This is my entry:
2) I captured this image while on an alpine mountaineering trip in an attempt to summit the Matterhorn (thwarted by bad weather on the summit day) in July 2011. I used my Pentax K-7 and DA 55-300 lens. This was taken at the Aguille d'Midi (French and Italian border on the Mont Blanc Massif) at ~3800m elevation. I'd be lying if I said that I wanted to go climbing that day - it was raining in a way that reminded me of the hurricanes I've had to endure living in Southern Florida. Thankfully my guide knew better and took me up anyway, because once we were above the clouds (my first time save for within airplanes), it was a whole different world.
The reason that I felt this image captured the sentiment of "power and fragility" was the clouds juxtaposed with the mountains. Clouds are some of the most fragile creations bestowed by Mother Nature. As a child, you are taught the fragility and comfort clouds bring, especially those "cotton-ball looking ones" that almost seem so "fluffy." In fact, the only thing I can think of that would have any comparison to the level of fragility of a cloud would be the snowflake, which scientifically you realize is but another physical form of water.
On the contrary, one of the most uncontested icons of Mother Nature's raw power are mountains. Jagged, cold, wet, and perilous, many of history's best militaries have been humbled by something as simple as mountains. Many of the world's greatest climbers have been entombed by Everest, K2, etc. There's a reason "Everest" has become a metaphor for an otherwise impossible task or goal, and those that do conquer it in the literal sense, are held in awe.
3) I started photography at a time when I was a senior at the United States Military Academy at West Point (2.5 years ago). I had always taken photos growing up, and most of my traveling had been done either without cameras, or with a small P&S. I remember rushing to the nearest Best Buy on the weekend right after Thanksgiving in 2009 (which turned out to be the third nearest one) to acquire my brand new Canon G11. Jumping from $90 Kodak EasyShare P&S's, it was the first time I held in my hand a truly expensive "tool" that was 100% mine. I remember the pleasure I received from manipulating all the finely machined knobs, wheels, and buttons. The funniest part, I feel, is how it was the first time I grew from the notion that "all cameras were created equal," and "my P&S must be fantastic because it has 14mp resolution." Naivete is such a comfortable and secure blanket to be embraced within, because once you start abandoning that nurturing shield, everything I have experienced can be summed up in one sentence:
the more I learned, the more I learned I didn't know anything. And such would be my experience with photography.
After mastering[sic] my G11--in reality, getting a few good shots and then realizing my creativity was being stifled by the inability to control depth of field, because a new realization dawned on me: sensor size actually matters for more than just image quality--I researched where to take my photography next. I had a friend in college who always had his Canon Rebel XSi with him, and he even let me borrow it a few weekends to practice, as I said that I wanted to learn to use a DSLR (of which I couldn't tell you what any of those letters meant at the time other than "Digital"). I decided that this was what I wanted to get, and then because I'm an insatiable bastard, I researched my first camera DSLR to where I'm confidant I was the most-educated first-time-buyer ever (which of course has been rendered obsolete by replacement models within the entry-level field). As any DSLR virgin getting his ankles wet, I was turned to Canon and Nikon recommendations. It wasn't until my constant nagging regarding my requirement for a camera that would be suitable for my active, military lifestyle. "What is a camera that I won't worry about dust and rain?" After dismissing the several thousand dollar pro-grade FF offerings from Canon and Nikon (not to mention the lenses as well), I was recommended Pentax. "A tariff on writing implements?" It was then that I acquired and fell in love with my brand new Pentax K-7. Since receiving it (and subsequently upgrading to the heralded K-5 by pure luck of finding an unbeatable Like New deal from Amazon for $768 in September of last year), I have felt my photography truly grow to where I am just beginning to capture on an electronic chip the image that I have conjured in my mind.
It is here that I feel the acclaimed 21 Limited will hone and correct my path towards developing into the photographer that I see myself becoming. The constraints such a "limited" relationship will force me to live and compose within is something I have been dreaming of experimenting with. A child of the generation of convenience, my photography exudes that sentiment - a collection of zooms and one prime whose main purpose is macro.
But what is the endstate? What is the "desired outcome" we military types like to delve on and on about? For me, my passion has been fueled by my desire to become an accomplished photographer that can capture a moment in time that makes people not just look at a photograph I take, but experience the moment as if they were there with me as well. This is why I have a hard time respecting "No Photography" signs at the museums, cathedrals, etc that I visit the globe over. I know some will disagree with that statement, however my reason is simple (and to my personal set of morals, not selfish) - it's my desire to share the sights I take in with the family and friends that will never have the opportunity to visit the places I have realized I am so fortunate to do so. I realize that I am a terrible story teller (can't you see from this that I'm just way too long winded for any good, enraptured story?), so describing the places I visit has caused more headaches than jealousy.
Returning to that ever-evolving idea of an endstate, it becomes pronounced every time I'm asked why I've spent so much money on photography equipment. "When I retire from the military, I'd love to become a National Geographic travel photographer, and if people agree with my personal assessment that I am a talented (albeit admittedly superfluous) writer, then maybe a journalist as well. Being given the opportunity to embrace and explore my love for language, people, and a proclivity for trying that disgusting and smelly dish every culture seems to have, is my endstate. If I could make that a career, and even further share those adventures with my family, then to me, there's nothing more a photographer can hope for. And the 21 Limited would most certainly not hinder that quest.
-Heie