My mind works in telephoto. When presented with a scene, I reflexively drill inward, searching for a small fragment of interest with which I can fill my picture. By the all-encompassing wide-angle tenets of traditional landscape photography, I'm an anomaly.
My curiosities drove this eccentricity to its logical extreme. I acquired a supertelephoto lens, the photographic equivalent to a 6-inch refractor telescope, mated it with my camera, and explored the features of sky and landscape beyond the limits of human vision.
From these experiments emerged the Telescopics series - each photograph consisting of a tiny sliver of a scene, spanning no more than two degrees of visual field across its longest side. Stated in practical terms, no photograph in this series contains more of the scene than, with your arm fully extended, you could have hidden behind your thumbnail, had you been there at the time.
An extremely narrow field-of-view dilutes the power of distance - minute details become apparent, receding lines resist convergence, and rather than shrinking away, far-flung objects retain much of the size of their closer counterparts. The sun and moon, mere specks in most conventional photographs, proudly emerge as major players, capable of single-handledly anchoring an entire composition.
Often, at first glance, the supertelephoto scenic gives the impression of some sort of idealized collage, created by selecting the desirable features of several independent photographs, enlarging each to taste, and then seamlessly layering these parts together. Confronted with such a visual, many viewers automatically question its veracity -- and when assured of its authenticity, they are, consciously or otherwise, forced to examine their perceptions of art, photography, and truth. Perhaps, this is Telescopics greatest virtue.
Telescopics is an ongoing series of supertelephoto scenics, available as limited edition prints.
Click on a thumbnail above for more information about a particular photograph.