A Natural Spring with Mineral Deposits © Jay Goodrich

A long time ago in a galaxy far far away, I was an architect–not a marine biologist. Even further from that point, I was in school to become an architect. My parents figured architecture would be a great major for me because I loved to draft in high school. What my parents didn’t realize, and what most people don’t realize, is that architecture has a closer relationship to fine art painting than it does to engineering or technical drawing. In fact the technical drawings or “blueprints” that most know about, are really the final process of what an architect does. This is where the problem for my parents’ dream of having a son who was an architect ended. The point at which I began studying architecture is the point at which I began to open my mind creatively. I was set to become an artist. Yep, said it, the beret, facial hair, and attitude of an artist. Kind of.

Standing Water Reflection Zion NP © Jay Goodrich

The major focus for an architect is design, to create a space for a human to utilize in some way, shape or form. Think of a painter who is a sculptor too, architecture is just that, creating in a three dimensional world as well as the two dimensional world of a painter. The final building is the sculpture and the drawings are helping your army make that vision a reality. Within the art form of architecture there are as many different styles of creating as there are within the world of painting. There are those who utilize the classical (I have no idea why), those blend the classical with the contemporary, and those who disregard the classical to design the modern. In fact, if you study art and architecture history side by side (something you are required to do for an architecture degree) you quickly see a correlation between what artists were painting and what architects were designing.

Reflections Over Wind Blown Water Zion NP © Jay Goodrich

I was a modernist. In fact, the style of architecture that I absolutely loved was called Deconstructivism. It was the anarchist of architecture at the time. It scoffed at the general rules that were put in place by the architects who came before. Have you ever heard someone say, “form follows function.” Deconstructivists said screw these types of rules, they wanted to create drama through a sort of controlled chaos. The mission was to make a structure look like it was, for lack of a better word–unstructured. Very similar to what Picasso would paint when he went full tilt into cubism. In other words for a young punk rebellious kid, it was exactly what the doctor ordered. “What are you rebelling against? What ya got.”

Canyon Reflections and Shadows Zion NP © Jay Goodrich

There were two guys in my class that were amazing at designing in this style. I only remember their first names at this point–Dan and Mark. Dan was older than most in my class at about 30, Mark was even older at 40. Both of them lived their lives just like they designed–contemporary, well dressed, well read, well spoken, and I hated them as much as I loved them. I wanted to create like they did. Their presentations looked like original Picassos, and their models were built out of steel, aluminum, rusted metal and plexiglass. They could create the coolest looking projects I had ever seen and then defend them until there was no other choice but to give them the “A”. They had all the reasons because their projects grew out of a well thought out theory of why. There wasn’t a misplaced or misthought beam anywhere. You loved their work even if you hated their style. When they presented, the rooms were always full. These guys taught the professors. They created a following throughout the architecture department, and taught me how to create like them. I sought their advice often, listened and remembered anything and everything they told me.

The Heart of Stone Zion NP © Jay Goodrich

It wasn’t long before their inspiration and instruction grew into my own way of thinking. Good, bad or indifferent, I became knowledgable and opinionated. I became the beret wearing attitude without the beret. There you go, I said it again. This meant though that creativity at some point was going to become the driver in this testosterone love triangle and it wouldn’t be long before the new hot chick of photography would grasp me in her clutches and allow me even more free love than I had in school. The mission began as some free love in the woods near my home in Colorado and then grew into completely new way of life. Even to this day though, I have never forgotten my roots and apply all of what I learned in college to my everyday photography life.

Canyon Wall Reflections Zion NP © Jay Goodrich

Now, knowing all this why would I change direction, throw away a life of architecture for a life of photography? Well, I think a place like Zion speaks volumes to the reason. I have morphed my vision of the world from architecture, now to photography. What I loved about architecture is quickly finding its way into my photography no matter where I travel. Zion is a perfect place to let the deconstructivism dog out to stretch its legs. To go against those perfect landscapes that many nature photographers pursue there. This was a time to play with my viewers emotions, to utilize shade and shadow, reflection, color, texture, direction, and design concepts to highlight what Zion can be about, but very few seek out there. This place strong holds a mecca of compositions. A place where I could spend the rest of my life exploring. Of discovering and rediscovering. A life of working on a vision with reason. Go ahead and ask me why, to any of it, I dare you.

The Liquid Bear Zion NP © Jay Goodrich

Shoe Pastel © Jade Goodrich

Late last year, I wrote a blog post over on the Outdoor Photographer Website, about losing our creativity in America. This post was based on an article that was published on Newsweek’s website. Because of that article, our daughter’s main Christmas present was an easel and full set of professional art supplies ranging from pastels to water color paints and everything in between. I guess Heather and I figured we should at least give her the opportunity to create, since we knew it isn’t happening in her school. It didn’t take long for Jade to declare this “one of her favorite presents ever”. Heather and I are still shocked, because she got a baby carriage too, and those things usually wind up much higher on the love list.

In lieu of heading down the road of that bumper sticker–My Kid is an Honor Student…crap, I do have to say that I am quickly becoming the proud father of a somewhat creative daughter. People must have some kind of genetic mutation that kicks in when kids are born, that automatically gives us a propensity towards thinking our kids are the greatest. This probably happens so we don’t kill them, eat them, and get back to what it is all really about–sex! I am sure there is a perfectly good scientific explanation that my uber-educated wife can come up with, but I have yet to figure it all out. I have come to the conclusion that it gives our children the motivation to at least try, by having a vote of confidence from the ones they know the best.

Hands Watercolor © Jade Goodrich

The past week of my life has been pretty much work free, and unfortunately not by choice. Jade has been home sick with Strep Throat. Fevers close 105 degrees, vomiting, you don’t need to know the particulars, just really sick. It seemed like every dose of Ibuprofen had her up and about for at least 4 hours before the need of sleep would factor into the picture. During those times of insanity (sanity is when they are asleep) she wanted to “create artwork”. And there was no way I was going to argue with her at those moments, I just didn’t want her to puke on my carpet again.

Jade is 5, and acts like she is 15 with the exception that she still has a romantic innocence about herself. She holds prejudice against no one, doesn’t even fathom the idea of racism, and truly experiences the world with an open mind. It is fairly liberating for me to watch. My only goal now is to learn from it, to photograph like she paints–with complete freedom and for the absolute joy of doing so. I knew taking her to that Picasso exhibit was going to pay dividends. In 4 days of “home schooling” with dad, we watched countless movies on the apple TV, ate a few pounds of gummi bears, and actually painted 13 pieces. I guess I shouldn’t say painted, because Jade chose to use pastels, water colors, charcoal, and markers. Let’s go with created 13 pieces.

Flowers Watercolor © Jade Goodrich

I am hoping that her work is actually good and I am not being a “Jaded” father, then my creative background kicks in and I truly believe that this work has merit. She picked titles like, “name”, “face”, and “me” for some of the pieces, which has me thinking that she actually had a concept in mind when she went to town on that easel. The other part of the story is that it may not actually matter if the work is good or not. I got to spend a solid 4 days with my daughter, I got to be inspired by her creativity, and she personally taught me to look at the world differently, to create with more intensity. For that alone, I am forever grateful. And it might just have me picking up some of those art supplies to pull some of the visions I have banging around in that melon upstairs.

Pollock Inspired, Gamble's Oak, CO © Jay Goodrich

I love abstract painters. Jackson Pollock is probably my favorite. His use of household paints which he poured all over his canvases was completely out of the ordinary for his time.

“When I am in my painting, I’m not aware of what I’m doing. It is only after a sort of ‘get acquainted’ period that I see what I have been about. I have no fear of making changes, destroying the image, etc., because the painting has a life of its own. I try to let it come through. It is only when I lose contact with the painting that the result is a mess. Otherwise there is pure harmony, an easy give and take, and the painting comes out well.”

To see his paintings up close is truly an amazing experience. There is actually a depth to them that photos alone can never highlight. When I was out shooting this day in Colorado, this unfolding scene reminded of his work. It still might be a little too literal, but I love it anyway.

Liquid, Arizona © Jay Goodrich

I have an obsession with modern artists. Van Gogh, Dali, Picasso, and Pollock are a few of my favorites. I love the way they abstract their visions and leave the viewer to interpret the meaning for themselves. I know how I composed, created, and now presented this image to you, so it has an entirely different meaning to me. I wonder though, what it might mean to you? What do you see?

Reflection Abstract, Canyon Lake, Arizona © Jay Goodrich

I was looking for the abstract today. I found it at the marina of Canyon Lake in the Superstition Mountains outside of Phoenix, Arizona. The marina manager was kind enough to accept my request to be let into the private dock area, which allowed me to shoot image upon image of abstract water reflections. The reward occurred when an American coot floated into my composition. A new kind of camouflage.

Rock Topo, Red Dirt Creek, CO, ©Jay Goodrich

I often look to abstract painters for inspiration in my photographic work. This idea of looking elsewhere is not new, I know many photographers that do it. It has done one major thing for me – put me always on the look out for new and interesting compositions. I don’t care what time of day it is, how good the light is (well for the most part), where I am, what gear I have with me, if I see something that catches my eye, I have to catch it with a camera. It could be the most simple of things or the most difficult subject I have ever tried to photograph. I will not quit until what caught my eye is recorded to something, even my iPhone, for availability to share with others at some point.

This month’s image came to me during a private workshop that I was teaching just after traveling for close to a month. During that month I was backpacking for a good part of my travels, which means I was looking at a topographic map constantly. When I discovered this rock, it immediately reminded me of those maps – pinnacles, and valleys. I grabbed my macro lens and had my participant stand next to me to block the late morning light. The subtle reflections added a subtle glow to the image. Taken with a Canon 1Ds Mark III, 100mm macro f2.8 lens, Gitzo tripod, Kirk Ballhead, Singh-Ray Warming Polarizer. Mastered in Lightroom and Photoshop.

I have a new image that was just posted on Canadian Photographer Darwin Wiggett’s blog. To view it and read about it click here.

Painted Hills Abstract, Oregon © Jay Goodrich

Once we lost the sun due to the oncoming weather finally breaching the Cascade Range, I grabbed my 600mm and started to create abstracts of this amazing place. The first rule of photography-never stop shooting, even when you lose what you think is the best light of the day. The Painted Hills possess unlimited photographic potential! I am so happy that we decided to travel down here instead of getting beat up by the coastal torrent that is going on right now. Although, I am looking forward to the possibility of skiing later this week and the possibility of tons of new snow.

driftwood ©jay goodrich

Recently, I taught a workshop with Art Wolfe, John Greengo, and Libby Pfeiffer. We had a wonderful time running and hiding under a sitka spruce as it rained like never before on Second Beach just outside of La Push, Washington. At times, the grand landscape is not always available and instead of focusing on what it should be, we need to focus on what is available to us in every given moment. Nature is fleeting, changing, and always moving.

Art and I walked up to a pool of standing water that was covered with sea foam that was creating swirling patterns that looked like a Van Gogh painting. In the time it took Art to remove his camera from his back pack the image was gone, completely dispersed by our wind driven rain. Looking around for something else, I managed to find a similar patterning in a pile of drift wood. I captured a few images before it started to rain in sheets and drove even the heartiest of soles to cover.

About an hour later, in an attempt to redeem herself, mother nature turned off the rain. This led to all of the workshop participants cautiously proceeding out from hiding to shoot more imagery. What she failed to tell us in the memo is that this was going to become one of the most amazing sunsets myself, Art, John and Libby have seen in close to a hundred combined years of experiences.

The moral of the story is: never ever talk about fight club. Wait, sorry, never ever walk away bummed that there is nothing for you to shoot. Look around you, even at your feet, possibly under the tree you are hiding, and if even that fails wait and give it time. Your reward could be worth more than a thousand words.