Oceans 4Ever

Tony Wu is an underwater photographer.

Or, as he says himself, he’s a “photographer who takes pictures underwater.”

He’s become somewhat of a cult hero in our house, and a certain young lady wishes she could have a custom album made up of only Angler fish (because they’re so creepy) from him.

One glance at a Tony Wu ocean life image, and you’ll be hooked. Your jaw will drop and your eyes will grow as big as saucers. This fact – and it is one – means he’s good at his job.

But how in the world does someone become an underwater photographer?

He went to college for finance, not photography, and he’s never, ever taken a class on how to take photos.

He taught himself. Along with just a few of his incredible images, here’s his story:

I have been fascinated with nature in general, and the oceans more specifically, for as long as I can remember. I spent a lot of time near the water when I was growing up, walking along the beach, wading in the shallows, always looking for interesting things.

Of course, I grew up during a time when people in general were less worried about kids getting dirty and romping around outdoors, so I had a lot of freedom to wander and explore. In tidal pools and nooks and crannies in tidal areas, I found seaweed of all colors, starfish, juvenile fish, shells, shark eggs, shark teeth and all sorts of other stuff.

I encountered bigger animals too, such as when I had my toes and feet pinched by grumpy crabs, and I caught lots of fish when I stayed up all night surf fishing or hanging out on jetties.

For a kid with endless curiosity and an active imagination, this was a gold mine. I imagined what it was like under the waves, and felt an irresistible urge to explore the seas.

During my final year of high school, I was fortunate enough to take a marine biology class. There were only a few of us in the class. We learned the basics of oceanography, marine biology and geology. Plus, we took field trips to look for, examine and study marine life. That was pretty awesome, especially when we had the opportunity to dissect sharks, which the girls in my class thought was absolutely disgusting, but I couldn’t get enough of.

Coupled with a strong education in other natural sciences (biology, chemistry, physics), this gave me a solid foundation for my interest in the oceans later in life. Looking back, it was almost a foregone conclusion that I’d spend a substantial part of my life in and around the sea.

The practicalities of life intruded for about ten years, while I attended university and got a normal job in finance. It wasn’t until I was in my early twenties that I had a chance to get certified as a diver. According to my instructor, I was a natural. “Are you sure you’ve never dived before?” was his initial reaction when we hit the water.

The education in natural sciences I mentioned earlier meant I had no problems understanding the scuba course, since much of the theory is based on simple explanations of basic chemistry and physics. My familiarity with the oceans meant I wasn’t scared in the least. And my absolute fascination with marine life meant I wanted to stay as long as possible once I went down.

Photography came later, but actually, the roots of my obsession with creating engaging images of marine life lie in my childhood experiences too. In the time that I wasn’t getting dirty and making a mess outdoors, I spent a lot of time drawing, painting and admiring all forms of visual art, including photography.

I devoured books on art (and the oceans of course) in local public libraries, and I stared for hours on end at magazines like National Geographic, LIFE and any other publications with beautiful images. I read books about photography and painting, and I went to museums whenever I had a chance.

By the time I bought my first real camera, I had a strong sense of what I liked and didn’t like visually. The primary challenge for me was learning how to use a camera properly. Back in the days of film, cameras weren’t as expensive as they are now, but using film (buying it, processing it, storing it) was cost-intensive, and the learning process was arguably slower than it is now, since it took a while between the time you created an image and the time you actually saw it.

So I struggled with land photography for a few years before I took a camera underwater for the first time. And when I finally did go underwater with a camera, the results were disastrous. I’m not afraid to say that my first images underwater were horrible. Absolute junk.

But that only made me more determined than ever to succeed, so I kept practicing and evaluating my mistakes until I eventually figured out what works and what doesn’t. I didn’t take any classes, and no one taught me what to do. I just learned by making lots and lots of mistakes, which is a terrific way to learn…if you learn from your mistakes of course.

So eventually, many of the things that I’ve loved and been interested in since childhood came together: the oceans, marine life, natural sciences, visual art. And now, I spend most of my time pursuing these areas of interest, combining them with new areas of interest, such as writing, public speaking and new forms of mass media.

If there’s one message I’d like to leave for young readers, it’s this: whatever you enjoy doing, pursue it with passion. Learn as much as you can in every way that you can.

Quite often, things that you’re interested in when you’re young may seem to have no practical application at all, but even more often, when you’re older, you’ll be surprised at how useful the knowledge and experience you pick up along the way can be.

I’ve posted a few of my images at http://www.tony-wu.com, and I keep a blog at http://www.tonywublog.com

O4E: Today’s post is the first in our on-going series about how people from all around the oceans community came to the water – how they ended up with oceans in their lives as an interest, a passion – even a career.

It’s admittedly my (Cindy’s) motivation to show young people, including a certain 9 year-old relative and founder of this blog, what they can do with their love of the ocean as they grow up and how childhood interests can shape their lives (and to not be afraid to let them).

This idea grew out of a conversation with our “masked man” (See 3/15), whom we can now reveal as Mark Powell, whose first encounter with water didn’t go so well – he was swept down the Santiam River in Oregon when he was a toddler (lucky for us, saved by his dad) – but who couldn’t stay away.

Today, Mark works for the Ocean Conservancy organization’s Seattle, Washington office, trying to create and maintain healthy fish populations and educating people on the dangers of over-fishing poses to marine ecosystems around the country.

But that’s just his day job. He has not one, but three blogs about oceans (all of them in our blog roll), a family and an unstoppable passion for bodies of water, in general.

How the heck did this all get started?

Sit a spell, and read Mark’s story.

MP: I live surrounded by water. That says more about me than a list of the whats, wheres, and whens of my life.

My first water embrace scared me for years, but it couldn’t keep me away. I learned to love going underwater and seeing how long I could stay down. I once fetched a friend’s glasses when he dropped them off a boat in the Cayman Islands in 40 feet of water and nobody else would dive that far. Now I’m drawn to swim around Bainbridge Island alone in the cold gray beautiful chilling spooky fantastic water.

I get in the ocean, I swim, I look around, and then I get out. No big deal, but somehow everything seems different. I’ve come unstuck. I live and breathe water now. When I’m on land, I can go back underwater with just a small shift in focus. It’s like having Endless Ocean inside of my head.

It all started with my ocean version of The Matrix.
 
In The Matrix, Neo (Keanu Reeves) learns to see and surf the crazy dripping megabytes that are the matrix–a computer program that controls people.  His abilities look like superpowers in the simulated world of the matrix, he can stop bullets and fly.  My ocean connection has that feel, an immersion that leads beyond the ordinary world.   

I find a power in the ocean that draws me in and rewards me with a feeling of transcendence.  It’s no one thing about the ocean, not fish or beauty.  The attraction comes from what feels like a flowing current of life and motion that surrounds and absorbs me and gives me strength.   

I’m not sure where or when it started.  I was shy and bookish as a child, and I treasured escapist fantasy.  I’d find it reading, watching ocean specials on TV, fishing, or playing basketball.  The best moments in my life were when I found a sublime focus on what was happening, and the mundane would just fall away and be gone—what author Daniel Goleman calls “flow” in his book Emotional Intelligence.     

Ocean flow was the best flow and I was drawn there, fishing, beachcombing, staring at the waves, or watching Jacques Cousteau on TV.  I grew up an hour away from the ocean and seeing it was a special treat until I moved to San Diego when I was 21 and learned to surf.  My connection was a pure “love the ocean” connection at first, and the urge to “save the ocean” only came up gradually through my 20’s.   

I’m part of the last generation of ocean lovers to grow up without the oppressive burden of ocean decline.  I caught and sold salmon before the great collapse, and when the salmon weren’t biting it was easy to catch huge “bottom fish.”  Those days are gone, and I know that from personal experience. 

Part of my drive now comes from what I’ve seen and what I’ve done.  The fish that I caught, and the things that I’ve seen, like a feeding frenzy of dolphins, fish and diving birds.  But the real attraction for me is my urge to get into ocean “flow.”  Matrix-like, it’s the source of my superpowers.   

An ocean connection can be more grit than glory, especially on Bainbridge Island where I live.  The ocean is mostly cold and gray, and it seems about as friendly as a grouchy grizzly bear.  No problem, the connection is still there.  It may take a bit more effort, but once I get my ocean “flow” on, I’m in heaven.  The connection can be so strong that when I pull myself out of the water and look around, a bizarre question pops up:  “what world is this?”  I’ve put daily life so far behind me that it’s like returning to earth from another planet when I get out.     

A real immersion in a current always feels this way.  It can be strange to get in, and hard to get into, but so strong and sticky that getting out is a harsh re-awakening.  If you can imagine doing part of my Swim Around Bainbridge Island alone in the cold gray water, yet feeling shocked, stunned and disappointed when it’s time to climb out, then you get the picture.   

The more connected I get with the ocean, the easier it is to call on that connection when I’m not underwater.  I may be in a sterile room somewhere, arguing with someone about fishing and trying to push ocean conservation.  And I might start feeling small, outnumbered and in doubt.  If I can just reach deep and find the ocean inside of me, then the superpowers come back, and I’m re-energized.   
My ocean connection all started with discovering the feeling of transcendence that the ocean gives me.  Later, my ocean conservation drive arose when I saw, in my own lifetime, in my own places, the beginnings of the great ongoing collapse.  Thank goodness the connection comes with superpowers.   

Where there is great need, an ocean connection provides great determination.  If the task seems too big, remembering a day underwater brings new strength.  Just like seeing the matrix makes it possible to leap over tall buildings if there are a dozen “Agent Smith” characters trying to block conservation.  Best of all, we don’t have to do it alone, because the captivating power of the ocean makes it easy to recruit others to the cause.  Oceans Forever!  

O4E: Get more from Mark – visit his blogs Blogfish, Swim Around Bainbridge and Carnival of the Blue, home of the ocean blog carnival – all linked at right.

So what do you think - Mark, and we wonder -is the wilderness of the ocean a place, or a feeling?