Fallen Tree: The Foundation of Seeing

The photograph from Hillsborough River State Park, taken by Greg Urbano in 2013 with a Nikon D7100, captures a pivotal moment in his artistic development. It reflects his early understanding of composition and intentionality, showcasing the dense subtropical landscape through HDR processing. This image symbolizes the importance of beginnings and learning in photography.

Landscape in HDR 2013, Fallen Tree — Landscapes in HDR, this is an image taken along the trail in Hillsborough River State Park. Before moving to Colorado this park offered my best opportunity to capture flowing water over river rocks. Now I am spoiled with the Big Thompson and Cache la Poudre so close by.
Shot with a Nikon D7100.

In the opening chapter of Greg Urbano’s photographic journey, this image from Hillsborough River State Park stands as a testament to the essential nature of beginnings. Shot in 2013 with a Nikon D7100, the photograph captures more than a forest scene—it documents the foundational moment when a photographer learns to truly see the landscape before him.

The composition reveals an intuitive understanding of depth and perspective. Shot at 10mm, the wide-angle lens creates an immersive quality that draws viewers directly onto the trail. The fallen log in the foreground serves as both literal and metaphorical threshold, inviting passage into the deeper woods beyond. This diagonal element cuts across the frame with authority, its weathered texture rendered in sharp detail by the f/8.0 aperture, demonstrating Urbano’s early grasp of how to balance foreground interest with background context.

The HDR processing technique employed here reflects the experimental spirit characteristic of this pre-2015 period. While HDR would later fall somewhat out of favor in fine art photography circles, its application in this image serves a clear purpose: to capture the dynamic range of a Florida forest understory, where dappled sunlight creates extreme contrasts between shadow and highlight. The palmetto fronds and oak canopy are rendered with an almost hyper-real clarity that emphasizes the dense, layered nature of this subtropical ecosystem.

What makes this photograph particularly significant within the “Beginnings” chapter is its honesty about place and limitation. Urbano’s accompanying note—that this Florida park offered his “best opportunity to capture flowing water over river rocks” before relocating to Colorado—reveals something crucial about artistic development. Great photography emerges not from waiting for perfect conditions, but from working intensively with what’s available. This trail became his classroom, this fallen log his teacher.

The technical choices demonstrate a photographer thinking through his craft. The 1/50s shutter speed suggests deliberate handholding technique, while the ISO 200 setting indicates available light conditions and a preference for image quality. These aren’t the settings of someone simply pointing and shooting; they reveal consideration and intentionality, even in these early stages.

The color palette—predominantly greens with earth-toned accents—creates a cohesive, naturalistic feel despite the HDR processing. The slight motion blur in the foliage adds an organic quality, a reminder that this is a living landscape caught in a specific moment. The trail itself winds invitingly into the frame’s depth, disappearing around a bend that promises further discovery—a fitting metaphor for the artistic journey being documented.

In the context of Urbano’s larger body of work, this image represents more than just an early attempt. It embodies the crucial truth that mastery begins with showing up, with making photographs even when the circumstances aren’t ideal, even when the technique hasn’t been perfected. The photograph’s inclusion in his top 100 collection isn’t about technical perfection but about recognizing the importance of foundation.

Every artist’s journey requires a starting point, a place where curiosity meets commitment. This fallen tree, this Florida trail, this moment of learning to see—these are the essential ingredients that would eventually lead to mountain streams in Colorado and a mature photographic vision. The imperfect attempt, it turns out, isn’t just necessary. It’s everything.

The Gulf Pier: A Foundation in Light and Structure

Greg Urbano’s “Landscapes in HDR” captures the Gulf Fishing Pier at Fort de Soto Park, reflecting his artistic development in photography. Utilizing a Nikon D7100, he balances composition with HDR techniques, achieving naturalistic vibrancy without over-processing. The image embodies a pivotal moment in skill mastery, exploring the connection between environment and human creation.

Landscapes in HDR, this is an image taken at Fort de Soto park in Pinellas county Florida of the Gulf Fishing Pier. This was one of my favorite places to visit on an almost weekly basis while living in St Pete. What a beautiful view of the Gulf of Mexico! Shot with a Nikon D7100.

In the early stages of any photographer’s journey, there exists a pivotal moment when technical curiosity converges with artistic vision. Greg Urbano’s “Landscapes in HDR” from 2013 captures precisely this convergence—a photograph that speaks to the fundamentals of seeing while revealing the seeds of a maturing artistic voice.

The Gulf Fishing Pier at Fort de Soto Park presents itself as an exercise in classical composition, yet the image transcends mere documentation. Shot with a Nikon D7100 at 14mm, the photographer embraced the distortion inherent in ultra-wide-angle photography, using it not as a limitation but as a tool for emphasis. The pier’s concrete pathway stretches toward the horizon with geometric insistence, its weathered surface textured with salt stains and age—details that anchor the ethereal quality of the surrounding environment.

What distinguishes this work within the context of Chapter 1—Beginnings is the deliberate exploration of HDR processing, a technique that dominated landscape photography in the early 2010s. Rather than falling into the trap of over-processing that plagued much HDR work of this era, Urbano demonstrates restraint. The luminous gradations in the sky—from deep azure to wispy white—retain a naturalistic quality while revealing detail across an impressive tonal range. The turquoise waters of the Gulf of Mexico maintain their vibrancy without crossing into hypersaturation, suggesting an eye already sensitive to the boundaries between enhancement and artifice.

The technical choices reveal a photographer building his fundamental vocabulary. The aperture of ƒ/8.0 ensures critical sharpness from the foreground concrete to the distant structures, while the fast shutter speed of 1/400s freezes the subtle motion of the scene—likely the flutter of distant flags or the movement of the few figures visible along the pier. At ISO 100, the image maintains clarity in its textures, from the horizontal railings that create rhythmic lines to the architectural shelters that punctuate the composition’s middle ground.

What makes this photograph significant in understanding Urbano’s artistic evolution is not its perfection but its purposefulness. The nearly symmetrical composition, the careful attention to the leading lines, the consideration of how architectural elements frame the natural environment—these are the building blocks upon which more complex visual narratives are constructed. The weekly visits to this location mentioned in his notes speak to something essential in photographic development: the practice of returning, of seeing the same subject under different conditions, of learning through repetition.

The landscape itself offers something eternal—the meeting point of human construction and natural expanse. The pier extends confidently into the Gulf, a gesture of connection between land and water, between the photographer’s position and the infinite horizon. In capturing this scene, Urbano was not merely documenting a favorite location but engaging with fundamental questions about how we frame our relationship to place and space.

Within the broader context of “Beginnings,” this image exemplifies the necessary stage of mastering craft before transcending it. The imperfect attempts referenced in the chapter description are not failures but essential experiments. Here, we witness a photographer learning to see in high dynamic range, to compose with geometric precision, and to capture the luminous quality of coastal light—all foundational skills that would inform the more sophisticated work to come.

This is where journeys begin: in the clarity of intention, the discipline of practice, and the recognition that every master was once a student of light.

Alioto’s on Fisherman’s Wharf: A Study in Nocturnal Americana

Greg Urbano’s 2010 black and white photograph of Alioto’s restaurant in San Francisco is a significant early work, capturing the intersection of technical skill and artistic vision. It explores familiar scenes through a developing photographic perspective, revealing how ordinary moments can become extraordinary. The image emphasizes light, structure, and context, marking a pivotal discovery in Urbano’s artistic journey.

Aliotos on Fishermans Wharf 2010 — An early photograph from 2010. Taken on vacation in San Francisco a black and white image of the iconic Aliotos restaurant at night on Fishermans Wharf. Shot with my Samsung NX100.

Alioto’s on Fisherman’s Wharf: A Study in Nocturnal Americana

Greg Urbano’s 2010 photograph of Alioto’s restaurant on Fisherman’s Wharf stands as a pivotal work from Chapter One of his Top 100 Journey—a collection dedicated to early beginnings and the formative images that taught him how to see. This photograph represents more than just a vacation snapshot; it captures the moment when technical skill and artistic vision began to converge.

This image works on multiple levels simultaneously. On the surface, it presents a straightforward night photograph of a famous San Francisco landmark. But closer examination reveals a developing understanding of tonal relationships and compositional balance. The black and white treatment isn’t merely aesthetic—it’s revelatory. By stripping away color, the photographer forces viewers to see the architecture of light itself. The neon signs become sculptural elements, the illuminated storefronts transform into glowing boxes of human activity, and the darkness above presses down with an almost palpable weight.

What makes this photograph particularly significant as an early work is its democratic vision. He doesn’t attempt to elevate Alioto’s to fine art by isolating it or abstracting it beyond recognition. Instead, he presents the entire commercial ecosystem: the neighboring Sabella LaTorre sign, the smaller vendor stalls with their utilitarian lighting, the people moving through the frame as gentle blurs. This is tourism and commerce as theater, captured without cynicism or sentimentality—a mature perspective for someone still discovering their photographic voice.

The technical execution demonstrates the learning curve inherent in Chapter One. Shot with a Samsung NX100—not a professional camera by any measure—this image proves that vision was developing faster than equipment acquisition. The exposure is carefully controlled, holding detail in both the bright signage and the darker architectural elements. The vantage point shows deliberate thought: low enough to emphasize the vertical drama of the building, yet far enough back to include context. That giant illuminated fish and the number “8” become almost sculptural forms against the night sky.

As an early capture, this photograph reveals an artist already grasping something fundamental: great photographs often lie not in exotic locations but in how we see the familiar. Fisherman’s Wharf has been photographed millions of times, yet this image feels both specific and universal. It could only be this place, yet it speaks to every similar waterfront tourist district in America. This understanding—that the ordinary can become extraordinary through careful observation—marks a crucial lesson in any photographer’s development.

The inclusion of this work in the Top 100 Journey reflects its role as a foundational piece. It’s not about perfection; it’s about the spark of discovery. The photograph represents a moment when the camera revealed something the artist was only beginning to articulate—an ability to see light as structure, to recognize the poetry in commercial spaces, to trust in straightforward documentation over manipulation.

The photograph has aged beautifully, which speaks to the instincts already present in these early days. In an era of digital saturation and Instagram filters, there’s something refreshing about this honest image. It doesn’t try too hard. It simply observes, with emerging intelligence and care.

When displayed as part of Chapter One: Beginnings, this image invites viewers to consider the photographer’s journey. It rewards examination not just for its formal qualities—the geometry, the light, the tonal range—but for what it represents: a lesson learned, a moment of clarity, a step toward understanding how to translate vision into image. This is where the journey truly began.