Waimea Bay Sunset
At Waimea Bay, people stood on either side of me, all watching the setting sun. Knowing the wave action would be gentle—due to the time of year, even at this premier surf spot on Oahu—I looked for a foreground element to complement the soft, incoming wave.
One of the greatest joys I find in landscape photography is the quiet act of contemplation—reflecting on what lies before me, and how I might preserve its essence in a photograph. My favorite images rarely begin with the press of a shutter; they begin with a vision—formed long before the moment arrives.
It may sound strange, but many photographers venture out without a clear sense of what they’re seeking, or how it connects to their deeper passions and creative journey. Whether you’re chasing first light or contributing to a long-term, soul-guided project, the key is purpose—having a vision that guides your eye and stirs your heart.
Lanikai Dawn
For this image, I arrived well before sunrise. The weather had been pleasant the day before, with light winds, so I anticipated a calm morning and a smooth, glassy sea. I set up on the beach and waited. It was quiet and still—then the sun broke the horizon, and capturing that moment became the focus.
Without that vision, it’s easy to flounder. There’s no clear direction, and the resulting images often reflect that uncertainty. Over time, a lack of vision can shape a photographer’s entire body of work in ways that feel disjointed or uninspired.
Once the determination about what to photograph has been made, the next step is to prepare to take the photograph. This can be one of the more mundane parts of the anticipation process, but it’s the part where you learn what is possible for the given subject and location.
Vision is the foundation. It’s what fuels passion—and that passion, in turn, cultivates anticipation.
So the question becomes: How do we translate vision into anticipation?
Moonrise over Chinaman’s Hat
I knew that when the trade winds fell silent, parts of Oahu’s windward coast would transform—waters turning to glass, trees barely stirring, and skies opening wide and clear. Kualoa Beach Park is where I go when that rare calm settles in. What I didn’t expect was the slender crescent moon, hovering just above the horizon, adding a quiet magic to the scene.
Tips for Cultivating Anticipation
The Japanese philosophy of Ichigo Ichie—loosely translated as “one lifetime, one meeting” or “this moment will never happen again”—is a powerful reminder that each moment is fleeting and unique.
With that in mind, I’ve developed a few personal techniques over the years to help anticipate how a scene might translate into a meaningful photograph. They may seem counterintuitive at first, but they’re designed to sharpen focus and deepen presence.
Let go of rigid expectations
It’s okay—even helpful—to have an idea of how you hope a scene will appear in your final image. The challenge is not letting that expectation blind you to what’s actually in front of you. Reality rarely matches the ideal.
Approach the scene with reverence and curiosity, as though you may never witness it again. That mindset transforms image-making from simple documentation into mindful storytelling.
Be fully present in the moment
Nature offers brief but beautiful moments: a blooming flower, golden sunset light, freshly fallen snow, or a carpet of autumn leaves. These fleeting instances deserve your full attention.
Ask yourself: What is it about this scene that’s drawing me in?
Photography is about capturing a moment in time—so first, we must be attuned to the moment itself. Heightened awareness allows you to respond to changing conditions and capture images that feel alive.
Practice the art of truly looking
Philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche once wrote: “Learning to see the beauty of things also allows us to make them beautiful.”
Many people look, but few truly see. They miss the details, the nuances.
Take time to observe the species of trees and plants, the sound of birds, the way sunlight filters through branches. Notice the sky’s color, the shape of the clouds.
In short: respect the subject.
Blazing Sunrise
This beach was one of the locations I had been eager to explore further. Since it’s on the eastern (windward) side of the island, photographing it early in the morning made sense. I hadn’t anticipated the sky, which ended up bringing the image to life. When setting up the shot, I chose a slow shutter speed to capture the motion of the incoming waves and waited until the lighthouse beam was shining toward me.
Final Thoughts
“Twelve significant photographs in any one year is a good crop.” - Ansel Adams
This idea—of developing a relationship with your subject—feels increasingly rare in an age of constant image-chasing and self-promotion.
When I reflect on the photographers who’ve influenced me most, a common thread emerges: they knew their subjects intimately. There was understanding, curiosity, and emotional connection. Their work endures because it’s rooted in something personal.
Focus on depth, not volume. One great photograph is worth more than a hundred forgettable ones.
The images in this article were all taken with the Toyo 45AII camera (4x5), Fuji Velvia or Provia film, all on the island of Oahu, Hawaii