Behind The shot With Darren Pellegrino
One photographer. One image. The story behind the shot.
Every morning on my way to my studio in Boston I pass Spot Pond. I can see it from the highway. A 298 acre Great Pond sitting in the heart of the Middlesex Fells Reservation, one of those places that has been there forever and carries that weight quietly. In the middle of the pond is a small uninhabited island called Great Island. I have passed it through every season. Summer when it is green and full. Fall when the trees turn. Spring when everything is coming back. But winter is my favorite. When the pond is frozen and the island is snow covered it becomes something else entirely.
For years I imagined making a photograph here. I knew the light I wanted. I knew the conditions I was waiting for. I just had not had the moment yet.
One January morning I did.
The fog was thick that morning. Fresh snow had fallen the night before and Great Island had disappeared into it almost completely. I could see just enough of the tree line to know the conditions were extraordinary and that they would not last. New England weather does not hold. I took the next exit off the highway.
I followed the road down to the pond, pulled on my hat and gloves, grabbed my backpack and my Northface, and headed off down one of the paths through six inches of fresh snow. When I got to the edge of the water I stopped. I did not raise the camera. I just stood there for a few minutes and took it in. The silence. The fog sitting on the water. Great Island barely visible through it. I wanted to feel the place before I started working.
The temperature was in the single digits so I could not take too long. I thought through my composition, deployed the tripod, mounted the camera, and took a few frames. I checked my histogram carefully. With that much white in the scene, snow and fog everywhere, retaining detail in the highlights was critical. A few small adjustments and I was ready.
And then it happened.
Just as I was about to take the next frame two ducks flew into the scene over the partially frozen water. They came in low and fast and their shadows fell across the ripples of the pond below them. I pressed the shutter.
My hands were frozen. I could barely feel my fingers. I did not care. That moment, those two birds arriving exactly when and where they did, was the photograph I had been waiting for without knowing exactly what I was waiting for. The image I had been imagining every morning on the highway for years turned out to be something I could not have planned.
It never is.
I have been thinking about what made this photograph possible and it comes down to a few things worth sharing.
I always have my camera with me. Always. That morning the conditions were extraordinary and temporary. If I had left my camera at the studio I would have driven past and watched the moment disappear through the windshield. The best opportunities do not send a calendar invite.
When I got to the edge of the water I stopped before I raised the camera. I stood there and took it in. I wanted to understand the scene before I started working it. That few minutes of looking changed how I composed the shot and gave me time to think about the histogram challenge ahead. Slow down before you shoot.
And then the ducks arrived. I did not plan that. I could not have. What I did was put myself in the right place, get my exposure right, and have my finger ready. The preparation created the conditions for the unplanned moment to become the image. You can control your position, your settings, and your patience. You cannot control what flies into your frame. All you can do is be ready when it does.
Darren Pellegrino is a Boston based fine art photographer and founder of The Monochrome Collective. His gallery is located at 460c Harrison Avenue in the SoWA Art District. You can follow his work at darrenpellegrino.com and on Foto at @darrenpellegrino.
