Curt Rosner Photography

10/15/2026

Some places make you stop talking—and just listen.

While photographing near Highlands, North Carolina, I paused to take in the autumn color, the reflections in the rock pools, and the water flowing around me.

A few seconds of what it felt like to be there. Sound on. 🍂

Who would you share this moment with?

09/29/2026

Whenever I am in New York, I make a point of riding the subways with my camera in hand. There is a life beneath the streets with a spirit all its own—completely different from what we experience above ground.

On this particular day, I came across these musicians performing as trains arrived and commuters continued moving around them.

As I entered the station, the music first caught my attention, but it was the young child sitting alongside them—with his own instruments—that stopped me in my tracks. Amid all the movement and noise, this family seemed to create its own small world, almost untouched by the pace of the city.

Moments like this are why I rarely put my camera away in New York. This photograph is part of my evolving series, Monochromatic New York City, which explores the people, places, and energy that give the city its unmistakable character.

09/23/2026

On my last trip to the Canadian Rockies, the usual suspects were of prime importance to photograph—Moraine Lake, Lake Louise, Peyto Lake and several other iconic locations. But Two Jack Lake, although perhaps not as well-known, was also high on my bucket list.

The landscape here offers quite a contrast to the brilliant turquoise, glacier-fed lakes we typically associate with the Canadian Rockies. I arrived about an hour before dawn, and with the temperature in the low 40s, I set up and waited. I had only this one morning to capture the image I had envisioned, so I was counting on Mother Nature to welcome the new day with a scene that would remain with me for years to come.

She didn't disappoint.

As the sun rose behind me, the peaks of Mount Rundle were illuminated by soft subtle pink light. The calm water reflected the mountain and the subtle colors of the sky, while the rocks in the foreground gave the composition the balance this composition needed.

Standing there in the stillness of the early morning, I was struck by how serene and inviting the scene felt. Sometimes everything comes together—the light, the landscape and the moment—and all that's left to do is press the shutter....

08/28/2026

And what an eclipse it was this morning...."Goodnight Moon".......

08/25/2026

I want to share another photo that will be part of my a new series I am working on, "Monochromatic New York City". One of the most remarkable qualities of New York City is the inexplicable energy that embodies New York, particularly within one of the most iconic buildings in the world, Grand Central Terminal.

Whenever I am in NYC, photographing inside of Grand Central is a must. Not only is the architecture of this magnificent structure captivating, but the true sprit of NYC is revealed in this place like nowhere else in the city.

In this photograph, Grand Central remains still while the people passing through create a sense of motion and energy around it. This was the first image I selected as I curate for this upcoming new series.

08/23/2026

"Withstanding Time"

There’s something unforgettable about watching the sun set behind Haystack Rock at Cannon Beach, Oregon. As the last light reached across the horizon, the pooling water reflected the vivid color and transformed the entire scene. This was one of those rare moments when I was deeply moved and filled with emotion. Moments like this are why I’m willing to arrive early, stay late, and wait for the light. Sometimes nature rewards those that are willing to wait.

"Withstanding Time is available as a fine art print:

As the sun set behind Haystack Rock, the beautiful blue sky burst into vivid colors of pink, yellow and orange. The awe-inspiring spectacle that Mother Nature put on left me speechless. I just love the reflection of deep pink in the tidal pool. Formed millions of years ago from lava flow, Haystack R...

08/22/2026

Jay Maisel, acclaimed and iconic photographer, passed away yesterday at the age of 95. I never had the privilege of knowing Jay Maisel personally, but his work and his philosophy about photography have influenced the way so many of us see the world through a camera.

Jay believed that great photography wasn't simply about technique. It was about seeing—recognizing light, gesture, color, and those fleeting moments that most people simply walk past.

As I've grown as a photographer, that philosophy has come to mean more and more to me.

Renown National Geographic photographer, Joe McNally, shared this wonderful tribute to Jay, and I thought it was worth passing along.

Jay Maisel spent a lifetime noticing. What a wonderful legacy for a photographer to leave behind.

The world is a little less colorful today.
Jay: You taught me, you berated me (with love). You sharpened my eye. You told me to walk slowly. To breathe, and to see.
The last conversation I had with Jay, he was ailing and we chatted a bit. I talked of the ups and downs I was having as a shooter, babbling, really. I concluded with a lame, transparently obvious assessment along the lines of “Well, you know, taking my bumps. I ain’t the greatest photographer in the world.”
There was an awkward pause. And Jay chimed in, acerbic as ever. “You waitin’ for me to disagree?”
I took his famed workshop at the bank. I recall it was a $5000 fee. (Extremely worth it.) But I sent in my money in increments, 1000 here, 1500 next month. He called me. “I knew you were gonna be a pain in the ass! I love you, but no discounts!”
First day, I showed up and Jay had the broad surfaces over cabinets that you could place your stuff on. I was as eager as a first grader on the opening day of school. I had my little bag of small flashes, and my nicely organized backpack of gear and I was positively beaming for the teacher.
He came up to me and queried, “What’s all this sh*t?” “Well, Jay, it’s you know, my gear,” I explained, stumbling over my words like an idiot. (Jay did not suffer fools gladly, nor was he fond of meandering discourse. Like his pictures, he got to the point.) “Uh, uh, McNally. For you, this week, no lights, one camera, one lens.”
It was an important week for me. I had his voice in my head constantly, and certainly, during critiques, he handed me my ass several times. He had a visual intelligence that was remarkable, and he offered you his thoughts in direct fashion. One of his famous critique reactions went something like this. “Obviously you were moved to put your camera to your eye and make this picture. My question is, why am I not moved?”
But he also praised a good photo when he saw one, and I did turn in a couple of those. He pushed. He realized I was trying to work on my craft and force myself to see in a different way than I did on much of my assignment work.
His voice rang true. It’s still in my head. It always will be.

08/21/2026

I’m drawn to equine photography unlike any other genre. I think it begins with the reality that I’m working with an animal that is massive in size—a living, breathing animal with feelings, personality, and a spirit of its own.

I photograph in the pasture with the horse, not from afar. When I enter the pasture, I approach gently. The horse needs to sense that I can be trusted. In those quiet moments, a connection begins to form, and this is when I try to capture the essence of the horse’s soulfulness.

In this photograph, I stripped away everything that wasn’t essential, leaving the focus on the beautiful lines and form of the horse, especially its braids. Without the distraction of its surroundings, something else begins to emerge—its gentle spirit.

For me, that is where the beauty of equine photography lies. Beyond their extraordinary strength and physical presence is a remarkable grace that reveals itself only when we take the time to truly see it.

Explore my equine collection, Equine: Between Power and Grace:https://curtrosnerphotography.com/pages/equine-between-power-and-grace

08/20/2026

"Survival"

The Florida Everglades is an incredibly beautiful place, but it can also be a brutal environment. It isn't particularly kind to anything that wasn't meant to live there.

Photographing there presents its own challenges. First, there are the mosquitoes—huge, relentless, and unaffected by anything meant to keep them away. Then there is the landscape itself. Miles of grasslands and swamps, broken up by cypress domes and isolated trees. Finding a compelling composition isn't easy. The challenge is seeking out the hidden beauty that nature doesn't readily reveal. But for those willing to explore, to be patient, and to truly see, the Everglades has a way of revealing its extraordinary beauty. I've always preferred photographing there at sunrise. There is something very special about driving deep into the park in complete darkness, without another person for miles. It is absolute solitude, with the only sounds coming from creatures lurking in the swamps.

On this particular morning, I had been driving for about 45 minutes when dawn began breaking on the horizon. That's when I came upon this lone cypress tree. I couldn't help but wonder how many decades it had stood there, resolute enduring—hurricanes, drought, flooding and the Florida heat.

As the sun began to rise behind it, I knew I had found my composition. I titled this photograph “Survival.”

To me, this tree represents an unyielding strength to live—to withstand whatever nature puts in its path and simply keep going.

Isn't this what survival is all about?