Framing the Sound

Category: national parks

  • Some days creativity moves in straight lines. Other days it skips like a record finding its groove

    Presently, I have Photoshop open, DaVinci Resolve, YouTube, Facebook, WhatsApp — and the turntable is spinning “Is” by My Morning Jacket.

    I’m not really multitasking. I’m multi-skipping from one task to another. And I’m in no hurry to complete any of these “fun” tasks.

    I started in Photoshop on an image I made last September in Badlands National Park. Oh — and I forgot to mention — I also have a Blake Rudis course open. I’m following along with his instruction on Photoshop Channels using my Badlands image as the test subject.

    Resting my eyes from editing, I turn my attention to the video I’m working on for YouTube. What? You didn’t know I had two YouTube channels? Indeed I do: Framing The Sound and Back To The Turntable: Groove & Guitar. The video in progress is for the latter.

    Blake’s course, Channels: Beyond Luminosity Masking, is hard to describe. I think I’ll simply call it magically abstract — and you can define that however best suits your imagination.

    I don’t let any of these tasks interrupt the joy of listening to good music. Sometimes I spin a record and sit contemplatively, listening closely, feeling the music — hearing the lead guitar solo and picturing myself playing it.

    When editing photos from the four National Parks we visited last September, I’m immediately transported back to the very spot where I pressed the shutter. Feeling the scene. Watching. Waiting for that bull elk to stand.

    It eventually did.

    Multi-tasking like this may not fit your workflow. Or maybe it does. Perhaps we all multi-skip — enjoying each task and in no real hurry to complete them.


    Maybe that’s the real art — not finishing the task, but living fully inside it while the record spins.

  • On Waiting, Warm Weather, and the Passing of Time

    I’ve heard it practically all my life that time passes faster as you get older. January is already history, and I could swear it was only January 1 yesterday.

    In my youth, I remember having to wait for a certain time, day, or month to arrive before this or that event. Back then, it felt like years before that day finally came. Waiting for something good to happen meant everything to me and my siblings. Anticipation had weight. It stretched time.

    I mentioned in my last blog post that this year marks my 70th trip around the sun. Reaching the downhill side of life’s mountain arrived far faster than I ever imagined it would.

    We’re planning another trip this year—one or two more National Parks. This time, we’ve decided to look closer to home. I’d head west again in a heartbeat, but my wife prefers less driving time, and that’s just fine with me.

    We’re waiting for the warm months to arrive and will choose our destination before then. But this waiting for warm weather feels like it’s taking forever—almost the way it did when I was a kid.

    And that? That’s a good thing.

    A sandstone butte just outside Badlands National Park.

  • The Shape of Vision

    How Many Art Forms Are There?

    Probably too many to count. Painting comes immediately to mind as one of the most celebrated art forms. In fact, when I think of an artist, I picture painters like Da Vinci, Degas, Dalí, and van Gogh, among others. I never truly considered photography an art form—at least not until recently.

    I joined f.64 Elite one year ago this past June, and doing so has completely changed how I make photographs. It’s also been a journey toward finding my inner artist—both in photography and in music.

    I still struggle to define exactly what my vision is when I create a photo or compose a song. Most of the time, I don’t fully recognize my artistic vision until days, weeks, or even years after the work is made.

    It’s during the editing process that the muse speaks—directing and guiding my eyes to see, and bending my ears to listen—for the artistic vision I know is hidden somewhere within my work.

    Once I find it, I shape it into what I want you to see and hear: a subtle tone shift while playing Dm on my acoustic guitar, or a shift in hues between orange and brown in an image from Badlands National Park.

    When all’s said and done, the viewer or listener may shape their own vision when gazing at my photo or hearing my composition—and that’s as it should be. Because one artistic vision can have many interpretations, but dare I say… only one creator?

  • Between Light and Sound

    Photography and music are the two most important pursuits in my life—though calling them “hobbies” doesn’t quite do them justice. They both demand focus, creativity, and time. And while I’d love to do them simultaneously, that’s not exactly possible (though it would be pretty great if it were). Finding enough time for each is always a challenge.

    It’s been a little over a month since returning home from our Epic Journey West, and I still haven’t been out with my camera. My Martin D-28 has stayed in its case, untouched. Most of my time has gone into culling (and editing a few) photos from the four National Parks we visited. I took more than 1,700 images—many duplicates (I shot nearly 100 frames of the iconic Moulton Barn in Jackson Hole), a few out of focus, and some that just didn’t work.

    This winter, I’m hoping to finally finish the culling process and carve out some time to pick up my guitar again—maybe even do a little recording with my two sons.

    I’ve also been dedicating time to take part in Blake Rudis’s Vision Session video series. My session is the final one in a set of six and will be available for f.64 Elite members to view in December. The Vision Session series will continue into 2026, featuring more members and their creative journeys.

    I plan to share a detailed post soon about The Vision Sessions and why they matter. Consider subscribing so you won’t miss it!

    View from inside the Chapel of the Transfiguration, Teton County, Wyoming

  • Light, Sound, and the Muse

    I’m trying to be a lot more precise with how I edit my photos. Why? Because I’m a visionary!

    Well, actually, I’m just an artist—photographer and musician—creating photos and music with a vision in mind: how I want my picture to look or how I want my original song to sound.

    Since joining f.64Elite back in June of 2023 and taking one of the member courses, Discovering Your Vision, I’ve become much more aware of how a viewer or listener might perceive my art.

    One important point needs to be understood when people look at or listen to my work: the vision I had when I created it might be very different from theirs. And that’s perfectly fine.

    But I don’t change my original vision—unless…

    Unless the muse demands it.

    Moulton Barn, Grand Tetons—a melody of wood, mountain, and cloud.


  • National Parks We’ll Be Visiting Soon!


    It’s been a dream of ours for years to head west and finally experience some of our country’s most breathtaking national treasures. We had planned to make the trip back in 2020, but like so many others, our travel plans were put on hold when Covid-19 changed the world.


    This time, the adventure begins in Cleveland, where we’ll see Alison Krauss in concert. Her music feels like the perfect soundtrack to set the tone for wide skies, mountain air, and days on the road ahead.


    From there, we’ll drive west for a couple of days until reaching our first destination: Badlands National Park. I’ve always been fascinated by its otherworldly landscapes—jagged peaks, layered rock, and endless horizons that seem designed for a camera lens.


    Next, we’ll journey on to three more iconic parks: Yellowstone, Grand Teton, and Glacier National Parks. Each holds its own promise: the geothermal wonders and wildlife of Yellowstone, the sharp, rugged beauty of the Tetons, and Glacier’s towering peaks and pristine alpine lakes


    As a photographer, I couldn’t be more excited. I’m sure I’ll come home with plenty of photos—some that immediately carry vision and others that will need time to reveal their meaning. Those quieter images will wait with me through the long, cold Northeast winter, offering me the chance to reflect and discover the vision I might have missed in the moment.

    Somewhere in Tennessee