Seeing Things

Hiking out of the Grand Canyon is no easy task. The trail is steep. The sun is hot. When you stop to rest, squirrels steal your candy bars. There must be a dozen different kinds of plants with stickers, and they all seem to be waiting just for your feet.

The only water on the way is in your canteen. It is warm and stale and tastes of halazone.

Granted, the scenery is spectacular. But after five days you’re starting to think you’ve seen it all. It’s at least four hours and a 4,800-foot climb to the top. What you want to do is get back to the car and head home, stopping at the first hamburger stand along the way for a nice, cold milkshake.

Why in the world, then, would you take any longer to hike out than you have to? And why in the world would you be carrying 50 pounds of extra gear?

If you were Willie Holdman, a 16-year-old priest in the 75th Ward, Orem Utah Windsor Stake, you’d know the answers to those questions.

Willie’s father, Floyd, is a professional photographer. The 50 pounds of extra gear is camera equipment. And the hike takes half again as long as normal because every time there’s a possibility of a good picture, the hiking stops.

Willie, who wants someday to be a professional photographer himself, has traveled with his father on assignments in Utah, Arizona, Wyoming, Washington, Florida, and the Caribbean. But he remembers vividly that long walk up from the depths of one of Earth’s deepest canyons.

“People just don’t realize how much work goes into taking pictures,” Willie said. “We got up before dawn—and it’s hard to get up early when you’ve done it all week and you’d rather stay in the sleeping bag for two more hours. We waited for the morning light to be just right. While other hikers were starting out early to take advantage of the cool morning temperatures, we spent an hour taking photos before we even thought of breaking camp. And then we couldn’t just throw things in our backpacks. We had to be careful to protect the film and cameras from heat and dust.

“Then, when we finally got on the trail, we’d just get moving and Dad would say, ‘Wait, we need to take a picture here.’ Sometimes you’d be ready to forget the whole thing.

“But,” Willie said, “when you get home and you see the pictures, it makes you glad you did it.”

That’s just one of many lessons Willie has learned from working with his dad: to work hard, even when you don’t want to work, because you know the reward comes later on.

Willie has learned other lessons, too, technical things like how to use a fast shutter speed to catch action, what shades of filters to use to enhance the color of a sunset, how to measure light reflection from a gray surface to estimate exposure, and how to shade the lens when the camera is pointed toward the sun.

But the most important lesson Willie has learned about photography is also the most complex—how to see.

“You can have all the technical know-how in the world,” he says. “But if you can’t tell a good picture from a poor one, you’ll never make it as a professional photographer. You have to try to get different angles, new angles people haven’t seen before. They need to look at what you’ve done and say, ‘I haven’t seen that spot,’ then read the location and say, ‘Oh yes I have, but I never saw it that way.’”

Most good photographers seem to have a natural “eye” for what makes a good photo. It’s not something that’s easy to acquire or to teach. But there are some hints that can help almost everyone improve the pictures they take.

“Look for bright, rich colors, mixtures of colors, and subtle changes in the same shades,” Willie advised. “Observe what the sunlight does to colors at different times of day, and what kinds of shadows come at different times of day. It’s rarely a good idea to shoot at noon, when the sun is directly overhead. It washes out colors, makes people squint, and makes shadows go straight down. Pictures will lack emotion and drama. It’s better to use early morning or early evening light, which is warm and golden, and which makes shadows more dramatic.

“Look for textures—things that make you feel the picture as well as see it. Isolate individual patterns and close in on them. Look for repetition; then let one thing break the repetition and it will stand out. For a larger view, like scenery, place trees or other objects around the edges so that it looks as if you’re looking through them. This gives a sense of distance and depth. So do rocks or flowers in the foreground and mountains in the background.”

Willie also encouraged learning photographers to get to know the location where they will be shooting. “The same place looks different at different times of the year,” he said. “The color of autumn leaves may completely change the feeling of a mountain. There are also things you can do to enhance what’s there. For example, in one photo my father had me splash water on a rock so it would be dark instead of light. Another time we were taking a picture of a pasture with some cows in it. They were grazing, and their heads were hidden in the grass. So we honked the horn to make them look up, and snapped the picture when they did.”

That led to a discussion of “the decisive moment,” that instant when the action in a photograph is at its peak. “For that kind of a picture, you need to have everything ready and then anticipate just the right second to trip the shutter.”

Willie also talked about the “rule of thirds,” which photographers often use in composing their pictures (see diagram). “You divide the frame into three equal pieces, going both horizontally and vertically. The places where the divisions intersect each other are good locations for the focal point of the picture.” Another tip on composition: your eye should be drawn toward the subject of the photo.

And, Willie said, remember that there are limitations. “You can’t do some things, no matter how good you are. There’s no such thing as a wide-angle telephoto lens. Sometimes it’s too dark to get the depth of field you want. Sometimes you can’t back up or get closer because you’re standing on a cliff. Sometimes you will just plain make mistakes. But remember what you did wrong. You can always learn from mistakes.”

That’s pretty knowledgeable advice from a 16-year-old. But then Willie’s had a lot of experience in the field.

“I’m really lucky to be working with my dad,” Willie said. “People call up who want to be his assistant without pay, just to learn from him. I get to be there whenever I can in the summer, and sometimes during the school year, if I keep up on my homework. I carry equipment, hold meters, and help set up lights when he needs them. I clean up after slide shows, and mount and file slides back in the office. He comes first, because I’m really just his assistant. But when it’s time to take the pictures, he lets me look through the lens and tells me why he’s doing what he’s doing. It’s like having my own personal photo school.”

Again, a lesson has been learned, a lesson about the mundane and the exciting walking hand in hand; the enjoyable part of life, without the tedious preparation, isn’t a true picture.

“Dad and I have a lot of fun when we’re out on assignments together. At night when we’re done working, I think it helps him feel less alone to know I’m there. We talk a lot about the family, how much we love Mom and my brothers and sisters. And we talk about what we’ve seen and done, about the things that God has created. There’s so much beauty out there. And when you take a picture and capture the beauty as you saw it, you’ll always have it with you.”

Floyd is understandably proud that his son is following in his footsteps. “I haven’t had to push him at all. Most of the older children have been out on assignments with me at one time or another, but Willie seems to have really caught on to it. He’s always picking out things that would make good pictures, things other people would probably not notice. I think he has an appreciation for nature and the beauty of things around us.

“There have been times when I might never have made it if Willie hadn’t been there. Just to have him carry some of the equipment for me makes a whole trip less tiring. Besides, I like having him around.”

Father and son reminisced about camping out in a field where mice crawled over them all night long, about swimming while holding camera gear over their heads to get to a site in Zion National Park, about the time Willie took a magnificent shot of his dad but cropped out one of his feet, and about hiking 50 miles up the wrong canyon when they misread a map. It quickly became evident that as they were talking, they were also seeing something important about their relationship with each other. Not only is it a relationship of son to father and father to son. It is also a relationship of brother to brother and friend to friend.

“When I’m with Dad I help him, not just because I run errands and help with equipment, but because I provide him with another set of eyes,” Willie said. “When we’re at home, he helps me by talking through school work, talking about dating and about my friends, and talking about my responsibilities in the ward and in the priesthood. Maybe in that sense he helps me see things, too.”

It’s clear that by getting to know the wonders of God’s creations and by getting to know each other, the Holdmans have provided each other with a gift of additional sight.