Into the Wild with ERIC HORAN
Someone once said, “buying a Nikon doesn’t make you a photographer, it makes you a Nikon owner.” For the record I am a Nikon owner. Eric Horan, on the other hand, is a photographer.
Someone once said, “buying a Nikon doesn’t make you a photographer, it makes you a Nikon owner.” For the record I am a Nikon owner. Eric Horan , on the other hand, is a photographer. Just have a look around the page. His work is sought after and respected by people who publish big glossy magazines and dispatch photographers to the far corners of the earth in search of a single shot of a rare animal. He’s also known to art directors and marketing types, gallery owners and collectors. You get the idea. So you can imagine that as a fairly dedicated Nikon owner it’s just a little bit intimidating to head out into the field with a guy whose telephoto is a lot bigger than yours, so to speak. The man has forgotten more about the art of light and shadow than I could hope to know. I need a manual for my Nikon’s manual, if you get my drift.
As it turns out my apprehensions are ill-conceived.
I’m tagging along with Eric into undiscovered country: a water bird rookery on private land heavily populated with Wood Storks and Snowy Egrets , two of Eric’s favorite subjects. As our guide explains, the terrain makes this place special as there are roads built up high atop the old earthworks that dam this cypress pond. “Some of the nests are so close to the road,” she says, “you can look right down in them and see the chicks.” This is practically a trip to the corner store for someone used to spending long hours in extreme conditions hunkered down in photo blinds waiting, waiting, waiting for the right shot.
Patience is no problem for Eric Horan, a Colorado native who grew up hunting as a boy. Eventually he figured out he was better at stalking with a camera rather than a gun. He worked construction all through college, studying commercial art and photography, but found the classroom experience lacking in real world application and stuck to construction, eventually landing in Hilton Head in the early ‘80’s. But installing dry wall does little to feed the inner artist and in 1990 Eric decided to make a change. “I went to New York and assisted a bunch of commercial photographers for about a year.” What he got was a master’s course in how to be a working photographer.
“You work with a different person almost every day, so everybody works with different equipment, they have a totally different approach and they have specialties: food photography, fashion, someone who just does autos. It was amazing.” But not amazing enough to spend a life shooting food porn for Gourmet. He took what he learned and returned to the Lowcountry to, appropriately enough, “cast a wider net. I don’t like the word, but I’m a generalist. It’s a resort market and resort marketing is what I do.”
Correction, it pays the bills. What Eric Horan does exceptionally well is peer into nature and afford us rare glimpses of things the modern human takes utterly for granted. “It’s a life-long learning [process], educating yourself about the natural world,” he admits. It’s a process he takes seriously. The rare individuals who capture images like these don’t just stumble upon them (for the most part). They have a plan, they have patience and they have the commitment to endure whatever may be necessary to get the shot.
It’s almost always about the waiting.
Our guide does not exaggerate. The trees rising out of the duck-weed choked water have all gone condo with huge, meticulously constructed nests and their striking, stoic tenants.
The egrets seem to have staked out the perimeter property while the storks appear to prefer loftier views further off-shore. These are big birds – hundreds of them, in some areas virtually stacked on top of each other, all watching us. The scene is as awe-inspiring as anything I can conjure in memory - and slightly eerie. The egrets are in constant motion, wary of these bipedal anomalies who have suddenly appeared along the bank. Big wings beat above our heads as the birds change shifts in the nest or simply spook at our approach. Most of the nests are filled with downy chicks, some with clutches of eggs. “It would be better to shoot from the car,” says Eric. “It’s more like a blind.”
Not an option today. We’re on our own for a couple of hours killing time waiting for the right light. In the realm of wildlife photography, early and late are best. We’re too late to be early and too early to be late. Naturally, we wait. Gradually the birds become a bit more accustomed to us. A pair of large gators make a rather disconcerting beeline toward us, then vanish close by in a swirl of duck-weed. “Wow, that was odd,” says the Seasoned Wildlife Veteran. Right.
The sun arcs behind the rookery, eventually giving Eric the natural back light he wants to shoot the magnificent snowy egrets. The effect is ethereal. The dazzling white birds are suddenly luminescent.
While I’ve been snapping away like a crazed paparazzo at Britney Spears intervention (hey, digital is free), Eric’s been quietly firing off select shots, biding his time instead of - like me – amassing a vast slag heap of images to wade through and discard. His tripod-mounted Canon with the 500mm lens looks like a baby howitzer. This is the problem with hanging out in such company: before you realize it, you’re on E-bay surfing obsessively for deals on pro gear.
A few days later as I drop by the Horan house to do the obligatory interview, I find Eric on the back deck with the same rig aimed at a tiny birdfeeder just a few feet away. The term “fish in a barrel” springs to mind. “My wife wanted some shots of songbirds,” he explains and hands me a photo. Brilliant. Like most of his work the simplicity of the shot – the honest, un-retouched detail is astonishing.
Paul Sand once said “the artist’s world is limitless. It can be found anywhere, far from where he lives or a few feet away. It is always on his doorstep.” Indeed.

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