If you’ve ever read the writing of Ansel Adams, you probably know that the man who is today the best-known American landscape photographer initially studied to be a concert pianist. When Ansel writes about the making of his now iconic photographs, there is often not the mention of f-stops and shutter speeds, but rather of feeling, of visual interpretation of the landscape. I have no doubt that, as Ansel worked in the wilderness or in the darkroom, there was music playing in his head.
I am no Ansel Adams, but music is a big part of my life. Both my parents were music teachers. As my sister, brother and I grew up, there was always music in our house, and I hear it even now.
I was camped one night in the Olympic Mountains. My best hiking buddy (a dog named Rocky) and I were in the tent and I was snugged into my sleeping bag. I had a tiny FM radio with me and I picked up a signal from CBC Radio (Canadian Broadcasting) in Vancouver, British Columbia. The station was airing a special about the music of the American composer, Alan Hovhaness, whose work has a lot in common with an Ansel Adams landscape photograph, in that Hovhaness writes a symphonic interpretation of the land.
When I crawled out of the tent the next morning, the landscape before me was amazing. There was phenomenal sunrise light in the sky and on the Strait of Juan de Fuca. Mt. Baker was lovely, off on the distant horizon. I realized that the Hovhaness piece “Mysterious Mountain” was in my head. I put my Hasselblad camera on a tripod, metered the light, and opened the shutter.
Photographic success that day was a simple matter of getting out of bed on time. My dog Rocky and I were there that morning, but I’m pretty sure we were accompanied in spirit by two guests, one a photographer, the other a composer.
