Back to normankoren.com blog
Back to normankoren.com (main site)
This page includes a few older images as well as some that don’t quite fit into the other categories (lichen rocks, landscapes, etc.). The show will also include some classic silver prints (beautiful, but smaller than the digital prints; interesting to compare).
Click on any of these images to view them enlarged.
Navajo woman, Monument Valley, Utah, 1973. We had given her son, who was hitchhiking, a ride from Tuba City, and we were invited into her hogan. A rare privilege. This image couldn’t have been made today because everyone wears jeans. Taken with the Leica M2R, (old) 35mm Summicron lens. I used a sheet of paper to reflect sunlight into the dark interior.
Ferns, Santa Cruz Mountains near Los Gatos, California.m around 1980. This image and the two that follow were captured on file with the Hasselblad 500C (medium format), probably with a green filter to lighten the foliage. I will be showing a silver print of this image.
Bigleaf Maple, Santa Cruz Mountains near Los Gatos, California, around 1980. This is a film image, taken with the Hasselblad 500C (medium format). I think this is when I realized that light rain, which darkens the soil and boosts contrast, is great for photography. You can’t get an image like this on a dry day.
Cliffs and fog, near the Merced River, just outside Yosemite National Park, 1982 or 83. This is a film image, taken with the Hasselblad 500C (medium format). It rained and snowed a lot during that winter trip. We drove up to Glacier Point and hiked to Illilouette Falls. Henry, who was around three at the time said, “I don’t see why the call it Illilouette Falls. It’s A LOTTAWET falls!”
Ranakpur Jain Temple, Rajasthan, India, 2004. We were leaving when I suddenly saw this group of people. Maybe it was the spiritual environment, but Murphy’s law failed utterly. Everything went right. How rare is that?
Pont Neuf, Paris, 2010. When I got to the Pont des Arts, which was blessedly unencumbered by locks back then, a thunderstorm hit and I had to run for cover under the eaves of L’Institut de France: the home of the guardians of French linguistic purity—I imagine them as the stuffy, suited, and besotted bureaucrats who cleanse the language of alien words like “byte” (it’s octet), “computer” (“ordinateur”), software (“logiciel”), and so on. They’ve managed to marginalize French as a language of technology. Though I don’t imagine they’re much fun, their salaries are no doubt fat and the views from their offices must be spectacular.