Colin Dullaghan's photos

My daughter watches as a friend's son fishes. I think she wants to try it now.

As I set up my tripod to see if I could learn more about capturing cloudy skies with different kinds of filtration, I noticed someone else had come to this empty lot to practice driving an old Mercury around.

I've tried more than once to capture the neatness of these light bulbs in our dining room. This effort seems to have worked out best so far.

I messed up and loaded exposed film from my 35mm SLR into a little "panoramic" point-and-shoot. I was sad to see some promising shots ruined, but the overall effect was kind of pleasing, too.

I loved the way the light laid across the water as she waded into the river.

Neighbor girl momentarily looking wise beyond her years.

From the first roll shot with the Lomokino, based on the questionable assumption that holding it at arm's length and whirling in circles would make an interesting movie.

My mother in law, flying a kite at Vanderbilt Beach in Florida.

Kiddo and cousin playing in last winter's heavy snow.

My daughter and her cousin zoom past on a sled pulled by my brother in law.

Girls playing at an outdoor wedding, Zionsville, IN

My effortlessly charming wife, resting on a hay bale at a friend's wedding a couple weeks ago.

Bridge leading to and from the climbing sections at Torrent Falls, Red River Gorge, Kentucky.

During our anniversary trip, my wife and I tried the climbing course at Torrent Falls, in the Red River Gorge, Kentucky. I brought along a camera I wouldn't be heartbroken to drop or lose.

I don't think I'd ever seen a field of collard greens before. Near Wilson, NC.

Fascinating antique store/junk shop (where, really, is the distinction?) in Eastern North Carolina.

This was one of my first efforts with the 4x5, and I don't think there's much spectacular here, particularly in terms of the composition. What's more interesting, I think, is why I came back to it. Last week, during a vacation to Florida, I went to a lecture by the photographer Clyde Butcher, whose work I am not alone in admiring. Afterward, he was good enough to sit down and talk with a few of us who'd lined up, and during my turn I gave him a print of this image -- just my awkward way of thanking him for the inspiration he's given me with his black-and-white landscapes of the Everglades. I was naturally embarrassed when he initially had trouble orienting it right -- the way I handed it to him, he must've thought it might be a vertical image instead, which is pretty understandable given the lack of any dominant element (that lack is also the reason I'd previously chosen not to post it here). But after he quickly rotated it into position, he surprised me with an on-the-spot critique! Pointing to the blown highlights on the right, he said "Ooh, that's a no-no, there." Not having expected this, I stammered a bit and apologized, saying that I knew it was far from a perfect print, but that the bright sun streaming in through the branches above was what attracted me to the scene in the first place. "No," he went on, "This is a no-sun shot. You should've waited to take it on a day that wasn't so bright." Now, you (or I) would have to look pretty far and wide to find a more knowledgeable person than Clyde, especially on the topic of accurately metering sunlight on water! But I'm curious whether you agree with his assessment. Is it true that this scene, at that moment was simply not suitable to be photographed? I put a lot of faith in the dynamic range I could extract from my usual 4x5 combination: Ilford HP5+ and stand-processed Rodinal. But, as you (and Clyde) can tell, it wasn't enough. There's no detail in the highlights, and I'm fairly sure I lost the shadows at the other end of the spectrum as well. Should I have just folded the tripod back up and returned another time? In the end, I ask this mostly because I'm curious (and because I want to brag that I got to meet one of my photographic heroes in person). But I'm extra interested to hear any comments, because despite this expert, offhand critique, I expect I'll still continue to find myself drawn to scenes like this -- dramatic streams of light cutting through shadowy wooded areas are a major theme in some of my favorite of Clyde's (and some of your) images! But it's worth, noting, too, that the more meaningful part of my mini-gift to Clyde was actually the note I'd written on the back. And whatever approach I take next, what it said there will remain as true as ever: "The click of the shutter … the glow of the enlarger ... the magic of seeing the image develop in the tray. Thanks for inspiring me to enjoy more of these moments of peace."