Canadian photographer Freeman Paterson, Dont ask yourself what do I see, ask yourself what do I not see. This is the essence of lateral thinking. In the example above, the sky and the foreground were featureless and uninteresting. Enticed by the color of the flaming horizon, the photographers brain edited out the drivel, but his camera did not. Lets return to the scene of the crime. The photographer should first analyze which elements in the scene are visually exciting, focus on those and eliminate the rest. Often those elements are simple patterns of color, form and line. Try this and sunset photos will never again feel trite and overworked.

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Willow seeds about to disperse taken with a Nikkor 300mm f/4 on Fujichrome Provia 100.

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Pull Out The Big Glass:

The longest trip we ever made to photograph a wildflower was a 500-mile, pedal-to-the- metal, one-day excursion to Revelstoke National Park to photograph western skunk cabbage. Why? At the time it seemed like a good idea. Despite the plants fetid odor, the skunk cabbage is a botanical wonder. It generates its own heat and keeps the flower temperature at 70 degrees F, which is sometimes 63 degrees warmer than the air. The heated flower can melt its way through ice and snow. Now thats a flower that photo buyers are sure to want. Well, twelve years later we have yet to receive a single request for such a photo. But, were digressing. What we remember most about the experience is sitting among the flowers wondering how many different ways we could possibly photograph the plant to justify the time and effort we had invested. Several hours into the photo session we pulled out our 600mm lens, added an extension tube and began to examine the flowers through the narrow view of a telephoto lens. Suddenly the world was wow! Through the telephoto, the isolated flowers became golden curves and delicate textures, and those images were the best of the trip. We now use this telephoto technique every chance we can. When you search a scene through the 12-power magnification of a 600mm lens its easy to find patterns, and frequently this technique yields our strongest images.

Abandon Reality:

A tendency we continually resist is to anchor every photograph firmly in reality. For example, if we take a picture of a forest edge we seem to always include the ground as if the trees needed a visible foundation, some place to root. More often than not, the inclusion of the ground simply makes the photo predictable and boring. Why not just shoot the trunks, or just the crowns or the texture in the bark? By eliminating the ground and other reference points, the what of the subject becomes less important. The more abstract it becomes, the greater the novelty and appeal. A close-up photograph of birch bark by Jim Brandenburg stands out as a good example of this. Brandenburgs photo depicts the peeling texture of the bark and the photo is successful because of its simplicity and form. The knowledge that the bark belongs to a paper birch adds nothing to the impact of the photo. Reality, in this case, is irrelevant.

Capture What The Eye Cannot See:

By using a long shutter speed you can imply motiona field of daisies waving in the wind or the sweeping wingtips of a flock of swans. The longer the shutter speed, the more a moving subject will blur, and the further it departs from reality and what the brain sees. The emphasis shifts to the simplicity of motion, and the photographer converts an event in nature into a study of patterns.

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