Fotografía en Blanco y Negro

I found it quite a sobering and somber place. I did the whole tour, looking at all the cells and the ones where the famous were locked up. However, the highpoint of the visit was that I was there on a rare day when the "Hospital Wing" was opened to visitors. The guide iterated that this was unusual. The image of the "Hospital Wing" seemed, to a certain extent, as I might have expected, but seeing the other areas, brought home the level of treatment that could be offered. Especially the "Operating Theater". Naturally this Whole experience dried out "Black and White" to me. Bright light and colour just did not seem a natural way to represent these images. Does black and white convey the right atmosphere here?

Mi árbol favorito ubicado en el Thatcher NYS Park. Me permite descansar mi mente y disfrutar del momento incluso en el día más ocupado.

En primer lugar, gracias a @Steve por crear esta comunidad. En mi primera publicación, me encantaría compartir un momento íntimo único en la Represa Edgelaw, cerca de mi hogar en Penicuik, Escocia. Me encantó cómo la delicada interacción de la naturaleza entre la luz y el agua, donde una burbuja solitaria descansa sobre un lienzo de ondas suaves. Los tonos monocromáticos crean una atmósfera serena, evocando una sensación de calma e introspección. Cada línea y curva en el agua cuenta una historia, invitándote a pausar y apreciar la belleza en la simplicidad.

While it may seem obvious to turn a snowy mountain scene into b&w, it's even harder when naturally there were tons of colors to begin with. however, for big scenes, and big subjects, the simplicity of black and white does something special to minimize distractions. This was shot in the Himalayas in early 2025, looking up at 20,000ft of awesomeness.

June, 2025. The weather forecast said a "clear and sunny sunrise". in reality, it was overcast with high fog. Photo is taken looking south with Torrey Pines State Natural Reserve in the background. The wetlands that exchange water from the mountains with the ocean are to the left, Pacific Ocean is to the right. Highway 11 is immediately overhead.

Standing beside this small waterfall in Gifford Pinchot National Forest, I was more interested in the rhythm than the drama. The water folded over the rock in quiet layers, fast and slow at the same time. Converting to black and white let me focus on that ongoing conversation between water and stone rather than the color of the day. My hope is that this feels less like a single moment and more like a pattern you could return to whenever you need to slow down.

Last summer, I went to explore the timberline of Mt Hood in Oregon. The summit stayed hidden behind low clouds that moved through the ridges like a restless tide. Rather than turning back, I took a narrow trail that climbed up from the base, drawn by the quiet pull of the alpine zone. Above the dense forest, the trees grew thinner and twisted in the wind, surviving at the edge of what’s possible. Where the snow had only recently receded, patches of pumice and volcanic soil came into view. This was not the gentle forest of the lower valleys. Here, each tree seemed shaped by hardship, bent and stunted, yet still carrying a quiet grace.

Featured “Grace in Flight” I quietly watched this beautiful Great Egret while it foraged for food and eventually it took flight over the water. Observing nature’s grace and capturing it in a photograph can be truly rewarding and patient endeavor. It’s a reminder that beauty often reveals itself in its own time.

I was on my way to International Falls when I saw this view and had to stop and shoot. This was taken at Voyagers National Park. It was evidently a dull and overcast day, but all I saw was black and white. The clouds sky reflected directly on the waters. My question is does it work?

I woke early one winter morning knowing that it had been snowing pretty good when I had gone to bed the night before. A glance out the window of the kitchen I could tell that the sky had cleared and the temperature had dropped a glance at the thermometer confirmed it was five degrees below zero and still as could be. I had All of the information I need to know I was going to the Headwaters as soon as I could get my self dressed and out the door I would be having breakfast on the way. Less than an hour later I was standing at the Headwaters trying to decide where I was going to make that mornings images. We had been going through a cold snap (-20 and colder) for a while before it warmed up enough to snow the night before. There was quite a bit of Ice near the Headwaters I thought this could be the perfect time to get out on the lake and make photographs looking across the Headwaters and down the river. The first thing I needed to do was test the ice so with the camera equipment on shore I took my tripod and extended the legs so as I walked out on the lake I could pound the ice in front of me. I knew that I needed probably five inches underfoot to be safe, and with water flowing out of the lake, there was a slight current which can cause the thickness to be very inconsistent. I chose a location that I thought would be safe enough to hold me and my equipment resulting in the composition you see in the above photo. You could see significant variations in the lake ice and the natural contrast between the water, fresh snow, and the trees around the Headwaters. I made several exposures on black and white as well as color transparency film, as was my practice when I was using a 4X5 view camera. I left the Headwaters feeling like I had made a pretty good image that day. It was not until I made the first test print in the darkroom that I knew just how good of a picture I had made. It's still a favorite image twenty-five years later. A technical note, about using a large format camera: Using a large format camera, I was able to make some adjustments to the camera that would extend the depth of field. With the final composition, I employed the Scheimpflug principle. First, you choose your focus about midway through the scene with the aperture wide open then you slowly tilt the bottom of the lens board toward the back of the camera while watching for the focus to shift, you refocus and adjust until you see the focus area expand. And then you lock the lens board down and set your aperture for the exposure. A word of caution this technique takes a lot of practice to get it right. Once you get the execution down it becomes second nature, but it will take time to get it right.

visualizing in black and white is something that does not come naturally to me. I am usually drawn to subjects based on colors, especially blues. There are, however, scenes that are simply moody and lend themselves to B&W and on occasion I recognize these when I photograph them. For those of you that specialize in B&W, how do you approach a scene and what are you looking for when you are out shooting?

I hope to start doing some B&W photography this summer. This image, taken last year, was my first attempt.

With the leaves gone, the forest’s structure becomes clear. Things that disappear in summer come forward again. Branch and trunk. Stone and channel. The water runs lower and clearer, winding through basalt and gravel shaped by years of rain and snowmelt in the western Cascades. This set of four images moves from enclosure toward openness. It begins in stone-lined corridors and ends in a wide valley. The progression shifts from tight spaces under tangled branches to fog rising above the water. Each photograph carries its own steadiness. Winter Along the Wind River is not about dramatic scenes. It is about persistence. What remains when distraction falls away. This landscape does not hurry. It endures. Read more: https://www.stevebisig.com/winter-along-the-wind-river/

After days of steady rain, Porter Creek ran high. Early in the morning, the forest was still while the water pressed through its channel, changing shape from moment to moment. I made this series in one morning at Washington State's Capital State Forest, when the rising water turned a familiar creek into something temporary and unpredictable. Light and shadow shifted across the surface, revealing shapes that quickly faded back into the flow. These photographs are not focused on a destination or a landmark. Instead, they explore contrast, rhythm, and how water can hold both tension and release. The series captures a brief moment when rain, current, and early light came together to create scenes that lasted only as long as the water kept moving. Read more https://www.stevebisig.com/photography-project-held-by-the-current/