These sets of images are captured in different conditions and at different places around Milton Keynes, UK. While capturing these photographs I just had one thing in my mind and that was to capture the mood. In photography, light play very important role. You have to be there on location at right time.
I am an Amateur and a self taught photographer. I am into Photography from last 8 years and like to capture Nature and Landscapes in different weather conditions.
These photographs are a contemplation on the British and Irish peat landscape as a non-passive, productive environment. The primary intention of the work is to interrogate the effects of human intervention on the dynamics of our atmosphere using the tools of expressive photography. ‘Torfskeri’ is an Old Norse name for the iron tool for cutting peat.
In an effort to raise awareness of the environmental importance of peat and its ability to mitigate the worst effects of climate change I have travelled extensively, throughout the British Isles and Ireland photographing peat-lands. Research funding assistance for this project has come from The University Centre, Blackburn.
Peat is formed when land becomes water-saturated, limiting oxygen and retarding the natural decay of plant matter such as sphagnum moss. The process of laying down peat is incrementally slow, a layer of peat increases in depth by an average of 1mm per year. As a result, some UK peat bogs are 1000 years old and 10 meters deep. Ancient peoples would sometimes plunge sacrificial offerings in to the deep, dark wetness of these mires, the anaerobic, qualities of bogs preserves artefacts and remains. Each lowland raised bog provides an habitat for thousands of species of insects, hundreds of rare plants and endangered birds such as skylarks, curlew and snipe.
Since pre-history, and exponentially, throughout the agricultural, industrial and post-industrial revolutions, our bog-lands have been exploited by anthropogenic activity to provide fuel for heating, cooking and for horticultural purposes. In some countries Peat is harvested on an industrial scale, supplying energy for electricity power stations. Unfortunately some bogs are being quickly drained in order to satisfy the present demand for land to provide housing and property development.
3% of our Earth’s land mass is peat but peat bogs, being a carbon sink, store 30% of all terrestrial carbon. This non-renewable energy source acts as a vital sequester of Carbon Dioxide, Methane and Nitrous Oxide. When bog-lands are desiccated through cutting, burning, or draining these ‘greenhouse’ gases are released, contributing greatly to climate change.
The Torfskeri series is made using traditional photographic materials, primarily Ilford film and fibre based, matt paper, a Leica M camera and lenses and hand printed in the darkroom. Aesthetically, these pictures are evocative of the slick darkness and weighty substance of the mire material that Seamus Heaney, in his poem ‘Bogland,’ likened to “Black Butter.”
A bubble erupts on the turbulent water,
Unaware of the vastness
Of the expanse on which it rides,
Dancing on the high waves,
Braving the winds.
Innocent in its mirth
Happy since its birth,
Undaunted, by the threat of sudden burst. ~ K Ahsan
I've always been fascinated in the circular form where ever it's found from galaxies to atoms. I studied archaeology to degree level and the circle was a reoccurring theme in prehistory that particularly interested me. Following workshops, with Paul Kenny, my interest in the form was intensified and Paul has greatly informed this work.
These images were all made on my patio at home after some sharp frosts this winter. My eye was caught by an air bubble trapped under a thick layer of ice in an old washing up bowl left on the patio on its way to the veg plot. I started experimenting with this and found I could create more bubbles by tipping the bowl. I then looked around the garden and found frozen rainwater in the bottom of circular pots, I removed these and played, resulting in these images.
On the afternoon of the 2nd of February 2018, I witnessed an accident which truly shaped my practice as a photographer. When out filming two climbers at Avon Gorge in Bristol, tragedy struck on the cliff face just next to us. A climber had fallen, and his climbing partner ran over to us, pleading for our help. As I stood looking up at the cliff face, I could just about make out the rope which the climber was now at the bottom of, indicating the length of his fall. Rescue teams worked tirelessly for the hours that followed in an attempt to save the climber, however, they were not successful.
This incident, which will forever hold a place in my mind, had a strong influence on a recent project - ‘Buried in the Rocks’ and became the first location I shot for the project. After witnessing the incident, I began to research whether there had been any other fatalities like this one. At the time, in my state of naivety, I had not even considered that death could occur in such way, in doing an act that you have control over and you are doing because you enjoy it. Through my initial research, I found more fatalities like the one I’d witnessed and learnt that there were not just a few of them. Over the last 30 years, England and Wales Mountain Rescue have reported 91 deaths relating to climbing incidents alone and this number continues to grow.
Giants Cave Buttress, Bristol
Over the last year, I have been researching and planning visits to these locations to create a narrative documenting these tragic events. Before even picking up the camera, there was a huge amount of pre-planning that went behind a shoot. I’d find out as much as I could about the fatality from news articles as well as from the Mountain Rescue blog. This would provide me with information about both the incident and the location where it happened. From this, I’d move onto researching the location to put myself in the best position possible to be able to find it. I’d plan all my routes out on maps as well as printing off photos of the location and any details that could help. A lot of the time, I was looking for a very specific detail on the rock face to pinpoint that it was the correct location. I wanted to be as accurate as possible within my imagery so my main method was to hike to the specific grid reference relating to the fatality.
I was able to photograph 38 locations which does not directly reflect the statistics from Mountain Rescue. The main reason for not photographing them all was because I could not find enough information about them. For obvious reasons, Mountain Rescue is unable to share information about the fatalities so, therefore, I was often relying on news articles and then using the dates to search the Mountain Rescue blog for the same incident. This meant I didn’t have much control over where I was going to shoot. Although this was frustrating, it was the only way I could do the project as I knew I had to be as honest as possible in the portrayal of these events.
Each journey to a location came with an aspect of mental challenge. I often had the lingering feeling that the path I was walking on would have been the same one that the climber took just a few hours before his or her last breath. These thoughts sent shivers through my spine but after photographing a few locations, I think I became slightly immune to it. It became something I had to do. The more fatalities I found, the more of a problem I felt this was. I was utterly shocked that so many people had died doing what they love - it was supposed to be fun after all, right? Further research around the story would often identify where it went wrong - there were stories from gear not being put in properly, to climbers leaving their helmet at the bottom whilst they climbed to the top, to only slightly misplace a foot and fall to their death.
My personal background within the outdoors meant that this project was do-able for me. Without the understanding of navigation, there wouldn’t have been a chance for this project to be capable of coming together. I am currently training to be a Mountain Leader which gives this project another level of meaning to me - a more personal one - in that I will one day be responsible for the safety of other people in the mountains.
The weather conditions and type of light I was shooting in didn’t particularly bother me for this project. I didn’t choose a particular season or time of day to shoot in because the project wasn’t about creating a specific look. What was more important to me was being honest and moral. I wanted to capture each place in the most realistic way possible. In addition to this, I was limited on time as I could only afford to go away for two or three days at once. This meant waking up to be at my first location for sunrise and shooting right up until sunset. It also meant I couldn’t be picky about the weather; I had to get out, no matter what the elements threw at me. I think my longest day was in Snowdonia where I was at Dinas Cromlech at 6am and photographed five locations throughout the day.
Dinas Cromlech
The trips were long and weren’t always successful which meant that the project needed a lot of time dedicated to it. The closest location I visited was an hour’s drive plus an hour’s walk from home. The weather also had a huge impact on what I did. The first time I visited Crib Goch in Snowdonia, I was greeted with fog and torrential rain. I had the camera out for 5 minutes before heading back down the mountain, for my own safety but also to save the kit. This resulted in a second 4-hour drive to Snowdonia a few months later. The second time, the weather conditions were much better which hugely influenced the shots I got; I was able to get up onto the ridge and explore much more within the location whereas the first time, I wasn’t even sure if I was pointing my camera at the correct ridge.
Crib Goch March 2018
Crib Goch October 2018
From the beginning, I knew I wanted the final outcome of the project to be in the format of a book. The narrative lent itself to be a book and as the project was long-term, it worked to have such a well-considered ending.
Initially, I had intended on having a location per double page spread to put full emphasis on the single person’s story. I imagined the full spread to be one image of the entire rock face. As the book evolved, I started to realise that I needed to shoot different angles and from different distances; I shot the crags in every possible way so that I had options when it came to the layout of the book. There was also a point halfway through the project that the way I’d photographed the crags meant they’d all have to be left hand pages. So, moving forward, I shot everything else to work on a right-hand page. This made the development of the project much more of a fluid process as I was constantly referring back to how the images were working together.
The final book is still in development; I’ve made a few copies and will be printing a larger number over the next few months. Recently, there has been a lot of news from Mountain Rescue about the growing problem with people heading into the mountains unequipped - most of the time they are referring to hikers more than climbers but the lack of ability to prepare for the worst catches the best of us out. Seeing the pleas from Mountain Rescue for help with getting the message out to the public, only confirms for me the importance of the project I have done and may continue to do. There are still many locations out there that I haven’t photographed which gives the potential for this project to continue. However, I feel the book has provided a natural end to the project and has successfully portrayed the narrative.
What motivates a landscape photographer to do what he or she does? What is the drive that makes the photographer pick up a camera and walk into nature, sometimes at ungodly hours of the day and in testing weather? What makes us keep spending time and (for most of us) money, to produce yet more pictures?
Of course, the answer is personal, and there may be at least as many answers to the question as there are photographers out there. But do you know the answer when it comes to you? And is the answer the same today as when you started out? Will it be different tomorrow?
For some of us, the answer will be so self-evident that it does not need any thought, the focus is in the doing it rather than reflecting on the motivation. But for quite a few of us, I believe the reason why we do shoot nature is something that is at least slightly obscured, even to ourselves. We might feel the desire to do it, feel the emotional reward; and want to take a particular kind of picture or shoot in a particular type of location or in a particular style. But we might not have put into words why what it is that really is the drive.
I think that whatever artistic craft you pursue, there is quite a lot to learn by reflecting on your motivations. Thinking about why you do what you do is a way of deepening your craft, putting more of yourself into the work. If you know why, you can zero in on that ‘why’ in your future work, making that even more focused towards your aim. But also, by thinking about the ‘why’, you might find something about your past work and about yourself that you may not even have given any thought previously.
When I look at my own work, and also that of others, I am often first taken by the visual look. What emotions does it spark and how does it trigger my imagination? It’s often non-verbal, it goes right for the gut. I call this, the emotional hit. After the hit wears off, I start to analyse and my mind often goes first to technical stuff. What equipment was used, how is it composed, settings, location? The emotional hit and the technical analysis are both ways of learning from a picture. But in addition to that, I try to spend some time on every picture thinking about the ‘why’. What made the photographer take this picture. If it is my own, why did I take it?
Over the past six months, I have been running a podcast about landscape photography; talking to Swedish photographers about their work and zeroing in on why they shoot what they shoot. (Podcast “Fotografen och landskapet”, in Swedish only I am afraid).
My experience from the podcast and from also talking to many others in the community is that a photographer’s motivation for taking a specific, individual landscape photograph is often the same as the motivation for that photographer to be in landscape photography altogether. In some sense, each picture we take is a part of a bigger quest for our photography. A quest we pursue frame, by frame.
Living as we do in Ballachulish, we often hear news from the Isles, and particularly Skye, that they are overcrowded with tourists. It reached a fever pitch last year with CNN Travel listing Skye as one of their places to “avoid” and the police “advised visitors to stay away unless they had already booked places to stay”.
So when we were approached by Jakub Bors, landscape photographer and operations manager of the Skeabost hotel on Skye, about possibly working together on an article we asked if he could show us a few locations that would give a quiet time even on a busy day. Never one to turn down the offer of being spoiled for a couple of days, we arranged a date and it just happened to coincide with the Easter Bank Holiday weekend. What a time to test Jakub’s choices!
Now the Skeabost Hotel itself is in a pretty handy location, sitting just a few miles outside of Portree and we arrived and immediately decamped into Jakub’s car and started our lightning tour.
The first thing we did was to drive up toward the North of the island and this meant passing Portree and driving up past the Old Man of Storr and the Quiaraing. I decided to count how many cars were parked below the Storr but I when I got to about fifty and so I’d guess there were possibly another ten or twenty. It looked like a trail of ants making their way up past the clearfell toward the viewpoint. I’m not sure how the area copes with all of that traffic and no facilities of any sort (eww!!).
We were heading further North though and we skipped the Quiraing turn off and finally stopped at Duntulm castle, but not to visit it. Instead, we stopped a bit further round for a nice viewpoint. Unfortunately, photographically speaking, it was a gloriously sunny and blue sky day and closer to midday than sunrise or sunset. You might get some nice late evening light if you got the chance but considering the conditions, we decided black and white mode would make the most sense.
Still only seeing tourists from afar, we moved around the coast toward Uig and visited the Cave of Gold a Kilmuir. A bit more of a walk but the destination was a delightful Staffa’esque cave with basalt columns, lichen and solitude!
Managing contrast was an issue here but the A7R3 handled the conditions nicely and with a bit of dodging a burning produced something illustrative if not artistic.
Driving down to Uig took us past some lovely long distance views of Harris basking in the sunshine. We opted to park up and visit Uig Woods which were replete with Wild Garlic and almost budding bluebells. It’s a wonderful atmosphere if a little tough for photography but the falls and plunge pool at the end gave me a few minutes distraction. Still not having seen a soul we walked back to the car.
Up above Uig, we took a walk around the old cemetery which had a fabulous view of Uig bay and had some amazing moss and lichen covered gravestones - my only colour moment of the day!
We then encountered our first tourists as we tried to find a place for coffee. Talisker distillery and bay were heaving and we had our quick caffeine fix and ran away again. Jakub then said “We’re now off the Sligachan!” and I thought he’d gone mad!
I’d seen the crowds over there as we’d passed at 9am and heaven knows what it was going to be like at 3pm. Well, it was just as expected and we only just got a space in the car park. A quick wander around the old bridge and then Jakub led us upriver to a fantastic little waterfall which is probably known to photographers but is obviously just a few yards too far for tourists.
The water level was incredibly low and, with the possibility to get something a little original, I dropped myself into the middle of what would normally be a massive waterfall and found some nice eroded rock shapes with the opportunity to position a small cascade and a few mountains in the background. After a twenty-minute pseudo yoga session, contorting my tripod into the optimum position, I think I created my photo of the day. Time for gin and tonic back at the Skeabost!!
We continued our conversation at the bar and Jakub assured us that there are many more secluded places than he had shown us but he just wanted to show how you can get a quiet time as long as you avoid the icons (Fairy Pools, Fairy Glen, Old Man of Storr, Quiraing, Neist, Elgol, Kilt Rock and Talisker Bay). The difficulty with Skye is mostly to do with road access. So many people all using the same roads, so that even if you want to go somewhere quiet, you still get stuck. If anybody has been to the Lake District on a bank holiday weekend, they’ll know that this isn’t restricted to Skye though and I think the Lake District is a LOT worse in many ways. The win for the Lake District is the plethora of parking and facilities at most locations.
The following day, Jakub had put us in touch with a couple of friends, Janice and Ewen who run Seaflower, a boat making trips out to the Isle of Rona. They have an exclusive contract with the family that own Rona and this guarantee there would be no other sightseers island and it would be the ideal way to get away from the crowds. We boarded a very modern looking catamaran in the morning and then took a leisurely journey up the side of Raasay up to a bay at the bottom of Rona where some of the old sheilings were.
It was another glorious blue sky day so great for exploring. We spent a while exploring the area around the main bay which had some lovely rocky shoreline and wooded inlets. After a wonderful buffet dinner on board the boat, all locally caught by Ewen’s father, we then spent a couple of hours exploring the island. It’s not huge but there is a track across the whole length. You could easily spend a few days exploring here though, which is good as the owners of the island rent out a couple of cottages for a special getaway (£600-£700 for a week out of season).
We just had a wander around the bay where the cottages were and took a couple of photographs as we crossed the top of the island. Amazing views in all directions and the chance to see all sorts of birds like sea eagle and golden eagles. We saw a golden eagle, a bunch of oystercatchers and a curlew and loads of sandpipers. Pretty soon we had to return though although on the way back we hugged the coast of Skye and enjoyed an uncommon view of the Old Man of Storr.
From what you read in the newspapers and online, it would seem like Skye is ‘closed for business’ due to the overwhelming numbers of tourists and photographers. However, the truth is that, just like many other locations, the iconic viewpoints are getting more and more overcrowded. If you want a quiet time in Fairy Pools, you’d best do it mid-week in late winter / early spring and get in location for sunrise. Otherwise, go and explore for yourself and just avoid the few tourist traps and you’ll have a great time.
A big thanks to Jakub Bors and the Skeabost Hotel for acting as our hosts for the day and to Janice and Ewen of the Seaflower for a wonderful trip to Rona. The hotel is excellent and we can highly recommend it as a base for exploring the top end of the island. Likewise the Seaflower trip to Rona will please any non-photographers travelling with you and still give you some unique photographic opportunities.
The Isle of Skye is a legendary location for landscape photographers, and I am lucky enough to call this incredible Scottish island home. My four years on the island were filled with joy full of amazing moments with my camera, but also moments of concern when being able to see how much busier some of the favourite spots got over the past few years. There are several movements on the island trying to figure out how to control and redirect the thousands of visitors arriving at the island and all heading to the same locations.
As a photographer and someone who keep capturing the locations in their current state, I've decided to help by sharing photos from more unusual and hidden spots around the island. It's been over two years since I started this "project" and since then I shared hundreds of photos, guided two photography groups around those "rare" locations, and I am currently starting to work on my new YouTube project (keep an eye out here) with the Isle of Skye Landscape Photography series including over 40 secret landscape photography locations. I genuinely hope that all of this will help my fellow photographers and other visitors to discover more than just the five iconic places around this beautiful Scottish island.
A call out to our readers - if you have any images from off the beaten locations on Skye then please submit them to us and we’ll set up a gallery in the next issue of On Landscape.
Submit to: submissions@onlandscape.co.uk
Details: Image to be 2048px long edge. Please include a caption of location and title for your image (and don't forget your name too!)
Closing date: 1st June 2019
Sometimes you can remember clearly the first image that you saw from someone that made you sit up and take notice; in this case, it is ‘Cloud Construction’. Periodically since David Queenan’s images of the Forth Bridges have punctuated my feed, bringing back memories of the commute that used to sandwich my working days. Rather than restrict image selection to just ‘natural’ landscapes, I wanted on this occasion to include a number of David’s photographs of buildings and structures. I like the graphic quality of these, and they are a good reminder to us all to stop and look up. It also reinforces the point that, while we (or others) may consider ourselves primarily ‘landscape photographers’, there are no boxes in life and we need not limit our curious minds.
Would you like to start by telling readers a little about yourself – where you grew up, your education and early interests, and what that led you to do as a career?
I was born and brought up in Bo’ness, which is a small town in West Lothian about 20 miles to the west of Edinburgh. I still currently live and work there as a freelance graphic designer and photographer – it’s a very central location with good access to motorways and allows me to reach many of my favourite photographic locations within a couple of hours.
I attended the local schools and, although I wasn’t a great academic, I managed to come out with 5 O-Levels, 4 Highers and a ‘Sixth Year Study’ in Art, which was enough to gain me entry into the Duncan of Jordanstone College of Art in Dundee. Art was easily my strongest and favourite subject at school, and I was always drawing and painting in my spare time. I was a big fan of Yes at the time and always loved their album cover artwork by Roger Dean and decided that graphic design was what I really wanted to do – although, not realising at the time that very few designers actually get to work on album covers for famous bands.
How did you become interested in photography and what kind of images did you initially set out to make?
Kate Somervell is the first photographer to be under the spotlight as part of the 'Focus on" feature at Joe Cornish Gallery. The exhibition which runs from Saturday 11 May - Saturday 11 August.
We caught up with Kate ahead of her exhibition to find out more about what inspired her photography, her style and the challenge of producing a series of works.
What sparked your passion for photography?
Like many other photographers of a similar vintage, the words Kodak Instamatic may well take you back in time. A mechanical treasure with resounding clunks and clicks and a cartridge film. Having captured enough images to fill the cartridge often took some time, the random subjects included the countryside, beach walks with the dogs, family picnics, the odd birthday or family gathering. Finally, the cartridge was taken to the chemist for developing. The anticipation and excitement usually only lasted until the prints were collected, only to be followed by the crashing disappointment when looking at the results. The blurred images, head or a limb missing, and then the range of oh so helpful advice stickers telling me to hold the camera still, or whatever technical disaster I had achieved next, there were many. The carefree days of not having to worry about what was in focus or not, and what on earth did aperture or depth of field mean anyway, and as for composition?
At school, I did nothing to impress my art teachers, and painting or drawing were never within my grasp. But I loved handling a camera and I shot colour film for many years, albeit in a fairly random way. By now every walk was accompanied by a camera, and I was recording the countryside. The excitement of getting the prints back was never lost, and occasionally I got everything into the frame, however, I still understood nothing about light!
Many years later, I managed to free up some time and decided to learn photography. It was a very conscious decision and one I have never regretted, and I am still learning every day. My ambition at the time was to learn to take a half decent image. I had no idea this wonderful addiction would become a major part of my life that it has. It was early on in the days of digital photography and the quality was improving by the week, and so off I set off on my new adventure. I really just wanted to capture the magic of the countryside, the big sweeping views, the colour…or so I thought.
Why did you choose landscape photography as opposed to other genres?
Initially, I just wanted to record the world around me so it wasn’t really a decision as to what genre. In the early days, I was unaware of how many different genres there were. I wanted to capture big vistas as I saw them. That was what I saw, what I knew and where I felt comfortable.
Whenever I get stuck or inspiration fails me, the most effective remedy is to change genre. I love to go and shoot some architecture or visit a city as I find the different challenges and change of environment really help me fine tune my vision when I am back in the field. A good walk with no camera can be equally effective.
Tell me about the photographers or artists that inspire you most. What stimulated your interest in photography and who drove you forward, directly or indirectly, as you developed?
There are so many artists and photographers whose work I admire. I was lucky to study art history years before photography took over! From Turner’s treatment of light or the clouds in a Constable to the exquisite detail in a still life by de Heem. The power of observation and interpretation is there for all to see if only we looked.
Going to exhibitions can be influential and inspirational. Last year The Shape of Light at Tate Modern was extraordinary and I visited a couple of times, it still wasn’t enough!
So many images have struck a chord with me from Edward Weston’s shells or dunes to the hauntingly beautiful images in the books of abandoned buildings by Simon Marsden. Graham Cook’s recent exhibition at the Joe Cornish Gallery, InnerVisible is a staggering collection of truly inspirational abstract works of art.
Fine tuning my vision over the years has been helped massively by the input of many photographers and writers, including Joe Cornish and David Ward. Duncan McEwan, Phil Malpas, Clive Minitt, Eddie Ephraums and Paul Sanders have all been major contributors to my development as a photographer.
Elizabeth Roberts, Editor of Black and White Photography, is the most extraordinary editor and writer, photographer and teacher with her skill in drawing both words and images from people in the most encouraging way.
I am hugely indebted to Charlie Waite, who originally suggested I concentrate on black and white many years ago, and also, for Light and Land which has been such a huge stepping stone through the best of its leaders.
Thank goodness you all have a sense of humour, and we have enjoyed much laughter over the years.
You enjoy the challenge of producing a series of work. Tell us more about how you approach this and develop a series of images.
This has resulted from doing several Open Studio Workshops with Adrian Hollister and Eddie Ephraums in Wester Ross. Whatever the subject, there is always an outcome which more often than not is a series or set of images. These can be made into a series of sequenced prints or made into a book.
Sometimes I shoot a specific location or subject. Some series can be either a day or a week’s work, other times they can be much longer-term projects which evolve during the process and can end up very differently from the initial idea. Keeping an open mind and letting go of fixed ideas is really important. A seemingly stand-alone image shot today may become part of a series next month.
Who has specifically helped you in realising your photographic ambitions over the past few years?
The more photography I do, the more I realise the importance of collaboration. Attempting to do everything on our own is an uphill struggle. Sharing ideas and images with other people whether photographers, artists, gardeners or designers can be both supportive and instructive.
My heartfelt thanks to Joe who has given me an incredible opportunity to exhibit at the Joe Cornish Gallery. This has inspired me to keep making images so I can develop as a photographer.
It is wonderful to work with Jo Rose, Curator at the Gallery, who has been incredibly supportive. Some work has been accepted and some rejected, and I keep learning and improving. I am lucky to live locally so I am a regular visitor and to have such a great photographic resource on my doorstep is fantastic. And I couldn’t achieve any of this without the technical wizardry of Mark Banks.
Looking at the gallery on your website, I can see that you enjoy experimenting with different techniques in both photography and printing, as well as producing black and white images. Tell us about the various techniques including digital photogravure, that you have used and how you go about learning and developing a new technique.
Some techniques are relatively easy to learn as you go such as double exposures, where it really is just a matter of experimenting, trying things over and over again until you start to get the results you are hoping for.
Polymer solar plate photogravure printing is a modernised version of copper plate printing. Firstly, the digital image is printed onto acetate on an inkjet printer. The acetate is then placed onto the polymer coated metal plate and exposed to UV light in a vacuum chamber, this hardens the polymer of the lighter areas and leaves the dark areas soft. The plate is then rinsed in water and dried and re-exposed to UV light. Then the plate can be inked and wiped before it is placed onto a dampened piece of paper and manually pulled through a traditional etching press. Every print made involves this latter part of the process so it is both intensive and time consuming.
It was wonderful to be involved in a process that was both mechanical and physical, very far removed from digital ways and pressing the button on a printer.
What new techniques have you tried but not continued with and why? What has worked and you’ve then incorporated into your photography?
There is such a variety of techniques to try, and I find it fun experimenting. Personally, I really struggle with ICM and it is the least successful and therefore least used of the techniques I have tried. It has become incredibly fashionable, and in my opinion, can be greatly overused! Occasionally, however, somebody produces an image that is
staggeringly beautiful. Never say never….
On the other hand, I love shooting double exposures. Creating them in camera is truly challenging, to get two perfect compositions that really work together to form one final image is very satisfying. I haven’t yet got to multiple exposures; I am sure it is a matter of time……
You have a defined style which concentrates on tone, texture and structure, and some of your black and white landscape images are very abstracted. How have you developed your style? Has this changed or evolved over time?
Over the past decade, my style has changed drastically. From the early ‘colour, wide vista’ days to the black and white images of today. This really is the result of taking thousands of images and more importantly to sharing work and being helped by some amazing photographers. I have been incredibly lucky to meet so many people who have helped me while starting to understand a little more about both photography, and myself.
I now have more time for photography, to try new techniques, and digital photography has given me the freedom to experiment. The instant feedback on the LCD at least gives us a guide to whether something has potential or not.
The most significant change is that I think my visual awareness has developed and I see better, there has been a downward spiral in my stress levels and I am much more connected to my subject, and I give myself permission to experiment, and if something doesn’t work, it doesn’t matter. There is always another way.
Your website is called ‘Solitude Photography’ rather than just your name like most photographers. Can you give us some background on the name and the significance for you?
Like many other photographers, I am happiest on location and hiding behind the camera. This seems to be true for virtually every photographer I talk to. Sharing work is extremely important, it can inform, educate and inspire. At the same time can make us feel vulnerable, and for many, exhibiting is about the work more than the photographer. The name Solitude Photography works for me on several levels. Landscape photography can be a solitary existence. We are often alone in the field, processing, and printing. It can be really valuable to share work in progress, to get help with editing, advice on things that work together. This needn’t be with other photographers, but sometimes other creatively minded souls. I hope many of my images convey a sense of peace, even though some are much busier, others more ethereal.
The Joe Cornish Galleries are launching a new series of exhibitions for gallery photographers called Focus On, where their work will be displayed for a three month period.
You’re the first photographer to display their work in this new series of exhibitions. Tell us how that came about and what you’re most looking forward to for this exhibition.
Jo Rose, Curator at the Joe Cornish Galleries really understands the value of sharing work. I have been showing work here for some time and I had a mini exhibition called Life on a Lead which was a fun way to start. I am lucky to live in North Yorkshire so I can visit regularly and I think Jo could see commitment, determination and ambition as well as the ability to deliver. We had been talking initially about displaying the photogravure series, and then she approached me with the idea of ‘Focus On'. This gives the Gallery Photographers a fantastic opportunity to engage with their work on a different level, and for a much longer period, and to engage with visitors and to hear their opinions.
Events including talks and ‘meet the artist’ means we can share our work on a much more personal level, to talk to visitors and get feedback on our work. This is not an exhibition in the truest sense or a complete body of work, but about showing a greater variety and depth of work, seeing what works and doesn’t, and what visitors respond to.
It is both a privilege and a responsibility to be the first photographer in the ‘Focus On’ series, and it is probably the only time in my life where I will be followed by David Ward!
Tell us about the images that you’ll be exhibiting. Will you be displaying a new series of work?
The images are quite a mixture, and that is the whole point about Focus On…because it is an opportunity to show a wider selection of images than one might show in an exhibition.
Firstly, there is the limited-edition series of photogravure images of reeds which were shot and printed in Spain.
The other images show a much wider variety of both subject and style. From woodland to the coast, with double exposures, high key and abstract images all included. The majority were shot in North Yorkshire, and others from Venice, the Lake District
and Scotland
If it is a series of work that you are exhibiting, how are you approaching the sequencing of the images in the exhibition? What visual and non-visual narrative do you want to leave the audience with?
The exhibition space in the room is divided up by doorways, windows, bookshelves and a mantlepiece. This structure breaks the space down into smaller groups which is great.
The photogravure series of reeds will be displayed on one wall, along with acetate and plate and a brief description of the process.
The remaining images will be subdivided into smaller groups and the sequencing will be led predominantly by tonal range.
Although I have measured the space available and done basic layouts, it is really important to be flexible. One can suddenly see new combinations that are a complete revelation. However, this may well change depending on what looks right and Jo Rose and I think on the day.
I love being outside and surrounded by the natural beauty of the world around us. I feel a strong connection with the landscape, and it would be wonderful if the audience could relate to an image on some level, whether it is how an image looks or feels. Sometimes we need to slow down, be still or look for longer. Whether it is walking in a park, or past a tree on the street, stop and look, and look again, now what do you see.
The slower I work in a location the more potential images I see. This is about being receptive to the world around us, and to find moments of peace or calm in this frenetic world we live in. Just ‘being’ is a great thing to achieve as it seems we spend our lives always ‘doing’. That solitude, peace and stillness, is there if we choose it.
Tell us more about the printing and framing of the images for the exhibition e.g. paper, size etc.
The photogravure series are printed on various handmade or Somerset papers which are off white and textured. The paper is hand torn before printing which gives a deckled appearance. They are float mounted in a box frame.
Image/Plate size is 122 x 152, paper (approx.) 198 x 260, and frame 357 x 410. All the other images I printed on Fotospeed Signature Platinum Baryta 300 and close mounted, and both sets are in limed oak frames. Image 98 x 127, Frame 325 x 340.
I am indebted to Andy, Paul and the team at Wensleydale Galleries in Leyburn for their patience and all the trials we did in getting to the final stage of mounting and framing or the exhibition.
Tell me what your favourite two or three photographs from the exhibition are and a little bit about them.
That is a tough call! The three images I have chosen all have one thing that unites them, I keep discovering new details in them, details I hadn’t noticed before.
I love working in mist and fog, although it can be a battle to keep lenses dry. Judging when it is going to clear can be tricky as then the light can change very quickly. This woodland image was just one of those moments and I love the depth within it.
When I was first playing with double exposure, I was shooting autumn woodland, so there were lots of beech leaves on the ground. I tried many different combinations over quite a length of time and then one day it suddenly came together.
Water abstract holds my attention, simple yet complex.
What sort of post processing do you undertake on your pictures? Give me an idea of your workflow.
As little as possible! Post processing is the least enjoyable part of photography for me. However, it is the necessary evil on the route to producing a good print. I use both Lightroom and Silver Efex, the latter I find particularly effective in the treatment of mid tones. Later in the year, I will revisit Photoshop which I think I will use for specific
techniques and that may seem less daunting.
What is next for you? Where do you see your photography going in terms of subject and style?
I have some ideas rattling around for a book which I started this year and will continue
to work on next year, and maybe beyond. In terms of subject and style, I honestly do not know, and that is fantastic.
Many thanks, Kate for your time. Kate's exhibition runs from Saturday 11 May - Saturday 11 August at the Joe Cornish Gallery.
Kate will be in conversation with Joe Cornish at the Galleries on the afternoon of Thursday 16 May and will also at the gallery for 'Meet the Photographer' event on Saturday 13 July.
Our Graduated filter system tests are nearly at an end (or at least at a point where I’m happy to commit to some conclusions as someone has just reminded me about vignetting tests and a final video in the field).
The latest couple of tests that I’ve undertaken have been about usability, both in terms of getting the filters on and off, rotating polarisers, inserting graduated filters, etc and finally seeing how easy they are to keep clear of water and dirt. Plus I’ve weighed the filter components and looked up the prices.
NB: Since making these tests we have been contacted by Cokin who would like to add the following "At the time the test and review was conducted, Cokin’s UK distributor was only able to supply the CR39 resin X-Pro filters. Whilst these performed well, they are not up to the standard of certain glass filters. However, Cokin do now have a full range of high-performance, glass ‘NUANCES EXTREME’ filters available and Tim will be reviewing these soon, when Cokin’s new filter holder system is launched". Hopefully we'll follow up this review with some extra changes that have happened across a range of filters.
My first analysis looks at how easy the filters are to insert, move up and down and whether they are ‘sticky’ or not. I did this by measuring the amount of force needed to make each movement and then assigning some ‘weightings’ to each to give a final score.
Here’s a screenshot of the graph of results, click here to see the full spreadsheet.
I wouldn’t worry too much about differences of a point or two here. I would have four main groupings
H&Y, ProGrey, Wine Country and Lee with Kase
Lee (old and new) and Breakthrough
SRB, Firecrest, Benro, Kase, Haida, Nisi and Sirui
I’ll cover some of the actual differences when we get to the usability scores and the description of each later in the article.
Personally, as long as any colour casts are within a reasonable range, it’s the usability of a filter system that makes the biggest difference (cost aside for a moment) and so I’ve spent the last few months trying out the different systems in a range of conditions. I’ve also tried each system using gloves of various thicknesses as well to simulate those cold winter mornings when the last thing you want is to fight with your equipment on top of freezing half to death.
Here's a screenshot of the usability results which you can access directly by clicking on the image.
As you can see the columns show different aspects of usability which should be self-explanatory. The 'security' column shows the risk of knocking the adapter off or not attaching it correctly. Also, the chance of dropping or knocking off graduated filters or polarisers.
And here's a screenshot of the glove testing which you can access directly by clicking on the image.
The thin gloves were a pair of fleece thinsulate gloves (such as these, the thicker pair were Rab Guides (see here).
I wanted to check just how good the water-resistant/easy clean coatings were and so I made a few tests where I used a spray bottle to slowly soak the filters and then gave them wipes with a wet chamois and then finally tried to clean them properly using a dry cloth. Here’s a photo of all of the filters in their wet state.
The results surprised me as I was expecting just a small difference and the filters to be grouped into resin, uncoated and coated but in fact, there were lots of finer-grained differences. The very best filters kept the drop size quite small when the filter was getting wet and shed the water easily. Here's a comparison of the way the drops formed between a good filter and a bad filter - in this case, Breakthrough (left) vs Firecrest (right).
They also were fantastic when wiped as the only remaining bits of water were very tiny and could hardly be noticed through the viewfinder and these dried off quickly because of their size. The worst ones just smeared big blobs of water everywhere and remained wet even after wiping. Here’s a comparison sample of the best to worst filters (in this case Breakthrough, Haida, Lee and SRB).
We also noticed a difference in the way that the filters cleaned. Some filters (such as the Wine Country/Blackstone shown below) smeared a lot. This couldn’t be seen through the viewfinder but was annoying never-the-less). Some cleaned OK after a few wipes (Resin filters) and most of the glass filters cleaned quite quickly (the best corresponding to the best in the water wipe test). I factored this into the water shedding results but it was only a small factor and didn’t change order of results.
Here's the final table showing the water shedding scores which you can access directly by clicking on the image
Here’s a gallery of all of the water shedding results :-
and here is a gallery so you can see each in close up.
Before we get to the final overall results, I wanted to include three tables showing the colour accuracy scores from the previous issues and also the price and weight tables. Click on the table to access the full google spreadsheet.
I have created a table of results showing various aspects of each system and grading them as a percentage. These ‘scores’ will inevitably have a little bit of subjectivity and arbitrariness about them but along with the short video on each system in the next issue and my written description you should get an idea when they rate as they do. I’ve created a weighted total in the last column, one taking into account price and weight and the other excluding them.
I’m reviewing these in the order of the total which takes into account price and weight. If you exclude price and weight the order doesn’t change too much but the Wine Country and Sirui both go up one place.
The H&Y filters were a late addition to the tests and were a recommendation by Giovanni Coronna and I’m very grateful he did so as they’re probably my favourite filters (despite the price, more on that later).
The main things to know about the H&Y setup are that the filters are in caddys, and very secure ones; they mount magnetically; the polariser/ND’s use a drop in system with a cog for adjustment (which I love); and the holder uses a slightly add way of attaching which seems insecure but is actually ok once you’re used to it.
This is the obvious talking point and looks a bit like black magic when you first play with them. Given the price of the grads, I was a bit nervous at first. However, knowing that the grads are made from Corning Gorilla Glass (like the latest phone screens) and that they have the caddy to protect the edges (where breaks usually start) I didn’t feel too bad. However, what looks like a screw lock to prevent the filters being knocked off is just a tension lock to prevent accidental adjustment up and down. I did a quick check on how much force you need to actually knock them off made me think it would be good to have an accessory slot at the front to prevent and to give a little mental reassurance if you’re hanging over cliffs or mountains, etc. I’ve used this system more than most though and never had a problem (including hanging over cliff edges in Skye). UPDATE: H&Y confirmed they are releasing a replacement front design that clamps the filters in place which will be released before Autumn hopefully.
The big advantage of magnetic filters is the ease of use of the system. It’s so easy to quickly place a grad on, especially with gloves, and stacking two filters was very simple with the cumulative magnetic force actually making the second filter more secure.
Both H&Y and Haida use a drop in filter system and in my mind it’s the ideal solution to annoyance of screwing in and unscrewing filters. The second best alternative is the magnetic polariser system used by Kase and Breakthrough. H&Y’s drop in filters have a very prominent adjustment wheel with a good action and which uses a detent system to hold the filter in place (which means it won’t drop out even shaken around upside down). H&Y have a few options for drop in filters including a polariser, 6 stop ND & polariser combo and a 10 stop ND with rumors of a drop in variable ND later this year.
If you’re spending a lot of money on filters, taking care of them becomes a major factor. Having filters made of toughened glass makes a big difference and having been sent a sample by Kase and thrown it around on gravel and concrete I’ve been very impressed at their strength. H&Y filters go a step further and use Corning’s Third Generation Gorilla Glass. This is substantially stronger than toughened soda lime glass (B270) which you can see here. At £200 a filter, I haven’t tried throwing them around but with the caddy system protecting the edges, I think you’d be hard pushed to break them from normal drops.
Unlike most filter holders, the H&Y has a novel way of mounting onto their adapters. It’s best to watch the video to see how this works but the following photo might make things clear but it’s like the Cokin way of attaching but with a couple of locking screws either side.
I was at first a bit sceptical of this but in the field, it works well, even with gloves on, and is quite secure. It takes a little adapting too if you’re used to the usual side clipping system though but it’s probably just as secure and as easy to use once you do adapt.
Overall the H&Y is an excellent system, good quality graduated filters with magnetic mounting, simple usability through drop in polarisers and NDs and all reasonably lightweight. Definitely my pick of the crop.
My choice for second place went to Kase because of a great balance of very few negatives, the cost is excellent, they’re the lightest system (for a holder and four grads), the water repelling was great, they’re easy to use and they’re the best classic filter system in my opinion. The weight can be reduced to sub-resin levels if you wanted to get their 1.1mm system as well!
So let’s take a look at some of the details of why we liked Kase
The filters are B270 toughened glass and from my own rough tests are very tough indeed. Kase supplied a sample of the glass which I’ve been throwing around on concrete and gravel to no ill effect. The colour accuracy of the filters is also very good indeed with the 1.1mm filters testing the very best using a spectrophotometer. I also like that they include a ‘medium’ filter (as do Lee, Haida, Nisi and 84.5).
The holder is the lightest on the market if you include the polariser and second lightest, just below the new Lee holder, if you don’t. It’s also the simplest to use and the only two negatives I can raise about it are that it uses a screw in clamp (I’d like to see a simpler spring latch with a screw in lock) and the polariser is hard to remove with gloves on.
The lightest polariser going at 20g, because it excludes the rotating system (this is a permanent feature of the adapter). It’s a magnetic system which makes it very easy to attach (although harder to remove because of clearance).
A really good value, classic polariser system. Currently the best ‘heir’ to the Lee throne.
Below H&Y and Kase which I think would be first and second by most ways of judging, in our weighted scoring table are a bunch of systems quite close together and the relative order changes a bit if you change the weighting. I would say that Breakthrough, Haida, Nisi, Lee, Benro and Wine Country would all make most people very happy. They each have their advantages and disadvantages including price and weight. It depends on what you value and how you use your filter systems. I’ve worked out my own weightings and hence results and will order these comments based on these.
Despite the slightly hyperbolic marketing (no they weren’t the first at everything and no they don’t have the most colour accurate polarisers, ND or grad filters), the Breakthrough was generally pretty good across the board. I like their glass filters which felt great and shed water and dirt exceptionally well. I also give bonus marks for polariser usability and simplicity.
Although a lot heavier and more bulky than the Kase polariser, the Breakthrough one is a lot easier to attach and remove. It’s adjustment is via a ribbed ring sitting on the adapter itself. I have to make a personal objection to the way that some filter systems have a bulky adapter (with some others like the Nisi forcing the use of step up rings). I much prefer a simple adapter ring with no strings attached (although I forgive Kase the simplicity of their adapter which includes a rotating front as it is still compact).
The polariser is really easy to locate and it snaps in with a strong magnet. However, it is quite stiff and unless the adapter is screwed into the lens well, I have had it unscrew on me as I try to adjust the polariser (familiarity may make this easier though).
The polariser can be removed without taking the system apart as long as you’re not wearing thick gloves (unlike the Kase, for instance, which needs a prominent nail to hook under)
One of the joys of the Breakthrough system is the use of classic slots for filters, just like Lee have used for years. This isn’t a bad thing as it makes inserting and adjusting filters very easy with little faffing and sticking. Sometimes simple is good!
So the Breakthrough scored pretty well through being very usable, especially with gloves on, having easily manageable filters and not being too bad in the other departments. A solid showing.
This is another drop in filter system which gets bonus points for polariser usability but it’s not quite as easy to use as the H&Y one. However, the rest of the Haida system is also good. It’s easier to use with gloves than the Kase system although inserting grads needs a little bit of practise as they don’t line up quite as easily. We tested both the Haida RD and normal Haida. The colour of the RD was definitely better with the obvious advantages of robustness and seemingly a bit better coating.
The Haida drop in polariser uses a pinch lock system which seems more secure than the H&Y (although I couldn’t get either to bunch passively once inserted fully). This can also be used for ND filters and is excellent at stopping light leaks. The drop in filters are also lightweight.
In colour terms, the Haida were more than acceptable for general use but they weren’t as accurate as the other glass filters and had more variability (most had a small cool cast). They also weren’t great at shedding rain and wiping off water. The holder does make inserting grads slightly more difficult as the ‘tension’ on the sides of the slots is positioned to it resists just as you start inserting the filter and the slots aren’t very deep which means you have to get the filter exactly aligned to insert cleanly - not a major issue as I imagine you would get used to it.
A good system that ticks a lot of the boxes. The grads could be more colour neutral but they’re good enough that most won’t notice (and way better than most resin filters). The holder design with the drop in polariser/nd system is the way to go in my opinion but there are a couple of usability issues with this (more difficult in gloves) and the aforementioned grad insertion issue that means it didn’t get a better score.
The Nisi system is a very good value setup, especially now they produce their cheaper tempered glass filters, and has pretty good usability. There’s certainly nothing to dislike about the system but there are a few minor niggles. We tested both the 'optical glass' Nisi filters and also the toughened 'Explorer' range. There was no discernible difference in colour or sharpness.
A few filter systems tested use the combined adapter and polariser system. Kase, Firecrest, ProGrey, Breakthrough all have some version of a polariser mount and a way to rotate it. My issue with this system is partly the increased bulk on the end of each lens (if you have an adapter per lens) or having to screw a single adapter on each time you use it.
Kase and Firecrest make a very slimline version of this where you’d be pushed to tell at first that it uses this system. Breakthrough and ProGrey use larger versions with a knurled ring around the edges to rotate the filter. Nisi uses a more complex system where the adapter has the cog included and has to use step-up rings to adapt your lens to the adapter.
Personally, I prefer to have a simple adapter permanently mounted to each of my lenses.
Nisi also use a screw mount polariser which makes usability an issue in some cases. They do mitigate some of the issues by having a very short throw thread (only takes a half a turn to screw down and it locates the start of the thread a lot quicker than other systems) but it’s never going to be easy with gloves on. It’s nowhere near as bad as the Benro polariser which I can’t actually remove at the moment (despite stripping my nails off in the process). Magnetic attachment or drop in polarisers is definitely the future.
If you’re spending double the price of the Lee filters to get a glass system and using them outside in some difficult conditions, the last thing you want is to have them break even through small falls. Nisi has made a point out of saying their filters are made from optical grade glass and try to explain in their literature that they think their toughened glass filters are inferior optically. The claim doesn’t really stand up to scrutiny, however.
The supporting literature says “"Is image quality different? Yes! You may not see a great deal of difference". In fact, you almost certainly won't see any difference because of the glass material itself as B270 (toughened glass) is used for lenses as well as the ‘optical glass’ H-K9L. The difference is a very slight change in light transmission and a tiny difference in refractive index. For a complex lens design made out of H-K9L might have a bit more transmission than a similar lens made using B270 but for the 2mm of filter in front of the rest of the filter system there will be no visually discernable difference. As for optical quality, as they are both used in lens systems, the optical quality will be governed by whether the filters are optically flat or not. In my own tests (in a previous article) I couldn’t see any difference between any of the glass filters tested, even though I was photographing through the filter held at 45 degrees to a 400mm lens at nearly 50mp.
Personally, I think the cheaper, toughened glass filters that Nisi have just introduced under their “Explorer” brand are a no brainer purchase.
A very competent filter system with few major disadvantages (most of which are to do with the adapter and polariser).
Benro threw in a real curveball with their graduated filter system. Not only did they include a caddy system but it has cogs on the side and has a geared system to move them up and down. Overkill? Read on!
In the quest for more selling points, Benro has introduced what has to be the most bling. A geared system for adjusting the height of graduated filters. Each caddy has linear gears on the side and the main holder has a big red wheel that you can push or pull to align with the slot you wish to adjust and, once engaged, you can sit behind your camera and tweak to your heart’s content.
In reality, I found a couple of issues with this. The first is that the way the caddy inserts into the holder means it’s very easy to ‘cross load’ them. The second is that it’s really solving a non-existent problem. There hasn’t been a situation where I couldn’t just move the filters up and down with my fingers. I suppose I might be able to contrive a situation where I had three filters and the middle one was lower so I could only access the bottom where it stuck out. But I’d be happy to work around this.
Personally, I think the geared graduated filters are a bit of over-engineering. Others may find the feature useful so I’ll leave that open. The rest of the Benro system is OK - the graduated filters are good but not as colour neutral as some. The polariser attachment lets the system down and is very difficult to remove. Overall it’s an OK system that I’m sure many people will be happy with.
Lee have just redesigned their filter holder and it’s definitely an improvement over the old holder. The ability to lock the filter holder so it can’t get knocked and also lock the rotation if desired is a big win (you’ll know what I mean if you’ve ever had to look for the brass spring and knob, usually dropped in long grass). The holder itself now looks like a sports car accessory dressed in faux carbon fibre and electric blue flashes. However, it is actually injection moulded plastic which still has the benefit of being lighter than a metal equivalent and makes the new Lee holder the lightest on the market at 52 grams.
Excuse the title of this section but I wasn't sure what else to call it. Essentially the new knob has a second blue ring on it that allows you to lock the filter on in one position and in the other to lock the filter on AND stop rotation, In practise, they seemed very similar and both did the locking job but made it hard to rotate the filter.
The new slots are slightly different and make it easier to insert grads but they are a little ‘stickier’ than the old system (not by much though).
It’s worth mentioning that this ‘stickiness’ was noticed as an annoying aspect of a few of the holders tested (by stickiness, I mean the difference between the force to get the filter starting to move vs the force to keep it moving. If the starting force is high then the filter can ‘jump’ in position). For instance, the Haida holder was very sticky, as was the Nisi. On the other hand, ProGrey was amazingly smooth, as were the Lee and Breakthrough systems. When you’re making minor adjustments to grad positions, this stickiness can be quite annoying.
Lee’s old method of mounting polarisers was a bit of a pain. It involved undoing the slots and then adding a metal ring to which you could screw in the overside polariser. Most people I know had two adapters, one with and one without the polariser, just to make things easier. The new system mounts the polariser onto a plastic adapter which has ‘clips’ either side which then push onto sockets on the filter slots. The polariser mounts easily enough and it has a nice cogged outer ring for adjustments but mine is exceptionally stiff to remove. I imagine it could get easier over time but I’ve yet to be able to remove it without first removing the adapter from the camera.
The graduated filters by Lee turned out to be the most accurate of all tested. This was very pleasing to see. However, I also tested some of my older filters (over 10 years old) and the results weren’t quite as good (to say the least). I won’t include those results here but I wouldn’t be buying them based on my tests.
Then again, I’ve used the old set for lots of photographs I’ve been very happy with which just goes to show that you don’t need perfect to be very happy with the results. Considering the price difference from the Lee filters to other manufacturers glass filters, you could easily replace Lee at least once and still be cheaper. There is a definite shift in colour over the years with Lee’s resin filters though.
The big issue with Lee’s filters is really the problems around dealing with static and also water shedding. Keeping them clean and clear was substantially harder than the better glass filters. Living with cats as I do means that the Lee filters probably had an extra stop of density reduction just through hair accumulation (OK, not quite that bad but you get the idea)
Both Lee’s old and new filter systems do the job very well for just graduated filters and the old system was really only let down by the polariser mounting. The new system solves some of that with a few teething problems. Not the most usable but you wouldn’t go too far wrong with it.
The Wine Country system is one that I had very high hopes for. The developers have approached the problem with a “no holds barred” mentality and definitely not scrimped financially. Given all of this, it was a surprise to find the system had a few major flaws.
Firstly I’ll say that the system is very pretty indeed with stained wood side handles and polariser rotating wheel. The holder is made of a sturdy metal construction and the filter caddies out of a high quality glass fibre epoxy resin casts with a positively ostentatious brass coin controlling the locking action. Quite the accessory for Alpa lovers.
The security of attachment of the filter adapter to the lens is particularly important. It’s doubly so when the system costs twice the price of other systems, is twice as heavy and doesn’t use toughened filters. As such you would expect an extra level of security. Unfortunately, the system used is a major let down. Essentially we have one screw retainer which doesn’t engage in a slot on the outer rim of the adapter and hence has to be fully tightened to prevent the filter holder falling off in any downward facing position.
Ideally, adapter systems should have a two-level attachment system. One ‘catch’ should allow quick attachment of the filter holder. A second level should allow the locking of the adapter down completely.
If the Wine Country system is used in a downward facing position and you wish to rotate the whole adapter to realign the grads, you must hold onto the whole adapter to prevent it falling off before releasing the screw and turning the filter holder.
The difference in weight between the Kase filter system and the Wine Country system is quite something. The Kase 1.1mm holder, polariser and four graduated filters come in at 273g whilst the equivalent Wine Country holder, polariser and grads is a hefty 834g, over three times as heavy. To go along with this increased weight, the Wine Country system is over twice the price of the Kase system.
With such a critical start it’s nice to say something positive about the system. The way the polariser attaches and rotates is really well executed in the WC system. The positive action of the large wooden wheel rotates the polariser 90 degrees for a 180-degree rotation of the wheel and does so very smoothly. The two small clamps lock the polariser in place very well and should be a model for how the filter holder could lock onto the adapter.
The caddies fit into slots on the front of the filter adapter up to the midway point and then beyond this, you have to depress a sprung button on the front of the left-hand slot. There are two buttons, one for each slot (the back slot being for ND filters and has a light trap). Once depressed the caddies move freely and letting go locks the caddy in place. Wine Country had a few issues with the tension of the buttons at first which allowed the filters to slip down but this has been fixed in a more recent design. One “Gotcha” which I fell for is holding the wrong filter as you press the button. This means the other filter just drops all the way. Fortunately, the system has a 'stop' to prevent the filter from falling out so just annoying rather than dangerous.
The Wine Country system is ultimately a disappointment. It plays on aesthetics more than functionality and for me, that is the wrong priority. However, it still performs well and, if you can forgive the usability issues, it will look sooo bling on the front of your camera!
SRB is a nice filter holder let down by poor grads and a screw in polariser. If they could make a glass filter and a magnetic polariser it would be a contender with some of the better filter systems as the usability was first rate.
A much simpler polariser and filter holder system, the Sirui is competent but didn’t stand out enough to be an attractive choice despite having some of the more colour accurate graduated filters. The major let down was the action of mounting and unmounting the filter holder to the adapter and mounting and unmounting the polariser (a normal screw in).
A resin-based grad system with a simple slotted holder and adapter mounted polariser. The graduated filters had a cast that was noticeable in pictures. The system had a few usability issues such as a fiddly way of mounting (see final video in the next issue) and the screw in polariser wasn’t straightforward to use. However, the system was one of the lightest tested and the graduated filters were very smooth to insert and adjust.
One of the earlier filter sets we tested and which we were initially quite pleased with. However, in comparison with some of the other filters, it was let down by some usability issues (particularly with the screw in polariser and when using gloves). The filters were also the worst at shedding water and dust and were bad on smearing when cleaning. Overall they lost a small number of points across a range of issues and ended up quite low in the rankings. NB We tested the Ultra filters, not the older ones.
Part 1: Filter Systems for Neutral Density, Graduated and Polarising Filters
Part 2: Graduated Filter Colour Accuracy Testing
Part 3: Graduated ND Filter Sharpness and Flare
Part 5: Graduated Filter Test: Scratch Resistance, Vignetting, Methodology and Usability Video
I first learned of the work of Jem Southam in 2015, via my subscription to On Landscape. The archive of talks held by the magazine offers a wealth of knowledge and insight into the technique and practice of photography and is a wonderful resource for accessing the creative process and absorbing the unique perspective, philosophy and approach of a spectrum of wonderful photographers.
Jem Southam’s talk from 2013 and my subsequent viewing of his body of work was a major revelation to me and continues to inform my practice of and approach to photography. For example, and quite coincidentally, I have been returning every year for five days to the same spot in the mountains of the Southern Alps of New Zealand, to a little known place called Temple Basin. ‘Temple’ is a unique subject, It is a ski lodge set half way up a mountain in Arthurs Pass National Park. Temple is a small private club field and is the only such field to be permitted in a National Park in New Zealand. I am now ten years into documenting the environment at this location and Jem’s talk has greatly informed my approach to creating a body of work over time about this place.
Welcome to our 4x4 feature which is a set of four mini landscape photography portfolios submitted from our subscribers. Each portfolios consisting of four images related in some way.
Interested in submitting your work? We're on the lookout for new portfolios for the next few issues, so please do get in touch!
If you would like to submit your 4x4 portfolio, please visit this page for submission information. You can view previous 4x4 portfolios here.
For me, urban landscapes can be just as exciting and interesting to photograph as the more traditional landscapes of our natural environment.
"Intimate photography", as it's often called, becomes increasingly popular as Landscape photographers such as myself look for substance in areas other than those with wide vistas. It doesn't take long, however, to come to the realisation that these intimate, elemental scenes can be found anywhere.
The 4 images I've chosen are examples of things that go unnoticed, hidden in plain sight. They can sometimes become unintentionally abstract as the thing that grabs our initial attention is usually shape, form, texture etc. Some scenes could be as easily stepped on as they could be walked past, but I don't think the discovery of elements such as these (as brief or as long lasting as they may be) is a result of a trained eye - it can be as simple as looking down at the ground beneath your feet.
The Leelanau Peninsula of Michigan is where I have the good fortune to make my home. Yet as I have recently discovered, there is a side to the landscape I have only just begun to become acquainted with, at least from an artistic standpoint. Each year Winter descends on this rural and wild region, transforming the landscape with her snowy white veil, and opening a window of opportunity to explore a creative aspect I have not pursued in the past. Lately, I have found myself growing more and more obsessed with the concepts of minimalism, tone, shape, and form. Recently I have begun to explore these concepts and have opened my mind to not only new compositional subject matter but to making photographs in the 6x6 cm square format using black and white films. This practice has awakened my scenes and rejuvenated my passion for making images and I find myself revitalized on my life long quest as an image maker.
Through this pursuit, my style and philosophy have evolved. I have allowed myself to lift some constraints that I had in place and open the door to new creative possibilities on my path as an artist. I have enjoined working in the smaller field of focus that the square aspect provides and have begun to see tonal relationships in the landscape much clearer through the use of black and white film. I have found inspiration in the work of artists such as Michael Kenna and Bruce Percy, and while these artists have helped me to see in a new and different way, I find my own style alive, well and evolving in the process.
As a wise man named Heraclitus once said “The Only Thing That Is Constant Is Change “ I too find it is the only way forward, the way up and the way down. It keeps things fresh and me sharp and engaged in my work. I look forward to making pictures in this new style through all seasons of life, both the landscapes and mine. I welcome unblocked creative flow and evolution. Most of all I look forward to being outside exploring our amazing world, finding beauty both hidden and in plain sight and sharing my findings through my photographs with the world.
Lake MacIntosh has been my refuge and sanctuary for quite a few years. I've gone there in times of sadness and distress as well as happier times. I feel a deep connection with the land, the trees and the water. I've photographed there in every type of weather but love grey overcast skies the most. Every time I go there, I see something new. The lake is a continual source of inspiration. Lake MacIntosh is located in Longmont, Colorado, hence the mountain views.
A strong fascination with the concept of time has permeated my work from the very beginning and indeed now, in retrospect, I realise it might well be the reason why I chose photography as a medium of personal expression and investigation of the world I live in. In fact, I also realise this same fascination with time might very well have explained also my attraction for philosophy and science, and particularly astronomy and geology, a branch that constituted my professional and academic background many years ago. Today, as an artist photographer, it seems that this same fascination for the concept of time goes on permeating through my work. It was already the case when working on “Timeless”, that culminated with the publication of the book of the same name, and “Dead End”. But temporality has also become the red line or thread throughout the creation of several bodies of work currently on-going.
The Memory of Light
I decided to study where that fascination came from, why and how photography could be used to the service of representing “the intractable” (Barthes), and how photographic practice, theory and criticality could inform my views and work on the concept of Time.
I’m sorry. I don’t think you’ll like what I’ve got to say. But it needs to be said. I doubt if anything in your experience - in any of our experiences - makes my conclusion plausible. And, of course, there’s always the chance it’s a false conclusion But, I’ll ask you to entertain just one thought throughout: what if? What if this is how it’s going to be? Maybe, by the end, you’ll wonder, “why wouldn’t it be?” That would be a good outcome; if would mean that you’ve put hope aside and are ready to look at what is to come squarely in the eye.
What if… industrial civilisation began to disintegrate in the course of the next century? Not in cataclysmic, Hollywood-style but rather, incrementally, in different parts of the world at different rates and with varying consequences? There is plenty of evidence that this process has already begun in countries where the value that is the absolute bedrock of civilisation, civility, is being expunged in public and private discourse. Violent words and hateful speech have a long history of morphing into barbarism and destruction. Much of this ugliness is propagated by a spectrum of righteous zealots whose dogma never seems to acknowledge our collective reliance, as a single species, on the integrity of natural systems. In this sense at least, no ideology is rooted in “the real world”; each is just a story adherents tell themselves to fulfil a particular need., material or spiritual.
Our unprecedented connectivity and the weakness of moderating firebreaks makes the transmission of shocks to and from the outer fringes possible as never before. While people have a long history of telling lies to further their cause, the extent to which these can be put, repeatedly, before credulous people, is new. For all I know, I may be a victim myself and for that reason, the claims I make here are substantially based on direct observation of how people behave, my 40 year involvement in environmental advocacy and a lifetime of working outside.
My parents, Ardis and Philip Hyde, as a team, made a full-time living in nature photography for 60-years before many others did. They also not only helped to make national parks and other wilderness, they quietly and for the most part privately, helped pioneer the Post War wave of the Back to the Land Movement. Before sustainably became a trend, they lived a low carbon, low impact, self-sufficient lifestyle.
They lived in the wilderness, which not only surrounded their home and gardens in the Northern Sierra, but also became the typical destination for professional projects, many in national or state parks. They also made a point of traveling over back roads through the wildest places possible on the way to photography locations. They often parked for the night far from any towns, perhaps in a gravel quarry, on a side road or in a primitive campground.
Philip, Ardis and David Self-Portrait, Waterpocket Fold, Capitol Reef National Park
Though Mom grew up in Sacramento and Dad in San Francisco, both of them had roots in camping, farming and wilderness. Mom often spent weekends on her grandfather’s ranch. Also, her father took the family camping in the Sierra many times a year. Dad hiked in the hills of San Francisco, Marin County and beyond. He first backpacked in Yosemite National Park with the Boy Scouts when he was 16. He also backpacked the Yosemite backcountry with his father and brother. Part of what brought Mom and Dad together was a desire to be in the outdoors as much as possible.
Starting early in Dad’s career, going against the advice of both of his mentors Ansel Adams and David Brower, he and Mom decided to live in the wilderness, not just work there. They took up residence in the mountains far away from the photography marketplace. They acquired 18 acres with National Forest bordering two sides of the property. Dad built what was originally only a 1200 square foot home with a garage, but he added a second bedroom and a larger studio later. The house sits about three hundred yards above Indian Creek on a shelf formed by an ancient rockslide from the precipitous rock faces of the peak across the creek called Grizzly Ridge, which rises 3,000 feet nearly straight up and is capped with snow most of the year.
Piers, San Francisco Waterfront (see the end of the article for captions for all photos)
Dad designed, drew the plans and built the house by hand. It took him two years because he did most of the work himself with some help from Mom in the evenings. A few other friends helped pour the foundation and hoist the large beams for the roof. Everything about the home, the large fireplace made from stones from the property, the flat roof, the solar hot water panels, the clerestory windows, the raised bed vegetable garden, the fruit trees and the whimsical stone lined pond and flower garden were all ideas adopted from other pioneers of conservation and low-impact living.
Mom not only taught kindergarten full-time in Greenville, California, she also became known for her knowledge of organic gardening, food storage and preparation. She became an expert on gardening to attract butterflies, bees and other beneficial creatures in the Mountain West. She planted Butterfly Bushes, Virginia Creeper, and Japanese Maples. She was an expert plant pirate and regularly gave other gardeners cuttings. She grew 4-5 varieties of Dogwood and many other colorful shrubs and dwarf trees. She also became highly skilled at canning, freezing, preserving, making her own soap, bread, cheese, butter, tofu and many other household goods. She grew strawberries, raspberries, and rhubarb. When I was about seven, she and I planted a vegetable garden.
Riffle Through Woods at Rough Rock, Northern Sierra, California, 1983
For better harvest yields, Dad let in more sunlight by cutting trees at the edge of the forest for firewood, leaving me to dig out the stumps. From a young age I remember hauling straw, sand, topsoil, manure, gravel, sawdust, wood chips and peat moss for the garden, as well as the winter’s wood supply in many loads in our dark green dented 1952 Chevrolet step-side pickup my parents bought from photographer Bret Weston in 1955.
He not only put in a lot of physical labor at home helping mom carve a home out of the wilderness, but photographed far from home for long months each year and sent out masses of press and show prints when he was home. He was working to get his nature photographs used by organizations and publishers before the market for nature photography had been established. However, by continuously sending out prints, negatives and transparencies, and because nobody could argue with their quality and power for illustrating nature, publishing credits and exhibitions gradually came. Also, his mentor David Brower began to expose his work and use it in the popular and widely known Sierra Club calendars, and brochure and mailers for many other conservation organizations such as National Audubon and the Wilderness Society, as well as many more local groups all over the Western States. Sunset magazine and other expensive slick magazines started using more photographs solely of nature during the transition to color as image reproduction technologies improved. Sunset, Life and other publishing houses also produced books showing and selling the American West to new families after World War II, who were also newly automobile-mobile and looking for places to visit, explore, camp and stay in the burgeoning variety of motel franchises. Hyde’s photographs, by the end of his full-time career, had been the primary illustrations in a few dozen large picture volumes and appeared in over 80 other books.
Meanwhile, Ansel Adams, Edward Weston and his sons Bret and Cole, Minor White, Imogen Cunningham, Dorothea Lange and other fine print makers became increasingly popular in the black and white collecting art world. They invited Hyde and his other classmates and a few others who had talent in the darkroom, to exhibit with them in significant shows all over the nation and the world. White curated a solo show of Hyde’s work at the George Eastman House Museum, which led to a Hyde solo show at the Smithsonian in 1956.
From the time of their marriage in June 1947 until Dad began to lose his eyesight in 1999, he spent an average of 99 days a year in the field. Mom accompanied him the most during the months of June through August when she had time off from teaching kindergarten. Dad traveled mainly between April and October in the Western United States; camping, backpacking, driving, riding horses, mules, trains, planes and boats to access wilderness for almost one third of every year of his more than 60 years of full-time photography.
The spring and summer of 1955 are good examples of how much the Hydes traveled in Dad’s early career. Even with this level of road travel, Ardis and Philip still averaged far fewer driving miles than the average American couple. Throughout a 60-year full-time photography career, the Hydes averaged together less than 10,000 miles per year. American couples average over 27,000 miles per year.
Drakes Beach from Hilltop, Pt. Reyes National Seashore, California, 1962
In 1955, after buying the 1952 Chevy Pickup from Bret Weston in March, Mom and Dad put a camper shell on it, christened it Covered Wagon and took off in it from April through September. They spent the last 12 days in April over 300 miles from home in the Coast Redwoods. Next Dad turned around and journeyed alone over 600 miles south for the first half of May to photograph Hetch Hetchy Valley in Yosemite. Continuously for the next three months Mom and Dad backpacked, camped, river rafted and drove thousands of miles through Nevada, Utah, Arizona, Colorado, Wyoming, Montana, Idaho, Washington and Oregon. This included three river trips: 13 days on the Colorado River through little known Glen Canyon, 26 days on the Yampa River in Utah and Wyoming inside Dinosaur National Monument, and five days on the Ladore River, also in Dinosaur. By August 16, after three weeks in Wyoming in Yellowstone National Park and Grand Tetons National Park on a Sierra Club Pack Trip, Mom got a ride home with participants, but Dad continued on to Glacier National Park way up in Montana for 10 days and Olympic National Park in Washington for two more weeks. Dad did not see home until September 10.
Cathedral in the Desert, Glen Canyon, Utah, 1964
Such a schedule makes it challenging to build much of a life at home. However, after I was born in 1965 Mom began to stay home from many of Dad’s photography trips and she planted a garden. Her gardening endeavors increased in size and scope until when I was about 10 years old, she had expanded the tenable area from one side of the house to three sides and her vegetable garden grew to approximately 15 by 20 meters.
Part of what moderated Mom and Dad’s push to achieve was a belief that life is meant for living and not just for work. My parents read Eastern philosophers such as Lao Tzu, who taught that happiness lies in being rather than doing. They read Lin Yutang, who in his large volume called The Importance of Living enlightens the reader with such chapter titles as, Human Life as a Poem, Playful Curiosity, Tea and Friendship, Enjoyment of Nature, and On Going About and Seeing Things. Many other texts of philosophy, art, culture and large picture books lined the walls of bookshelves in our mountain home.
Near Water’s Edge, Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona, 1964
Another book I remember seeing around the house, Living the Good Life: How to Live Sanely and Simply in a Troubled World by Helen and Scott Nearing, contained instructions on how to live an enjoyable, self-sufficient lifestyle. About two months before my mother passed on in 2002, I interviewed her about gardening for beneficial insects and wildlife for a magazines article. We also discussed a garden I planted at my own home near Pecos, New Mexico. At one point Mom excused herself from the dining table where we were talking, walked into her bedroom and came back with her own personal copy of Living the Good Life. With moistening eyes, she handed it to me and said, “This was our bible, besides, of course The Bible.”
Indeed, Living the Good Life had been the bible for the entire Back to the Land Movement that began in the 1930s and peaked in the 1950s. The Nearings left New York City and farmed on rural land first in Vermont, then Maine. After their book came out, they developed a national following of people who moved out of the cities to get away from Post War crowding, industrialism, pollution and competition. Also, for the first time in history, the human psyche confronted the possibility of mass annihilation with the invention of the atomic bomb.
Like the Nearings, the Hydes endured exposure to a wide range of rural and wild conditions and predicaments. Mom and Dad were survivors and minimalists who conserved resources, energy and money. Dad either repaired or jury-rigged water lines, oil pumps, motors, batteries, light switches and everything else in the house and vehicles.
In 1962, the same year Rachel Carson released Silent Spring, the Sierra Club first introduced color to landscape photography with the release of In Wildness Is the Preservation of the World with color photographs by Eliot Porter and quotes from Henry David Thoreau and Island In Time: The Point Reyes Peninsula by Harold Gilliam with photographs by Philip Hyde. While In Wildness was a well-planned art book, Island In Time was a rush project for which David Brower chose Dad as photographer because Brower knew Dad could quickly get enough artistically interesting, yet documentary feeling images to put together a book that not only helped raise the funds necessary to buy the land to establish Point Reyes National Seashore before the developers could subdivide it, not to mention it shared the Point Reyes story with Congress and President John F. Kennedy, who finalized the Bill making it part of the national park system.
Iceberg, Snow Patches, Ellery Lake, Yosemite National Park, 1980
Iceland has undoubtedly opened many people’s minds to the photographic possibilities of the far North and other places such as Greenland and the Faroes are now increasingly being talked about. It’s easy to think that our bucket list of adventures is image and internet driven. For Romain Tornay it was the stories that he read from an early age that inspired him to travel to and experience the same environments that had so fascinated him.
Can you tell us something about where you grew up, your early interests and whether those influenced your studies and choice of career?
I was born and grew up in the small town of Martigny in the canton of Valais, in the heart of the Swiss Alps. Although I enjoyed most of the activities of young children, I always had a great admiration and attraction for the great outdoors. Like many children, I dreamed of living in a hut lost in the middle of a forest. I quickly became passionate about the alpine world around me. I spent my youth walking, climbing, skiing, watching wildlife, understanding weather and nivology.
Hesitating between geography and biology, I opted for biology because science seduces me particularly. Although I specialized in environmental sciences, I oriented my career towards teaching so that I could pass on my passion and also enjoy school holidays to continue to realize my personal projects.
How did you first become interested in photography and what kind of images did you set out to make?
I became interested in photography as a child. I had fun evaluating magazine portfolio images, and I was photographing everything with my Kodak Disc 4000. But most of all, Grand Reportage pictures made me dream. I stopped taking pictures after childhood.
We can consider that my real start in photography began as an adult. I had already travelled a lot but two regions fascinated me in particular: the Far North and Africa.
Chance and certain circumstances led me to the North, which I wanted to photograph. Twenty years ago, it was not easy to travel to these countries and I wanted to share through images what I experienced and observed. I therefore clearly associate the birth of my passion for photography with my first trips to the North.
My first photos covered some action, some landscape, some animal life, some still life, a bit of everything but also sometimes nothing special. What is certain is that at that time I already had the necessary patience and determination that I still apply today in my photographic activities. My experience and my photographic approach progressively evolved over the years to be more refined, and especially more precise.
Cheryl Hamer and Glenys Garnett are landscape photographers who ‘come at’ their landscapes from a slightly different perspective; here they explore both their differences and their similarities and how the march of technology continues to aid and abet their creativity.
They had both been aware of each other’s imagery for a long time and without realising it, both found each other’s work to be very inspiring. Glenys particularly liked and admired some of Cheryl’s work with ICM and Multiple Exposure techniques and Cheryl was increasingly drawn to Glenys’ great use of ‘textures’ and layering in photoshop. They both identified with each other’s very broad creative approach to photography and have now recognised that ultimately, although they may take different routes, for both of them it’s about communicating something ‘extraordinary in the ordinary’.
They started collaborating when a new Facebook group SheClicks was set up last year (2018), a forum for both amateur and professional women photographers to share and network. Cheryl approached Glenys with some ideas and they then set about developing possible ways of working together initially through social media and possibly to meet up in the future.
Glenys became particularly interested in the way that Cheryl almost exclusively produces her images in-camera whereas her own approach is to have an idea, go out and shoot a series of images and then combine them in software afterwards. This is mainly down to the fact that the Fuji XT2 only allows 2 exposures in-camera so she has been limited to some extent. Similarly, Cheryl began to play with textures and layering in photoshop – and so, in the eternal way of art, they have influenced and encouraged each other to play and develop and to further expand the way they see the world.
The wonderful world of landscape photography is continuing to grow and change and is comprised of more and more people who want to get more creative and make images that are different from ‘classic landscapes’ taken in the golden hours. There’s nothing at all wrong with classic landscapes of course, along with the rest of us, I have spent many happy hours planning shoots and then waiting for that light that we all love so much.
However, as I’ve said before in On Landscape, the discovery of the in-camera multiple exposure facility in my camera several years ago was an absolute revelation to me and has enabled me to take my photography in a different direction.
As a photography workshop and tour leader I am often asked questions like “how did you do that”, “you must have made that shot in photoshop”, or, “do you think it’s wrong to make creative landscape images in photoshop”?
The simple answer to that latter point is no, I don’t think it’s wrong – but I do think it’s important to be honest about how you make a shot.
I try to make most of my images in-camera, using that multiple exposure facility and often some intentional camera movement too. I do it that way because I get huge personal satisfaction from it; I love planning and pre-visualising how I might be able to make something work in-camera and then putting in the time trying to make that happen. I love the fact that I get a lot of dross! This kind of work is hugely experimental – you can have an idea of how to do it, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that it will work out first time. I love looking at the first try and thinking – ‘no, that isn’t quite right, why not, what do I need to change to make it look closer to what I have in my head?’ Then I try again – you have to have tenacity and a willingness to play and experiment to make this approach work – and being a child at heart, I do love to play!
There are two other key reasons why I love to work this way; firstly, I feel it helps me to strive to capture the real spirit and essence of a place, and secondly, I think it helps me to see the extraordinary in the ordinary. Hopefully, my images will help others to have some sense of those two things as well.
I think I can best explain what I mean by referring to two of my images below.
The first one is a collage of Penmon lighthouse which I call ‘For whom the Bell Tolls’. I made it this way because for me the essence of this place is the lighthouse completely surrounded by the sea, and with a white shingle bank off to one side. I love to just sit and gaze out to sea and listen – because that bell tolls away about every 30 seconds, warning shipping of just how dangerous this stretch of water can be; overlaying the bigger lighthouse has enabled me to draw attention to that bell, whilst at the same time showing the sea and shingle that are also such important elements of the place.
I am also an old romantic (in its broadest sense) at heart, and in the second image – ‘A Winter’s Dusk at One Tree Hill’ – I have striven to express the romanticism of this place. That tree stands alone at the top of the hill and I can almost feel it gazing out to sea! Whilst it works very well as an ordinary shot, for me the addition of the impressionist feel reflects that atmosphere perfectly.
However, back to the thorny issue of just what we can achieve with Photoshop. You can of course create the same kind of images – which are often impressionist and/or abstract in mood – using photoshop. You can take a picture of a tree for example from lots of different angles, and then stack them up in different layers, alter the opacity of the layers, and in that way, create an impressionist image. Or you can create the same thing in camera.
Similarly, you can use some of the ever burgeoning ‘texture layers’ that are commercially available – and they can add a great ‘look’ to your original image.
In all honesty, I don’t think it matters which way you do it, as long as you’re clear about what you’ve done.
Let’s just cast our minds back over the history of art. Artists have been using different materials for centuries – and we don’t castigate them because they’re not all sticking to the same tried and tested materials, or brush strokes etc. Surely one of the ‘essences’ of art is that ability to see things differently, do them differently and embrace what the advancements of the day can bring us? Post processing software is simply part of that process and what a wonderful tool it is. I do think it’s important that when we are using it, we use images that we have taken ourselves, but with that proviso I see no conflict in using it to create something a bit different.
I was born in Leeds and have lived in Wakefield, West Yorkshire, for over 30 years. My photography has evolved over a long period of time but I can’t remember when I didn’t have a camera at some point in my hand. I am now retired but have a career background in IT so I have always been interested in digital imaging ever since I first had a camera and of course, digital imaging software has been around a long time, so it is something I have always experimented with over the years.
I have a love of art and the environment and it seems a natural thing for me to use photography as a means to achieving my vision of the world around me. For some reason, and I can’t explain it, I have a desire to create, and my taste in art is quite eclectic, but I am particularly drawn to impressionism and cubist art and this has had a great influence on me and my work.
Most of us now use some sort of digital imaging device, like a camera or tablet and billions of images are being generated on a daily basis. There is a staggering and infinite array of subjects around us, and I feel it is important to look and see each moment and creation of an image as a unique piece of art. I firmly believe the camera is a tool, and for me, it is used as a painter uses brushes to paint a canvas.
It is important for me to feel the landscape I am in and create and develop images that are meaningful rather than wait for the right light to come along. It can be very liberating not to worry about whether the conditions are right or wrong for a particular location, and that leaves me free to experiment and create something evocative. The desire to say more about my environment and capture what some people would say is mundane and ordinary is important for me because it does represent the environment where I live.
The use of camera technology like ICM, multiple exposure and other creative techniques are not new to photography but they are increasingly being re-discovered and used by photographers to create a unique look to their images. There is often a randomness in some of these techniques that really appeals to me, the idea that you don’t always know what you are going to get. Often my images will contain a combination of ICM and Multiple Exposure and whilst I love making images this way in-camera, I find that there are just some things I cannot do without post processing. Some of my compositing is quite simple in technique in that it may consist of only a few layers combined occasionally using a texture, and the idea for some of these might come in the field depending on the conditions around me.
The use of Photoshop allows me to take my creativity one step further to produce composites and enhancements to my images often using multiple layers, blending modes, textures and techniques that are not available in-camera. I also make and use my own brushes for use in my images that I have captured in the field or by photographing botanical matter on a Lightpad. I will often get an idea for a creative image and set about finding and shooting images that will then be worked into a composite.
If I spend time in a place, I will often produce a composite image that for me encapsulates what I felt about the environment around me. It is no accident that trees feature heavily in my work, they are a dominant feature of our landscape and I am fascinated by them.
A good example of this is the Lone Tree on Egton Moor. I spent a few days on the North York Moors in the summer of 2017, in what turned out to be probably one of the best years I have seen for the heather. The image for me encapsulates not only the idea of the Lone Tree, ubiquitous in many landscape photographers’ portfolios but the swathe of pink heather in front representing the moors as they appeared to me at the time.
I think for most creative people it is about enjoying the process rather than the end result, and if I had one piece of advice to give to anyone who wants to be more creative with their photography it would be to learn your equipment inside out so that it doesn’t become a barrier to the creative process.
I think Cheryl and I both enjoy the process as much as the end result, and seeing the work that Cheryl does and understanding her techniques has made me think a little bit differently about exploring more in-camera methods. To this end, I purchased a second-hand Canon 70D which allows up to 9 exposures and I am going to start experimenting with this over the coming months. I don’t see this as a replacement to the way I work just an additional technique in my toolbox.
Every day I go out with my camera I feel like I am working with a blank canvas and feel there is an infinite number of possible ways to express myself. This is what I love about this wonderful art form.
I think it can be seen in this article that we both have a similar attitude and approach to photography and creating images. We both want to say something about the landscape and environment through our work. We may go about it in a different way, but ultimately, we both have a love of using the camera as a creative tool and feel it is important and a fundamental part for both of us in our creative process.
There is a sense that our work has influences in artistic styles and genres that we both try to encompass in our imagery, whether that is through the use of camera movement, multiple exposures made in-camera or in post-processing. There is no wrong or right way for either of us and we both try to encourage others to experiment, think creatively and consider different approaches to image making. So, however you want to make your images, please feel free to do it your way, but just be honest about how you’ve done it!
In mid-December 2018 I had the good fortune of being on a workshop in West Cornwall led by David Ward. I had been to Cornwall 5 years previously and 6 years before that but had never come away with images that I really liked. Certainly, that first visit was very early in my photographic development and at that time I was definitely learning to “see”, but I could and should have done better on the second visit! This latest trip last December went far better and I am very happy with what I got, but one day, in particular, produced surprises: not just in the images I made, but also in what I felt while making them in the most inclement and difficult weather conditions, how I approached the photography and how I departed from my usual tripod-mounted “slow photography”.
That day had been consistently forecast for about a week to be very rainy with storm-force winds and indeed the night before was already very stormy with ferocious wind and rain hammering against the windows. The morning started depressingly dark and grey; looking down to the sea from our clifftop house at Sennen we could see it raging, covered with white spume and froth, enormous waves barrelling in from the Atlantic.
We gathered our gear and grouped at the sea end of the wall. Although the wind was driving the spray mostly away from us across and along the cove, raindrops still settled on the lens despite frequent wiping before each shot. Using grad filters was basically futile, or at least I had no success. I quickly got frustrated as frame after frame was spoilt and I ended up deleting all shots taken with the wide angle zoom. I even briefly thought of going back to sit in the bus and watch the others battle it out. But I have to admit, it was exhilarating being so close to the violent waves thundering into the cove, I didn’t want to miss out. I moved a little further back into a corner of the wall and changed to a telephoto zoom with a relatively deep lens hood, giving the front element more protection.
As I stood watching the waves charging in, suddenly and in very quick succession I thought panning/tracking, slow shutter speed, ICM – far removed from my usual contemplative style, tripod-mounted camera, remote release, grad filters etc! And even if I still had some rain spots, well it’s all part of the atmosphere! After a handful of frames including the harbour wall (shooting at around 80-100mm full frame equivalent – I was using micro 4/3), I concentrated on the abstract shapes and patterns in the water using around 150-300mm equivalent.
The rain slowly but only partially petered out and we went out again in the afternoon, this time to Gwynver beach below our house, at the bottom of the cliffs. We walked out to the headland to try and catch big waves crashing against the rocks, but once again I found the wind and spray were too much of a hindrance. I left the others and walked back maybe only 70-80 metres, enough to get out of the wind roaring around the headland. In contrast to the morning, I decided to stay well away from the waves: they reared up out at sea, then crashed on the beach as the wind literally whipped off their tops. The spray would surely prevent me from getting clean images. At first, I tried a few frames with foreground rocks on the beach, but they weren’t successful and I decided to again go for abstracted water. Even with my telephoto set to its maximum 300mm equivalent, I was capturing much wider views than in the morning and so used far more horizontal panning as my main ICM technique: the results from the vertical ICM were simply nowhere near as good. With the shutter speed set mostly at 1/6 sec, I caught the layers of waves while emphasising their shapes.
So there we have it, one day at the seaside in difficult conditions; using techniques that I knew about but had never tried in combination like this, framing abstracts rather than conventional views, freely and deliberately moving away from trying to reproduce what the eye saw and going for depicting the exhilarating and visceral experience I had. From my perspective, it worked and the images I have remind me of that deeply felt experience rather than merely the view.
We all know that “a picture is worth a thousand words.” But how did this simple piece of wisdom become, for so many photographers, an excuse to reject words altogether and to insist that our pictures “speak for themselves.” In adopting such a view, I believe we miss a golden opportunity. Words, when used well, can be a powerful ally in our quest to make more meaningful pictures.
In this article, I will explore the pictures-versus-words debate from both sides. However, in light of my introductory paragraph, it will come as no surprise that I favour a pictures-and-words conclusion.
First, for clarity, let’s assume that the “words” used in connection with our pictures might be:
Titles, a few words, usually presented beneath or beside an image;
Captions, a few sentences that provide a longer commentary about an image;
Statements, several paragraphs or pages to introduce a body of work in an exhibition or book;
Text within the image space, either captured in-camera (e.g. road signs) or added to the image afterwards (e.g. a poem or inspirational quote).
Turbulence uses the classic title composition technique of generalising from the specifics of a scene (dramatic storm clouds rolling across the Cape Breton Highlands in Nova Scotia) to the more universal concept of turbulence. The viewer is left to choose whether to interpret turbulence from the perspective of an aeroplane flying through the clouds, or more personally, as turmoil during a troublesome time in life.
In this article, I will concentrate primarily on titles, and most of my examples will be drawn from landscape imagery, but the reasoning can be extended to other photographic genres and other types of accompanying words.
Some historical background about the evolving relationship between words and pictures may be helpful for our discussion. (For a detailed account I recommend Ruth Bernard Yeazell’s splendid book, Picture Titles: How and Why Western Paintings Acquired Their Names, Princeton University Press, 2015).
Five hundred years ago, when art was the exclusive domain of the ecclesiastical and social elite, and the general populace was illiterate, artworks were rarely titled because there was no need. They were permanently housed either in private collections in manor houses, where the owners were familiar with them or within the precincts of churches, where they served to inspire a congregation who, because they couldn’t read, would have no use for titles anyway.
Then, technological advances during the 18th and 19th centuries, accompanied by shifts in the social and educational climate, led to increasing “democratization” in the art world too. Artworks became more widely accessible and mobile: displayed in public art museums and travelling exhibitions, reproduced in catalogues, and sold at auction houses. So, it became necessary to identify them. In effect, titles were introduced as a practical means of referring to works of art for the purpose of marketing and inventory control. Often this was done, not by the artists themselves, but by the curators, publishers and dealers who handled the art. Gradually these titles, supplemented by longer captions and exhibition statements, came to satisfy the demand of an increasingly literate and diverse public for information about an artwork’s origin, and even for guidance in its interpretation.
Bedrock Mosaic is a title that guides viewers into the image by providing information about the subject matter (bedrock) but suggesting that it should be interpreted artistically (as a mosaic) rather than geologically. Mosaics are artworks created from an assembly of small pieces of coloured stone, glass or tile, which makes the title an appropriate choice for this colourful, fractured rock face.
By the late 1800s, titles had become commonplace in galleries and most artists had taken on the role of titling their own artwork – although some chose to exercise the option of Untitled, No.# in defiance of this new convention, creating a de facto “negative title” that came to have a meaning of its own.
By then photography had also entered the scene. Indeed, it was in response to photographs that the expression, “a picture is worth a thousand words” became popular. In 1920s America, the recently invented 35mm camera, together with developments in printing press technology, enabled the widespread publication of photographs in newspapers and magazines. Shrewd editors (and advertisers!) quickly realised that a single picture could convey far more information, and with greater clarity and impact, than a wordy description. So, a new style of photojournalism emerged that relied on photographs to tell the stories of the day. It was this image-centric view that ultimately led to the dismissive attitude toward words that so many photographers have today.
Which brings us back to our pictures-versus-words debate.
Master landscape photographer Ansel Adams eloquently voiced one side of this debate: “A true photograph need not be explained, nor can it be contained in words.” There may be some question about precisely what he meant by a “true” photograph, but the general tenor of his message is that if a photograph is any good, it can stand on its own and requires no supplementary text in order to be understood and appreciated. What’s more, his statement suggests that an image’s expressive power surpasses that of words, and runs the risk of being constrained by them. Much food for thought in one short sentence! Let’s dig a little deeper.
Between the Lines asks the viewer to consider this picture, not as a documentary image of a snowy farm landscape, but in more abstract terms, as a complex graphic scene composed of lines and patterns. The title also implies reading between the lines to discover a deeper meaning, which gives the viewer something to ponder as he explores the picture.
First, I think we can all agree that a “bad” photograph cannot be rescued by words, any more than it can by Photoshop. So, we will assume throughout the following discussion that we are talking about “good” photographs – ones that are technically and compositionally well executed, and (at least for readers of On Landscape magazine) that express a photographer’s emotional, intellectual and/or aesthetic response to the landscape, rather than merely documenting it.
The effectiveness of this communication depends as much on the visual literacy of the viewer as it does on the craftsmanship of the photographer. The viewer must be able to interpret the visual content of a picture and construct meaning from it. To do this he must abstract from the specific physical elements in the picture (what the picture is of) to the more universal concepts they represent (what the picture is about): from a single tree standing in a snowy field for instance, to the concept of solitude, or loneliness, or strength. The picture becomes metaphorical: The World represented by the snowy field, and the Tree personifying whoever or whatever the photographer or viewer wishes it to.
The Road Not Taken pairs my image with Robert Frost’s famous 1916 poem – a wistful narrative about choices and regrets in life. The image was made in New Brunswick’s Sackville Waterfowl Park in December, the drizzly weather entirely suited to the reflective nature of the poem. This park is across the road from Mount Allison University where the latest generation of young people is making similar life choices more than a hundred years later. The title’s poetic allusion resonates strongly with the general public (if sales of the print are any indication), and especially with people who recognise the location.
Of course, it is quite possible that the viewer’s interpretation may not be the one intended by the photographer; their interpretations may differ according to their individual experiences, personalities and cultures. But does this matter? Some would argue that once a picture is out there in the world, the maker’s intent is irrelevant and the viewer should be permitted to interpret the picture and ascribe to it whatever meaning he chooses. If so, a title or explanatory text can be seen as distracting, restrictive, or even misleading. Hence the decision of some visual artists to use Untitled in an attempt to liberate their artwork – and their viewers – from the shackles and potential pitfalls of words.
Words face another significant handicap not shared by pictures; they are dependent on the language in which they are written. A non-English speaker, like the illiterate peasant, cannot grasp the subtleties of irony or grandeur in an English text but will be at no such disadvantage when viewing Elliott Erwitt’s candid street photos or Ansel Adams’ grand landscapes. In short, the language of pictures is universal, at least within a broad cultural context, whereas the language of words is restricted to speakers of that language.
As we have now seen, the case for a pictures-only approach to visual art is compelling indeed. Therefore, photographers who can express in their images everything they wish to say, may not see any point in pairing them with words.
So, why bother? In a word: enrichment. When a photographer takes the trouble to thoughtfully combine an image with words, he enriches both the viewer’s experience of that image and his own in making it.
Fiddler’s Green alludes to an Irish legend (and by extension, several popular songs and literary works) about a mythical afterlife for mariners, where, following a lifetime of hardship on the sea, they can come ashore and enjoy limitless sunshine, gaiety, food, drink, and dancing to fiddle music. Although the title seems an obvious match for this moody scene (photographed at high tide in the fog at my local salt marsh), it took six months of thinking, researching, staring at the image and juggling word combinations before I finally hit on the “right” one (which, admittedly, may say more about my sluggish brain than about the title!)
Without a Backward Glance uses a common expression to pair this intimate landscape with an anthropomorphic raven and evoke a very human theme. The picture’s visual design positions the raven close to the edge (creating tension), where he looks toward an unknown object outside the frame (suggesting a mysterious backstory). The bird’s posture ironically contradicts the title, but the high-key treatment and the title make this an optimistic image (“perhaps just a quick glance over my shoulder before l make a fresh start”). It illustrates how the story-telling power of an image can be enhanced with text.
How so?
First, words can be used to clarify visual content and guide the interpretation of images whose subject matter is unknown or ambiguous to the viewer. This happens when the viewer’s geographic, historical or cultural background differs from that of the photographer, so he perceives the subject matter differently or is completely mystified by it. An unusual rock formation, a clear-cut forest, or an abstract textural detail, are examples of potentially confusing landscape subjects that might benefit from clarification.
Even when clarity of content is not an issue, words can offer supplementary information that, whilst perhaps not necessary, can contribute a valuable backstory to the image. It might be details about the broader context or purpose for which the picture was made, or clues about the photographer’s ideological or emotional perspective when making it. Consider, for instance, a disturbing image that promotes environmental protection of a sensitive ecosystem. Or a minimalist snowscape that reflects a photographer’s yearning for solitude and space during a time of grief. In both cases, while the image may convey the story admirably on its own, the background information provided by a title or caption adds another layer of meaning that pulls a viewer deeper into that story and connects him more intimately with its message, even if the “message” is simply an appeal to stop and admire a beautiful curve.
Allusions to other artwork can be especially powerful in creating additional layers of meaning. A title that references a poem, a painting, a work of literature, a philosophy (yes, philosophy is an art), a song lyric, a dance step, a culinary dish or a musical style can draw on the significance already associated with that artwork – assuming, that is, the photographer and viewer share a common culture so that the referenced artwork is known to them both.
Border Lines was created for an exhibition to celebrate Canada’s sesquicentennial anniversary in 2017 on the theme of Canadian identity. The short text I wrote to accompany my image touched on the differences between Canadians and our neighbours to the south, especially relevant following the American presidential election the previous year and the protectionist, wall-building rhetoric that ensued. In response, I offered this rickety snow fence as our “wall”. The image generated a lively exchange with some New York visitors to the gallery one day, when a woman misinterpreted my text as an insult to Americans and stomped off in indignation, prompting other visitors to read it and chat with me about the image. If the purpose of expressive art is to spark communication, I should consider this unnerving incident a triumph!
Words, when paired imaginatively with pictures, can entertain or tease the viewer with a playful or ironic twist on image content. A church scene sparkling with ice after a winter storm might prompt a smile with the title Frosted Sunday or a picture of miserably congested traffic with the title Rush Hour.
Words can also shape a viewer’s perceptual experience of a photograph. Reading a title or explanatory text requires him to spend more time with the picture and offers both a visual and a verbal (right-brain and left-brain) approach to its content. The result is a more immersive experience that is likely to leave a more enduring impression. (In a small way this is comparable to the photographer’s experience when moving slowly in the field, allowing not only the sights but also the sounds, smells and quality of the air to permeate his awareness.) Afterwards, the title gives the viewer a convenient “shorthand” for remembering and sharing his experience of the picture with others.
So far, we have considered the value of words primarily with respect to the viewer’s experience of an image. But the crafting of words can greatly benefit us as photographers too. Composing a title that truly complements an image, or writing an exhibition statement that eloquently summarizes a body of work, challenges us to examine our motivation for making the images and our intent in showing them. It forces us to ask ourselves: What inspired me about this landscape? Why exactly did I make this picture? What do I want to say? Who is my audience and why should they care? Answering these questions is not easy. It’s not supposed to be easy. If it were easy, it likely wouldn’t be worth doing! But it is worth doing because the answers can help us to refine our vision and make better technical and visual design choices as a result. It even elicits the kind of serious introspection that can lead to a more profound understanding of ourselves as artists, and as human beings.
Expressive pictures often suggest several choices of interpretation that can be offered to the viewer in the titles. If we want the viewer to treat this image as a study of colour and texture, we might title it November Tapestry. Or we could focus attention on the straggly old tree, still upright and beautiful amid the tangled undergrowth, in which case an anthropomorphic title like Forest Veteran or simply The Veteran might be suitable.
Of course, it is not always practical or advisable to do this with a camera in hand at the moment of capture. It never hurts to try, but often it’s wiser simply to go with the flow so we don’t become bogged down in self-analysis and miss a splendid photo opportunity. We can postpone the soul-searching until later when we are evaluating and processing our images back in our studio. In either case, the challenge is to think of a single word, or a brief phrase at most, that encapsulates the content and meaning of the scene before us.
Perhaps the best advice comes from another master photographer, Minor White: “One should not only photograph things for what they are but for what else they are.” It’s the “else” that elevates our landscape photographs from mere records of pretty scenery to meaningful and evocative works of art. This, after all, is our goal as expressive photographers. I hope I have convinced you that words can be a valuable tool in achieving it.
Crafting image titles can seem a daunting task. Indeed, it can take as much skill and effort to write an expressive title or exhibition statement as to make the image(s) it accompanies. What follows are some basic guidelines to get you started.
First, imagine an image-style continuum that ranges from strictly documentary at one end, to personally expressive in the middle, to purely abstract at the other end. Consider where your photograph lies on this continuum because its position influences the style of title that is most appropriate.
If the image lies closer to the documentary end, its focus is on the scenic content of the image. In this case, a suitable title might be informative or descriptive, naming the location (either the specific location or a more generic one) or a physical feature or type of terrain, perhaps with a date or time of year. Ben Nevis, October 2018 and Labrador Coastal Barrens are examples of this style – not very exciting, but a safe option until you feel more comfortable with the titling process.
In composing titles, I always consider the image’s intended purpose and choose words that create an appropriate mood and story to go with it. Left Behind or Fallen might suit this classic wide-angle landscape admirably, but the melancholy message may not be wise if my aim is to sell prints (a necessity if I am to make a living). Marketed to tourists or local residents, Fox Island, Lunenburg County would be a better choice but is too dull and documentary for my taste. So, a positive-sounding alternative like Clearing Storm or Reaching Out might work instead.
If your image is close to the continuum’s abstract end, it highlights the aesthetic enjoyment of line, shape, texture, pattern or colour. Since viewers are typically curious about subject matter and scale in an image, you have two choices: either satisfy their curiosity with a clue in the title about what they are looking at (e.g. Ripples in Sand), or indicate that the picture is intended to be viewed purely as an abstract by referring in the title only to formal graphic elements or broad artistic terms (e.g. Tapestry in Gold for autumn leaf reflections rippling in a pond, or Curvaceous for a shapely shadow falling across the snow).
Most of our expressive landscape photographs will lie somewhere in the middle of the continuum. Since expressive images emphasize meaning rather than content, their titles usually enhance, rather than merely identify or clarify, the visual elements in a scene. There is ample scope for titling expressive images, but the best titles point in subtle and imaginative ways to the metaphorical, narrative, poetic or playful nature of the picture. An effective title becomes a gateway for the viewer – a lens through which he perceives the image and infers meaning from its content.
To find appropriate words for an expressive image title, sit quietly in front of your photograph for a while (ideally a print or at least full-screen on your computer). Look closely, examine all the details, notice how they fit into the overall visual design. Remember the excitement you felt when making the picture, the experience of being out there, and all the other things going on in life that made that place and experience so significant. Identify the single most important element in the picture and consider what it represents to you, and why.
The first title that came to mind for this recent (January 2019) image was Infinity Pool because the words are an apt description of the scene and create a suitably reflective mood. However, this is a cautionary tale about titles with unfortunate associations – in this case, the expensive swimming pools with “vanishing edges” featured in luxury mansions, resorts and home improvement shows – that introduce unwelcome commercial, political or religious undercurrents (pun intended), or even cryptic-crossword-style word play into the story. So, I am still thinking about titles for this picture.
Then, sit farther back and try to look at your picture more dispassionately, as if you were a stranger visiting it for the first time at a gallery. Imagine what this stranger might see, think and feel about the picture. Will he understand its content and be drawn to the same important element that you are? Is he likely to appreciate its significance, or might he need some gentle guidance?
Then, squint at the picture until the details blur, leaving just an impression of structure and colour.
While you are looking at your photograph from all these perspectives, jot down, in a free-flowing way, any words that come to mind: names, locations, subjects and counter-subjects; the season, the time of day, weather and quality of light; lines, shapes, spaces, patterns and colours; ideas, emotions, metaphors and allusions; nouns, verbs, adjectives and adverbs. Start simply, naming the specific visual elements, then broaden your frame of reference to include generic words and more universal concepts.
Try spending some time with a thesaurus to check your words for interesting synonyms. Do a web search for expressions, idioms and quotes related to your most important words. Consult glossaries of artistic, musical, scientific, culinary, geographical, philosophical or other terms that might complement your image.
Eventually, if you are diligent and patient – and lucky – there may be an Aha! moment when some of these words come together and the perfect title hits you like a thunderbolt. But if not, at least you will have generated a suitable pool of words to work with. Not every picture requires a brilliant title, but every title should be a thoughtful one.
This is a process that requires time and practice, but also restraint. Too little effort will yield a hackneyed or blindingly obvious title (the world probably doesn’t need another Abandoned or Golden Sunset, or a seascape titled Seascape). On the other hand, too much word-play easily escalates into flowery alliteration (Morning Majesty and Babbling Brook come to mind), or pretentious MFA art speak (there are plenty of silly online title-generators to entertain you with possibilities). Another peril is heavy-handed titling that explains too much or forces a particular interpretation on a viewer. Alas, this may betray a lack of clarity in you, rather than in the viewer, and it suggests you should revisit the image, or even the landscape itself, to examine it – and your response to it – more deeply. As Albert Einstein famously said: “If you can’t explain it simply, you don’t understand it well enough.”
We may be visual artists, but surely, we cannot deny the power of words. Indeed, photographers who treat words carelessly run the risk of doing their images a grave disservice. Words can clarify ambiguity, shape perception, augment experience, spark curiosity, and point to that alluring something “else” that Minor White taught us is the heart and soul of all expressive photographs.
Now, where’s your thesaurus?
Most landscape photographers go out of their way to exclude humans from their photographs. But the landscape that we love is also a backdrop for some amazing sport and leisure activities. Nadir Khan, who you can read about in this issues Featured Photographer, specialises in photographing this interaction between the most intense of these individuals and our fabulous Scottish landscape.
It’s taken Nadir quite some time to put together all of the photographs for this book, to take a set of images created for discrete events - climbing, kayaking, mountain biking, etc - and then to find the right opportunities to round them out into a coherent book. The result is a fantastic cross-section of the best of Scottish adventure sports.
The book is organised around the seasons and as we’re in Scotland, Winter definitely comes first and quite rightly takes up over a third of the book. Nadir’s mini-editorial on “The Hurting XI, 11”, one of Scotland’s hardest mixed climbs (XI, 11 means bloody hard and bloody scary) shows just the sort of bad weather that Nadir ends up in - in this case hanging from a fixed line watching Ines Papert inch her way up a vertical frozen rock face on needle points of crampons and axes at -10 degrees in gale force winds.
Following this theme, we see wonderful images of Scottish outdoor types braving the elements in the vertical domain. It’s that harsh that when you see Blair Aitken skiing down the Nevis Range in blue skies you’re caught thinking “lightweight!” (unless you know the slope).
Interspersed with these images are little mood setting editorial pieces and poems, just a couple of pages of writing from various people about their idea of what Extreme Scotland means.
Spring follows Winter (late as usual) and mountaineering, mountain biking and skiing take over. Wonderful spring weather abounds with low sun and the occasional moody sky. Summer is a lot shorter, mostly images of people running (away from midges I presume) and hanging off cliffs (even more desperate anti-midge tactics). Nadir has a way of setting people against the landscape to the best of both parts of the images. The bouldering images in this section are some of my favourites, glimpses of mountains in the background, great use of off-camera flash to make the most of the climbers.
One of my favourite images of the book is of three sunlit mountain bikers riding a route on Beinn Fhada looking back toward Stobh Coire nan Lochan in the background. A perfect balance of human and landscape.
The final part of the book is a short Autumn section, making the most of the rich colour of the changing season.
This is obviously not your usual landscape photography book but I think it gives a wonderful idea of how people can be included in landscape photography to the benefit of both and a good reminder that for every possible mountain vista we take there are likely a whole bunch of people enjoying ‘our’ world in a completely different way.
A big congratulations to Nadir Khan to producing an excellent book on the denizens of the Scottish landscape.
Every photographer has an image that means a lot to them, even if it's not the most successful on social media or one that friends and family don't 'get'. Images that stretch the edges of compositional norms, that show well-known places in different ways or that reflect a moment that means so much personally in your progress as a photographer or just in life.
If you have a personal favourite photograph of yours and a story behind it and why it means so much, then why not share that with our community. Submit your favourite image here.
I have a Daughter who lives with her family in Sydney; on a visit last year I was lucky enough to have a day out with Len Metcalf.
The day arrived, it was raining, and as we approached the Blue Mountains the fog was heavy and the air humid, the sort of weather that keeps the tourists indoors, for us – PERFECT! It was quiet in the dense air, the sort of fog that dulls all sounds and stirs the senses.
We had breakfast in a café, which was welcome, but I was itching to get going in case the fog lifted, but I needn’t have worried as it persisted all day. Over breakfast, Len explained what to expect and how to deal with it. Waterproofs on, tripods in hand we set off, there were areas where we would stop, wander off and then meet up again, both working independently, getting lost in our own thoughts, feelings, and emotions. For me it was so different to terrain I am familiar with, the tree ferns were giants, the other native trees had peeling barks all gently swaying, silently, in the gentle breeze. The bird sounds were alien; loud and mocking in comparison to British woodland birds that I am familiar with. There were teasing views of the Katoomba Falls forever present.
The descent was somewhat steep in places and a little muddy. There was an occasional rustling in the leaves on the ground and being a wimp I immediately thought of snakes, initially, I admit to feeling somewhat nervous but it was not long before the beauty of my surroundings dispelled all anxieties and I was lost in the beauty of the rain forest in all its glory.
As we descended into the valley below, the falls became more dramatic and we could feel the spray in the air. There were occasional clearings where we could get glimpses of the Three Sisters (an unusual rock formation), as the fog swirled around us there were times when the Three Sisters were completely hidden from view and the silence audible.
It took us around five hours to get to the bottom of the walk and it was with relief I saw we were returning by a train,
Len then took me to a restaurant with superb views where we had lunch and discussed images, which I downloaded on to my laptop, I couldn’t wait to get home to process them, and it is rare I print 12 images from one day out most of which have been exhibited.
At the end of the day, photography is all about communication, I hope in this image ‘Fern and Falls’ with the fern blowing and the glimpse of the waterfalls you can feel just some of the wonderment I felt that memorable day.
Many thanks to Len, for driving, assisting me on difficult slopes, (a perfect gentleman), also for being such a wonderful guide and good company. I am back in Sydney at the end of February and hope we can meet up again.
Welcome to our 4x4 feature which is a set of four mini landscape photography portfolios submitted from our subscribers. Each portfolios consisting of four images related in some way.
Interested in submitting your work? We're on the lookout for new portfolios for the next few issues, so please do get in touch!
If you would like to submit your 4x4 portfolio, please visit this page for submission information. You can view previous 4x4 portfolios here.
The sky offers an infinitely and continually varied landscape (ok, skyscape) delivered to me wherever I happen to be, at home or away, on every single day of the year. All I have to do is keep my eyes open and take my camera outside whenever something of interest presents itself.
Three of these four skies were taken from within my garden whilst the fourth was taken about 200 yards away to obtain an unobstructed view. Whilst the sky is often unexciting, sufficiently often it offers the most compelling material for photographs.
The cloud pair photograph is, surprisingly, exactly as they appeared in the frame - travelling in tandem. Whilst skies are, of course, in colour I prefer to present at least some of my skies in monochrome, particularly where there is strong shape or texture in the clouds.
Winter is a special time to visit Yellowstone National Park. The weather can be brutally cold and snowy, markedly reducing the number of visitors. This, in turn, leads to a special solitude. It is easy to understand why only the strong survive- both flora and fauna. The fumaroles and other geothermal features can create a minimalist landscape. I am continually drawn to try and capture this battle to survive.
What started off as a 3rd year University project in 2015 has now become a passion.
For my 3rd-year dissertation piece I started off with photographing the occasional pillbox and bunker in Norfolk, as my theme developed I found I was driving over 500 miles over 2 nights around East Anglia to document all the WW2 structures that I find interesting in both location and appearance. I photograph them during the night and dusk or dawn so I get to see these structures at a time you would not normally visit.
It is my way of saying thank you to all those men and women who looked over us and were prepared to be on the front line had an invasion of Great Britain happened all those years ago.
It is now over 70 years since the end of the war so to I pay tribute in my own way I have started to mark out and plan long weekends away to enable shooting the whole of the UK coastline to document all the different types of defences, whether they be pillbox, bunkers, airfields, Navy ports or old army barracks.
During the colder months, I find myself wondering on the shore staring at the horizon line and inevitably my mind wonders back to that summer day of 2001.
It was a dark and rough day but we were trying to make the best out of it, little did we know that it would have been one of the hardest days of our lives.
My mind still takes me back to that day and I ask myself what my uncle must’ve thought in that precise moment and how hard it must’ve been for him.
Through the years I have forgotten most memories of my uncle, the way he behaved around us or even the way he looked and I blame myself for that.
I blame myself especially because I remember every small detail regarding that day and it still plays in my head to this day, like a silent movie in slow motion.
I use photography as a medium for self-expression and as a way to channel and confront my emotions and deal with my inner struggles.
Photography for me is a window through which people can take a peak on the difficulties that are presented to me every day.
My goal is to unravel my unexplored inner world through the camera, to unearth the images hidden in the dormant parts of my brain, to understand and decipher the emotions which hold me back in my day to day life.
The images were taken both in the UK, where I am based now, and Italy, where my family live.
I rule the ocean.
I touched the shore.
The roar of it all overpowers
Every word, every shout, every memory.
I hear the ocean.
I heard the shore.
When it screams it takes after,
The words I've heard before.
I talk to the ocean.
I speak to the shore.
When it comes close I feel a fear I've never felt.
When it comes close it takes me.
I've been consumed by the ocean.
I've been eaten by the shore.
As it talks back to me,
I know I cannot be scared anymore.
Spending time in the hills in Scotland inevitably gets you looking at outdoor websites and I've been impressed with a few of the photographers I've seen producing work celebrating people enjoying the landscape. We wanted to find out a little bit more about these people who work at the sharp end of the landscape. Nadir Khan is one of these photographers and may be no stranger to our readers as he's had some previous successes in the Landscape Photographer of the Year competition. Nadir also has a book out called "Extreme Scotland", which is reviewed elsewhere in this issue.
Can you tell me a little about your education, childhood passions, early exposure to photography etc?
I grew up in a small industrial town called Wishaw, in Scotland. I was into art, drawing, painting and music. I lived next to a forest so we would be out playing in the forest most of the time as kids. My dad was into photography so most weekends we’d be out and about around lochs waiting for sunset
What are you most proud of in your photography?
We as landscape photographers have all experienced the vast amount of patience that our beloved genre demands. From finding the perfect spot and special light to dealing with some really harsh weather conditions. This last variable is always there because we find clear and crisp skies too dull for our taste, and on the other hand, we consider heavy clouds in the sky a more pleasant scenario. This comes with something that could be seen as a problem or as a creative element depending on the concept behind your photographs, and these are drops.
Obviously, not every landscape shot is well suited for having water droplets on the lens-front, and today I want to share my personal opinion on this feature – or artefact. For me, there are two types of general landscape approaches: the distant and the immersed one. Distant landscape photography for me is like a perfect portrait of a natural venue in front of our eyes and is perhaps the best way to go in many cases.
In this rapidly changing world of our there is a real need to free the teaching of photography from the long-standing dogmas which tend to restrict rather than encourage growth. The serious photographer today should constantly be seeking new ways of commenting on a world that is newly understood. Constant creativity and innovation are essential to combat visual mediocrity. The photographic educator should appeal to the students of serious photography to challenge continually both their medium and themselves. ~Jerry Uelsmann
Among the more popular topics of research in recent years, especially among neuroscientists, is the nature of creativity. It may seem obvious that before any study of creativity can take place, scientists need a strict definition for it, in terms conducive to empirical observation and measurement; but defining creativity has become a topic of some contention. Some earlier definitions measure creativity using two criteria—novelty (in some texts referred to as, originality), and usefulness (in some texts referred to as, value, or effectiveness). More recent definitions add a third criterion—surprise (referring to a measure of how unexpected a creative idea is, or how little was known about it in advance).
If asked to list the reasons why we love landscape photography, there are many possible answers – beauty, fresh air, an excuse to visit wonderful places, and so on. But there’s one reason you may not have thought of – indeed, may not even know about – and that is that we are biologically drawn towards fractal patterns in nature.
A fractal is a complex pattern that repeats itself indefinitely over different scales – one example would be the branches on a tree, where the basic branching pattern is repeated on a smaller and smaller scale towards the top of the tree. The repetition isn’t necessarily exact. Fractals can be created in two ways: the first is mathematically generated and the repeating pattern is identical, albeit on different scales. But what concerns us here are the latter - the natural fractals found in the landscape which tend to be more random and differ in detail while still holding this mathematical relationship.
In a career spanning thirty-five years, Colin Prior photographs capture sublime moments of light and land, which are the result of meticulous planning and preparation and often take years to achieve. Prior is a photographer who seeks out patterns in the landscape and the hidden links between reality and the imagination. He has produced seven books that include, The World’s Wild Places and Living Tribes, which were published internationally and is working on a long-term assignment in Pakistan’s Karakoram Mountains.
His current project, Fragile is an exploration into the habitats of wild birds and their vulnerability to change. Colin was recently the subject of two BBC documentaries entitled Mountain Man.
Colin Prior is known worldwide for his panoramic images of the majestic mountains of Scotland. Joe Cornish talked with Colin about the experiences making these images and about the other projects that have captivated him since.
When Iain Sarjeant got in touch about Amanda's book 'A Fluid Landscape', I was intrigued by the title as it describes the unique landscape of the Somerset Levels. In recent years this land, damaged by drainage, agriculture and intense peat extraction has, through various means been returned to marsh. We talked to Amanda to find out more about her passion for this particular landscape.
What sparked your passion for photography?
I was given an Olympus OM10 for my 18th birthday and that is where the passion for photography began! I should add too, that in 1984 I saw the Josef Koudelka exhibition at the Hayward Gallery, and I was captivated by the magical and ethereal quality of the Gypsies series and the power of photography to communicate a story with such emotion, passion and power.
You studied photography at West Surrey College of Art and Design and have an MA in Photography from London College of Communication. How did these experiences shape your photography?
As an undergraduate student in the early 80’s, I was very much influenced by the documentary photography of that time (and earlier) and we were fortunate to have photographers such as Martin Parr, Paul Graham and Peter Fraser teaching on the course, which had a strong documentary focus. Through the early 80’s, ideas about what constituted documentary photography were becoming looser and expanding, from a traditional b/w journalistic approach, towards an approach that could be more subjective and more evidently a personal response. After I graduated, I worked as a documentary photographer for a good few years, on personal projects as well as commissions from organisations such as Impressions Gallery in York and Stockport Museums and Galleries on a major residency. The residency led me into teaching, and after a number of years of working in photography education, I signed up for the MA Photography at LCC. It was on my MA that I first started working in colour and investigating other visual approaches to exploring and questioning the world around me. Work and other commitments meant that travelling far and wide to make projects became impractical and I turned my attention to making work ‘close to home’ exploring with my camera the every day or the overlooked, in the places and people around me.
Why did you choose landscape photography as opposed to other genres such as portrait, still, documentary etc?
I have worked in other genres, in particular still life and portraiture, but at this point in time I have become very interested in our relationship with the land, how it has been consistently bent to our service, how we constantly strive to control it, through farming, industry, horticulture, gardening … and the impact that these interventions have on our understanding of landscape and wilderness. Photographing in the landscape is my way of observing and exploring this relationship.
Tell us a bit about the project 'A Fluid Landscape’. Where did it all start? How did it evolve?
Following the floods in Somerset during the winter of 2014, I drove down to Somerset to see for myself; out of curiosity and a kind of nebulous idea about photographing the effects of the floods. Travelling around the area was difficult, many roads were closed and villages inaccessible. I spent the day stopping here and there, making some photographs. Weeks passed, the waters receded, the story dropped away, and I was occupied with other work. Looking back, this was the start of the project, a loose idea that led to a burgeoning fascination with this particular landscape.
You seem quite connected to the marshlands of the Somerset Levels. How did you go about researching the locations you've included in the book?
Later, in the winter of 2016/17 I was listening to Costing the Earth on Radio 4 (a source of much of my research!). Someone was describing how the ancient people of Somerset adapted to living and surviving in flooded landscapes, the kind of conditions that we now see as threatening and disruptive. They were also describing an area of newly created saltmarsh on the Steart peninsula, recently reclaimed from farmland by making a breach in the sea wall and allowing the sea to flood a large area at high tide. This controlled flooding would provide a buffer to flooding further upstream and create new salt marsh habitat. I was intrigued and so set out to explore this newly created landscape for myself.
I made many trips to Steart Marshes, through changing seasons and at different states of the tide, and I also began to research other areas of the levels such as Shapwick Heath and Westhay Moor. The unique landscape of the Somerset Levels is directly related to the people who sought to settle the land, by controlling the water levels to benefit from the fertile pasture the silty water left behind, and to gain access to the rich seams of peat. In recent years this land, damaged by drainage, agriculture and intense peat extraction, has through various means been returned to marsh, creating a ‘new’ ancient landscape of water filled rhynes, damp fens, wet fern woodland, salt marsh and open water fringed with reed beds. This was a landscape I was fascinated to explore and photograph and returned to again and again
What came first the idea for the book or the photography project?
The photography project came first, photography is for me a way of engaging with and exploring the world around me and so my first instinct is always to get out there and observe, without any preconceived ideas about the outcome.
The series 'A Fluid Landscape' was shortlisted for the Landscape category of the 2018 Sony World Photography Awards. What did this mean to you and how did it shape the rest of the project and book?
By the Christmas of 2017, I had made many trips to the marshes and made many photographs of the landscape. I hadn’t shown the work anywhere but decided to enter a small selection to the Sony World Photography Awards in the Landscape category, and I was shortlisted! On the day of the announcement, I was contacted by Iain Sarjeant at Another Place Press, to say he would be very interested in publishing the project as a book. I carried on making work for the project, but I now had the focus of the book which led me to focus on other areas of the marsh, such as the woodland. From March 2018 onwards I worked with Iain on the planning and design of the book. Working with someone else to create an outcome for the work in book form has been a valuable and insightful process, and I have learnt a huge amount about editing, sequencing, listening and sitting with the work and the process.
The images tell a story of the reclaimed marshlands of the Somerset Levels. What visual (and non-visual) narrative did you want to leave the reader with when you were working on this project?
Alongside Steart Marshes, I also began exploring other newly created marsh habitats on the levels; former peat worked areas such as Shapwick Heath and Westhay Moor. By photographing these landscapes, I wanted to tell the story of these newly created places, highlighting their uncommon beauty and paying attention to the environmental changes that are easily overlooked. I hope the work shows the dynamic nature of these landscapes, the change in flora and fauna colonisation, and the impact the creation (or re-creation) of these environments and habitats has on the landscape. I also sought to reveal the stark beauty of the saltmarsh, heaths and moors of the levels
Sequencing is obviously important - how did you manage the flow of the images and visual narrative?
The sequence was arrived at through a fairly organic process, I was very close to the work and somewhat overwhelmed by the quantity of images I had. I would say too that photographers are not always the best editors of their own work and I am always interested in how others see and respond to the work. I sent Iain a large edit of the work, and he came back to me with a tighter edit and a rough idea about the sequence. This contained a few surprises, and also a fresh way of looking at and organising the images. We went to and fro for a while with some other ideas and changes to the sequence and this was a very positive process. Gradually the book took shape and started to feel coherent.
How did you decide on the format of the book and binding e.g. size and paper, print type?
Another Place Press has a clear ethos which Iain was completely upfront about at the outset. His aim is to share exciting photography projects which explore our relationship with ‘place’ and importantly, to make them affordable and accessible to a much larger audience.
Tell me what your favourite two or three photographs from the book are and a little bit about them.
Certain images from the marshes stick with me, the hawthorn hedge in flower (AFL-5297), once a field margin, is now mingled with common reed, encroaching from the newly formed reedbeds. Photographed in February 2017, I really wanted to make some more images of the reeds and Hawthorn this spring. Spring was late, as I drove to work each day, I was looking out for signs that the hawthorn was about to flower. It was April before the blossom began to break and I headed down to Steart, knowing the place where the hedge and the reeds formed this beautiful, wavelike structure. As I approached the marshes, I could see that the hedges had been recently flail cut, there would be no blossom, and the shape of the hedge would be changed forever, reminding me that a photograph is always a moment in time.
Having arrived at Steart to find that the hedges I had intended to photograph had been cleared away by a flail cutter, I was a little confounded. The April sunlight was strong and harsh and it felt like a wasted trip. I began to walk along the hedgerows; recent heavy rain had filled the ditches and the bright sun cast shadows of the hedge across the water. This reminded me, stay attuned to what is there in the moment, put aside your preconceptions and desire to make a certain image and stay open to what presents itself. One of the photographs taken that morning has become another favourite and was included as a small print for those who pre ordered the book. (AFL-8021)
My working method is to spend time in an environment and to become attuned to what is there; this can take many visits, moving through what is surface, what is obvious and starting to notice what may not be immediately ‘visible’. The weather, the season, the state of the tide all have a big impact on how these landscapes look and feel, on the colours, the light, the amount of vegetation.
Could you tell us a little about the cameras and lenses you typically take on a trip and how their choice affects your photography?
Starting out in photography in the ‘80’s, I grew up on analogue photography, only getting my first digital camera in 2006. I shot on medium format film for many years (Mamiya C220 and then a Mamiya 7). In 2014 I shot my very first project using a digital SLR (Canon 5D), and interestingly many people think this work was shot on film. I think this is to do with the subtle colour palette and the considered compositions, which probably carried over from all the years of only having 10 shots on a roll of 120! To make ‘A Fluid Landscape’ I used a Sony A7r with a 24 - 70 Zeiss lens and from time to time a tripod, I like to keep it simple, preferring to concentrate on the environment, the light and the image making, rather than the kit.
What sort of post processing do you undertake on your pictures? Give me an idea of your workflow.
I shoot RAW files and process everything in Lightroom. I just make basic adjustment to Levels, colour balance and I crop everything to a ratio of 5 x 7 as I find this format more visually pleasing to compose within. I then export to Photoshop for sharpening and possible further tweaks to contrast levels and colour balance, and that’s about it really! I always make small prints of everything I am interested in and have them up on the wall so that I can see at a glance how the ideas are working and how images work together to start to tell the story. This also helps me to understand elements that might be missing from the story and informs ideas for my next time out making photos.
What is next for you? Where do you see your photography going in terms of subject and style?
I am looking to make an exhibition of the ‘Fluid Landscape’ series, and I am currently researching possible partners and venues for a future exhibition of the series.
Alongside this I have recently moved to an area that was once a centre for the woollen and weaving industry in Gloucestershire. I am currently researching and planning a project that will trace the evidence of this industry in the present-day landscape, and I have started researching, walking and exploring, using the digital camera to record some initial ideas which I will share on Instagram (@amharmanphoto). I am yearning to return to shooting film and dusting off the Mamiya 7, so after I have worked through my ideas and the way I would like to approach this project I will start making this work using the Mamiya 7.
The book ‘A Fluid Landscape’ is available from Another Place Press (Price £16)
https://anotherplacepress.bigcartel.com/product/amanda-harman-a-fluid-landscape
Charlotte's request to write a piece for the End Frame section of OnLandscape was a true surprise and an honour. My favourite landscape photo. Difficult question. In the end frame section, it is not just about an image that appeals to you, I think it is even more about a photographer that inspires you. So the first question is: which photographer inspires me most? I can name many photos that inspire me. There are also various photographers that I admire. Colin Prior with his calm and yet strong landscape images. He knows how to capture the power of mountains and water in an excellent way. I am also a great admirer of the work of Joe Cornish. His photos are masterpieces of composition.
For the End Frame, however, I want to put a completely different photographer in the spotlight. Someone who is less known for his landscapes, but especially for his beautiful pictures of wildlife, which usually feel as an encounter between the animal and the photographer. However, his landscape photos are also beautiful. His portfolio contains photos from all over the world. As a true Scotland fan, the pictures he took in Scotland appeal to me the most. It was difficult to choose a single photo as a favourite. But the rules for this End frame are clear: choose one favourite photograph.
I have chosen an image that can be seen on Peter Cairns’ website under the heading "Conservation Communication" and also in the book "Scotland a rewilding journey" (pages 202-203). For me, this photo symbolizes the message that Peter Cairns wants to convey with his book and his lectures (more on this later): Nature in Scotland is still beautiful, but has been considerably stripped down. A large part of the ancient pine forest has disappeared. Only a small percentage of trees remain, in other words, the forest is only a shadow of what it once was. But there is hope on the horizon. If we intervene now and give nature the chance to fight its way back, then there is a future for nature, for us and for a world in which man and nature live in harmony with each other.
Welcome to our 4x4 feature which is a set of four mini landscape photography portfolios submitted from our subscribers. Each portfolios consisting of four images related in some way.
Interested in submitting your work? We're on the lookout for new portfolios for the next few issues, so please do get in touch!
If you would like to submit your 4x4 portfolio, please visit this page for submission information. You can view previous 4x4 portfolios here.
My portfolio shows beauty great engineering of The Forth Bridges taken from both South (Port Edgar) and North Queensferry late night or early morning.
Aldous Huxley once said "My father considered a walk among the mountains as the equivalent of churchgoing" and if that walk also involves my XPAN and microphones then it is the only church I belong to.
At the end of a family road trip around California and surrounding National Parks, we spent a couple of days at the Grand Canyon. On the last day, we got up at 4:30 am to watch the sunrise from Yavapai Point, and then hiked part of the South Kaibab Trail, descending as far as Cedar Ridge via the aptly titled ‘ooh-aah point’.
Wildfires on the North Rim meant that smoke was flowing down into the canyon which was picked out by the rays from the rising sun, and the final image shows how it was filling vast swathes of the area. Beautiful to see, but a sobering sight.
We made it back to the hotel in time to pack up, shower and check-out by 11am!
Previous to taking these shots I had been stuck in a creative rut and struggled to get motivated to take any aerial shots. So during the snowy weather in January I decided that I would take my drone and shoot the iconic power stations of Ironbridge. The stations built in 1929 stand near the Ironbridge Gorge World Heritage Site, where the Industrial Revolution began.
It was very challenging driving to the location at 5am in the ice and snow but I think it was totally worth it. Due to the amazing weather the disused power stations started to steam when the heat of the sun hit the icy power-station creating the smokey look in some of the shots. The iconic power-station will sadly be knocked down in the spring of 2019 and this is more than likely the last set of photographs of the power stations in the snow.
The issue of sharpness and filters comes up regularly in forums and the general consensus seems to be that any filter affects sharpness a bit and poorer glass filters can be worse. If you’re using resin filters you might as well just smear your lenses with vaseline though!
As usual, the armchair experts can’t be completely right as there are enough people out there with 50mp+ cameras that are still using Lee grads and I don't hear them complaining. The only way to know for sure is to test things though. And being as I love testing things so much** I immediately lined up my vast array of ND graduated filters and a resolution target***
First things first though, how do I go about testing for sharpness? I figured I wanted to do some real world testing with various lenses and I ended up using my Canon 100-400mm plus my Sigma Art 24mm and 50mm lenses on an A7R3 using various apertures.
But first I wanted to try something that would really show up any differences first. I used my Canon 100-400mm lens at 400mm, placed each filter at a 30 degree angle to the front of the lens and took a photograph through the clear part of each ND. I also used pixelshift, Sony’s ability to microshift the sensor to create a sharper image with no moire. (the 30 degree test is contrived in order to make light rays pass through the glass or resin at an angle other than 90 degrees).
This demonstrated two things very clearly. Every glass filter passed the test with flying colours (which is why I don't list them all). The resin filters were all soft to some degree, but the Lee was by far the best of these, closely followed by ProGrey and 84.5 and then the SRB. The Cokin and Zomei were dreadful, so bad I had to repeat checking things a few times. See the results of these above. Now I’m not sure this matches any real-world shooting scenarios but I wanted an indicative test to see if differences could be seen. So now we know what sort of thing we’re looking for!
Minimalism in art is not to everybody’s taste but has quite a long history in landscape photography, arguably starting with Stieglitz’s “Equivalents”: images of clouds that he intended to evoke an emotional response in the viewer in a similar way to a piece of music1. These were minimalist in concept rather than execution but were taken in the same period (starting in 1922) as the extreme minimalism that was introduced into art by the White on White canvas of Kasimir Malevich (1918) following on from his black square on white ground of 1915.
In fact Malevich was not the first to produce monochrome paintings – others like Paul Bilhaud and Alphonse Allais had done so in the late 19th Century but with explanatory titles (such as the "Combat de Nègres dans un tunnel" of Bilhaud, or "Récolte de la tomate par des cardinaux apoplectiques au bord de la Mer Rouge" of Allais). In the case of Malevich, he did not consider himself as a minimalist but as a suprematist2. Suprematism was both anti-materialist and anti-utilitarian, with the aim of expressing "the supremacy of pure artistic feeling", such that the depiction of any real objects or landscape was held to be unnecessary.
Alfred Stieglitz, Equivalent, 1927
Minimalism is more usually applied to the later movement of artists starting in the 1950s. One of those artists was Yves Klein3 (though he also spanned new realism, conceptual art, performance art and photography).
For this issue, we have something a little different. Nick Stone describes his website, Invisible Works, as a series of fragmentary blogs and pieces about history, heritage and our place in the landscape. His photographs are supported by and integral with his writing about the traces that the landscape carries of our influence and interference - often things that we overlook, simply don’t see or choose to ignore. In some cases there is poignancy to these, to the events and places that we have forgotten, or to the lives lost: Nick has spent the last six years investigating the scars and memories left by the Great War, culminating in the exhibition ‘Vanishing Points’. Wandering online, and off, is an important part of what Nick does, and what he finds.
Grim's Pound, Dartmoor
Would you like to start by telling readers a little about yourself – where you grew up, your education and early interests, and what that led you to do as a career?
I was born in London to elderly parents, both in their fifties. We moved to a council estate in Norwich when I was two. We lived there for a few years then moved to North Norfolk. I grew up in a typical country market town; they are by turns both intriguing places and pressure cookers with little to do when you’re young. But the countryside is on your doorstep. As you grow up you become aware of not just the nature, but the underlying history and the folktales that inhabit it, both the light and the dark. I left and moved back to Norwich in my teens to go to art college, the focus of which was either painting or photography. Naturally enough I ended up doing neither and became a graphic designer, but composition and an aesthete is in your head, it’s part and parcel of most of the things I do.
My objective is not so much to portray a literal representation, but rather depict my feelings evoked by the landscape
Fotospeed's Vince Cater asks their ambassador Valda Bailey how art has inspired her journey to abstract photography, her love of working in a non-prescriptive way, and the joys of a printed image.
I first became intrigued by the creative possibilities of photography when I was about 12 – back in the days of film. My Dad and I went off to night school and learned about the technical side of photography and how to develop and print our own film. There quickly followed an ad-hoc set-up in the downstairs loo with enlargers, developing trays, and the usual assortment of noxious chemicals. I spent several years experimenting and enjoying the myriad creative options that were open to me in the darkroom.
I came to photography after years of painting and have found a way of shooting that enables me to do with my camera what I struggled to do with my paintbrush.
When I discovered that it really was ok to produce a blurred image, to move the camera around while shooting, and allow my photography to be something other than a direct representation of what I saw through my viewfinder, it was revelatory. I spent a lot of time trying to understand how the camera operates when combining images and far too long deliberately repeating objects across the frame for no good reason other than the fact that I could. Slowly, I found myself moving away from representation and towards abstraction. I think this approach resonates with me because it allows me to use my imagination in ways I never dreamt possible – or indeed permissible.
One of the revelatory aspects of shooting the way I do was the realisation that I can make an image anywhere. Sitting at the dinner table with an iPhone, travelling on the train, walking the dog – it really doesn’t matter. What I do need, however, is time. It’s not a prescriptive way of shooting, and while I am happy to make images just for their own sake, I would much rather concentrate on putting a series together that is about something other than where my camera is focused. Deciding what you want to say about any given subject, view, or situation is something that takes time. I am far more interested in intimate detail than wide, expansive views. I do most of my shooting with a 70-300mm lens which allows me to isolate small areas.
When shooting, I don’t go out with any preconceptions whatsoever. I don’t feel comfortable working that way. I don’t wait for the perfect light, or the high tide, or the day the autumn colours are at their most vibrant. I would rather work with what I have. It is not until I start shooting and can see how the light is working and the shapes are coming together that I start to find a way forward. It is a way of shooting that is not prescriptive in any way – it rewards a curiosity and a desire to experiment. Each decision I make as I shoot through the sequence is predicated on the result of the last decision I made. A bit like a painter, I guess. When shooting with multiple exposure, photography becomes more of an additive process.
Experiment. Research the techniques that will enable you to make the images that interest you, make sure you have the equipment capable of achieving what you want to achieve, then go out and play! Don’t be afraid of failures, there will be plenty. I will often shoot hundreds of images at a given location, working towards refining the ideas that are appearing on the back of the camera in order so that I might get 6 or 9 images to go in a gallery on my website.
The way I shoot is controllable to a certain degree, but still has a great deal of unpredictability about it and it is this aspect that is both challenging and rewarding. There are seemingly limitless combinations of settings which can be employed – my camera will combine up to 9 images into one file. This, together with variations of shutter speeds, white balance settings, lenses, exposure values etc. gives me an endlessly fascinating array of options as to how I approach my work.
From my experience, abstraction is much harder to get right than representation. For, me it can be about creating a pleasing balance and rhythm within the frame. It can be about creating tension, pattern, emotion, or a combination of these elements and many more. I have found that it is only by engaging myself more and more with the visual arts that I have been able to begin to define my own goals which change and evolve all the time.
In this digital age, it is so easy for our work to be little more than a series of ones and zeroes on a dusty old hard drive. The art of printing is certainly not without its challenges but it is enormously rewarding. I now have my own 44” large format printer which fills me with joy every time I use it. I tend to reach for Fotospeed’s Cotton Etching 305 paper as it provides me with the ability to render rich blacks and strong contrasts with fine detail which is not always easy with matte papers. Obviously, you don’t have to dive in the deep end with a printer this size, but I would heartily recommend spending a little time and money learning about the joys to be had in printing one’s own work.
Valda Bailey’s paper of choice is Fotospeed’s Cotton Etching 305, developed in conjunction with friend and teaching partner, Doug Chinnery. Cotton Etching 305 is available at www.fotospeed.com.
Do we have a Voice? And does being an outdoor photographer inevitably lead to environmentalism? And if so, what if anything are our responsibilities?
I had better begin with a declaration. I am an environmentalist and have been all my adult life. But – regrettably – not in an activist sense. Yes, I’ve been on a couple of marches, and occasionally written to my MP. But compared with friends and contemporaries who have dedicated their lives fighting for the causes of wildlife and the environment, my active contribution has been minimal.
Claiming no moral authority, and with only a superficial scientific understanding of the issues, I have contented myself with minimising my environmental impact in daily life. I willingly admit to being led by my partner Jenny who has pioneered most of our pro-environmental behaviour. It is she who organised thermal water panels and photovoltaics on our roof, the water butts and grey water for gardening. It is she who grows enough food (organically) in that garden to feed us for six months of the year. And it is she who makes sure we wear thermal underwear, hats and gloves in the house during winter, and only use the central heating when we have guests. Jen is the committed vegetarian, I am the reluctant follower. Jen has always aimed to tread lightly on the earth, and it has been my good fortune to live with someone who has helped me stay close to values which would otherwise be a distant aspiration only.
Beluga charnel, Bourbonhamna
This haunting place in Svalbard is scattered with hundreds of thousands of whale bones, tragic remains of the now almost-passed whaling industry. Largely confined to Arctic and Antarctic waters, and so out of sight from public gaze, the slaughter of whales continued unchecked until 1985.
However, this relatively virtuous home life is spoiled by work. To earn a living, travel remains unavoidable, along with its inevitable carbon footprint. There might be as many as a dozen flights a year (some intercontinental); and often upward of 20,000 miles of driving, in a diesel car, since like so many we were convinced by the lower CO2 argument to buy diesel back in the late 2000s.
The World is a book, and those who do not travel read only one page. ~St Augustine
I used to be reasonably secure that at least some of my travel was justified. Travel has taught me about places and habitats; has been an illuminating, life-enriching experience. Creatively, in addition to all the amazing sights, travel brings journey time when, in planes and trains especially, there is time to anticipate, reflect, imagine and dream. I have contributed a little bit to local economies and developed an understanding of, empathy for, and solidarity with people in other parts of the world. I have made a living doing something I love, and when the children lived at home, still managed to feed my young family.
In contrast to hardcore photojournalists (who I greatly admire), I believed that as well as images of pollution, disaster and suffering it was essential to make pictures that conveyed beauty and inspiration; that gave meaning to what we might lose if we failed to protect our planetary home. If our job as photographers was to tell stories from the front line, I felt adapted to telling the stories of what seemed right, that lifted the spirits. My professional work for the National Trust, Woodland Trust and Wildlife Trusts helped me feel I was part of a positive environmental message, of care, and hope.
Buachaille Etive Mor, winter
While some winters can still produce impressive snowfalls in the UK, everyone of a certain age remembers the winters of childhood as colder, and records bear this out. The trend to milder temperatures travels in a bumpy, unpredictable fashion, but the underlying direction is upward, corroborating theoretical modelling with increased atmospheric carbon concentrations.
Fortunately, Scotland is still beautiful in almost all conditions. This image was made in January this year.
Underneath the particular image in question, the particular short story or musical composition, we're looking for a source of hope. ~ Barry Lopez
That industrialising resource exploitation (mining, fishing, farming etc), felling virgin forest and unchecked urban sprawl degrades, devastates and pollutes ecosystems has been known almost since it began. These threats did not originate in the 21st century, and many of them precede the 20th, forged in the crucible of the industrial revolution. In the arts, late-18th and early-19th century Romanticism was in large part a reaction against industrialisation. Yet in a century brutalised and distracted by World Wars, 20th century Modernism embraced and celebrated the advances of modernity, technology and urbanisation.
However, the confidence that Modernism had in technological progress has dissolved in the last few decades, increasingly replaced by fear and alarm at the destruction that this progress is inflicting on the world.
Many writers and thinkers have highlighted our negligence and unsustainable exploitation of resources for many decades, Aldo Leopold, Rachel Carson and James Lovelock all spring to mind. It was James Lovelock’s Gaia Theory, which I read as a student in the late-1970s that shaped my perspective on our developing environmental crisis. Especially with regard to climate change.
Caledonian pines, Glen Affric
If protected from hungry deer, seedlings become saplings become trees, and it’s almost impossible not to see the recovery of a forest as a hopeful sign. Ultimately, large ruminants are also part of our world, a key component in earth’s evolution, and in all probability companions to our ancestors as they occupied post-Ice Age Britain. Therefore it’s likely that landscape was not all closed-canopy forest, but included a range of other habitats, including marsh, grazed meadows, heath, open moor and relatively bare mountains, a diversity that can still be found in Alaska and other northern hemisphere wilderness.
Caledonian pine, River Affric
Scotland is becoming a world leader in rewilding, and habitat rejuvenation. Its wildland is already wonderfully rich in biodiversity compared with the impoverished state of many parts of our British Isles, although the unbalanced, top-predator-free imbalance remains. Places being carefully managed for the future are silver linings of hope.
In 1993 Jenny and I moved to North Yorkshire. Jen, in particular, did not want to bring up our young children in the polluted air of London. The first consideration when looking for a house was that we didn’t want a low, coastal location (due to melting ice caps and rising sea levels); and we wanted a home that wasn’t built on a flood plain. We might have been a bit too far ahead of our time for the former worry, but the latter has proved prescient. The point is, climate change was already common knowledge, part of our conversation. We knew it was coming.
In the last years and months, the amount of new data coming forward on the destruction of the eco-system fabric which maintains the web of life across the planet has gained pace. Coral reef bleaching and decay. Insect population collapse. Many species reaching the brink of viability. Mostly these crises are the result of habitat loss and climate change. Whether motivated by survival, consumption, development or pure greed, these crises are anthropogenically caused.
Stepping back from the apocalyptic brink for a moment, there are also positive stories. Following the IWC’s 1982 commercial whaling moratorium, some whale populations are rebounding from the near-extinction to which they were subjected. We tackled the hole in the ozone layer (with the Montreal Protocol) and that situation is now greatly improved. The Antarctic Treaty protects Antarctica from any commercial or industrial resource exploitation, especially for fossil fuels. These examples show that with goodwill, people can work together, internationally, for the common good. In the UK, otter numbers are increasing in rivers from which they had once disappeared, and beavers are slowly being re-introduced.
But the hopeful stories are, currently, hugely outweighed by the gloomy ones.
Deer, Gribdale woods, winter
This is a mature plantation above our village in North Yorkshire. It was a thrill to see this roe deer, as the numbers are fairly small and transient in the area. Since the picture was taken almost all the trees have been felled, and although this is the inevitable destiny of plantation trees I was surprised to find how much I miss them, even the non-native sitka spruce.
The term, Shifting Baseline Syndrome, goes a long way to explaining how we normalise whatever we see around us, and so in a world depleted of vast numbers of mighty creatures, we see our impoverished landscapes as normal. Once, humans were but one of many animals who shared this planet, in some form of reasonably dynamic balance. Natural catastrophes and cycles would occur, including climatic ones such as Ice Ages, and life re-formed around niches that were sometimes radically altered to what had been before. But never was the catastrophe a direct result of one willful species.
Farmers frequently pronounce themselves the guardians of our cherished land, the ones who protect and enhance its beauty. There is no merit in blaming farmers for the industrialisation of agriculture brought about by the post-war drive for ever-cheaper food (at any environmental cost). Their practice simply reflected the political, technological and cultural imperatives that prevailed then. Yet this perspective strikes me as a perfect example of shifting baseline syndrome. To our generations landscape still appears beautiful, electricity pylons, motorways and so on notwithstanding; it’s what we know, and represents open space, a superficial appearance of nature, and a welcome relief from the crushing ugliness of so much of our urban environment. But to believe that the modern agricultural landscape of much of the UK is somehow a rural idyll maintained by the benign offices of 21st century farming sets the bar of expectation and beauty extraordinarily low. Especially if we use bio-diversity as a measure.
In Sapiens, Yuval Noah Harari points out that across planet Earth the domestic animals we breed for meat (and other services), cows, pigs, sheep and chickens predominantly, weigh around 700 million tons. ALL other large animals (from porcupines and penguins to elephants, walruses and whales) living in the wild weigh less than 100 million tons. It’s important to point out that this figure does not include small animals, insects, bacteria, plants, trees etc which make up a much larger proportion of the earth’s biomass. Nevertheless, that our domestic animal stocks outnumber similarly-sized wild ones by a factor of at least 7x is a shock, particularly when you consider that not so long ago those proportions would have been reversed.
Dewdrop galaxy
Fortunately, as outdoor photographers we don’t have to travel halfway around the world to enjoy our photography. This picture was made about a mile outside our village one winter morning. A macro lens encourages us to look closer, opening new worlds of visual delight in nature.
Easby Moor view, winter
I have stood here countless times, admiring the view as it is on a favourite local walk. The dark flanks of the crags make it a tricky aesthetic puzzle, but the snow solved that problem one day this January. It is the only significant snow day we have had in our area this winter.
While they may disrupt the recovery of woodland in Scotland, spotting a deer in an English forest is quite a thrill. But imagine how many more of them there would have been 500 years ago, not to mention any number of other animals who would have made that forest home. Since then we eliminated top predators (bear, wolf, lynx) in the British Isles, and to manage the numbers of wild ruminants that remain (deer primarily) we have to hunt them, substituting natural predation. We also wage war on remaining wild creatures, seeking to exterminate those with which we have a long-held enmity (rats, mice, foxes) and blaming the badger for infecting cows with bovine TB. Lacking serious predators to control them there are still plenty of rabbits and grey squirrels, but bird numbers throughout our islands are in a long term pattern of decline. And this in a country of committed bird-watchers and wildlife enthusiasts.
Some older folk recall woods and countryside rich in bird-song, and the butterfly-filled meadows of their childhoods. And winters where the snow lay so deep they had to walk along the tops of hedges beside the road to get to school! Admittedly, weather is weather, and we certainly still get cold snaps. But the temperature trend is relentlessly upwards, and those of us who have been photographing the outdoors for decades can feel and see those changes.
For me personally, encounters with true wilderness are the highlight of my life, certainly as a photographer and story-teller. These experiences are often restorative, redemptive and fill me with hope. It’s funny how often that many people I travel with, especially to the polar regions, come to see wilderness as the Real World. To bear witness to mighty (and microscopic) animals moving around on land and in the ocean, still acting out the immutable rhythms, patterns and laws of life according to the choreography of evolution is majestic, and life changing.
The thought that we are exterminating the extraordinary beauty and deeper reality of the wild world is a dagger to the heart. Yet compared with rising sea-levels, floods, drought, famine, displacement and the suffering that will follow, aesthetic and inspirational decline may be the least of our worries.
We’re All Doomed. ~ Private Fraser, Dad’s Army
There are arguments that as our technology develops, once we trash planet Earth we can simply board spacecraft and ride off in search of planetary pastures new. Inconveniently, reality suggests otherwise. Perhaps this 2001 A Space Odyssey-style fantasy has finally bitten the dust for I’ve not heard it expressed in a while. Pioneering astrophysics has now revealed the certainty that many stars have planetary systems, yet it is also true that in the foreseeable future there is no planet B.
Humpback whale tail, Chukotka East of Siberia, Chukotka is the true Russian Far East. Just south of the Arctic circle this part resembles Scotland in its landforms, but with virtually no people. It’s no great surprise to discover sizeable schools of humpback whale here in the summer, a species which has thrived since the Whaling Moratorium of 1985. Watching humpbacks is an extraordinary thrill; their breaching behaviour being one of the wonders of nature.
For Jen and I, those afore-mentioned young children are now young adults, a journalist and a scientist. Their insight, courage and wisdom has forced me to reconsider many of my previously-held beliefs, although on environmental matters we are as one. But parents or not, as eyewitnesses to the world around us we photographers have an opportunity, maybe even a responsibility, to say it as it is.
Following the lead of teenage Swedish Climate Change activist, Greta Thunberg, children around the world have taken time off their lessons to protest the lack of action on climate change. They have been widely chastised by adults and politicians, especially in the UK. I heard one middle-aged gentleman on a radio phone-in saying ‘Save us from the sanctimonious opinions of children’. Funny how young people are constantly under attack for being politically apathetic, and then the moment they actually get out and do something they are criticised for being sanctimonious.
In short, why would children NOT care about their future? Should we really expect them to stick their heads in the sand and carry on, business as usual, as we have done? Our hypocrisy is surpassed only by our complacency. On their own children may not change the world. But in a few years, they will no longer be children and the awareness and concern they are developing now suggest there is hope that they will accelerate change in a way that our generation has not. I may be too optimistic but I find their passion and commitment an inspiration.
Growing up in Ladakh
As I set up my tripod and Hasselblad in this mountain village some years ago, these youngsters came to inspect their strange European visitor (me) and insisted on having their portraits taken. How could I refuse? The road is a new arrival and will inevitably lead to changes in their traditional way of life. The march of progress is not all benign, but should at least mean better medical services and hopefully a healthier old age.
In the past I’d never be one to stick my head above the parapet, and basically, I am still that person. I’d love to hide behind my work, believe that the search for meaning and beauty is enough, and hope that people who enjoy my pictures draw their own conclusions that the natural world, the wild world really does matter. Maybe as a young photographer, I wasn’t angry enough to play the activist role. But I am angry now…with myself for my foot-dragging, and with our species-wide willingness to ignore scientific evidence.
Times have changed, and to say and do nothing feels amoral, borderline unethical even. Especially as I will likely continue to travel, to photograph in places and habitats that inspire me. If I do that then I must strive to be less of the problem, more of the solution (whatever that might be). I have seriously considered NOT travelling at all, but that seems a decision to become a spectator only, or hermit.
But I must scrutinise my travels more critically, cut back where possible (especially on flights), use the train whenever practical, do carbon offset mitigation (eg tree-planting), and although we will keep the car going as long as we possibly can, when forced to change it will be electric. There’s no shortage of photographic opportunity in the garden; I have advocated focussing on my/your local landscapes in the past, for environmental and creative reasons, and I should follow my own advice more closely.
Newton Wood, mist
Working and walking locally I am familiar with almost every part of our local woods. Yet when the mist arrives it still leads to surprising transformations. Such conditions are a reminder to make images about something, and not just of something.
What about the photographic process itself? Although willing to try I doubt I can use much less electricity, but I do print and printing has its consumables of paper and ink.
We should probably also be rocking the foundations of the ivory towers in which our politicians seem to live until they hear loud and clear that the environment matters to us, and can see that our votes may be won with ecological policies. Secondly, if we have any money invested, think hard about where (it is invested) and whether it could be somewhere better for our planetary future. It might even perform better in the long run too because the young people who will be leading the world soon are going to favour those industries which are sustainable.
I may be the only person having these thoughts. But I doubt it. If any of this resonates for you, if you want to share your ideas or suggestions, or feel you could write or contribute a piece on what we as a community can do collectively to help the causes of landscape, ecosystems and the wild world then please do contact Tim (via the contact page), who is keen to spotlight what has become the issue of our time. And how we might use our photography to best highlight the importance of nature, with joy, irony, anger, sadness or humour…whatever that voice may be.
A world with wilderness depleted or devastated, and without hope would be a terrible legacy to leave our grand-children. Clearly alone none of us can do very much. But if we were able to co-ordinate our efforts and ideas then we might have a better chance of making some difference.
On thin ice, Wrangel Island
Being out in a small boat on the Arctic Ocean is a special travel experience, and to be able to walk on that ocean, on its sea ice, even more so. Sea Ice (pack ice) is in a state of long term decline, a trend scientists have charted for decades. As it reduces so it opens up possibilities for shipping, leading to disturbance and danger for the animals that live here. Mineral exploitation also becomes more likely, an enormous and inevitable pollution hazard. The decay of sea ice also means loss of albedo effect, so instead of being reflected by the whiteness of the ice, more sunlight is absorbed by dark open ocean water, accelerating the warming trend.
Polar bear in trouble, Wrangel island
Even polar bears get old and when they do they lose strength, hunting ability and eventually weaken and die. Here is an old bear probably in its last summer. It’s now probably too weak to make another kill and would only recover if it found carrion. Its individual predicament cannot be linked to climate change. Nevertheless, as the sea ice which is their primary hunting ground diminishes, so polar bears will find survival increasingly difficult.
Polar bear on sea ice, Wrangel island
Patrolling the vast expanses of Arctic sea ice, a polar bear’s adaptation to this niche in the ecosystem is miraculous. To see them in their natural habitat, going about their lives as they have for hundreds of thousands of years puts ours into perspective.
The Third World War has already begun. Not on battlefields, or in the tactical plans of the military establishment. Rather it’s a political war of ideas and beliefs, for sustainable change against business-as-usual inertia, that will be waged perhaps for decades…unless and until we can secure wide-ranging international legally-enforced action to bear down on climate change and ecological destruction. Paris was a good start, but so much more needs doing, and doing much more quickly. Will it mean lifestyle changes? Yes, but a return to hunter-gathering is not a realistic direction; we will have to supercharge the development of new and sustainable technologies perhaps including carbon capture, enact a new revolution in food production, and reconsider the wisdom of an eternally consumption-based vision for economies.
Live simply, that others may simply live.~ Mahatma Gandi
In Gandhi's time, this advice addressed the burning inequalities that ran through human societies, and the economic gulf between the developed and developing worlds. Perhaps in our time, it is the animals and ecosystems of the wild world who are the “others”; we may not easily see it, but their future survival and prosperity is inextricably linked with our own.
Apathy, resignation and a feeling of impotence may be understandable. It’s so easy to believe and say that our individual lives, decisions, behaviour are insignificant, and make no difference in the grand scheme of things…who can argue with that? But that’s like saying we don’t matter and have no responsibility. It’s vital that we do not become despondent, and instead feel galvanised to rise to the challenges that lie ahead. As eyewitnesses to, and beneficiaries of, nature’s beauty and inspiration it would be good if we can play our part to defend it.
And it is by looking to one another, by attending to the responsibilities of maintaining good relations in whatever we do, that communities turn a gathering darkness into light. ~ Barry Lopez
Travelling to the Italian Dolomites was filled with excitement and apprehension. This was to be my first big climbing trip. I had only been climbing for a year up to this point. Climbing had redirected my life onto an unplanned road, defining it and enhancing it into one big adventure. It was from climbing that I discovered a whole new world, a vertical world and with that a passion for photography. I enjoyed capturing my climbs, seizing time in an image to display the breathtaking exposure and scenes from high up in the mountains.
We arrived in the Italian Dolomites on September 15th 2018. We were welcomed by the rich deep blue skies characteristic of most European autumns. The Dolomites were by no doubt awe inspiring. Towering peaks chiselled out from the earth’s crust shot out from the lush green valleys. These unique geological features dominated the landscape. I looked at each cliff face as we drove down the winding passes, picking out potential climbing venues.
On our third day, we sat on a plateau eating half melted waffles and sipping lukewarm water whilst gaping up at nature's masterpiece before us. I took out my camera to get some shots of the views, playing around a little using different angles. This day was our easy day, deciding to take a break from pure rock climbing to tackle a fairly easy scramble, Via Ferrata. We wanted to bag another summit, to see the breathtaking views that often come with any peak, like a package deal. I craned my neck to make out a route up our next objective, a mountain shaped like a pinhead, pointing up as if it was trying to poke a hole in the sky. Leading up to the summit was hundreds of metres of a sheer, steep and barren cliff face. Apparently, there was a defined scramble line up there, aided by sections of Via Ferrata.
I had my doubts, but despite them, there was a route. We geared up and were soon scrambling over exposed drops offs. It was fun, zig zagging up rock gullies, half scrambling and half dangling from ladder rungs. As we came close towards the summit, we took a break to catch our breath and appreciate the surrounding landscape. I was excited to reach the summit so I could take some more photos. However, there was a smaller peak in front of our objective peak, which we would somehow have to get around, or over. To get around, we could make out a slightly flattened route engraved into the mountainside. It wasn't really a path but we couldn't seem to find an alternative way. This seemed our best bet. I started off, trying my best to lean into the mountain as much as possible. Any misstep would lead to a long fall into mountain rubble.
As I walked on, my partner Jamie called out to me. I turned. As I turned, I was shocked to see him and his brother, Daniel, crawling up the rocky slope. They were not going around the first peak, which I perceived to be the easiest and safest way. No, they were scrambling up it. What were they doing?
It seemed they were going to reach our objective second peak, by summiting and going over the first. Maybe they had decided this was the better way after all. I didn’t particularly want to follow. The slope was horribly angled, like a slide that would throw you out towards the drop below. It seemed rather threatening to me. I knew, to Jamie and Daniel, who were more experienced, the slope was nothing. Jamie called to me saying to go around if I didn't want to follow. But I didn't want to be the only one in the group not to follow. Maybe I was a ‘’wimp’’? I needed to confront my fears, move past it, right? I kept repeating this as I nervously stepped up onto the slope to follow them upwards. On hindsight, this was a mistake.
I scrambled up, poking each rock before transferring my weight on that arm or foot. Some rocks were loose, adding a bit of Russian roulette with each one I tested. I looked up and saw my partner dancing towards the summit. Effortlessly moving between the boulders. I couldn't move that quick and definitely looked less elegant.
Up, up, up I scrambled…
Until bam!
It all happened in an instant. No thought was fully processed in my mind. As I was crawling up the mountainside, eyes set down to the floor picking out the next hand/foothold, I heard a shriek from Daniel.
‘ROCK!’
At that moment, hearing that one word, or from simply detecting a shrill of panic, my eyes snapped upwards to see a huge boulder pounding from the summit down towards me. It was going to hit me and knock me off the mountain. The boulder, the size of a TV set, bounced and flew up into the air, before crashing down and bouncing up again to fly up in the air once more. With one breath, I jumped. I jumped to the left, away from the boulder’s line. I didn’t think about jumping, my body just moved. In an instantaneous second my whole body coordinated itself to move the hell out the way of that boulder.
Unfortunately, though, my right hand wasn't quick enough.
I screamed.
I screamed again, and again, and again, and again.
I fell to the floor and scrunched my body up, my knees up to my chin, protecting my hand in a ball of me. I just screamed. I wasn't even in pain, I couldn't feel anything. I wasn't even trying to scream or processing that I was doing it. I guess I was screaming because I was desperate for someone to help me. My curled-up body rocked in shock. I didn't want to look at my hand. From it, a stream of blood was trickling down my leg. My mind was racing, waiting to feel any pain so that I could assess the extent of my injuries.
My partner hurried down from above.
‘Jane? Jane? What’s hurt, can you tell me what hurts’?
He started feeling underneath my helmet, my arms and legs to see if there were any other injuries in addition to my clearly injured hand.
‘Let’s see your hand’. My partner urged me to uncurl it from its protective ball I had created with my arms and scrunched up legs. I didn't want to move it or see it. I knew I had to though. After a long pause, I moved my arm outwards so Jamie could have a look. He frantically pulled out bandages from his medic kit, unravelling a long white bandage. Jamie gently held my wrist to wrap the bandage around my hand. I tried very hard to keep my head turned away, but I unwillingly caught a glimpse of the whites of bone. I wrenched. I didn't want to see anymore.
‘You will be okay, don’t worry’ Jamie repeated as I whimpered on.
Jamie then pulled out a climbing sling. Being a loop of material, the sling was pulled over my head and my arm then placed through. The sling acted as support and raised my arm to prevent inflammation.
‘We need to move’ Jamie stated. ‘Can you walk, just a bit to the summit?’
I nodded in agreement. I did need to move from this precarious position. With the help of Jamie and Daniel, I slowly made my way up to the first summit where I sat down to try to gather my thoughts and comprehend my situation. I was passed sweets to keep my blood sugar up, and jackets were tied around me to stop my body temperature dropping too much with shock. My group talked about how to get down.
‘We could call the mountain rescue?’ exclaimed Jamie.
I looked up, ‘for a hand injury, seems a bit over the top’ I mumbled. My hand was starting to hurt now, I could feel a throbbing moving from my fingertips up my arm. But it was just a hand injury, which to me didn't justify a helicopter. We all agreed to try and get me down off the mountain ourselves. My partner tied another sling around my waist, to act like a lead which he would hold to help steady me as I attempted to climb down the mountain.
We started downclimbing. I moved extremely slowly down from the peak, mainly scraping over the rocky terrain on my bum. The slope became steeper towards some via ferrata ladders. I would have to climb down the ladders with one hand. The pain was really getting bad. It felt like someone was whacking my fingers with a hammer. Boom. Boom. Boom. The throb vibrated up my nerves, pulsating through my whole arm. My stomach churned, a twisting nausea from within. I shivered. I just wanted to go home. The thought of having to climb down this mountain on ladders with steep drops and one hand made me feel overwhelmed. Tears shot out from my eyes, down my cheeks. I didn't want to. I didn't want to walk anymore.
But I had to, and I did. I lost balance a few times. Whenever I tipped a little too far to the left or right, I instinctively tried to grab the ladders with my bad hand. This sent a jolt of pain shooting through my body, ending in a pathetic weep. I felt pathetic. I kept telling myself to pull myself together. It was just my hand.
Minutes soon slid into hours of down climbing. The sun was creeping lower and lower in the sky, and I was getting slower and slower. I kept stopping to sit every five minutes, to regather energy and stop myself from being sick. ‘We are taking too long, we are not going to get down before nightfall’, Jamie said whilst looking at his watch. We need to call mountain rescue. He looked at me, concern written across his face. I disagreed. How annoyed would the mountain rescue crew be when they discover it was just a hand injury. I wasn't bad. I was just being weak.
I didn't have the energy to argue though and let Jamie ring the rescue services.
This on hindsight was a very good decision...
I have always known that there were inherent dangers in mountainous environments. Avalanches, landslides, storms, falling from great heights and even flooding (Mountain Partnership, 2015) are to name a few. But I never thought anything would ever happen to me. Naive logic, I guess. I even contemplated not buying insurance before my trip due to the expense, thinking what were the chances? I did, and I will never contemplate not doing so again. Although my accident was not fatal, it could have been a lot worse, which I try not to think about too much. I like to look back on the event as it unfolded, to acknowledge each mistake and its potential bitter consequences, marking each as a ‘lemon’.
Lemon one. We all had let our guards down. We all labelled the day as ‘easy’ compared to our previous days’ climbing. This peak consisted of a relatively simple scramble with some Via Ferrata support. However, the dangers were still there. We didn't perceive them highly enough, and as a result did not act in caution when we needed to, potentially taking unnecessary risks.
Lemon two. I succumbed to peer pressure. I followed Jamie and Daniel up the first summit when I preferred to walk around. Going up the slope to the first summit didn't feel right to me and I should have trusted my gut.
Lemon three. Rockfall is a prevalent danger in the mountains and can be fatal. From 1951 to 2006 in the US alone, 46.4% of mountain deaths were due to falling rocks or slipping on rocks (Steph Abegg, 2018). We should have been wary, especially when moving up the steep rocky slope to the first summit. Shouting ‘below’ makes others aware of any falling rock. Daniel shouted which saved my life by giving me time to react and move out of the way of the falling boulder. To try and prevent a rock fall yourself, tap any precarious looking rock before transferring your weight to make sure it isn't loose.
Lemon four. We nearly let a manageable situation become unmanageable. We should have called mountain rescue as soon as the accident had occurred. It wasn't a serious situation at the time, but down climbing into the night as the pain in my hand was becoming worse, and I was slowly deteriorating with shock, was making the situation less manageable. Most injuries on a mountain are justifiable reasons to call the mountain rescue service. If you are ever unsure, then calling the rescue services and describing the situation enables experts to assess the best cause of action (Scottish Mountain Rescue, 2019).
I am happy to say that my camera stayed intact and I am now recovering. I am having intensive physiotherapy to get my hand movement back. Although I am not recovered enough to go back to climbing rocks, I am enjoying running, walking and taking photos in the mountains once more.
Mountain Partnership, (2015). Disaster Risk Management. (Online). Available at:
http://www.fao.org/mountain-partnership/our-work/focusareas/naturalhazards/en/
Steph Abegg (2018). Mountaineering Accident Statistics. (Online). Available at:
http://publications.americanalpineclub.org/about_accidents
Scottish Mountain Rescue (2019). When Should I call for help? (Online). Available at:
http://www.scottishmountainrescue.org/advice/when-should-i-call-for-help/
When I read about Paul's project about photographing the navigational markers around the coastline of the UK, it sparked my interest. These markers are paramount for seafarers as they guide boats of all sizes into port. I became aware of them when I did a lot of yacht sailing on the south coast of the UK, but to most people, they would miss their significance and walk past them on the beaches and rocky shorelines. So what was it about these markers that drew Paul to travel around the coastline documenting them?
What sparked your passion for photography?
I was always into Art and Graphics whilst I was at school rather than academic subjects. I went on to study Art and Graphics for my A Levels; in my second year, I took up photography and really enjoyed it. However, I still applied for a graphics course at degree level and not photography. About two weeks before I was due to start the course, I decided I wanted to change and study photography and therefore take it to a more serious level.
You studied photography at Newcastle Art & Design College in 1999. Why did you choose to photograph the land as opposed to other subjects/genres?
Throughout the course, we studied many different genres of photography. This gave me an idea of what I liked and didn’t like.
No major deep-rooted reasons I don’t think why I chose landscape photography. I love being by the coast, I was brought up by the coast. I’m at my happiest being by the sea/coast, I’m also very happy being alone and in my own company so I think it was just a natural direction for me to combine them both.
Who inspires you the most both at the start of your photography and now? What books stimulated your interest in photography and drove you forward, directly or indirectly, as you developed?
This is a tough question and one I get asked a lot. If I had to pick one, I’d say Joel Sternfeld. I love both his landscapes and portraits. But there are many photographers and artists who inspire and influence me.
Tell us a bit about the project 'Navigate’. Where did it all start? What's your personal interest in this subject?
It all started while I was shooting a couple of other personal projects; Moonlight and -18 Degrees. These are all shot at full moon, in the middle of the night and the exposures can last up to 3 hours per image. It was at one location, in particular,
I arrived early, while the sun was just going down. I was sat in the car and this object caught my attention, a marker. I had time to kill so I went for a wander and walked down to the rocks/jetty and up to the marker. It had a strange and wonderful presence and atmosphere. As the tide was coming in and splashing up against the marker, the marker stood strong. Going nowhere. I then noticed others down the coastline, they were all different, but the same. They all almost had their own personalities but more importantly, served a very important purpose. It highlighted to me how we are just a small island. Vulnerable. With everything that was starting politically, I felt the need to document these posts and make them into a body of work in their own right.
How did the project evolve? Did you have to refine the vision of what you wanted to achieve?
The project grew and evolved as I starting shooting. I decided I wanted to shoot all around the UK and not just in one location. The distances got further, the travelling greater. Very early on I set myself a few rules; the same camera, same lens, same film, one sheet of film at each location.
How did you go about researching where they were and the locations? Were they all documented or did you have to do a lot of in-depth analysis to get the information? How did you decide which ones to include?
I researched just by foot really. Went to a location and walked for miles to see if I could find any. As I starting shooting them people would tell me of ones they knew of so sometimes they’d point me in the right direction. People have also said they are marked on maps but part of the appeal is just getting out and searching for them.
Tell us about carrying out the project. How long did it take and how did you decide in which sequence you chose to visit the locations?
It started in 2016 and I haven’t really put a stop to it, in theory, it’s still ongoing. I’ll continue shooting them as I find them, add to the collection and body of work. The beauty of all my projects is I can dip in and out of them and keep building the collection.
Were there any of the markers that you found particularly challenging to photograph or were in interesting locations?
The challenging part for all these shots was making sure a few things fell into place. The light and weather needed to be right firstly. I only shoot in a certain light, the tide needed to be at the correct point/level so I think this was the most challenging part and the part I couldn't control.
You mention painters in your artist’s statement; John Constable, Paul Signac, Edward Hopper and Winslow Homer. Did these paintings influence your aesthetic or narrative choices?
They do and did. I tend to look at painters for influence/inspiration. I find I prefer to draw inspiration from painters rather than looking at photographers and I don’t really watch many films. The painters referenced have a sense of calmness and silence that appeals to me. I try to incorporate this into my photographs.
You say in the narrative about the project "the sea– feral and primordial– and the markers– rigid and manmade– exist for just a moment in equilibrium. The form and composition of the Navigate photographs mirror my own experience making them." You chose to photograph the markers at sunset and left a lot of the composition to chance. How did you find this approach?
While I didn’t want these pictures to be about the sunset as such, often the last hour of the day is the best light of the day. With the long exposure and the movement with the sea and cloud, you never knew fully what you were going to capture and this is what appeals to me. In this digital age where everyone wants to see everything instantly, this is the total opposite. They are shot on large format film, no polaroid so I never know 100% what I have captured until I’m back in London and processed the film. The approach is stripped back, minimal and considered. You have to shoot with your instinct.
In the exhibition information, you write "Recalling Britain's identity as an island nation and co-incidentally beginning in 2016 when the country voted to leave the European Union. How much did this influence your project of documenting the markers and the importance of them on our coastline?
It was co-incidental. I didn’t initially set out to shoot this project because of what was going on politically. However, it did highlight to me that we are just this small island, surrounded by vast amounts of water which makes us very vulnerable. The navigation posts are such simple structures yet from a sailor's/seafarer's point of view they are so important. Because of what was going on politically it made me want to travel around and shoot around the country not just at one location.
You used a large format camera for this project. What made you choose this and did you make any special choices in camera, lenses and film?
I shoot all my personal work on 5x4 film. I don’t feel I have any connection with a digital camera and the slow, calm considered approach adds and helps my photographic style and approach.
What is next for you? Where do you see your photography going in terms of subject and style?
I have a couple of other projects that I’ve nearly completed but not shown yet. So, they will be out next and I'll put the images and information up on my website soon (www.paulthompsonstudio.com). In terms of where my subject and style are going, I don’t really overthink it or make any considered choices.
The exhibition of the project Navigate by Paul Thompson is open at Wren London, 21 March to 17 May.
Wren London: 39 Featherstone Street, London, EC1Y 8RE
All photographs are copyright to Paul Thompson, Courtesy Wren London.
Nicholas J R White is a commercial and fine art photographer based in the UK. His personal work examines our relationship with the landscape and the ways in which we interact with our natural spaces. In 2017, Nicholas was named as a winner in the Lens Culture Emerging Talent Awards and was awarded the Royal Photographic Society Environmental Bursary in association with the Photographic Angle.
His debut monograph, Black Dots, (read our interview here) exploring bothy culture across the UK was released in January 2017 by Another Place Press.
Through his series, Black Dots, an exploration of mountain bothies and bothy culture across the United Kingdom and his current work in progress, 'Carpathia', documenting the formation of a European Wilderness Reserve in the Southern Carpathian Mountains of Romania (read article on Diaries from Romania), Nicholas discussed how he undertakes such projects and how he communicates narrative through a combination of landscape and portrait elements.
I was honoured to be asked by Charlotte to write an end frame of a picture that influenced my path as a photographer. When I started out taking snaps with my camera, because that’s what they were, the camera up to my eye, snap, no thought of composition, use of light etc., I realised I needed to study. I would go out and shoot colourful sunrises and sunsets but I wasn’t happy with that. I needed more, I needed to study other photographers’ work. I would buy magazines and read internet articles and watch You Tube to learn composition, use of light, filters and so on.
I saw an article in Amateur Photographer that an exhibition was going to be held at the Brindley in Runcorn, of a photographer from Widnes who was Michael Kenna. Living about 8 miles from Runcorn I went to the exhibition and I was awestruck by his work; the minimalist approach of making less look more, the use of negative space, simplicity of the images, the zen feeling that the images communicated. The techniques that Kenna uses of long exposure, from minutes to hours of exposure had my mind in a whirl of how beautiful his work was crafted. On my way out of the exhibition, I purchased two of his books which was the start of my collection of all Michael Kenna’s books.
Welcome to our 4x4 feature which is a set of four mini landscape photography portfolios submitted from our subscribers. Each portfolios consisting of four images related in some way.
Interested in submitting your work? We're on the lookout for new portfolios for the next few issues, so please do get in touch!
If you would like to submit your 4x4 portfolio, please visit this page for submission information. You can view previous 4x4 portfolios here.
Many landscape photographers, myself included, often try to exclude man-made structures from our images, notwithstanding that the wider landscape itself may be the result of long-term human intervention. However, in this set of images, my focus was with the opposite intention.
A visit to the Norfolk Broads at the end of February coincided with a spell of misty, frosty mornings and blue skies during the daytime. It wasn’t at all the sort of weather I’d anticipated, but perhaps even more attractive than I’d expected. Jon Gibbs showed me some locations that looked well at sunrise as the dawn light picked out windpumps (not windmills) rising out of the mist and catching first light.
To me, they had a rather spectral ‘H G Wells – War of the Worlds’ appearance, suggestive of Martian machines striding through the Broads. And that was before we went to the pub! East Anglia is often a neglected location for landscape photography compared to the usual places seen in photo magazines, but for me, the Suffolk and Norfolk coasts never disappoint.
Puzzlewood is located in the beautiful and historic Forest of Dean in Gloucestershire.
The geological features on show at Puzzlewood are known as scowles. Scowles originated through the erosion of natural cave systems formed in the carboniferous limestone many millions of years ago. Uplift and erosion caused the cave system to become exposed at the surface. This was then exploited by Iron Age settlers through to Roman times for the extraction of iron ore. It is usually impossible to date open cast extraction precisely, although ores with a chemical signature consistent with those from the Forest of Dean were certainly used to make tools and weapons in the late prehistoric period.
J.R.R Tolkien was a frequent visitor to the Forest of Dean. Puzzlewood was the inspiration for the forests of Middle-earth in The Lord of the Rings, such as the Old Forest, Mirkwood, Fangorn or Lothlórien.
When The Lord of the Rings was named Britain's favourite book in the "Big Read", Puzzlewood was used by Ray Mears to champion Tolkien's work. Harry Potter author J. K. Rowling has also visited Puzzlewood. The Forbidden Forest within the series bears some similarities to the geography of the area.
Puzzlewood has been used as a location in a number of films and TV series, including Harry Potter, King Arthur. Star Wars, Doctor Who etc.
I was drawn to Puzzle wood by the almost mystical, brooding landscape that has remained largely unchanged over the centuries. The challenge as a photographer is to make sense of the chaos. I chose to work in B&W as I think it adds to the “un-worldliness” of the location.
Through photography, I have discovered a bond between myself and nature that is almost harmonious. I find when my solitude is absolute, not only am I able to connect with my surroundings better, but I feel I have a greater chance of encapsulating the moment in a photograph. That's why I choose to shoot locally a lot of the time, which is one of a few things that these 4 photos have in common. I live on the outskirts of Birmingham in the UK, so naturally, you might think I'd have to go out of my way to find worthy woodlands and lone trees, but it's not the case. In fact, the furthest I travelled for one of these images was 20 minutes in the car, and that was with traffic!
Trees possess unique qualities that I'm often in wonderment about. It's always a joy to photograph them and watch how they change from season to season. That being said, these 4 images have all been shot this past winter (2018-2019). Winter weather often brings about unique shooting conditions, but also difficult travelling conditions, so finding interesting photos close to home is more efficient for me. Of these photos in particular, I think the two in deep fog might tell stories visually, whilst the other two are a delicate portrayal of form and texture.
A man's work is nothing but this slow trek to rediscover, through the detours of art, those two or three great and simple images in whose presence his heart first opened. ~Albert Camus
It’s a cold and quiet winter morning in a remote part of the Utah canyon country. From my base camp atop a high ridge separating two large canyons, I can see at least fifty miles in nearly all directions. About twenty miles to the east, sheer cliffs mark the edge of a snow-covered high plateau. There are no traces of humanity as far as I can see, other than my own belongings and a small section of the rough two-track dirt road I drove in on.
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As a child, I was fascinated by tales of exploration and adventure, of wild lands, and of fantastic animals.
I urge you now, as you read, to consider this question: if you could give your younger self just one bit of advice (other than stock tips, dating advice, or lottery numbers), what would it be? I’ll offer my own at the end.
Graham sees the world in a unique way; his process of looking at the landscape and the images he makes are truly abstractions/extractions of the world. These aren't typical, classic landscape images but are definitely 'of' the landscape and hint at subjects and processes seen anew.
We interviewed Graham as our featured photographer in issue 178 (read it here) and his exhibition launched on Saturday 9th March with talks by Doug Chinnery, Mark Littlejohn, Valda Bailey, David Ward and Joe Cornish interviewing Graham Cook.
For those who could not join, we recorded the talks so everyone could watch and immerse themselves in hearing these spellbinding talks.
We enjoyed the talks and the exhibition immensely and can highly recommend a visit if you'd like to see abstraction of the natural world done exceptionally well.
Graham is publishing a book of his photography to coincide with his exhibition, titled “INNERVISIBLE Photography by Graham Cook” and is available on his website.
I spent a while recently enjoying the colours of New England on a dark winter’s morning courtesy of Cheryl Rose’s photostream. Each time we look at another photographer’s work we open a window on their world, and the way that they see it. Momentarily it replaces the view out of our own window, if we have one near, and transports us to places anew. I confess that by the end of it I was a tad envious. There will, of course, be detractors – if we chose to depict nature’s beauty in our images, not all will be as perfect as we might like, but it’s good to escape our mostly urban lives for a little while and to allow the viewer to do the same.
One of the things that struck me on reading through Cheryl’s answers was her comment about the cumulative noise of leaf blowers in autumn. It reminds me that as well as the visual, one of the most appealing things about photography is that it allows us to reconnect other senses and to enjoy the birdsong, the rustle of leaves, the conversation of water….. It’s a reminder that we need to value and look after not just the beautiful places, but the quiet places too. Enough of my rambling, and time to find out more about Cheryl.
Would you like to start by telling readers a little about yourself – where you grew up, your education and early interests, and what that led you to on to do?
I have lived in the suburbs of Boston, Massachusetts, USA all of my life. After a year of college, I worked full time as a secretary for five years, hating every minute of it. During that time, I took numerous adult education art classes in the evening. I also spent a lot of time in the basement silk screening, then selling my silk screened T-shirts and notecards at local shops and fairs. I was also doing some batik and making and selling candles. I was always interested in creating things, doing a variety of crafts, even as a child.
As I sit here in the dark room, snow falls from a grey, overcast sky, I pause to reflect on the uniqueness of each flake, perfect in its own form; crystalline sculptures with a distinct personality. Even within my limited field of view, their number is beyond count, settling on the icy ground below forming new layers, textures and drifting patterns of aesthetic beauty. Through these eyes, the world is a beautiful place, filled with meaning, metaphors and imagery. It is this mindful engagement that I will write about now; to find ways of transcending judgement, techniques, equipment and the relentless pressure of social media. I want to find flow in the natural beauty of the world, the antithesis of the banal, the ordinary and the everyday. I want every moment to feel like the most important I’ll ever experience and in this way, each moment is precious, giving my life value.
In the grand scheme of things, each image we produce can feel meaningless. I feel it often, as I stop to make a photograph, “does the world need this?” We can be left swamped by the sheer profusion of images, each one vying for attention on the biggest stage, “me, me, me, cries the demanding child!” If I made images for the sake of popularity I’d have quit by now, taking up wood carving, or just writing poetry instead. But, there are things in me that need to be said, and more so than just that expression, it is the engagement with the world and the discovery of value both externally and internally that provide me with all the focus I need. I find the meaning of life in the pursuit of this passion to engage - a valuable and rewarding existence. By exploring what I need to say tells me more about myself, my drive, purpose and place in an often confusing world.
A few months ago I wrote an article called Diamonds and Sand: The Act of Mindfulness in the Landscape (On Landscape 168). In a series of engaging comment interactions, it was put to me that mindfulness was just a new word for being in a flow state, and that got me thinking. Are they the same at all, or quite different, yet still collaborative and complimentary? In this article, I will address that dichotomy and go on to discuss how these states and attitudes can help us find ourselves creatively and regaining harmony in our pursuit of life through the lens.
When Norman McCloskey started photographing The Beara Peninsula 25 years ago, little did he know that this project would inspire him and change his life in more ways than he could ever realise. Norman talks about his connection to the landscape and the development of his project.
You graduated in 1995 from the Institute of Art, Design and Technology having studied photography. Tell us about how you chose this as a career and how this shaped your approach to photography.
Looking back now it seems like it was all meant to be and I had a perfect plan, but the reality I think was down to luck and good timing. I had made a great move from my city upbringing to the beautiful surroundings of Kerry in the southwest. I had just graduated from college studying computer programming and had offers from universities in the UK to continue studying there. But I left it all behind for a complete change in life at the tender age of 21 and soon after discovered photography. Apart from being a bad guitarist but a passionate music fan, it was the one thing that really ignited a spark of real interest and passion in my life up to that point. After two years of enjoying my life filled with photography and devoid of any real pressure to do anything else, reality kicked in and I realised I had to start thinking about a career.
Photography was the only thing that I really and honestly wanted to learn and so I applied for a course in Dublin with the help of a friend who by chance was also applying. The course was called 'Commercial Photography' but it was anything but that. It was art college and had very little structure or clear idea what it was we were supposed to be doing. Initially, I felt I'd made a huge mistake and I knew this wasn't preparing us for a career of any sort, but soon I began to see and learn a whole other side to photography and my passion for it only grew. I continued to work on my landscape work, which of course in art college was completely dismissed as meaningless and trite. But I had huge resources of cameras and darkrooms so I made the best of it. I discovered the work of John Davies, Bern & Hilla Becher Joel Meyerowitz and Edward Weston, which I was very comfortable absorbing alongside my staple diet of Ansel Adams.
I admire many different approaches when it comes to photographing the landscape. The opportunities for contrasting, opposite and very personal interpretations of the subject matter are endless. Of all photographic genres, perhaps landscape is the broadest and most diverse.
My own inspiration to pursue the vast majority of my photography outdoors in the countryside has come from admiring the work of too many talented photographers and artists to mention. Over the years I have inevitably (and mostly sub-consciously) adopted aspects of their approaches that appealed and combined them in the pursuit of making images that best represent my own feelings towards the landscapes and places I know best and regularly return to.
All of this makes selecting a favourite image for end frame quite challenging. I found it extremely hard knowing where to start with so many positive influences to choose from. However, Fay Godwin’s ‘Copper Beech’ image from the National Trust estate at Stourhead in Wiltshire felt, in the end, like a natural choice. Compared to my exposure to the work of other photographers (who, as it happened, most often worked in colour), I was late in discovering and coming to hugely admire Fay Godwin’s images.
Welcome to our 4x4 feature which is a set of four mini landscape photography portfolios submitted from our subscribers. Each portfolios consisting of four images related in some way.
Interested in submitting your work? We're on the lookout for new portfolios for the next few issues, so please do get in touch!
If you would like to submit your 4x4 portfolio, please visit this page for submission information. You can view previous 4x4 portfolios here.
With a young family, you need to get out. Loaded down with the correct paraphernalia, pushchair, nappies, changing mat, mashed banana etc. Your days out, though tiring, are fun and of course, you want to document those important years.
When my first child was born I used many different types of cameras and formats to record his early years, a 35mm range finder, a Bronica medium format camera, I even had a go with large format and Polaroid Type 55...the results were, at best, patchy. When my second child was born I realised that I needed a camera system that would capture the growth of my small family in a more consist way. As a child I would pour over my families black and white photo albums for hours, so wanting to continue that tradition I bought a TLR Yashica. Perfect. Small and portable with no extra lenses to carry, this simple camera could easily be stuffed into the nappy bag. It also produced fabulous large 120 negs that took me back to those old family albums. I quickly modified our bathroom into an occasional darkroom.
As my children outgrow their pushchairs and weekend family walks became longer and more frequent, we ventured further afield with the landscapes became more varied. Living in London we would day trip the South and North Downs, visit family and friends in Yorkshire, camp in the Lakes and holiday in rural Devon and Norfolk. The landscape became part of the adventure, if in a child friendly sort of way...and we visited a lot of playgrounds! And as we travelled my photography started to include those mainly British landscapes.
Of course, any photography would happen at the behest of my family, if the clouds parted to throw a beautiful shaft of sunlight over Ullswater I could get that photograph only if I wasn’t tying a child’s shoelace or giving my tired youngest a shoulder ride at the time. In between these family duties, I would shoot landscapes when I could... no tripod, no planning, no kitbag. Just the camera, light meter, two filters and a couple of rolls of HP5. There was none of that ‘having a film camera slows you down’ mantra, to get those shots I had to be quick.
I used the Yashica for a couple of years before selling it to buy a Rolleiflex (oh be still my beating heart). The 5D MK whatever of its day, this awesome camera has produced some of the best photos I have ever taken. Very similar in layout to the Yashica but with a slightly better f3.5 lens and a gorgeously uprated brighter viewing screen from Rick Oleson this camera goes on all family adventures.
After 2018 school summer holidays I had 12 rolls of film to process...that’s only 144 exposures over 6 weeks but those photographs tell the story of those six weeks in Cornwall, Kent and Scotland better than any digital haul of images I could capture. As the years roll on the day is coming when my kids won’t want to go on holiday with their aged parents anymore. Maybe then I’ll go all Ansel and get my old 5x4 out of its case and start planning my landscape photography, using a tripod, making notes on exposure... but until that day my Rolleiflex is here to stay.
After a period of photographic boredom, a period in which I have practised sports and wedding photography, my interest has awakened thanks to nature.
Starting to think that there is something beyond the big vistas was my great challenge as well as looking for shots that reflect my emotions of the moment as well as a simple landscape.
To do this I started to face situations that generally avoided before, in short, I came out of my comfort zone.
This gallery represents one of these challenges: I have always tried not to photograph the trees because generally I was so engaged with the context that surrounded me, that I could not bring home photos that were worth looking at. In this gallery, along with the trees, there is always the fog that, in my opinion, adds an element of mystery and dynamism to a situation that might seem too static.
Skye is usually the photographer’s favourite destination in the North West of Scotland but on a family summer holiday with my parents, we went one ferry further and travelled to the Outer Hebrides, basing ourselves in North Uist. The weather was definitely more suited to photography than sunbathing with very changeable conditions, the western beaches offering views as far as St. Kilda before huge rainclouds rolled in off the Atlantic to soak us.
Almost every evening we climbed up a small hill near our holiday cottage to try to catch a sunset. It offered us a 360 degree view of the island and despite the wind being very calm, incredibly there wasn’t even a single midge around to annoy us. From there, the cloud formations were a dramatic sight throughout the week, from wispy spirals to dinosaur shapes and some of the biggest cumulonimbuses I’ve ever seen! One of my favourite photos has a cloud formation that looks like a giant spaceship emerging through the clouds before hitting warp speed and disappearing to a distant galaxy far, far away.
But on our final day, it was stormy and we drove all the way down through South Uist and crossed over to Eriskay. As we reached it, we saw a Sea Eagle fly over, heading for Barra. Leaping out of the car we missed photographing the eagle, but we took the chance to explore the coastal landscape. Despite the sky now being overcast and the light fading, there was still sufficient colour in the Hebridean waters and exposed kelp to provide contrast and compositional interest around the shoreline.
As we finally neared the southern end of Eriskay we rounded a hill, and looking down and out to sea, there was the most picturesque football pitch I have ever seen. Being a keen footballer I insisted we went down and played on it but not before getting a photo of it with the dramatic clouds in the background. Very recently we found out it was featured by FIFA as one of the eight most unique places to play football in the world! The photo went on to win me the 2017 Junior Scottish Nature Photographer of the Year so it was definitely worth all the extra miles to get there.
I was meant to be on Eigg for the week but due to high winds the ferry was cancelled, I had already been in Glencoe for a week and decided instead of sticking around I'd head further up north. I arrived in Ullapool and booked myself into a B&B, I spent the next few days exploring around this stunningly beautiful part Scotland
We live in a world that has changed immensely over the last few thousand years as a result of our 'progression'. The majority of us live in villages, towns, and cities, yet many of us relish the opportunity to escape to the great outdoors, 'to get away from it all'. This life we lead with all its creature comforts is somehow not enough on its own.
Time spent outdoors may range from such things as a picnic or barbecue on the beach with friends and family to taking part in activities such as climbing, sailing, surfing or country walks. This immense change relates to our 'progression.' Yet despite life in towns and cities, it isn’t quite enough because we need to make changes and re-connect with the outside world.
In making such choices, we may allow ourselves the opportunity of embracing the landscape and chance the delight and sensation of focusing on the beauty of wildflowers growing near moss covered rocks as we amble alongside a moorland stream. We can be astounded by the pleasant sounds of birds in the trees and hedgerows when their songs speak of communication in their winged world of flight and fancy.
A curious European Robin perched on a granite rock in the Longtimber Woods, Dartmoor.
For adults and children, outings to the beach can open-up a world of discovery with the sensation of sand under their feet and the sight of the sun shining on the sea. A popular place where pebbles can be picked and tossed back into the salty water or near to where sea-creatures can be found in rock-pools. The sight of waves can be exciting and uplifting, as can a ride on a surfboard when a breaking wave is on its way. It becomes a metaphysical journey if we allow ourselves the freedom and time to experience, understand and focus rather than let such things of significance pass us by. These ideas beckon us toward the connection, be it emotional or visceral, with the wonders of the world beyond our own homes. The more we absorb through keen multi-sensory observation, the deeper we become immersed in such pleasures and because of these connections, we can experience a more enjoyable way of understanding our Earth in a rewarding and numinous way.
Waves swooshing back and forth, within Renny’s Reef, Heybrook Bay – on the edge of Plymouth Sound.
In my photography of the natural world, pastoral landscapes, and the transitional rural fringes, I try to distil the essence of my innermost feelings into something that conveys my responses; the very thing that I want to 'say' about a place... a moment in time that has been captured.
Every winter we see lots of images of snow-covered peaks in the glow of dawn or dusk light and most of us think “That’s fantastic, but there is no way I could get up a mountain to take photos like these”. And for those that try, they are often so enveloped in the desire to make it to the top of their chosen peak that they either miss or don’t give enough attention to, the views along the way.
And this is a pity as, in reality, some of the best mountain images you’ve seen have probably been taken from some comparatively modest altitudes. It turns out that images taken from the very tops of mountains are all amazing in the size of the view you get to see and the sense of wonder at standing ‘atop the world’ but, in general, they can make relatively poor photographs (with some exceptions!). Classic mountain profiles end up hidden against the background of further peaks and the reduction of the number of compositional possibilities to a single ‘highest point’ your potential options. (As an aside, a colleague climber said one of the most disappointing views he ever had was at the top of the Mont Blanc - all of the fantastic mountains were diminished because of the position)
In terms of raw altitude, what often makes the greatest of mountain photographs is the combined sense of the photographer’s height above of the mountain and, in that given context, the sense of how far the portrayed mountain is beyond that. i.e. “Look, I’m standing this high already and yet the mountain still towers above me!”. And then there are the massively increased options that are available to you because you can position yourself anywhere around the view in question instead of being limited to only the nearby peaks.
You’ll have to go back to August 2011 and Issue 20 to find Tim’s original Featured Photographer interview with David Baker. This pre-dates both Sea Fever and Ridge Trees, although David’s fascination with the coast was already evident. Much has taken place since then including a ‘big move north’ to Aberdeenshire together with Shona Grant, whose photography and artist’s books we featured last year, so an update with David is definitely due.
It’s safe to say that a lot has happened since Tim spoke to you way back in August 2011. What has given you most enjoyment, or satisfaction, in the intervening period?
I think that's very fair to say. In late January 2017, after 54 years in Hampshire/Dorset, there was a move to rural Aberdeenshire. Whilst I was brought up very close to the country - well country as in Hampshire terms - I'm now in a very small village within a farming community with no street lights, open fields on three sides of the house and the great expanse of sky. It's also a wonderful creative environment. Having lived in a flat for 20 years, I'm now confronted by such things as gardening, open fires and much peace and quiet.
Paul was born in Salford, Lancashire, in 1951. He graduated with a Fine Art degree from Newcastle Upon Tyne Polytechnic in 1975. In 1976 he started work in local government but photographed in his spare time.
In 1996 he gave up his job and began working full-time as a photographer, specialising in abstract still-life images. Since then he has held numerous solo exhibitions of his work.
His book Seaworks 1998-2013 was published by Triplekite in 2014. He lives on the Northumberland coast with his wife Margaret. Read our interview with Paul here.
Tracing his (almost) 50 year career making work, communicating his thoughts about an ever changing landscape through the ever changing medium of photography.
The opportunity to write a book about where to go and take photographs in my home county of Kent recently came along and I accepted. Shortly after the joy of agreeing to the deal, the reality that I’d just taken on the ultimate ‘shoot your local area’ project began to dawn upon me.
Years of shooting in more traditional landscape photography hot spots, from Scotland to Sydney Harbour, has made me accustomed to iconic views, beautiful light, weather and (mostly) all fitting nicely into the usual rules of composition.
By comparison, Kent just doesn’t conform to the way we are taught to compose a classic landscape and, I confess, I avoided it for a long time on account of finding it more difficult.
Without distant mountains, there is no obvious backdrop for the final third of a composition before the sky at the top. And without a myriad of boulders or seams of granite liberally sprinkled around the countryside, there isn’t the usual foreground elements I have come to rely upon and trust for successful photography.
Loughrigg Tarn, Cumbria. A good example of a classic landscape shot with textbook rule of thirds, an approach I was initially very frustrated to find wanting in the landscapes around where I live!
My struggles with finding a creative approach to this less conventional landscape meant that I needed to look elsewhere for ideas and inspiration.
I began researching Kentish artists and realised I had the ultimate creative guide that I could wish for in none other than JMW Turner.
I cannot simply throw myself into my photography, it takes me time to adjust and feel that what I am doing is worthy. This level of self-doubt is good for me. I have consistently been self-critical, which leads to doubt, but when I reach the point in what I am doing and I believe in it, then little will convince me otherwise. I don’t mean this in an arrogant way, but in a way that enables me to cut out what is around me and any association with other opinions.
I live in a very beautiful part of England called Lancashire which is a large area mostly consisting of open farmland that stretches from the Pennine Moors down to the coast. As you would expect, there are paths aplenty and you can literally walk for miles far from the roads and truly escape. As I have associated home with a separation from photography, I have hardly ever headed out with my camera in anger so I have never entered a state of mind that has led me to connect and ‘see’ what is around me. I have simply enjoyed being there.
About a year ago I was fortunate to have a good lengthy break at home over the Christmas period and I did plenty of walking during that time. As ludicrous as it may sound, I had been overloaded with the grandeur of some of the most staggering landscapes I had been fortunate to visit during my year of travel and oddly sought out, and began to relish, in the sparse winter landscape surrounding my house. I live on the edge of a protected valley park which covers an area of 800 acres and is made up of woodlands and meadows, through which, the River Lostock runs.
Back in 2016 Paul Heathcote wrote about the exhibition he had put on for this project and shared some insights into its six-year making. We catch up with Paul again to hear more about the project and creation of the book.
Tell me about why you love landscape photography? A little background on what your first passions were, what you studied and what job you ended up doing.
I studied Civil Engineering at Loughborough University and after my degree stayed on and did a PhD in Structural Engineering. From this, I went to work as a Consultant at a local firm of Structural Engineers.
I had always loved taking photographs on holiday but they generally consisted of pointing a camera at the sun and not understanding why it never looked like the beautiful sunset in front of me.
With a background in engineering, I always wanted to understand the technical side of things and how to take a better picture.
I grew up in the countryside and always played outside as a child. Often disappearing for long periods into woodland or fields making dens and climbing (and falling out of) trees.
The love of the outdoors and my obsession with the technical aspect drew me into landscape photography as a natural escape from an ever increasingly stressful job.
Tell us a bit about the project ‘Scene from the Water's Edge’. Where did it all start?
Scene from the Water’s Edge’ is a collection of images taken over approximately six years.
For years I have enjoyed the peace and serenity that can be found next to the water, regardless of the size and whether or not it is natural or manmade. Wherever I go I always find myself drawn to the water.
In 2009 I discovered Cropston Reservoir. Situated on the edge of Bradgate Park in Leicestershire, it is just like any other reservoir, but to me, it soon became a place of great mystery and appeal. I started walking the shoreline and spent many cold, misty mornings crouching waiting for some subtle light to rear its head. 99% of the time I was left with no real shot, but every now and then the light would be ideal for my colour palette and I would drive home with excitement and anticipation, just waiting to see what the camera had captured.
This soon became my ‘go to’ place. Whenever I had lost my photography mojo I would nip out to the reservoir. Just me, the boats and maybe some mist. The feeling that Cropston gave me initially, and continues to give me some 8 years after first discovering it is addictive. I think that this location and others like it, ignite my childhood fishing memories which form half of my love of water, the other half is satisfied by the coast.
Tell us about your passion for waterscapes and why they are important to you.
For a few years, I had been trying to figure out how this project came about and what it really means to me. Although inspiration is difficult to put into words, for me it seems to have come from strong memories, drawing me back to places that remind me of simpler times.
I loved my childhood. A particularly strong memory which I recall with great fondness was our yearly two week holiday to Scarborough. Staying in the same place every time and visiting the same coastal treasures, that time spent on the coast with my family I will never forget.
Another large part of my life from a very young age has been fishing. When I was young, many days were spent on the side of rivers and canals with my brother and mum fishing. Mum would sit in her fold up chair reading books and my brother and I would fish. Most of the time he would be untangling my line from a nearby tree whilst cursing me or rescuing me from falling into the water, but still, they were great times. In fact, when I think back, water was and has been a key factor in some of the most enjoyable parts of my younger years.
I think it is those early years that pull me back to the water’s edge. Obviously now I am older I can appreciate more the quality of light and subtle colours that reflect off the water at either end of the day, but the love of that scene is the same as it always was.
What came first the idea for the book or the photography project?
The project came first, I never considered an outlet for it. For me, it was solely for escapism which then, through various events in my life, took a very emotional turn at the end.
How did you choose the locations which you included in the book and exhibition?
Originally the locations were to be all local, mainly because I was very busy with work and am quite lazy when it comes to things outside of business. However, I had the opportunity to visit areas which had been special to me as a child and therefore it grew to a wider area.
How did the project evolve into an exhibition as well? Did that impact on the style and type of images you took?
For some reason, I took the brave step of approaching a large gallery in my home town of Loughborough. I was approved and a date was set for the exhibition. At this time I only had a handful of images but assumed that an exhibition would be easy!
Panic then set in and I spent every waking hour trying to figure out how to draw it together as an exhibition. I now realise that the images I had at that stage were extremely average and thankful I had time to collect a full body of work I was proud of in time for the exhibition.
Around this time I was fortunate enough to meet two people who became very good friends of ours, Rob and Karen Knight. They are so enthusiastic and giving of their time and live for photography. Long chats with Rob soon got me motivated and he introduced me to some spectacular locations, some of which were old haunts, others new to me.
People often say I have a style but I have never seen it. The only thing I do look for is soft pastel colours. I am not a fan of strong colours and even if I shot an image with punchy colours, I will often pull it back a bit to soften it.
I never felt like the exhibition changed my mindset when shooting. OK, there was a time near the end of the project when I was a few images light and the pressure seemed to mount, but I was in the flow of image making then and everything seemed to come together easier with less pressure than ever before.
What inspired you to do a handmade book of the project?
The exhibition was over, life had been quite traumatic due to the death of my dad in the months before the exhibition and I had absolutely no interest in image making. However, I wanted to personally reflect on what I had done, I guess to try and motivate me again.
I had seen a few handmade books and always thought that it would be an amazing way of creating a long lasting memory of what you had achieved.
I always thought I was rubbish at making things so set a challenge to try. This is the result.
Sequencing is obviously important - how did you manage the flow of the book with the images and the visual narrative?
I didn’t worry too much about the layout. The only thing that was important to me was to ensure that the sequence and pages closely represented the order of images in the exhibition. I had purposely introduced my story text fairly randomly throughout the exhibition, although looking back the text obviously matches my mood when taking the image it was next to so there must have been some subliminal work going on!
How did you learn to do handmade books and binding? Is this the first project you’ve done or were there previous books?
All completely self-taught. Never done it before. However, our house is full of piles of practice books!
How did you decide on the format of the book and binding e.g. size and paper, print type?
I always envisaged an A4 landscape book. I realised that a soft cover made things easier, for example printing the cover etc. but I wanted a hardcover book just because I am an engineer and always want an element of robustness in everything I make!
Two things were key to the book and I was set on those from the beginning. The first was that I wanted to use the same paper as the exhibition so that the look and feel were the same. The papers in the exhibition were Fotospeed Smooth Cotton and NST BW. However, it soon became apparent that the thickness made the book too rigid and I had to try and find a thinner paper which still felt the same. In the end, I used Fotospeed HWS Lite Duo which is excellent for books and has the same feel as the Smooth Cotton.
Second, I wanted the cloth colours to be pastel blues if possible. I wanted a simple, quality cloth that didn’t detract from the images but complimented the colours.
Tell me what your favourite one or two photographs from the book are and a little bit about them.
Obviously, I am a big fan of all of them, although if I am completely honest there is one that I still don’t feel really worked as part of the collection. It’s presence in the exhibition was the last minute choice due to a late rejection on quality grounds. Sod's law this was the first image to sell within half an hour of the exhibition opening!
My favourite image of the collection and possibly that I have ever taken is ‘The Mystery of Cropston’.
I know that technically it probably isn’t one of my best, but it was taken around the time my dad was in and out of hospital and a few months before I stopped shooting for the project. For me, it completely sums up the location and was everything that I had strived to achieve for a number of years visiting Cropston Reservoir.
Another favourite is also from Cropston, ‘The lone boat’. A very simple shot but it is what I call, my first ever proper shot. Taken back in 2012 when I was playing around with a very simple camera it became my poster image for the exhibition.
Could you tell us a little about the cameras and lenses you typically take on a trip and how they affect your photography?
I started the project on a relatively inexpensive, Canon 1000d DSLR with very low end lenses. I later changed that to the camera I use now which is a Canon 6d, a fantastic camera and it suits me perfectly.
Generally, I use only one lens, the 24-105mm that I bought with the camera, although every now and then I will put on a 50mm to challenge myself compositionally.
The kit hasn’t changed how I photograph, but I would definitely say having the 6d, which is heavier and more expensive, gave me a big confidence boost. Strange as it sounds, but it makes me feel more at ease.
Having started this interview by saying that I was drawn to photography by the technical aspect, that couldn’t be further from the truth now. In fact, the best thing I ever did photographically was to stop obsessing about hyperfocal distance and sharpness and just take images that worked for me compositionally. Don’t get me wrong, many things need to come together to make a good image, but for me, I no longer think about those things. My images now have to be visually appealing to me and that often means that the technical aspects come last.
What next for you? Where do you see your photography going in terms of subject and style?
I have a long standing project based on rustic French doors and windows. Not sure of the outlet yet but hoping to bring this together in the coming years.
We have a dream of moving to France and ultimately this project may be first seen over there, possibly exhibited in some dilapidated old barn and printed very large. Who knows!
Many thanks for your time Paul :) You can read more about this project on Paul's website.
If you are working on a project and would like to write an article about it, then please get in touch, we'd love to hear from you!
I know from reading end frame articles over the years that many contributors have expressed difficulty in deciding which image they wish to write about. I didn’t have that problem as Fay Godwin’s “Paved path above Lumbutts, near Todmorden, West Yorkshire” is an image that has stayed with me since I first picked up a copy of the book Elmet.
Elmet is a later (1994) republication of the book of work by poet Ted Hughes first published in 1979 under the title Remains of Elmet. Most of the poems in Elmet were written by Hughes in collaboration with Fay Godwin, who provided the stunning black and white photographs of this part of Yorkshire where Hughes grew up. When the work was first published Hughes called it a “Pennine sequence” and one that responds to the landscape and people of the Calder Valley, where Hughes spent his early childhood. In Hughes’ preface to the original edition of the book, he expands on the subject of this work:
Do you have an image you'd like to write an end frame article on? Take a read of our previous end frame articles for inspiration! We are looking for contributions for forthcoming issues. Please get in touch with Charlotte Britton directly.
Welcome to our 4x4 feature which is a set of four mini landscape photography portfolios submitted from our subscribers. Each portfolios consisting of four images related in some way.
Interested in submitting your work? We're on the lookout for new portfolios for the next few issues, so please do get in touch!
If you would like to submit your 4x4 portfolio, please visit this page for submission information. You can view previous 4x4 portfolios here.
I had driven by the sign many times, but never had time to stop. This trip I made a special point to visit the Toadstools of Escalante National Monument. The sun was hanging low in the November sky when we arrived late Saturday afternoon. By the time I hiked the mile or so up the wash to the formations, the golden hour had begun. The ‘toadstools’ are hoodoos formed from the darker, harder Dakota Sandstone that caps the pedestal of softer Entrada Sandstone. The cap serves as a shelter from erosion and over time creates fascinating other-worldly formations.
I was there to meet the silent statues that have stood against rain and snow and sun and wind for eons. To feel the relentless glare of the sun slowly and methodically softening and cooling. From white to yellow to orange to pink. To see the long shadows creating definition, emphasizing every grain of sand and stalk of weed. To watch the reflections from the cliff faces illuminate both sides of the formations in pastel shades of brilliant colour. I came for the light show but left having made some portraits of some of the oldest individuals on the planet.
The published images are taken in Switzerland and Cornwall, UK. Those are a few of my favourites and are captured under different weather conditions. In Cornwall, I mostly faced the windy and Cloudy conditions which turned out good in order to show the mood in the Photographs.
Wind is an audible whisper,
It’s a secret, and it’s a laugh,
Murmured through the timeless trees,
From ancient ages past.
It sometimes calls through blackest night
For the owl to hoot and scream,
It plays a haunting winter flute,
In the meadow near the stream.
Piping little melodies,
Endless, haunting, long,
And when you think you’ve finally caught them,
In a moment they are gone.~ S.Williams
Many photographers have a local favourite place they like to go and sometimes we go to that place just to get out. One of my favourite locations to hike and photograph is an area called the Granite Dells (Prescott, AZ).
The Dells is a geological feature of exposed granite bedrock that is 1.4 billion years old and this area has some of nature's finest rock sculptures and natural art designs. For some reason I find myself connected to these wonderful rock formations as I am constantly drawn to them. Each time I go hiking in the Dells I marvel at the rock formations and how they were formed, I find amazing patterns in the granite and wonder how balanced boulders are still standing.
Even if the conditions are not right for photography it is still a treat just to scramble around the rock formations, explore slot canyons and look for new compositions for another time. The Dells seems to keep me going even when I do not feel like getting out and has become my local sanctuary, my exercise routine and a source for inspiration.
Graham’s abstract creations have been punctuating our social media feeds for a while now, prompting us to wonder at both his unique take on the world and also how the heck he does it. When he wrote a piece for On Landscape back in 2016, his opening line began “Photographically I consider myself largely anonymous….”
Well, that is no longer the case, and in March 2019 he will have a solo exhibition at the Joe Cornish Galleries which will bring his eclectic and personal images to a wider audience. Having seen some of his prints last year, I can say that it promises to be something rather special. ‘InnerVisible - The World Within : The World Without’ will be at the Joe Cornish Galleries from 9 March - 13 April 2019.
Would you like to start by telling readers a little about yourself – where you grew up, your education and early interests, and what that led you to do?
I’m a Kentish Man rather than a Man of Kent, having been born to the west of the River Medway. My family, and particularly my wife’s family, has a local history that can be traced back to 1620 so we do feel a strong connection with the area. But things are changing. I fear the essence and richness of history and spirit of community slowly being whitewashed by relentless urbanisation. With it come people with a narrow mindset and money worshipping sense of entitlement who chase a quite different history.
As an only child with a vivid imagination, my father was a huge influence. He came from that generation who seemed able to tinker with anything. His ‘shed’ was a veritable Aladdin’s cave of treasures and after he passed away, clearing out a lifetime of memories that most would consider worthless, was very emotional. An electrical engineer by trade, he could strip down and service a motorcycle or car, repair watches, engrave glass, put boats in bottles and play the spoons. He used to suspend himself from branches by his feet, which was no small feat. He had all kinds of instruments from crashed WWII fighters and on Guy Fawkes’ night, he would shave slivers from an incendiary bomb and toss them on the bonfire to startling effect. He anticipated really bad weather and stormy seas and would whisk me off at strange times of the day or night to experience the effects first hand.
On a dreich day in January, Joe Cornish visited us in the Highlands and instead of going out and taking pictures, we spent some time looking through some of my favourite images from his 2018 Autumn across multiple visits to Scotland. We've added a gallery of the images seen in the video at the bottom of this page.
Here is a gallery of the images in the above video.
Theo Bosboom is a passionate photographer from the Netherlands, specialising in nature and landscapes. In 2013, he turned his back on a successful legal career to pursue his dream of being a full time professional photographer. He is regarded as a creative photographer with a strong eye for detail and composition and always trying to find fresh perspectives.
Theo's photographs are regularly published in magazines such as National Geographic (Dutch edition), GEO, Outdoor Photography and OnLandscape. Theo has won numerous awards and recognition in international photography competitions like Wildlife Photographer of the year, European wildlife photographer of the year and International Landscape Photographer of the year. Theo has published two photo books: Iceland pure (2012) and Dreams of wilderness (2015). Currently, he is working on a new photo book Shaped by the sea about the Atlantic coasts in Europe. Read our featured photographer interview with Theo.
Theo talked about his recent project, Shaped by the Sea where he explored the Atlantic coast of Europe, in every season and in all kinds of weather conditions.
The work is a tribute to the power of the sea and to the dynamics of the beach. It shows how the sea is constantly changing and shaping the landscape, it highlights some of the creatures living in the intertidal zone and it reveals the variety of geological features along Europe's west coast.
The Fireweed Turns takes place one summer in Alaska. Katharine MacDaid rented a jeep, bought a sleeping bag and a road map and set off with some half-remembered place names in a notebook. Alone in the landscape, MacDaid was both in awe and fearful of the desire that drove her.
Made to resemble a storybook, The Fireweed Turns considers the psychological power of Landscape. It is a story of shame and desire, about what is hidden and what is revealed.
Intrigued to find out more, we got in touch with Katharine to find more about her project and how she's gone about compiling the project into her first book.
What started your interest in photography and how did you come to choose it as a career?
My interest in photography started as a teenager. The chemistry teacher at school ran a photo club on a Wednesday lunchtime. We learnt how to process black and white film, I clearly remember standing alone in the science lab rocking a tank from side to side for what seemed like forever. There was only about three of us who would show up, and we would stand around Mr. Warne as he loaded a negative into the enlarger. Around the same time, my best friend and I were spending almost every Saturday night at a club in Soho, it was the late 1990’s and there was a bit of a Mod revival scene. I started taking my camera with me and shooting at the club. I printed a portfolio of images and after finishing A ‘levels, I did a foundation course at Kingston University. My final project was a series of portraits of the boys and girls from the club scene, I still have them on my website. I knew I wanted to be a photographer from then on, there was nothing else.
You graduated with an MA in Photography from the Royal College of Art - How useful did you find an academic course in photography?
It was a complicated experience, it was overwhelming in a lot of ways, but it was a fundamental education for me. I was very shy when it came to my photography, not producing the work, but conceptualising what I was doing. I knew on a very instinctive level why I made work, which at that point at the RCA was a series of photographs of my parents who had just retired and moved to the middle of England but trying to formalize that feeling into a concrete explanation really troubled me. From a distance, 12 years on from graduating, I’m so glad I went through that process. I’m confident in the work I make, but I’ve also worked out what it is I use photography for. I’m not embarrassed to be straight forward in how I talk about photography. The complexity is in the work, not in the blurb.
Your early projects are mainly portraiture based, what inspired you to move to landscape photography?
In my final year of my BA at Napier University, I was making work about a group of friends in Orkney, about their ties to the island, the push and pull of belonging. I started to photograph the landscape as a metaphor for these complicated feelings. I guess it’s a very romantic approach; landscape as a representation of emotional expression. It’s still how I approach landscape photography. In Orkney, I was using a Bronica 6x4.5, which is so light and easy to wander around with and was holding it low to the ground trying to combat the huge sky. The only time I have ever sensed the curve of the earth was in Orkney, you can almost see it, the land is so flat and there’s nothing blocking your view.
Tell us about The Fireweed Turns project - how did it start?
It began because I was finding it so hard to untangle a huge project I had made in the Sultanate of Oman, and I thought by stepping away from one body of work and making another, I could work everything out. I had recently moved back to London from Oman and was teaching photography. I had a really long summer break ahead of me and decided to put my Alaska plan into action. I had been thinking about returning to the Pacific Northwest for a long time, my father still had a contact there from the days of working on Amchitka, so I got in touch with him and talked through some basic practicalities. From there it was a case of getting to Anchorage, then up to Wasilla where I rented a vehicle, bought a sleeping bag and a cold box and hit the road with a book of half-remembered place names.
You mentioned in the exhibition information "The landscape of the Pacific Northwest was rooted in my memory and imagination at a young age. When I was nine years old, my family moved from the Sultanate of Oman to America." Tell us about how this influenced your photography and the impact the American landscape had?
It was a massive shift, moving from one particular landscape to another. I had grown up with sand dunes next to my house and an arid, rocky mountain range behind my school. Then at nine years old, moving to America, to the Pacific Northwest, it was all dark forests and rain. I think the radically different landscapes probably affected my understanding of the world, the contrast of one place to another, that sense of feeling outside a place looking in because you can see it is so clearly different. And where do you belong? As a kid, the cultural landscape really influenced me too. America was much more vivid, more intense. Perhaps the major influence on me when I later learnt to use a camera was the desire, the need, to make sense of my surroundings…
"When I was a young girl my father worked on a remote island in the Aleutian Chain and would come home with stories of the men and the landscape, both strange and incredible." Did your memory of the landscape match you later experiences of it and how did these stories affect your work?
My memory of the landscape from when I was a kid was in some ways quite innocent, I had a sense of it being not entirely benign of course, but returning there on my own as a grown woman, I was discovering the landscape anew. The stories were a way of tuning in, the characters made sense once the landscape became apparent, I recognised to some extent how the landscape shaped them, or maybe I unconsciously searched them out…
"The Fireweed Turns project is a story about shame and desire, about what is hidden and what is revealed… " How did you build this narrative around the images to develop this story that has become the book.
I used images in which the situation seems slightly uneasy, where there is something you can’t quite put your finger on, and gradually the more images you see, the more you realise that feeling is not letting up. There is no image that allows a happy resolution, and the terse, objective texts reinforce that. Nothing is explained, nothing is concluded or resolved. There are hints of a complete story, but no more. Every image is a question. What is it? Why is it there?
How did you go about choosing and sequencing the images to tell the story?
With help! I work really closely with my partner, the photographer Chris Harrison. The first, initial edits were done with him, choosing which images immediately worked, which could be put aside straight away, and which floated in the middle somewhere. It might be different for some photographers, but with a big project like this, I need objective input. Even when I shoot a straight forward portrait and I’m confident which one to choose from the contact sheet, I always ask Chris for a second opinion (and vice versa by the way). After the initial edit, I worked on the text for a long time. Then I worked with a very close friend, Claudia Arnold, to design the layout, which involved looking at the sequencing more closely, how the text played a role, how the rhythm of the images worked. And finally, weeks before sending the document to the printers, I changed a few images and didn’t ask anyone. I think I suddenly felt I knew the work, I knew exactly what I wanted.
What visual (and non-visual) narrative did you want to leave the reader with when you were working on this project?
A tutor of mine once said, very simply, “…one always brings their own narrative to the work”, and I really like that idea, that a viewer/reader will understand any work through their own experiences, desires, doubts, and so on, even if there is an unambiguous message. With this project, the narrative is very open for interpretation, but my aim was for an atmosphere of uneasy melancholy, a sense of the mysterious.
You choose to work with colour negative film. Can you tell us more about this, the cameras you use and how this process has affected your work? Do you think photographic film offers something distinct from digital photography?
I use a Hasselblad with a standard lens, 80mm. I have used the same camera for the last 14 years. I rely on natural light, and often only shoot a couple of frames at most for any image. I think working this way is quite specific to using film, I can’t check the pictures, I just shoot and move on. I can often sense if it’s worked or not, although I have been disappointed on occasions, as well as happily surprised… I have a feeling it might change something if I was to switch to digital, but maybe that’s overly romantic. I feel really comfortable with film, I trust my working method, but it can be an expensive process. I used to spend a lot of time printing in a colour darkroom, I would love to handprint of all my work, but now it’s much easier to have things scanned. I make a lot of hand-made books too, so I make huge amounts of digital prints to work with, just on my Epson printer.
This is your first book which consists of 88-pages, including 8 circular die cuts, 18 colour photographs, 15 black & white photographs and 7 texts. How did you decide on the format of the book and binding e.g. size and paper, print type?
It was through the process of building the conceptual thrust of the work… I wanted it to have the feeling of a storybook, hence the size and square format. The die cuts, which are circles, came from thinking about old storybooks with illustrations at the start of a chapter. At first, I was using circular black and white images, but it was on showing the work to a colleague that the idea for actually cutting out a circular window began. Lots of decisions grew slowly over a long period of time. The use of slightly heavy, uncoated paper was another factor in conceptualizing the work, the ink sinks into the paper, there is a texture to the surface, it’s not so ‘photographic’…
Tell me what your favourite two or three photographs from the book are and a little bit about them (please include these images in the ones you send over)
The photograph of the radar behind the little shed is one of my favourites. I remember driving past it on my way north on the Richardson Highway, seeing this looming white ball against a strange sky. I didn’t realise at the time that it’s a radar, which is what my father was building in Alaska back in the late 80’s, early 90’s…
There is a photo of a moose decoy, and I am not totally sure how it works, but I think it is a female moose used to attract males, for hunting. I like it because it looks so real. Almost everyone stops at that image and looks again, because for a moment they think I’ve photographed a real moose. When you realise it’s a flat object, it’s an unsettling feeling. I like that a lot.
And a third one - the odd little dog at the end of the book. He’s just so strange looking, like a character from a story. And he’s really looking back, it’s a portrait rather than a photo of a dog.
What sort of post-processing do you undertake on your pictures? Give me an idea of your workflow.
I do rough scans first, I have a Nikon scanner in my studio, it’s quite basic but I can print out workprints from the scans to start the editing process. Then I have been using a Hasselblad X5 to scan the selected images, renting one for a few hours as needed. I thought they were my finals – a set of 3Fs, but then I got the images for the book Drum scanned and the difference was incredible. Tim helped me to process the drum scans in Lightroom initially, which was a huge help, but I’m much happier using Photoshop, which is where I’ll end up processing the images for print.
What is next for you? Are there other projects that you're working on?
The next place I’m interested in is Northern Ireland. I was born in Belfast, where my mother is from, my father is from Derry. I lived in Belfast for a couple of years when I was a young teenager and as a kid, we’d always spend time in Belfast and Donegal in the summer. A few years ago, while photographing on the Isle of Barra, I met a local guy. He was very reserved, yet after a drink, began to guardedly ask me about my surname. He was an anthropologist and had been doing fieldwork in Ireland. He slowly began to tell me about the family names of Inishowen, where it turns out, he had studied my surname… By the end of the evening, he was imploring me to go back and find my faeries. To return to my land and feel the soil beneath my feet, to connect to the very roots of who I am…
Katharine would like to invite you to the launch of her self-published book, The Fireweed Turns, on Thursday 14th February at The Photographer’s Gallery, London, 6pm-8pm.
You can buy The Fireweed Turns book, £40 from Katharine's website: https://www.katharinemacdaid.com/shop/the-fireweed-turns
Last year, I took a writing workshop with one of my favourite authors Craig Childs. A group of mostly strangers from various backgrounds came together on a Nature Conservancy property in northeastern Oregon to soak in his wisdom. In the weeklong class, we tapped into our natural surroundings, philosophised with the other students, and camped under the stars.
I attended the session for a few reasons. Obviously, I sought to improve my abilities to write andEven though many yea develop story ideas. Maybe less obviously, I also hoped the workshop would poke my brain in new ways to influence my photography. “Cross-training,” or the notion of immersing oneself in a different creative outlet, often helps me navigate through the cyclical flow of self-expression when I’m feeling stale and uninspired. The writing workshop provided just the jolt I needed. Of the many lessons I took with me, one was powerful enough for me to scribe it across one of the pages in my notebook in all caps: SAY YES.
The Temple glows at sunset and reflects into the glass-like waters of the Colorado River in Lake Mead in the Lake Mead National Recreation Area on the Arizona-Nevada border.
I’d heard this notion once before, long before I ever held a camera in my hands. In the late 1990s, a friend and co-worker had invited me to watch him perform with his improvisation theatre group (similar to the British TV show, and later the American adaptation, “Whose Line is it Anyway?”). I marvelled by how seemingly easy it was for the cast to develop immediate relationships, compelling story-lines, and unexpected punchlines—all without the assistance of a script. After the show, I asked my friend, “How do you do that?”
Every experience leaves you with something, even if you do not notice it. It is not about memories, but sensations. I was lucky to spend a few days last summer at the Isle of Harris, Outer Hebrides, in a particular period of emotional chaos.
I knew it was beautiful, wild, and colourful. But I could not imagine how strong it was bound up with my feelings, which came out suddenly, at every new sunset or sunrise that I photographed.
Harris is an island with a precise tone that can make its voice heard. Everything is connected to the Ocean, in all its forms. And with this little project, I tried to show what is Harris for me. What it meant to me.
The tide accompanies and scans all hours of the day. It retires, to show sand games and tired purple jellyfishes, but also small animals building mosaics under my unbelieving eyes. And then it goes back silently, up to cover those golden sandy expanses. Again and again. Like in a mystic cycle of life.
The rocks of Harris, the Lewisian Gneiss, the oldest rocks in Britain and some of the oldest in the World, have been polished by the waves for millennia. They are so ancestral, magical and smooth to retain all the minerals and make the drinking water light and special. In spring they are covered with purple flowers and in winter they remain there, naked, immobile and fearless, listening to the song of the sea.
Many, soft, funny sheep all around, always climbing on slippery ground, eating very thin grass in summer and still in winter under a snow whiter than them.
The beaches of Luskentyre and Scarista are amongst the most spectacular. It is impossible not to be fascinated by the beautiful colours that the sky assumes when it meets the Caribbean green Ocean that bathes Harris. And here we see all the nuances, from blue to purple mixed in a poem that changes, darkens, sometimes blind by the rays of the sun, proud to be so unique.
The essence of Harris is captured by the taste and scent of his Gin and Whiskey, which reflect the generous character of the island and the people who live there.
Harris Tweed is a tweed cloth that is handwoven by islanders at their homes. The simple and unique Harris colours, combined together give shape to beautiful fantasies.
All these emotions captured with my camera in this project, not only the breath-taking landscapes but the essence of Harris's voices and colours.
Twelve photos, from the blue of the early morning and the gold of the sunrise to the pink of sunset.
Each picture tells a moment, a note, a shade of colour of the day I lived. And it's beautiful because it was unique.
Each one is a painting, drawn by the Ocean, heard by Nature…and appreciated by anyone who has the heart open to listen.
Whilst thinking about the image to discuss, I looked at many traditional landscape shots, pondering on what makes an interesting image to write about. I initially thought about a Jem Southam shot, he was the photographer for me that changed my attitude to not only landscape but all photography. He showed me that by using repetition in my work could add to its power.
After all my deliberations, I decided to try to look at the image that was not just a pretty or thought-provoking thing, but something far more compelling. I looked for an image that could partly communicate sadness, but also be part of a continuing story.
After looking through many images I chose ‘Destruction of the Monumental Arch 2018 by Sir Don MucCullin. The 3rd century arch has been under the control of many great empires, including the Roman, Byzantine and Timurid. Its partial destruction in 2015 by ISIL made headlines around the world. The site is in the middle of the Syrian Desert and is a UNESCO world heritage site.
During Christmas 2018 my daughter brought me a gift, it was The Landscape by Sir Don McCullin, I unwrapped the crisp plastic wrapping and sat down on Christmas morning to look at my new photo book. The publication is the last instalment in a series by don, which documented many years of his work. I also have another in the series called My England, which is a hybrid collection of street and landscape photos and showed off the skill of McCullin’s varied work. He says; I do not take photographs I think, but most importantly he makes the viewer think.
My featured image is influenced by the work of the great Victorian explorer photographers, such as Francis Frith. His picture Koum Ombo Near View is from his book Upper Egypt and Ethiopia published in 1863. The Victorian’s used new technology to document the skill and purpose of past societies, so allowing it to believe that it was a better version of an earlier civilisation. Frith also shot many scenes in England during the nineteenth century.
As mentioned the area has been the centre of destruction by ISIL. But the image asks more questions than it answers. Why did McCullin take this shot? Was it a comment on the abhorrent action? The columns themselves look brittle and weak, but by the look of the debris took an enormous amount of explosives to destroy.
Though shot in the middle-east, the images have ghosts of early pre-Raphaelite photography. They documented ruins in a very similar way to don. Their images were a reflection, in their eyes of a fairer, nobler society before the Industrialisation of Victorian England, which in their opinion had supposedly tainted the land and the soul.
The Syrian picture has so much baggage associated with it, I suspect the frame was an example of religious madness and what it can lead too. Something McCullin came up against time and time again during his work.
It is an image of many sides, not strictly a war or landscape shot, it sits somewhere in the middle, this gives you freedom artistically to question the image. As with many black and white shots, one of the first things you notice are the textures, they seem exaggerated in the desert light.
The scene of destruction could be why Don was drawn to this area, it looks like it has just been bombed, the image documents a crushed and repressed area. The narrative he has used maybe mirrors McCullin’s view on the world at that point. There are still remnants of the arch, lone columns in the foreground and intact columns in the background, suggesting that more of the site survives intact than first thought. The sky has been dodged within the image to make it a lot darker than it originally was, this trick adds to the tension of the piece. The rubble at first glance looks as it should be, but on closer inspection, the columns have appeared to have been cut, which suggests human not natural change. It is not known whether the rubble has been moved to its present site or if it was moved after the attempted destruction.
The picture is almost scorched into the page, but more interestingly, it frees you to look at your own work. Forcing you to ask, why do I take pictures? Where do they fit in my overall vision? And whether the images I take resonate with my target audience? This image in all its beauty and sadness fulfils the mantle of a successful picture, it makes you think………………
Do you have an image you'd like to write an end frame article on? Take a read of our previous end frame articles for inspiration! We are looking for contributions for forthcoming issues. Please get in touch with Charlotte Britton directly.
Welcome to our 4x4 feature which is a set of four mini landscape photography portfolios submitted from our subscribers. Each portfolios consisting of four images related in some way.
Interested in submitting your work? We're on the lookout for new portfolios for the next few issues, so please do get in touch!
If you would like to submit your 4x4 portfolio, please visit this page for submission information. You can view previous 4x4 portfolios here.
These set of images are all taken in Madeira, where my both my parents originate from and where all my summer childhood memories are based.
Being born in London and travelling most summers back to Madeira always became an exciting adventure to look forward, exploring little parts of the island and something I looked forward to every year.
What inspires me the most about the island is how diverse its landscape are and how climate changes so dramatically from each side of this tiny exotic island.
These photos were all taken while I was skiing in the Alps. I'm not a particularly good skier and carrying a large DSLR with me in a backpack doesn't make things easier but it's worth it for the times when I come across views like these.
Images from recent travels in the Scottish Highlands, my home. Derelict crofts, barns and outbuildings, run down within the highland landscape. A journey which saw many of these buildings, grabbing my attention, inspiring my love for old and broken down buildings & structures, sudden rich colours, blending into the landscape which housed them, still a part of the landscape.
People often view deserts as dry, barren wastelands. While this may be true of some, it certainly isn't true of the Colorado Plateau landscape surrounding Moab, Utah. The Colorado River cuts through canyons to the north, two creeks fed by mountain snowmelt and natural springs flow through the heart of downtown and summer monsoon storms leave ephemeral waterfalls and reflecting pools in their wake. Moab may be a desert, but it's anything but barren.
Landscape Arch reflects in an ephemeral pool of rainwater collected in a shallow pothole in the Devil's Garden area of Arches National Park, Utah.
A spring storm dissipates as sunset light warms the sandstone cliffs and Fisher Towers near Moab, Utah.
Delicate Arch reflects in a pothole filled with rainwater at sunset with clouds from a departing storm filling the sky above Arches National Park, Utah.
A spring thunderstorm clears at sunrise as The Organ and Three Gossips reflect in a pothole filled with rainwater in the Courthouse Towers area of Arches National Park, Utah.
Paul Hill's early career in the 60s and early 70s moved from newspaper reporter to photojournalist. In 1974 he moved to academia, first as Lecturer and as head of Creative Photography at Trent Polytechnic.
At this time he also set up the 'Photographer's Place', a residential photography workshop with a prestigious guest list - Martin Parr, Thomas Joshua Cooper, John Blakemore, Brian Griffin, Raymond Moore, Fay Godwin, Lewis Baltz, Bill Jay, Hamish Fulton, Andy Earl, Aaron Siskind, Paul Caponigro, Jo Spence, and Cole Weston (note the strong landscape leaning).
His work is in the art collections of the likes of the Victoria and Albert Museum, London; National Museum of Photography, Film and Television, Bradford; Arts Council England; Bibliotheque Nationale, Paris; Museum of Modern Art, Stockholm and many more. A major influence on contemporary British photography, he was made a Fellow of the Royal Photographic Society in 1990 and, four years later, was awarded an MBE by The Queen for services to photography. Between 1995 and 2010 he was a professor at De Montfort University, Leicester, and set up the MA in Photography course in 1996, which was of the first in Britain.
Teacher, author and photographer, Paul Hill, a former journalist and climbing instructor, offers a provocative alternative vision of landscape photography that advocates that we could make more interesting landscape images by being ourselves.
Do photographers ever consider what motivates their choice of location when setting out to do landscape photography? Why did we go there in the first place? What are we looking at? Is it what confronts us? Or are we trying to make a certain type of photograph we admire - and just replicate it?
