On Monday, April 8, Richmonders flocked outside to places like the Science Museum of Virginia, where they gathered in large crowds to watch the midday solar eclipse known as the Great North American Eclipse. Others, like Jeff Saxman, a longtime Richmond fine art and commercial photographer, hit the road to photograph the total eclipse with a better view.
Saxman and his two sons ended up at a park in Ohio, where he made the striking sequential image below. His fine art print of the eclipse has become a widely sought-after keepsake of the celestial event. (Note: The next total eclipse in the contiguous United States won’t happen until Aug. 23, 2044.)
Here’s the story of how it all happened:
Style Weekly: How did you decide where to go, and when did you start planning?
Jeff Saxman: The trip was something my sons and I talked about for several weeks. And once I formed the skeleton of a plan in my head, I contacted them to see what their interest was, only to learn they had a plan cemented in place and hotel reservations already made. Sheepishly, I said “Can I come?” And, of course, they said “yes.” One son did all the driving, the other picked up the hotel rooms, and I ended up buying all the food and beverages along the way. Teamwork.
We had talked about going to Ohio, but the weather was not promising, so the plan leaned toward Western New York. We left on Sunday morning, the day before the eclipse, and drove to Batavia, NY, just outside of Buffalo. Our idea was to drive into Buffalo for the event the next day. When we awoke, we saw that the storm that was supposed to foil the view in Ohio was moving more quickly than anticipated, and would be in the Buffalo area around eclipse time. So we jumped in the truck and drove through the storm into Ohio, not quite knowing where we would end up.
Late morning, the rain let up and we found ourselves midway between Erie and Cleveland. Google maps indicated a park on the shores of Lake Erie in Ashtabula. We got off the highway and made our way north to Lake Shore Park, where we found folks gathering already, prepared for picnicking and tailgating. The vibe was chill and comfy, and we decided this was the place.
With a couple hours to kill before the big event, we found some sandwiches and wandered around the gravel shoreline, watching geese and seabirds, kids tossing footballs and frisbees. I photographed some of the scene as we waited. Clouds teased us, leading us to think perhaps we had picked the wrong place, but then [they would] thin and depart. Slowly, the crowd grew in the park, never to where it seemed crowded, but enough to add a buzz to the air.
Can you explain the photographic process during the eclipse?
A few test photos of the unobscured sun with my 20-stop ND [Neutral Density] solar filter told me I was ready, and by about 1 p.m., our focus turned skyward, and first contact occurred. The slow process of occlusion, however, allowed for continued chatter and play among those in the park. We observed through our hi-tech, cardboard eclipse glasses, and marveled as the moon chomped away at the sun, but it was not until the sun was about 75% covered that a difference could be noted on the ground. The breeze picked up and cooled just a bit, the sunlight dimmed and the shadows, still distinct and sharp, grew paler in comparison; all of the color around us faded. I continued shooting images every several minutes with my two cameras, and gathered images of the sun slowly eroding away.
This effect grew until the moment of second contact, the point at which the shadow of the moon fully arrives, and totality begins. I had heard folks say experiencing totality was unlike anything else. Some folks have likened it to a religious experience. Many people find themselves in tears. At 2:29 p.m., when that shadow passed overhead and darkness took hold, I understood.
A widespread exclamation of awe sprung from the crowd around us and confused geese took flight. The neutral density filter came off the camera, and we were able to look with the naked eye upon one of the most beautiful and frightening things I’ve ever seen.
I gawked and clicked my shutter, I gawked and clicked my shutter, I gawked and clicked my shutter. Didn’t know what else to do. I was flabbergasted. Applause grew around us, and someone nearby set off some fireworks. A large boat in the adjacent shipyard tooted its horn. [Again] I gawked and clicked my shutter.
My attention was so fixed on the ring of fire over our heads, that it wasn’t until one of my boys tapped me on the shoulder and said “Hey, look over there.” With that, I turned to the vastness of Lake Erie behind us and saw what seemed to be a beautiful sunrise … to the North. Turning a bit more, I saw a sunrise on the horizon to the East. A 360-degree spin confirmed there was sunrise all around, and a deep blue darkness, pierced here and there by pinpoint stars, overhead. The feeling of awe and appreciation, which I thought had maxed out, grew ten-fold. My sons and I looked at each other incredulously, eyes spinning in bewilderment.
About 4 minutes, that’s all it lasted. Seemed like a lifetime. The eclipse hit third contact, the point at which totality ends. I made one last photograph at this point without the neutral density filter, capturing what is known as a “diamond ring,” the point where the full power of the sun begins to sneak around the moon, while the corona is yet visible. It lasts only an instant, then is gone. Filter back in place, I continued to capture images for about an hour, but was emotionally drained and buzzing from what I had just seen. It was an experience I’ll never forget, and it has us now discussing plans to head to Spain or Iceland in 2026.
By 4 p.m., we had begun our long trip home, creating all kinds of traffic problems alongside our fellow eclipse pilgrims. Arrival in Richmond occure.d. at about 2:30 am and we collapsed happy and exhausted.
Can you explain the post-production process?
I had shot about 135 separate images of the eclipse with that camera/lens set up (300 mm lens on a Canon 5d MkIV) over the course of the eclipse, so the first step was to mark selects which I felt were interesting and representative of the event and told a fluid story. These were narrowed down to the nine that made it to the final composite, and each of these were sharpened and color-corrected in Adobe Lightroom, then cropped and sized in a consistent manner. These files were then exported into Photoshop as PSD files and all brought into a single 10×20 (300dpi) file with a black background, and arranged in a pleasing composition. Masking was done on the separate layers in order to seamlessly blend each individual image’s black background with that of the larger composite file. Much care was taken to get the blend just right, and Wythken Printing was very diligent in helping make that happen. Once a satisfactory test print was created, the first 100 of the 200 print edition were run.
What was the total timeframe from start to finish of the eclipse sequence?
The times each of the source photos in the final sequence, (left to right), are as follows: 12:33 [p.m.], 1:31, 1:45, 2:03, 2:20, 2:26, 2:32, 2:33, 2:43.
Where can people purchase this print of the eclipse?
[Visit] www.saxmanphoto.com, click “Archive” then “All Galleries.” Fine art prints are available for sale, an edition of 200. [It’s a] 10×20 archival print on watercolor paper of 2024 Solar Eclipse sequence, photographed from Ashtabula, Ohio, and signed by the photographer. Print dimensions include white border.
