Sunsets?

Joe Cornish, Flow of Light

I've just read an article in a popular outdoor photography magazine that was written in defense of shooting sunsets that I can't help but write a reaction to.

 

He does say in the article that he knows many photographers who think that "capturing a sunset as a creative end in itself is a waste of time". Well I think I probably fit into that category so I figure I'd best explain why.

But first of all I'll start by stating that taking photographs of anything for any reason is perfectly valid and I wouldn't deny anyone the right to take photographs of whatever the hell they want to take pictures of. Part of the problem in reacting for or against an article like this is in approaching the question of "why do we take photographs in the first place". There are hundreds of answers to this I can imagine, from "because I like playing with cameras" to "I'm trying to communicate the meaning of my life" via "I like calling myself a photographer" and "I'm obsessed with coloured/black and white stuff" but I'll try to cover a few that I think may make sense to readers of this website.

Am I taking pictures for myself or for others?

Eliot Porter, Pool in a Brook

If you are taking photographs just for yourself then there is nothing that is bad or good. The only person who matters is yourself and so the only arbiter of quality or subject is yourself. The only reason that other people may matter is if you have a self imposed peer group that you challenge yourself with. For example Vivian Meier was a street photogapher from Chicago who never showed her pictures to anybody but who obviously had a sense of 'art' and had various street photographers as an influence. In this case, I believe that although she never showed her art to someone else, she was definitely creating her art for herself but also for an imaginary audience of some sort

If you are taking pictures with an audience in mind (imaginary or otherwise) then the audience can be anything from a general general public who are totally unfamiliar with landscape photography (beyond the type of art that they absorb through a cultural osmosis) through various levels of art aware individuals and also to other photographers.

So is your desired audience artistically aware? Do they like the visual equivalent of pop music or jazz?

Joe Rainbow, Gunwalloe Scales

For me, and quite a few of the photographers I talk to, their primary goal through photography is to express themselves in an original and creative way and to share that with a group of artistically minded peers. There are also photographers that work primarily because it’s something they enjoy and they like a challenge to see if they can create the best photograph they can.

The two goals I’ve listed above seem quite complementary but there is a fundamental flaw in the second in that the ‘best photograph’ is a subjective thing and the audience that ends up being defaulted to is ‘other photographers’, either on photo sharing websites or camera clubs, etc. The worst thing isn’t the fact that it’s other photographers, it’s the fact that the feedback from these other photographers is given as judged in a tiny amount of time and by a small picture and, online at least, the final result is a statistical anomaly judged by how much you comment on other pictures, write about your own pictures, how often you post, etc, etc.

Now I’m not suggesting that there is anything inherently wrong with playing the camera club/photo sharing website game. The main thing to be sure of is that you are driving things, not letting it drive you. You can choose which feedback to react to and which to ignore and in the end you can gain from using these resources.

Magnus Lindbom, Rauddalen

What has all this got to do with sunsets though? Well, it’s to do with being in control of why you take photographs and having a plan of how to progress your craft.

In any craft/art, you learn the most when you are challenged the most. If as painists we stayed with 4/4 tempo in C major with octaves and fifths on the left hand then although a non-pianist may be impressed by what we can do, we will be limited in our potential for creativity. Introducing minor keys and sevenths increases the potential for musicial texture dramatically. I see sunset/sunrise pictures as the equivalent to C major (with coastal sunsets as C major 7ths to push an anology) and although they may have a place, we should be looking at balance. We should challenge ourselves to take photographs in cloudy weather or at midday, in the rain or fog. By challenging ourselves, we bring our problem solving head into action and by doing so we stand more chance of finding solutions that are unique to ourselves.

Using my musical analogy, it would be foolish to dismiss sunsets as irrelevant. Just as major chords are a significant part of much music, using the warm light of a sunset or sunrise can be a significant part of a photographers pallette. But I would say that to make something creative and original out of a sunset or sunset light you need to have a ‘plan’ - an approach that can shape the work you do rather than just reacting to the environment. Even with single pictures, if you use the the light or sunset itself as just an ingredient in a wholesome meal.

I’ve included some sunset/sunrise pictures from various artists here with a short commentary against each. All of these photographers have taken a sunrise and used it's light in a way that creates something original and beautiful.

In Joe's case, he has chosen to use a the glow of the sunrise as a reflection in the pools of tidal water, creating almost modernist shapes from the pebbles and shapes. Eliot Porter has done the same thing but gone even further to use the second hand light from the banks of the river and mixed it with the inky blacks of the water. The texture of the water's flow and the scattered leaves add detail to what if one of my favourite of Eliot's pictures. Joe Rainbow has captured an outcrop of stone that acts as a wonderful foil to the energetic water flows and dynamic skies, using the light of sunset to illuminate a magic moment. Magnus Lindbom, a photographer I found out about when he was recommending Lapland locations has captured a the raw luminosity of the sun as it breaks through the clouds above a zebra striped raw landscape.

Hindsight – Family Holidays

A bit of a departure for Joe here as he takes his family off to New Mexico for a holiday. Like most photographers though, there was no option but to take one or two (or four) cameras and it's a good job he did otherwise there would be nothing here this month. The pictures include a photograph taken on Joe's Panasonic LX5, a very capable camera and one I've been using myself (the photographs in the Photographer's Place article were taken on it).

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

 

Read the other Hindsight articles in this series with Joe Cornish.

John Blakemore

Unlike many of the photographers we have discussed in our ongoing Masters section, John wasn’t a photographer from childhood, being more obsessed with drawing wildlife. His passion for photography was inspired when his mother sent him an issue of Picture Post when he was in Africa when serving in the RAF as a nurse. This edition had some extracts from ‘The Family of Man’, a pivotal photographic exhibition that was put together by Edward Steichen which featured the work of Dorothea Lange, Cartier Bresson, Edward Weston, Bill Brandt. These images struck a chord in his burgeoning political psyche and he bought a camera and started taking pictures whilst still in the forces. On leaving he tried to make a living as a freelance photographer but the lifestyle didn’t suit (he didn't’ like having to look for work).

Whilst working for a studio, he was asked to take over a portrait studio that was bought out by his employer and on the day the owner was told to go through the equipment with John, he was nowhere to be seen. John was confronted with an 8x10 studio camera and darkroom and ‘sort of guessed’ his way around it, in the end working their for four years. He was also working on his own documentary photography in Coventry, shooting the new immigrant population.

In 1970 he was asked to teach photography after trying to find jobs as a printer in London (even working as a camera salesman at one point). The University of Derby became his new employer where he taught the Diploma in Creative Photography.

His landscape photography began just before he moved to Derby, coinciding with the break up of his first marriage. He spent some a winter in wales with the woman who was to become his second wife and got absorbed in the landscape but didn’t start photographing it. It was only on his return and upon receiving the offer of an exhibition that he thought back to that time in the landscape and returned to wales with a camera.

His landscape photography was always about ideas about place rather than just the place itself. He wanted to capture a sense of the forces that shape the landscape at large. The results are photographs that have a raw power with a presentation that can look uncomposed to the hurried eye but is actually exquisitely balanced.

Nearly all of John’s work is based on the exploration of a theme or topic and worked out as a series of pictures over time. For instance his original work on the metaphoric use of wounds of trees accompanied the break up of his first marriage. Then, as he became more entranced by the landscape, he started to try to capture some of the elemental forces at work (initially inspired by the raw landscape of Wales) such as the wind, change, play, water, etc. Each of these themes would be explored in minutiae, working from the study of one trip to the plan for the next. Taking visual discoveries and expanding on them to see where they took him. It is these series of pictures that many find so fascinating.

in the late 1980’s he stopped his landscape work when he read a story about how landscape photography wasn’t addressing the more political side of the world and he couldn’t take pictures of beauty when the world was being wrecked. It almost seemed like his desire to take beautiful pictures conflicted with his understanding of critical theory. He took an MA in film studies in order to try to work out a foundation point to continue working as a photographer.

He had started working on still life work (thistles and also the tulip project) around the time he was taking his film studies MA (I think the tulip work started as a way of avoiding his thesis writing).

He worked on tulip photography for over a decade (I strongly suggest buying John Blakemore’s Black and White Photography Workshop which is one of the best books on the art of photography I have read - and not a bad technical book to boot). His still life work is all about metaphor and gesture.

Although John retired officially in 2001 he has since been asked to return back to work and is still enjoying teaching.

I strongly urge anybody who finds this work at all interesting to buy a copy of John Blakemore's Black and White Photography Masterclass. Despite the tutorial-esque title, the book is also a documentation of John's working method - see the review here.

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Spirit of Simplicity

Dark and threatening clouds hang over Great Gable's impressive southern flank.

Representations of landscapes throughout western art history have taken a back seat to works depicting the dramas of human existence. In many cases landscapes were reduced to a stage set in a historical painting or a stylised backdrop for a portrait. This is unsurprising as for much of our history the untamed landscape was considered a desolate place that was best avoided. However, in the latter part of the 18th century attitudes began to shift towards a new aesthetic appreciation of the natural world and this was in part due to ideals promoted through Romantic art.

Of the artist’s working in this era two have become synonymous with painting the emotional subtext of the landscape, the German painter Caspar David Friedrich whose images feature epic mountains towering above diminutive figures and dark trees in moonlight overlooked by gothic towers; while in Britain there was J.M.W. Turner whose paintings are so full of light and life that they are still fresh after nearly 200 years.

The cliffs of the Glamorgan Heritage Coast

Both painted from direct observations of nature rather than the imagined landscapes that characterise the work of earlier artists. It is this immediacy to the subject that conveys the spirit of place, which in turn demands an emotional response from the viewer.

While landscape photography is an obvious successor to what the romantics set out to achieve, in terms of its ability to document nature in its truest form, this idealistic heritage is almost an impediment to the contemporary landscape photographer, as in the minds of some the art form is considered backward–looking. This misses the point of what I believe both my work and that of others is about. Personally speaking it is about engaging with nature in a philosophical way that is as much about finding its structural essence and observing light as it is about exploring its environmental significance and my psychological relationship with it. This latter point is of particular interest to me as our place within nature is ambiguous, for we are both part of it and at the same time intellectually removed from it. It has the ability to stir profound feelings of belonging and yet as a species we are able to wreak havoc upon our environment in the name of progress.

This questioning of the relevance of representing landscapes through photography has made me conscious that it is far too easy to create images that can be dismissed as picturesque, forcing me to think about how to avoid repeating clichés. However this is easier said than done, as one has to be derivative before one can be innovative. Through my art education I have been exposed to many different ideas that have helped me see my way through such problems. One area that has greatly influenced me is the reductive principle of Modernism or the ‘less is more’ approach. This has interesting parallels with how our brains process sensory input and how much we can be said to be truly ‘aware’ of at any one time.

Loch Maree,  Wester Ross.

The writer Aldous Huxley in his seminal work, The Doors of Perception, described the conscious mind as a ‘reducing valve’, bringing selective attention to events experienced unconsciously as and when they become significant. The reason the mind works in this way is to prevent confusion occurring as a result of multiple sensory inputs. This notion is especially relevant to photography as the camera will record everything that is in front of it, to the point where it is possible to include so much within one image that its meaning becomes unclear. To avoid this the photographer needs to minimise the wealth of information contained within the whole scene to its fundamental parts, identifying those elements that are intrinsic to and those that are a distraction from the idea that is to be communicated.

Sheer limestone cliffs fringe Flimston Bay near Merrion in Pembrokeshire.

Removing clutter leads to bolder compositions that both entice the eye and engage the viewer’s imagination. The less that is presented in one photograph the stronger the remaining features become. The problem with this is that one person’s beautifully simple is another’s definition of boring, such is the subjectivity of art. Although I would argue that a tendency towards simplicity is in the back of most photographer’s minds when they analyse the view, however strictly they choose to apply it. On a practical level it can be surprisingly hard to reduce complexity. Not all landscapes lend themselves to a simple treatment as they are often chaotic in appearance, making it difficult to get a fix on the main components. A clear-cut image might give the impression of being easy to create but this belies the effort necessary to find the pattern within the chaos.

The atmospheric ruins of Dunstanburgh Castle

In this attempt to establish visual order in response to the dynamics of nature it is important to not become overly controlling. When reacting to the environment my aim is to follow the flow, which is a somewhat vague concept that is by no means easy to define. For example there is a subtle something about the curve of a hill, the shape of a rock or the growth of a tree that suggests a direction intrinsic to the ‘feel’ of the landscape and it takes a certain amount of sensitivity to find this. A preconceived template of how landscape photographs should be composed that is too rigid could potentially squeeze out the very spirit that brings the subject to life. Each of my photographs is therefore the result of an emotional response as well as an analytical deconstruction, marrying the openness to experience the sublime inherited from romanticism with the stylistic and conceptual rigour encouraged by modernism. When a balance between these two different ways of interpreting the world is achieved to my personal satisfaction then I feel able to say that the image ‘works’.

Fran Halsall © 2011

Fran Halsall has worked as a professional photographer and writer for nearly 7 years, taking as her inspiration the wild landscapes, diverse geology and different habitats of the British Isles. She is the author of two books, The Peak District (Frances Lincoln, 2008) and Light and Shadow (Frances Lincoln, 2010), and is currently working on a third.

Fran is passionate about promoting the value of our natural heritage through her work and hopes that the national obsession with landscape photography is a sign that we moving towards a better appreciation of our environment.

Black and White Photographers Workshop – John Blakemore

John Blakemore has taught photography for over two decades and has worked as a fine art photographer for that period also. This book tries to distil his teaching into a single tome, covering technical and artistic bases along the way. The fact that this isn't just a technical tome or an art philosophy tome works very well in my opinion and reflects the fact that these two aspects of photography cannot really be separated (however much many photographers would like to do so).

The first chapter of the book discusses the full process of photography in terms of John's categories of "Relationship, Recognition and Realisation" - our relationship with our subject, our recognition of the moment an exposure needs to be made and the realisation of the final product, the print. The second chapter takes this framework and discusses how it worked for John's most famous work, the tulip series.

For those of you who don't know the tulip work, John spent over a decade of his life developing a series of photographs based around the tulip, all of which started whilst avoiding writing his thesis by taking photographs of 'stuff' that was on his kitchen table. That such a successful and intriguing body of work can arise from something so trivial a start should remind us that any of our photographs might contain the germ of a creative project. Although this chapter isn't about landscape photography, it is still relevant in nearly all of its content.

Chapter three concerns itself with the zone system and the art of pre-visualisation (his admiration of Minor White shows in his use of that term) and a lot of this might be of less interest to digital photographers, the discussions about tonality are still relevant. There is still an orthodoxy in black and white conversions that there should always be black blacks and white whites in every picture, something John rejects in similar words and I have to say I am in complete agreement with. Some of the pictures that I find strongest in John’s work are those high an low key pictures that limit themselves to only two or three zones and that rarely contain what John terms ‘dead blacks’ (he has a phrase ‘dead blacks and living darks’ which summarises part of his approach to printing). Using some of these techniques on my own black and white conversions improved them considerably. Chapter four is about Post Visualisation, the making of the print and again this may not be of a whole lot of interest to digital photographers but there are some gems hidden in the content.

The final chapter returns to John’s discussion of subject development; developing a theme or series. This works as an almost free form discussion of John’s projects (apart from the tulip which was handled in more detail in chapter two), discussing his stream, beach and emergence series and then moving away from landscape and onto his still life work. This chapter is full of little gems and I gained as much from re-reading it for this review as I did when I originally read it a few years ago.

Overall the book is a fascinating melange of technical and philosophical, art and craft. It sits on my bookshelves in the art section despite being one of the better tomes on the zone system I have read. I would strongly suggest every photographer buy or borrow a copy and read it but more importantly think about it whilst doing so.

Composition – An Introduction to Balance

Balance in Photography

The concept of balance in photography is not a new one, just this week I received another book on composition that says “The components of a great photograph should always be in balance” which is great as long as you know how to identify components and how much they weigh. The more detailed articles on composition and balance may end up drawing a fulcrum and showing two objects on it, one big and one little, with the big object closer to the fulcrum and saying ‘these are in balance!’. Again, very nice but what have these objects got to do with real world pictures. How can I identify which bits of a picture to weigh and then how do I weigh them.

Hidden Depths

From Beinn Maol Challum

Ok, I admit it. I'm a bagger, a list ticker, a trophy collector. I've accepted what I am and I'm not going to change. Over the years I've collected lots of different things from Matchbox cars, tin soldiers and beer mats as a youngster to sea-washed bricks, mountain tops and footpaths as an adult. I love nothing more than pouring over one of my extensive range of maps while listening to one of my extensive collection of Classical or Jazz CD's while drinking from a selection of ground coffees, planning my next hill walk, mountain climb or even footpath to add to my extensive collection. And, I love cataloguing and listing these collections too. Beside the total satisfaction of using a view camera I believe that is the reason I am more than happy to stay firmly in the analogue photography camp for now. I am able to amass a collection of images on celluloid; to hold them, cherish them, file and catalogue them, count them up and work out how far they would stretch if lined up end to end (OK, perhaps I'm revealing a little too much about my personality now!).

 

Firelight, Loch Etiv

Photography evolved out of my passion for the outdoors and I feel incredibly privileged to be able to work in my favourite places, at my own pace and for the most part without commercial pressure dictating the style or substance of my imagery. Photography has also enabled me to indulge my tendency to collect by pursuing a number of personal projects. These include climbing to photograph all 284 Munros ( Scottish mountains over 3000ft) with my Large Format gear, visiting and staying in all of the mountain bothies ( a perfect partner to the previous challenge) and most recently producing an extensive body of work from the vast tract of spectacular, empty land that I am so lucky to live on the boundary of.

A year or so ago an over-height truck tried to cross Connel Bridge which lies just two miles south of my home. The bridge had be closed for a considerable time while the vehicle was dragged back out from beneath the giant steel structure and for structural engineers to travel up from Glasgow to inspect the

Coffin Stone, Beinn Trilleachan

damage. During this 36 hour period anyone south of the bridge wanting to get home had to divert around the 100 mile perimeter route provided by the A85, A82 and A828. Within this huge circuit lies a great tract of land, virtually uninhabited with only four minor roads penetrating in at Glen Etive, Forest Lodge, Glen Creran and Bonawe. The entire area is however criss-crossed by ancient drove roads, stalker paths and landrover/forestry tracks that have become the target of my insatiable need to explore, discover and 'collect'. This area has more 3000ft mountains than Wales and England combined (25 in total), an equal number of Corbetts and a fair number of smaller mountains that provide excellent vantage points to view their larger cousins. To date I have climbed about 25 peaks in the area but am now dedicating two or three days a week when I am based at home to exploring its ridges and glens.

Rooftops of Argyll.

It's interesting that around the edge of the area are a number of Scotland's most iconic views, all of which could, if you felt so inclined, be photographed from the comfort of your car. Blackrock Cottage, Buachaille Etive Mor, Castle Stalker, Glencoe and Kilchurn number among the most photographed views in Britain and will continue to be for years to come, and yet behind these locations lie a whole world of possibilities just waiting to be discovered by the photographer. Looking at road maps all of the upland regions of Britain are divided up the same way by major roads creating many 'island' wildernesses for us to venture into and discover.

Unless you live in the South-East of England you are rarely more than 2-3 hours from a National Park or similar area and while all of these will have their popular spots for photographers they will be able to provide a wealth of material and probably a lifetime's work if you are prepared to go the extra mile required to get away from the crowds. So, I would advise that you make yourself a good cup of coffee, put on a CD, get out a map and start planning your next trip to somewhere local but new.

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