The Pearl Fishers

                   

 
                                                              Ô vision !   ô rêve !

                                                                           -- from "The Pearl Fishers"


This past weekend and next week Opera Southwest -- our local (Albuquerque) opera company -- presents "The Pearl Fishers," an early opera by Georges Bizet, written in 1863 when he was 24.  It's one of the few Bizet operas besides "Carmen" that is still performed.

When it premiered, audiences liked it but critics thought it wasn't original enough.  (Hey, he was only 24!)  The libretto is generally considered to be weak (not his fault - he didn't write it), and Bizet was still finding his voice as a composer, but the opera contains some wonderful music, including the duet "Au fond du temple saint" (the so-called "Pearl Fishers Duet") which, according to some stories, was performed at Bizet's funeral; it's now a standard concert show-piece.  (To see/hear it performed by Bryn Terfel and Andrea Bocelli, click here.)

Through a Corrales friend and fellow photographer, last Thursday night he and I had the opportunity to photograph a dress rehearsal of the performance.  

We had the freedom to roam backstage, 

on stage before the performance . . .

and after . . .

. . . in the orchestra pit . . .

 . . . and even to the edge of the stage during the performance.

For a photographer it was a wonderful opportunity:  colorful sets, costumes, and lighting . . . 

grand, dramatic gestures . . . 

and at the heart of it all, great singing!

(Of course, you'll have to go to the performance to hear that!  For information about the Opera Southwest performances, click here.)


To make it even more interesting, this was all happening in real time, so I was constantly having to adjust my camera settings, find the best vantage points, and compose my shots on the fly.  It was like simultaneously being the director and the cameraman for a four-hour live television production. 

It was a total rush, and I loved it!

For you photographers, I was working without a flash (which would have been useless in the auditorium anyway) and at the limits of my Canon EOS 7D's capabilities:  ISOs in the 4-5,000 range; f-stops in the 4.0-5.6 range; and shutter speeds 1/80th to 1/100th of a second.  I used a 75-300mm telephoto (f/4.0-5.6) mounted on a tripod for some shots, but I really didn't like being tethered to the tripod, so for most shots I roamed with my 18-135mm wide-angle lens (f/3.5-5.6).  As a result, the image quality isn't great, but I cared more about capturing the power and emotion of the acting and the music.


You can see these and more images from "The Pearl Fishers" at my photography website, Todos Juntos Photography, by clicking here.

Enjoy!

Wait for It . . .

                                           . . . the faith and the love and the hope are all in the waiting.

                                                                     -- T. S. Eliot, "East Coker, " Four Quartets




Saturday, March 15, began with a rarely-seen phenomenon in these parts:  fog.

But it burned off pretty quickly, leaving a diadem of clouds on the crest of the Sandia Mountains.  (This is literally the view out our back door.)

The clouds came and went all day, and by mid-afternoon the mountain had disappeared in a thick blanket of cloud:

Two hours later, the clouds lifted to a heavy overcast, leaving the mountain with a new coating of snow:

And then, just before sunset, I looked again.  There was a patch of sunlight . . .

A gap had opened in the west between the horizon and the overcast ceiling . . .

and I knew that as the sun set, that patch of sunlight would move eastward toward the mountain.  So out the door I went, camera in hand, across the road and up a small hill about 100 yards from our house.

Along the way, a neighbor's fence caught the sun (and my eye) . . .

And that window of sunlight kept moving toward the mountain . . .

As the sunlight moved up the face of the mountain, the wind picked up from the north (left to right in these images), and began to blow the clouds that had settled on the crest.

Then the whole front ridge of the mountain was illuminated, and I took the shot.  (Six shots, actually:  this is a panorama of six vertical images stitched together in Photoshop.)

The sun set and the earth's shadow moved up, leaving only the top of the mountain lit . . .

And then it was over . . .

Sometimes you just have to wait for it . . .

You can see these images in a larger format at my photography website, Todos Juntos Photography, by clicking here.

Enjoy!