The Art Of Discovery

A few days ago I received a very kind email from a client who attended my recent photographic tour to Torridon. Having thoroughly enjoyed the five day workshop he made a comment that finally helped me answer a question I have been asking myself for some considerable time. Why photography?

For those of you who don’t know I trained as an orchestral Timpanist/Percussionist, graduating from The Royal Academy of Music in 1988. For the next sixteen years I taught and played (but mostly taught) Drumkit and Percussion in and around London escaping to the hills whenever I could to walk. Living on the edge of the Chiltern Hills I was introduced to quality landscape photography by the husband of one of my wife’s ante-natal class friends and set off on the path to where I am today. Having always been in love with the outdoors I quickly fell in love with photographing it and formulated a plan to escape my life of claustrophobic sound proofed rooms and the repetitious nature of a very full teaching timetable. A plan that finally came together in 2004 when I bought my first large format camera and shortly after moved to Argyll.

Autumn Squall, Port a'Mhuillin

More recently my relationship with photography has become somewhat strained, not particularly because the economic climate has made business and life in general tough but because I have struggled to fathom exactly what I am doing as a photographer and what I personally get out of it. Perhaps to put it differently, why I still love heading out with my camera with little financial reward for my efforts, huge amounts of frustration when opportunities to travel are suddenly taken away and with the effect it has had on my relationship with the outdoors (more on that in a minute).

For the vast majority of landscape photographers the activity is in reality a hobby. There are very few photographers actually succeeding to make their entire living shooting landscape. Most professionals (quite sensibly) undertake all sorts of commissions, shoot weddings, portraits, interiors, whatever pays. There are many more who hold down regular jobs to provide stability but still have impressive websites and produce prints, books and calendars etc. For most of these landscape photography is the escape, the chance to get out, clear the mind and be creative.

Fracture Control Liesegang Rings, Widemouth, Cornwall

I have chosen to immerse myself fully in the world of landscape photography as being outdoors is such an important part of my life. The reality of course is that for every hour I spend out with my camera I spend another two or three indoors, processing film, managing the library of images, producing saleable product and then marketing it and myself to the world but I knew that comes with any business you run yourself. What I wasn’t expecting however was that when I was out photographing I began to feel disconnected from my surroundings and a full outdoor experience (should the one reader of my blog also subscribe to this magazine then you will have read my post on this). You can find the article here http://www.richardchildsphotography.co.uk/2011/09/getting-back-to-basics/

So why is it that having sounded fairly downbeat about my career choice so far would I not have it any other way? Why do I still feel driven to go out and photograph every day whether I can or not? The answer came in the words of my clients’ letter. He was commenting on the strap line on my website, ‘Light. Camera. Passion’ but suggested that I add a fourth word, ‘Discovery’ since that had been a defining feature of his experience in Torridon. I realise now that it is discovery that drives me and my photography. There are always two words in my head while on location, ‘What if?’. What if I go round the next corner? What if I follow this river a little further upstream? What if I walk to the top of the next hill on this ridge? What if I stay out in this storm rather than packing down and leaving? This questioning has lead me to many wonderful discoveries over the years and gets me way off the (photographic) beaten track to make images in original locations. Even in well known places there are many many more undiscovered viewpoints and angles to work.

Winter Reflection, Hospital Lochan

The thrill of finding something new and unique to me and then hopefully being able to make sense of it in camera keeps me plotting and scheming to get out more. The clients with me when we arrived at Hospital Lochan on one of my Glencoe workshops to find the above conditions will remember just how animated I became. In Torridon two weeks ago the burnt forest presented us all with subject matter we had not previously seen. Walking to the far end of Widemouth beach led me to discover geological features I had never seen. Clambering over repeated jagged basalt dykes and slippery sandstone platforms I eventually arrived at a section of Laig Bay I had not seen in any other photograph before. The great thing is that if you look hard enough you really don’t have to travel far to find something new and extraordinary, it’s often right on your doorstep. I know what you’re all thinking, I’ve got a pretty damn good doorstep where I live with Glencoe only twenty-two miles away but often things conspire to make even that too far. While returning from Torridon last weekend the cam belt on my car broke causing more damage to my engine than I can afford to repair or replace at the moment. So, I find myself facing an on coming Scottish Winter season with no means of getting out and about. So, a massive change of plan then, I live on a small peninsula North of Oban, it has miles of unexplored and very rugged coastline, two or three secret bays, fabulous ancient woodland, ruined cottages and tremendous views to the islands. There’s very little of any commercial value here because it’s not on the tourist trail but I am so looking forward to spending all my available time out making a series of images within a few miles of my home that no one will have seen before.

Sgeir Liath, Shenavallie

The Letter from Scotland is brought to you by Richard Childs, a landscape photographer who works with a large format camera and is based around the West coast of Scotland. If you want to see more of Richard’s work or take a look at his excellent workshops, visit Richard Childs Photography

7 Responses

  1. You are so right. Forcing yourself to photograph something on your doorstep, whilst challenging is rewarding. A couple of years ago I made myself spend a year photographing a 400 foot pimple of a hill at Croft with it’s quarry and nature reserve here in Leicestershire; not quite the Scottish landscape that I too love, but a place that I subsequently discovered was full of history and interest. Yesterday, after being discovered by BBC researchers because of my efforts, I enjoyed a day at Croft hill, filming with Michael Wood for his new TV series on Britain’s history. That was something I never expected.

  2. Alan

    To some a doorstep is a doorstep, to others it is a place of infinite opportunities.

  3. Joe Rainbow

    A really poignant realisation I think Richard and a fascinating article (not to mention the tremendous images)
    In a funny way, I see your problem in reverse. I have a car that works, but never find any time to get any further than my local area. I feel I know it so well, I have taken to finding narrow lanes and footpaths just to learn more about the area, and hopefully some photographic opportunities too. Discovery is definitely something that drives me to go out and explore, but is also a sense of excitement that if I happen to find something of interest and photograph it in a way that does more than just document it, I have the reward of ‘capturing’ something to think over and enjoy viewing in the future. Things might just get more interesting around the next corner.
    Unfulfilled ideas and images that kick around ones head can get annoying after a while if they do not get tackled! A lovely article, and I look forward to the fruits of your mechanical breakdown :) Just wish I had time, time to actually let ideas grow when in the field instead of always having to rush. An amateur photographer with a family always seems to be in a frustrating situation. But then who isn’t?

  4. Great article and one which strikes a chord with many of us I am sure. And as so often Richard, you accompany the text with some wonderful images – I especially like your shot of the volcanic intrusion at Laig Bay and the Widemouth rock. Was that way over to the left of the beach (if facing the sea)? Or over to the right where Joe Cornish and Eddie Ephraums shot part of their book?

  5. bizonderimage

    Interesting challenge, having spent time with you and Joe on the lake district course earlier this year, I anticipate you will find plenty of interesting angles even in a more restricted location.
    Living here in the Netherlands provides a challenge in landscape photography to avoid the over familiar shots of bulb fields and windmills, or having an electricity pylon lurking somewhere in the back every shot like some kind of industrial “Where’s Willy” picture. But there is a lot of water, and it can be very beautiful in the winter when there is a lot of ice and frost about. Looking for a different image means your imagination also has to open to new possibilities. Look forward to see what you find in the coming period. Dave Mercer

  6. Oh no, I’m sorry to hear about your car! I too have had to make a tough call at the last MOT a few days ago, but decided to save it, (well at least for the time being). Anyway, like Joe (and yourself now) I spend much of my time locally seeking out new ways to interpret it. This I find pushes me harder to work at a new way of working and offers greater challenges I find. When I do go to different locations (on holiday) I find that I seek out difference, but that’s also something in me that desires the new. Anyway, your local area (off the tourist map) sounds just perfect! Good luck with your solitude sounds like heaven to me!

  7. patmorgan

    Pat Morgan,
    Richard I have just read the above article and the comments it has received. The demise of your transport is very sad indeed but on the other hand when ‘one door closes another door opens’: and I think that I can speak from a little experience.
    You not only have that great ability to see but also a greater ability to show others how to see what you have seen. Richard find the door, walk on through and thrill your viewers with what you have seen whether that is close to home or away, created with all the bells and whistles or a box-brownie, it doesn’t matter, just use the light and show us how you saw it.

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