In this age of instant gratification, people have become accustomed to immediate results, often with minimal effort. Shopping at the click of a button, same day delivery, binge-watching entertainment on demand, instant access to communication and information via our phones: the short-term mindset is pervasive.

Why wait when you can have it - whatever "it" may be - right away?

Enter photography, where patience is a critically important skill. In this, we are contrarians. Patience remains a requisite virtue for photographers.

(Persistence, the cousin of patience, is also key.)

You won't pick up a camera and immediately know how to operate it; you will not become instantly proficient with Photoshop and Lightroom; you can't force the eye to see; artistic progression doesn't happen overnight; it's not uncommon to return from a shoot without having made a great image.

Photography takes time.

Practice Time

Especially when just starting out, there is no substitute for practice. Putting in the hours develops muscle memory and technical proficiency. Freed from having to concentrate on buttons and dials and trying to remember how to achieve certain results, the right side of the brain can take over.

Then we begin to learn how to see, how to compose, and how to convey our vision.

Even after becoming proficient with the gear, a good photographer knows how important it is to shoot regularly. Setting the camera down for months at a time is not conducive to artistic development. Consistency is key.

Time in the Field

Admittedly, sometimes Lady Luck lends a hand. Things magically happen: you're at the right place at the right time and the photograph nearly falls into your lap. However, instant results are not the norm.

Good photographs quite often result from advance scouting. During these visits potential subject matter is identified, along with various vantage points from which to capture it. What time of day - or which season - will produce the best conditions? From which direction will the light come? What's the weather forecast calling for?

We're more likely to make good photographs when we take our time getting to know the areas we're shooting. I've often sung the praises of familiarity. This is another reason - if you needed one - to return to locations. Repeat visits enable you to understand the personality of the place. Knowing what to expect during various times of the year or in different weather conditions will positively impact your work. When you've only got a few days to shoot somewhere you've never visited previously, the odds of success are not nearly as high as when you've established a relationship with a location.

Good photographs are more likely to result when we're willing to be patient with Mother Nature. Dense fog that persists for hours, the unexpected squall, overcast at daybreak...flexibility is the name of the game. We have zero control over the weather. Sure, we try to play the odds, but ultimately we're not the ones dealing the cards. Changeable conditions sometimes produce the most interesting images. If you're willing to wait and see what happens, and to consider what kind of photograph you can make given the conditions, you might walk away with something special. Wait for the breeze to die down. Wait to see if there will be a break in the clouds. Wait for the droplet of water to release from the flower petal. Wait and watch how the fog behaves. Lingering might mean you won't cover as much ground during the course of the day, but does that really matter?

Good photographs are also more likely to result when we remind ourselves to slow the process down. Don't be in a hurry to take your camera out of the bag, and don't rush to put it away. Take your time to connect with the location before you start shooting. What does it have to say to you today? Then when you've identified a subject, work it fully. What does that mean? Try more than one composition. Try moving the camera (higher, lower, horizontally, vertically). Move yourself. Try more than one lens.

Good photographs may take weeks, months, or even years to make. Be patient.

"People will never understand the patience a photographer requires to make a great photograph; all they see is the end result. I can stand in front of a leaf with a dew drop, or a raindrop, and stand there for ages just waiting for the right moment. Sure, people think I'm crazy, but who cares? I see more than they do!
~Alfred Eisenstaedt

 About the Photographs

"Layers"
From the first time this grouping of five conifers in Grand Teton National Park caught my eye as potential subject matter until I finally made the photograph at the top of this post, seven years had passed. I stopped by this spot often, and actually stepped up my efforts to try to make a photo in the 24 months leading up to this day. Truthfully, though, I had low expectations after repeatedly coming up empty.

Late last summer following a day of rain, I knew there would be fog the following morning. The location I selected to work at daybreak was a stretch, especially given the fact that the fog was extremely dense and widespread, but lacking a better idea, I stuck with the original plan. After waiting more than two hours for the fog to lift, I finally abandoned that spot (at String Lake). People were starting to show up, and the sun - still invisible but up there somewhere - was already pretty high in the sky: the window of opportunity had passed.

Retreating to where I had better visibility, I could see the line of demarcation for the fog. I thought of these trees, and figured it was worth heading in that direction to scope out the situation. Turns out it was just about perfect. I was now on the other side of the fog. The sun was beginning to break through the overcast, just enough to light the bands of fog along with Mount Moran, its peak now visible. The rest of the landscape remained shaded and therefore free of hot spots. This was the kind of interesting backdrop I'd been waiting for.

"Serenity"
I spent more than five years shooting along the New Hampshire coast at daybreak. Playing the odds, I didn't go every day, but if the forecast looked remotely interesting you'd find me at the ocean in the darkness before the sun rose.

Me and the lobster boats. All four seasons. Lots and lots of early mornings.

Most of the time you'd find me at a large tidal pool in Rye (which is why I preferred low tide), although Odiorne Point and Rye Harbor State Parks were two other areas I'd visit.

My ratio of hits to misses was heavily skewed toward misses. That's the way it goes with Mother Nature.

This image was created on a muggy August morning with a billion mosquitos swarming around - one of those days when the investment of time more than paid off.

The photographs will come to those who are patient and persistent.

All in good time.