The quality of our lives can be measured by the sum of the moments that light us up.
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"North Brook #1" ©2023 Digital Creation Sadler/AI/Adobe Photoshop
A waft of cool air brushed my face at midnight and I looked up from my sleeping bag at a universe that had more stars than I ever imagined. I was 13. I had spent every summer in the Camp Jewell woodlands in northwestern Connecticut, but only at this moment, camping on the banks of North Brook, did I feel the full impact of a force larger than any god I learned about in the church that fate had assigned me. I smelled the rough white pine needles that my back leaned against. The crickets and owls were like a rhythm section supporting a flute solo. I would never again have less than a deep spiritual connection to the force that drives the universe.
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"Provence #1" ©2023 Digital Creation Sadler/AI/Adobe Photoshop
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"Foggy River Muse" - ©2023 Digital Creation Sadler/AI
Another moment that I wished I had captured in a photograph ...
It was 1983 when we lived in Connecticut. I was using a 4 x 5 field camera one beautiful foggy morning down along the Connecticut River. I set up on a bike path along the riverbank. It was really fogged in; you could hear the Wesleyan University crew boats out practicing. I could just imagine catching one of those boats going by in a grey fog reflected in the still water. As I was waiting, I could hear them but couldn’t see them. Then, I head this “squeak, squeak, squeak.”
I’m under this black cloth and hearing this squeaking noise. It’s really annoying. I picked my head up saw a homeless man pushing a shopping carriage toward me. I didn’t want to be distracted so I got back under the cloth. Anyway, he gets alongside of me and stops; he starts this monologue: “Wow, you must be an artist with a camera like that. That’s a very fancy camera. Were you just taking a picture of the fog?” And then he said, “So you’re an artist. I’m an artist.”
Then he says, “I’m a writer. My life’s work is in this carriage.” I was getting curious and I took a look. There were these manuscripts stacked in his shopping cart all the way to the top.
Manuscript after manuscript. I’m looking at him now, and he says, “Well, I’m not really an artist. I wish I were an artist, but I just realized I’m never going to be an artist. I’m just an observer with a pen.” Then I went back under my cloth and he starts off again. But as he’s leaving he says, “I suppose the question for you is—are you an artist or are you just an observer with a camera?” Then he heads off into the fog.
I thought, “What? Either he’s crazy or he’s really deep.” I looked at him as he was heading off, and he turned just as he was about to disappear into the fog. It would have been a beautiful portrait—white hair, shocking white hair, full white beard, looking back over one shoulder, perfect background.
I just watched him go. But I stopped what I was doing. I thought, “Yeah, listen, I’m just taking someone else’s picture here. Every poster in a corporation that says, ‘we should pull together’ has one of these damn pictures!” I began thinking, “What am I doing this for?” And I just stopped and relaxed, and took in the moment.
Something shifted. Then I saw what was in front of me. Which was this beautiful dock that probably had been used for shipping in days gone by. It was mirrored in the still water and with the reflection, the number ten was just perfectly created. I got very excited about that and took the shot. It’s still one of my favorites, and a transformative moment. But as much as I liked the dock, I wanted that picture of the homeless man.
That one is still burned in my head. I mean, I can still see it.
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"Raindance, Paris Courtard #1" ©2023 Digital Creation Sadler/AI/Photoshop
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"Blue Heron Cove #8" ©2023 Digital Creation Sadler/AI/Photoshop
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"Great Blue Heron Cove #6" ©2023 Digital Creation Sadler/AI/Photoshop
"Road to Blue Heron Cove" (cont)
When dawn breaks, you’ll see a fork in the road and you’ll try watercolor on paper. You learn to blend color and paint in layers. You like the ability to paint what you can imagine, but you don’t have enough life left to master the painted image.
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Great Blue Heron Cove #5 ©2023 Digital Creation Sadler/AI/Photoshop
"Road to Blue Heron Cove" (continued)
As night falls, you’ll be so overwhelmed with the reflection of even miniscule stars in roadside puddles that you’ll miss the black and blue silhouettes of stately redwoods on the ridges that engulf you. You’ll begin to realize you can’t express spirit of the place with literal images. Frustrated, you’ll pick up a paint brush and try to capture the figurative essence of the place with abstract flourishes of color and texture on canvas…and you are free!
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"Blue Heron Cove #4" ©2023 Digital Creation Sadler/AI/Photoshop
"The Road to Blue Heron Cove" (cont)
Soon, you’ll come to a stream that glimmers with more than its share of sunny jewelry. The road disappears into the stream and rises on again on the other side. As you drive through the crystal water, you’ll notice your camera morphs to a smaller, lighter medium format camera. You can move more freely and still get sharp and deep images. It takes another two decades, but you will make the dials move to the right place without thought
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"Blue Heron Cove #3" ©2023 Digital Creation Sadler/AI/Photoshop
"The Road to Blue Heron Cove" (continued)
If you take the second right, you’ll come upon an old mahogany 8x10 view camera that will take ten years to learn. You’ll get to make a lot of mistakes, but it’s a joy and you’ll be forced to look at the world upside down and backwards. It helps you understand the power of composition, and it will change the way you experience the world forever. It gives you time to smell the salt in the air and taste the soft, pale green sage that rises from the bushes. It helps you learn how to inhale an image before you see it.
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"Great Blue Heron Cove #2" © Digital Creation - Sadler/AI/Photoshop/Nik
"The Road to Blue Heron Cove" (continued)
With the sun warming the back of your head, you should see my tire tracks in the dusty road that makes a big S curve into the fog covered maritime hills ahead. Just meander down that road for about sixty years. I know, I know, it seems like a long time, but, believe me, it goes by like a flash.
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"Blue Heron Cove #1" ©2023 Digital CreationSadler/AI/Photoshop
A Great Blue Heron owns this lagoon deep in the heart of Big Sur. I’m usually there alone, but I’ll tell you where it is. It’s not far away. Please don’t tell anyone else because there is no infrastructure that can support tour busses. Just head south on Route 1 about 10 miles past Crossroads Shopping Center. Look on the right for a knoll with a mischievous stand of Himalayan Birch trees that blush in the early morning sunlight and turn right on the next dirt road.
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"Fishing With Grandpa - Tetons" ©2023 Digital CreationSadler/AI/Photoshop
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"Off To School - Amsterdam" ©2023 Digital CreationSadler/AI/Photoshop
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"Off To School - Paris #1" ©2023 Digital CreationSadler/AI/Photoshop
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"Three Friends #1" ©2023 Digital CreationSadler/AI/Photoshop
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"Off To School #1" ©2023 Digital CreationSadler/AI/Photoshop
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"Morning Pilgrimage #3" ©2023 Digital Creation Sadler/AI/Photoshop
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