Art is a human activity, consisting in this, that one person consciously, by certain external signs, conveys to others feelings he has experienced, and other people are affected by these feelings and live them over in themselves. ~Leo Tolstoy
In a letter to an aspiring young poet, Rainer Maria Rilke advised, “This above all—ask yourself in the stillest hour of your night: must I write? Delve into yourself for a deep answer. And if this should be affirmative, if you may meet this earnest question with a strong and simple 'I must,' then build your life according to this necessity … Then try, like some first human being, to say what you see and experience and love and lose.”
If I had to answer Rilke’s question as originally asked, about writing, my answer indeed would be, “I must.” But I can’t say that the same is true for photography. I never felt that I must photograph, and yet I still dedicate a great portion of my life to it. This is because Rilke’s second advice—to say what I see and experience and feel—is eminently more important to me than what medium I use to do so. I did not choose photography for this purpose originally, it just happened to be available to me at the time I realised I wanted to express myself creatively.
It is easy, sometimes, to accept advice without questioning, on the sole base that it is offered by a figure of authority, or that it sounds important or noble.
If at the same time I was more skilled in painting or in playing the violin than I was in photography, I would likely be a painter or a violinist today. More important, I would still preach the value of self-expression just as passionately.
It is easy, sometimes, to accept advice without questioning, on the sole base that it is offered by a figure of authority, or that it sounds important or noble. None of these qualifications, however, necessitates that the advice is good, true, or even tenable. One such bit of advice often given to photographers is this: “photograph for yourself.” Seemingly simple, wise, and self-evident, it is a motto I promoted to others and claimed for myself for three decades. And then I asked myself whether, if I woke up tomorrow to find a world in which I was the only human being (coincidentally, one of my favourite recurring dreams), I would still photograph. The answer, “not likely,” flashed in my mind instantly, followed by the realisation that it could not be congruent with my claim of photographing for myself. Upon further thought, I realised that, while not entirely false, my claim of photographing for myself was, at best, only partially true.
At the end of the year, and before embarking on the celebrations that typically surround these dates, another ceremony takes place: accounting. And every time we get to the end, I get astounded by the amount of money spent on books throughout the year. “That much? really? It cannot be!” are the words that leave my mouth every time. And still, I never regret a single penny being spent on books. And neither my wife, by the way.
It is curious, how big is the resistance to buy photography books among most photographers. It is true that photographic books, particularly beautiful art-books, have always been something niche and particularly expensive, big, heavy and difficult to fit in our meagre shelves. And yet, these disadvantages are quickly outnumbered by the immeasurable amount of pleasure and enlightenment they provide.
I still remember my own reluctance many years ago, when I started to call myself a photographer, to buy photography books. Like many others, I kindled my passion for photography mainly thanks to the digital revolution of the medium and was used to looking at the work of other photographers on the screen of a computer. I did not feel the need at the time to go with the expense of purchasing a book and finding it a place in the living room. After all, I already knew by heart the work of my favourite photographers from seeing them on screens, right? One day, after some initial hesitation, I decided to spend $150 for a book from one of my favourite old Masters, Brett Weston. When the wonderfully printed and edited book “Brett Weston: Master Photographer” arrived home and I opened it on my lap, I realised what I had been missing all those years. [paid]
There are different reasons why books provide enlightenment and meaning which is absent from other supports. The physicality, the permanence, the ritual embedded in the process of opening a book and absorbing its content, the slowness of the process, the introspective and fully sensorial experience provided, the context and the narrative, the textuality and the concept… are some of them.
There are different reasons why books provide enlightenment and meaning which is absent from other supports. The physicality, the permanence, the ritual embedded in the process of opening a book and absorbing its content, the slowness of the process, the introspective and fully sensorial experience provided, the context and the narrative, the textuality and the concept… are some of them.
The Permanence
There are different unique properties of books when it comes to displaying fine photography. One of them is the sense of permanence associated with them.
The old adage said that in order to obtain immortality, one should have offspring, plant a tree and write a book. Books have always been associated with a strong character of legacy and heritage, resisting time and letting us share with future generations knowledge, enlightenment and inspiration.
Is interesting to think that even today, on the crest of the digital revolution, having a photograph printed on a piece of paper gives a permanence than bits and pixels cannot guarantee. We do not know whether in the future the digital supports will be able to read our current files, let alone be sure those files will not be corrupted, deleted or lost due to data rot. What we know is that a printed photography book, if properly made and store, can last for many centuries.
Very often, this is less important in practical terms than it is in psychological terms. It might be or not important than our book lasts forever (what is forever, after all?). However, the idea a book might be around even after we are gone sets a very interesting state of mind. A book is something not supposed to be consumed instantly and thrown away but made to last. As a result, the typical mindset is not one of programmed obsolescence and compromise, of making something good enough to survive for a brief span of time. On the contrary, a firm strive for excellence typically defines the process and the purpose of making a book.
The physical existence
According to some research, most people think of electronic media as things they use, and of books as things they own. This sense of ownership is way more than just a lust for possessing, so much embedded in human nature. It is more connected to a certain feeling of pride, the pride of owning a beautiful object fruit of the work and passion of a number of people. When we talk about owning a book, we are talking about owning a piece of the soul of its creator(s), the embodiment of some of the noblest traits of human nature. A photography book and its physical existence provide way more than mere convenience, usefulness or practicality. They are not made nor acquired to provide solutions or carry mere information. They have an almost metaphorical value, where we associate the book to the artist, his work, his philosophy, his life.
It is also the physical existence of books which make them prone to be shared, given, passed on to other people and generations. They can be dedicated, signed, given away to a loved one. Due to their physical existence, books become the support for emotions like love, friendship and gratefulness. Who would sign an electronic file?
The multi-sensorial character of books
Printed material works by reflectance, as opposed to screens which work as the transmittance of light. This means the visual experience of contemplating a photography book will be very much influenced by the quality of the light falling on the pages. This is one of the beautiful aspects of printed books. During the evening, under the warm lights of our cosy living room, we will obtain a certain feeling that will be different from the one we experience when looking at the book under the light of noon. It is as if the mood of the photographs would suit that of the moment and environment chosen to experience the book.
The brain also reacts in different ways to visual stimuli printed on paper than it does to information transmitted through screens. Multiple research has proved that different parts of the brain are activated according to whether it is exposed to printed material or screens.
The brain also reacts in different ways to visual stimuli printed on paper than it does to information transmitted through screens. Multiple research has proved that different parts of the brain are activated according to whether it is exposed to printed material or screens. You might have experienced this when correcting text on your computer. All seems right after hours of work, but the moment you print the page many mistakes jump at you as if they had been hiding in the document. Editing photographs is another good example. Even when the printed photograph looks essentially the same as the screen, we observe areas which are dissonant in tone or colour that did not bother us at all on the screen.
But the multiple nature of the visual experience provided by books is just the tip of the iceberg. Below the sea level, there is much more information and sensorial stimuli that, even if not often seen or consciously acknowledged, is felt and hugely adds to the experience we have.
The very first moment we touch the paper, a lot of information is coming through our fingers directly to our brain. The "tooth" of the paper, that is, its structure and tactile qualities can transmit a lot. A soft and silky paper will make us feel calm and relaxed and will give a delicate and inviting character to the photographs. A textured, grainy and thick paper will give strength, power and materiality to the subject. The volume of the paper will also confer an emotional connotation. Flimsy paper will transmit airiness and surrealism, a solid and thick paper will transmit luxury, stability, permanence and solemnity. When the page is turned, the rustle of the paper adds a bit more of information. The smell of paper and ink also kicks in. All these stimuli come through without us being consciously aware, in the same way, we are affected by the body language of a person we are talking to. However, they profoundly affect the way we understand and feel a photographic book and can hugely complement and resonate with the overall message and the artist's original vision.
The ritual character
There is something ritual about enjoying a beautiful photography book. First of all, there is the deliberate nature of the act. One decides to put aside some time, sit down comfortably, eventually put some music, pour some tea on a cup and open a book in order to contemplate slowly, in small sips, its content. When enjoying a book, there is no rush, there is no goal rather than just pure enjoyment. The process is long lasting. The next time we decide to enjoy a few more photographs, we might have changed, our mood might have changed. The work printed in a book is not static, and by exposing ourselves to it during a long period of time, we see how it evolves as we also evolve. Good photographs can hang from our walls for many years, without us becoming never bored of them. That is the long-lasting power of good photography. Books provide the same, with the extra bonus of incorporating several dozens of photographs. We do not "read" photography books, or just "get them" after a first browse. Would you drink a whole bottle of the finest whiskey at one go? The same thing happens with books.
This slow, deliberate and purposeful behaviour so inherent in the act of enjoying a book seems to contrast wildly when talking about digital support or social media. When confronted with screens and devices, our threshold of patience plummets dramatically, and we seldom allot more than a few milliseconds to any photograph. As a result, the best photographs, those who unveil their mystery, charm and magic not suddenly but with subtlety, those who grow up with time, get lost. This photography, the one that lures us, captivates us for many years to come, makes us wonder and think, feel and see the world in a different way, finds its best medium in the art book.
This slow, deliberate and purposeful behaviour so inherent in the act of enjoying a book seems to contrast wildly when talking about digital support or social media. When confronted with screens and devices, our threshold of patience plummets dramatically, and we seldom allot more than a few milliseconds to any photograph.
Long-lasting memories
Psychologists talk about the meta-cognitive learning schemes inherent to printed material or electronic media. Research has shown that we learn more, remember more and digest more when confronted with printed material than digitally supported media. This is especially the case with photography. Due to its marked visual nature, the brain gets in a different zone when we open a book. Images are engraved more deeply in our mind and we tend to remember them better in time. This is particularly important for photographers and other visual artists. The creation of an unconscious "bank of images" in the back of our mind is what gives us visual ingredients to play with and come up with personal and creative renditions of the world. No artist creates in a void, and every time we photograph, we are putting together wires of feelings, souvenirs, concepts and images we have seen during our life which have marked us whatsoever. Being confronted with printed material gives us a lead when it comes to visual literacy.
More than a bunch of images
Until now, all the advantages listed could apply to all printed photographic material. A single fine print or a small portfolio share with the book the qualities of permanence, physical existence, multi-sensorial nature and provide a ritual of slow enjoyment to the observer. However, the book provides something else that none of the other printed photographic material provides: narrative, context and comprehensive vision.
The individual image is frequently a strong, powerful and expressive image that can stand alone and still convey the message to the observer. But individual pictures, or “best hits” like Brooks Jensen calls them, frequently offer a mere glimpse of the expressive power of the photographer. With only one image, everything must be said within that individual frame.
In contrast to the unique isolated photograph, books focus on photographic projects. A photographic body of work is much more than a collection of images. A good project tells a story, transmits a deliberate idea or message and shows a coherent way of seeing the world.
A good book will have to provide a narrative and deliver the message as a story, with its beginning, development, and end. Being a good photographer does not suffice to make a good photobook. Being a good editor and a good storyteller is also part of the “cahier de charges”.
The beauty of a good photo book, as opposed to the single image approach, is that we can find inside strong resonances taking place between different images, that as a result see their expressive force increased. Encapsulated within a full body of work properly arranged and edited, we can discover and understand complex messages in a more effective way. Rather than relying on one single image, we are granted a whole succession of visual sentences to tell us the whole story.
The book is the ultimate trial for any photographer. Working on a book is way more demanding than creating a strong image out of a lucky strike. Not only it demands more work, time and energy. It also requires a clear intent and idea from the photographer, and enough technical, compositional, editorial and logistical skills to make it happen.
The results, however, frequently reward the effort. By working on a book for a certain amount of time, any photographer will develop a better understanding of his subject and experience an increasing wonder and love for it. That will forcibly lead him to a stronger connection with the subject and to a more profound message that demands to be shared with the audience.
The context
Another decisive element that makes photo books a key medium to convey inspiration, knowledge and provoke reflection in the observer, is their contextual value. Most photo books come accompanied by an artist statement or a foreword written by a third person, like a critic or a curator.
Another decisive element that makes photo books a key medium to convey inspiration, knowledge and provoke reflection in the observer, is their contextual value.
This written context provides a framework that either allows to re-interpret the visual work in a very different way, and/or provides a deeper level of signification by clarifying the conceptual basis on which the visual experience is grounded. The latter is particularly important with a big part of the so-called “conceptual photography”, where the concept behind becomes as important as the visual work created to represent it.
Whatever the style or artistic movement represented in the work is, the textuality and critical analysis provided within most books frequently bring with it the possibility of going beyond the mere visual experience and tapping into the intent of the photographer and the metaphorical value of his work in a more effective way.
Conclusion
Many are the photographers who ask me how to improve, make their work deeper and more meaningful, acquire higher levels of maturity and sophistication in their photography and get closer to their personal vision. The answer, typically long, frequently includes, among other things, the study of our own work and that of other practitioners, reflection and introspection. Books, due to their inherent characteristics, provide the ideal medium to absorb, digest and analyse the work made by other photographers. When exposed to good photo books, we can find full bodies of work organised with coherence around a solid intent and message that orchestrates the whole project.
This intent and this message are conveyed through a careful sequencing of images, properly edited and appropriately put in value. Photobooks work through a multitude of different channels of communication and go well beyond the superficial visual experience typically provided by a quick glance to an image on a computer screen.
We photographers do not hesitate to spend thousands of pounds on the last lens or the new mirrorless camera, and still, frown upon the idea of spending £90 on a good photographic book. Trading one of those lenses for a shelf full of photobooks might make a bigger difference than you think. The only problem is, sooner than later you will need more shelves around!
The Southern Uplands of Scotland must be one of the least photographed areas in the British Isles. A search of Getty Images turned up only forty photos tagged with Southern Uplands of Scotland, whilst a whopping ninety thousand images appeared for Scotland as a whole. I’m more than happy with this situation given my penchant for solitary hikes across the big round hills, but it does pose the question of why this is the case. To visitors from south of the border, the area is just grassy hills with lots of wind turbines, passed through on the way to more celebrated areas further north.
It is also an area lacking in notable features such as rocky summits, dramatic cliffs, or a rugged coastline - in short, it’s a place that is difficult to photograph. As a long time local resident I’ve become something of a connoisseur of vast tracts of open moorland; the play of light on a rounded hillside and the enormous skies are things that I have come to value highly.
One notable, if a subtle feature, is the wall. The wall skirts around Gameshope Glen in a horseshoe ending not far from where it started, close to Talla Reservoir, a couple of miles east of the Tweed Valley. Built sometime in the early nineteenth century and travelling for upwards of twenty miles, it has three offshoots: one climbs Hart Fell (808 metres) ending abruptly near the summit, another goes off to the shores of Loch Skeen, and the third heads down towards Moffatdale, ending inconclusively just above the Grey Mare's Tail waterfall. Rather intriguingly, it navigates in a series of straight lines, saving anything that resembles a curve for the most vertiginous sections.
Perhaps the thing that strikes me most about Thierry’s poetic images of China is that it is very much a manmade and managed landscape, and also a peopled landscape - a celebration of the old ways where, yes, man exploits the resources that he has around him but does so in a way that leaves room for nature. The scale of the views that he represents, whether terraced rice fields or fish farms and the inclusion of the human form – often from elevated viewpoints or in sweeping panoramas – also serves to emphasise that we are but a small part of this earth.
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 raised in France. As a young man, I loved water sports and activities such as swimming, scuba diving, surfing and water skiing. After my army service, I went to study accounting at university to obtain my Bachelor of Arts in accounting and pass my CPA (Certified Public Accountant) exam. Later I graduated with a Master of Business Administration (MBA) degree in finance (mergers & acquisitions of a company).
How did you come to live in China, and what changes have struck you most in the time you have been there?
I have been living in China since 2006, so have spent 12 years here. I was working in New York for a French sports fashion company who asked me to transfer to Shanghai to implement SAP (accounting, financial software) for our factories. I was the chief financial officer for the next 3 years.Unconsciously I strive for some kind of order. I find life a quite disorganised and chaotic place to be but in my photography, I can manage and organise this complexity. And, yes, this does influence the expression of my work. I have seen China change drastically during the last 10 years, with a better life and infrastructure for Chinese people including new tourism opportunities for them. Unfortunately, many beautiful places have been destroyed because of modernisation. [paid]
Landscape photography is the only religion I practice and nature is the only spiritual book of my life. It's only when I'm connected to the world of beauty, that I can conceive art.
~Thierry Bornier
When did you become interested in photography and what kind of images did you initially set out to make?
My company asked me to return to the USA because my job in China was complete, but I did not feel like returning and wanted to stay in China. I decided to take a break in my life and a year off to travel around China which was at this time still very untouched by modernisation, so I bought a camera, a Nikon D700, to capture some images during my trip. I went to Southwest China and travelled in Yunnan, Sichuan and Guangxi Province and I started to enjoy my encounters with all these different minorities, which was so exciting. The biggest impact during my travel came from the rice field terraces of Yunnan. Without any experience of landscape photography, I made some images and one of them was published in National Geographic as Photo of the Day. This experience totally changed my life and career because I had to make decisions about my future, and it was not easy to choose between a life of security or a life of adventure and challenges.
What made you then commit to developing as a career what was – at the time – your personal photography, to take the risk and move away from secure employment, rather than simply continue with it around your (then) job?
I always say life is about 2 things: feeling and choices. I had to make a big decision because, for me, it was a huge challenge not only to change career but also to reach a level and achieve expertise about China landscapes, as well as photography skills. I have decided to give it three years of my life to be sure I could reach my objectives and that I had a plan. Considering I’ve never studied photography, I knew it would take time and I also needed to survive. Life is to open doors, and these doors open others and bring you somewhere. You need to not only work hard but also to be lucky sometimes. My first target was to learn photography skills not just with the camera, but also to understand lighting which is the key for me in photography. Without any conceptions of photography, I decided that in order to make money to survive and be free I should open a studio to shoot wedding and fashion photography because in China the market was so huge with opportunities. It took me over one year to learn fashion photography online and look for inspiration from some famous photographers and understand what made them different and unique. I spent hours watching YouTube videos about their shooting, and step by step my insatiable curiosity let me find some important clues and techniques about lighting. My next move was to try and apply them in my own studio.
Before readers become wholly envious of a life spent amid wonderful landscapes, am I right in thinking that commercial and fashion work underwrites your landscape photography?
Fashion photography, portrait photography and landscape photography have different approaches and different environments. For the former two, we deal with people in the studio and it is not easy as we have to build the light; as for landscape photography, nature builds everything for us before our eyes, but the most complicated part is the lighting because it is out of our control. We need luck. Sometimes people see amazing images with incredible weather conditions and light, and many say what great photographers we are, and I tell them no, it’s how lucky we are because we can’t control the weather - that’s why I spend a lot of time in one place to get my ideal image. I would imagine all kinds of scenarios of lighting and mood that I can get in a particular place, and when I have this ideal image in mind, I just need to stay as long as I can or come back until I get it. One of my images took me three years to obtain what I expected for the place: landscape photography is about patience.
How proud are you of being self-taught and does it make you do anything differently or give you any competitive edge?
I don’t think I’m proud to have learned photography by myself, because if you really want to achieve anything in your life, you must first believe in yourself and be very curious and keep trying, working hard and never giving up. For my part I am never satisfied with my work, it is the only way to improve, and life, after all, is to learn always until the end. I think the advantage to be self-taught is that I’m able to shoot anything and that is great. I can use my Phase One for my landscape photography workshop and use my Nikon to shoot my portrait photography or commercial work in the studio without any problem. I have two philosophies of work and have two different technical approaches to reach my target.
Nature is a poem only for people who can read it with their heart and soul. ~ Thierry Bornier
Who (photographers, artists or individuals) or what has most inspired you, or driven you forward in your own development as a photographer?
My favourite fashion and portrait photographers are Peter Lindbergh, Irving Penn, Richard Avedon, Helmut Newton and Yousuf Karsh. I also love some painters such as Leonardo de Vinci (genius of humanity), Monet and Van Gogh. I have studied each of them to find their style as fashion photographers or some specific lighting as their own signature, the same for the painters: what story they want to tell, and the lighting inside the paintings.
Regarding landscape photographers, I have been intrigued by some photographers but none of them has really helped me to find my own style because I do believe photography is based on our personality. When I shoot a place I’m not the only photographer: I can be on a workshop with many people, but when we review our images they ask me why they look so different. I explain firstly, we all came from different backgrounds - just like the differences between Van Gogh and Picasso, they had different lives and education, and their motivation to create varies. Our life is unique because of our childhood, our emotional encounters, the things we are sensitive about, and that makes all the difference in our works and the way we see the world, our own world. But I should mention Sebastiao Salgado, he inspired me a lot with regards to black and white photography, as well as Ansel Adams. I am curious about how Ansel Adams would approach his works today with a digital camera.
Which cameras and lenses do you like to use? Has this changed over time?
I used to only use Nikon, as my first camera was a Nikon D700 and I always upgraded. Today I do use a Nikon D850 but mostly for my fashion and portrait works. After I sold my first photo – “Hani Terraces”, the one that was published in National Geographic – I bought my first Phase One IQ280 CCD and to date, I always use it for my landscape photography.
I never use wide angle and most of my lenses for my portrait and fashion shooting are 85mm f1.4 and 70-200mm f2.8, for my lifestyle photography I’m using 35 mm f1.4.
For my landscape photography with my medium format Phase One camera, I use 150mm, 80mm and 55mm. I never upgrade my Phase One because I love my CCD sensor.
Can you give readers an insight into your workflow from the point of image capture through post-processing to output?
When I capture images from one place, I will wait for a few weeks before looking at them to digest my trip and the location. Then I will choose only one image to process - by then I know which one I like the most. For this one image I use Capture One to correct my RAW image, and then make some further corrections in Photoshop, but I won’t change my images because I refuse to do so - I only correct contrast and adjust colours because cameras don’t have eyes and brains so we must compensate for this.
All these mistakes appear because we are using digital cameras and cameras can’t see. I have never done HDR photography in my life because it does not represent my personal approach in photography. I use my cameras only in the simplest way possible as people did before with film: manual mode with ISO, aperture and shutter speed. I use a polarizer and ND neutral filter, and one year ago I started using my Big Stopper when there are thick clouds. For portrait photography, I refuse to retouch people’s faces because it will make them unreal and I believe they will lose their identity. As Peter Lindbergh said, there is no beauty without truth.
From what I’ve read, you’re very persistent and will spend a long time working towards a single image. Can you tell us a little about your travels – where you like to go, how you get to your elevated viewpoints and how long you will stay in a place or how often you will return to achieve the outcome that you have in mind?
I always know very well the places I go after many years, but also sometimes I discover new places, so I need to know when is the best time of the year for the weather is. For example, there are five main areas of rice field terraces in China and if you take only the one in Yunnan, the best time is January to March because before that there is no water. So you must have good knowledge of the places and have connections with local people because with the climate changing it affects your work. These local people always contact me to let me know if it is going to rain or snow because this is valuable information that lets me decide to go or not. Regarding the viewpoints, I try always to find the best high vantage point that I can to make my images; I have never used drones. I go back many times to the same places because the scenarios of lighting or mood won’t be the same; when I have my mental image I will go until I get the mood I want - some pictures took me 2 or 3 years of my life.
Would you like to choose 2-3 favourite photographs from your own portfolio and tell us a little about why they are special to you?
Cloudland
This image is a story of patience and, most importantly, of luck. I have been many times to Yellow Mountain in Anhui province. On this night I woke at 2am and climbed the stairs to reach the point of shooting. When I arrived, I could see a white sea of cloud which was not moving without being able to see clearly what shape it was. After waiting a few hours at minus 10 degrees Celsius, after dawn, I realized the wonder of nature and saw the sea of cloud moving so slowly that I didn’t need to use any filter or long exposure, and captured this image at only 3 seconds’ shutter speed. An old photographer living there told me later when he saw my image that this chance encounter with nature happens maybe only once in a century. I did not process this image in Photoshop and it is 100% natural.
The image was published in National Geographic on December 25, 2016. Someone wrote after publication:
“Where I was a little boy, my mom used to tell a story: one day a beautiful girl will come from heaven and take you there. As I grew older, the dream became faded. Whatever the dream was, now I can see the photo of heaven whether the girl comes or not. When I saw the photo of this ‘Cloudland’, the first thought that came into my mind was that I was in heaven. This is China’s Yellow Mountain (Huangshan) soaring above a shroud of dramatic cloud cover.”
Hani Terraces
This image is the most important one not for the quality of the image but because it made me change my career forever. I was travelling for one year to take a break from my stressful life as a CFO. This image was taken with a Nikon D700 and I had no experience at all in photography, but National Geographic selected the image as a picture of the day. A few months later the German company Siemens bought the image for 5 years’ worldwide advertising use for 40,000 Euros. I immediately used the money to buy a Phase One IQ280 camera and decided to try to become a photographer for the next 3 years and at the end of this go back to finance if I couldn’t reach the level I wanted to.
Pastel Floating Dream
This image was captured in Xiapu Fujian Province; it also has a story because I was the first photographer to shoot this place, just after it was built. My local friend called me and told me a new place will soon be ready, so I took the high-speed train from Shanghai and reached Xiapu. The next day I went visit the new site and I made my first 2 pictures there including Pastel Floating Dream. I sold this image in Shanghai to a collector for 20,000 USD for a Limited Edition print 2.5 metres in size.
Xiapu is one of my favourite places in China. I have made a lot of abstract pictures there and have already been 30 times in the past 6 years. I organize many workshops there and go to places people don’t know. It’s a very unique place and I can talk about it for hours; it is another man-made place but this one is so different because they have to replant the seaweed which is farmed in the mudflat year after year when the typhoon season is over.
My images are based on moods and stories because you need to tell the story of the places you shoot, even if sometimes there is no one in the images, the lighting and the mood becomes the story.
One of the things that strikes me most about your images is that it is very much a man-made or managed landscape, but also a peopled landscape. In the west, we spend a lot of time seeking ‘natural’ looking landscapes and avoiding obvious signs of human influence (which isn’t always so beautiful). How important are the farmers and fishermen in your images, and what have you come to know of their way of life? What changes or challenges are they experiencing?
That is a very interesting question and I guess after living in China for 12 years I have seen all the man-made work in this country such as the rice field terraces, and of course, sometimes you need to tell a story about these landscapes and the people who made them, such as Xiapu Mudflat in Fujian. Behind these landscapes, there is an amazing story about how the men and women created and maintained them for thousands of years, the same now as exactly 2000 years ago for the oldest rice field terraces. My images are based on moods and stories because you need to tell the story of the places you shoot, even if sometimes there is no one in the images, the lighting and the mood becomes the story. During my workshop, I teach people more to look and understand what they want to shoot. I ask them to keep the camera in the bag and take their time to look at the landscape and to feel it and get the best impression of it. After that, I ask them what and how they would like to paint it if they were painters. Then I ask them to use their imagination, take the camera out and start to shoot what they feel. An image is not made by a camera, but by your soul and heart; the camera is only 5% of the image, the rest is about creativity, about us.
Now all these beautiful places made by people such as the rice field terraces will disappear soon because the new generation wants to work in big cities instead of being farmers because living in big modern cities means a better quality of life. I have also seen many beautiful places completely destroyed and lost for the genuine part of it because of modernism and tourism.
Is it important to you that people see your work in print, and how do you choose to print and present your pictures?
Now I sell my prints in Limited Editions of 6 for each image for 20,000 USD for a print of 2 to 3 meters, and I only use the famous iconic German company Hahnemühle. Hahnemühle Fine Art – Germany’s oldest artist paper mill – has been making artist papers for traditional painting and printing techniques for more than 425 years. The Digital Fine Art Collection combines the elegance and uniqueness of genuine artist papers with the impressive look of modern Fine Art prints.
The world I live in is not an ordinary world; I just need to use my eyes and listen to the melodies of beauty all around me while it will be invisible to others. This world is mine because I create it from the chaos of my imagination. ~ Thierry Bornier
What reaction have you had to your images in China? From a short spell in Hong Kong I know that landscape was relegated to backdrop in images of self and family – nearly 20 years before ‘selfie’ became common parlance – and I wonder if your work has helped people to better know and appreciate their countryside, and perhaps to recognize the value of protecting and conserving it?
I have received messages from Chinese photographers or Chinese people saying they never knew their country was so beautiful until they saw my images and they want to go to these places, and I think it is good because my images have promoted this beautiful and unique country by showing its diversity of places and moods. I find that Westerners still don’t come here that much, probably because they don’t feel safe, or for other reasons, but living here for 12 years I can assure you that China is the safest country in the world because there are no weapons here and they have the best infrastructure including high speed trains and the best airports. The food is amazing, and the only problem is the language because 85% of the people here can’t speak English.
Do you have any particular projects or ambitions for the future or themes that you would like to explore further? Do you have any plans to photograph in urban environments or other countries?
I’m still focusing on China because I’m a specialist in this country as a landscape photographer and I do speak English, French and of course Chinese. In the near future, I will publish a book about China called “Vision of China”.
I do organize a few workshops in China every year to help people discover this country but I’m not doing tour photography - my workshop is really to teach people photography based on my experience and I spend a lot of time to take care of each of them, which is why my workshop groups are in small, 4 to 6 people maximum.
In 2020, I will start to shoot some other countries and work with local photographers to explore the best of these new photographic opportunities.
If you had to take a break from all things photographic for a week, what would you end up doing? Do you have other hobbies or interests?
When I come back from my workshops or my personal trips, the first thing I love to do is to cook because I love cooking. I also love music and movies so I will spend time at home to relax and do some sports before my next trip.
And finally, is there someone whose photography you enjoy – perhaps someone that we may not have come across – and whose work you think we should feature in a future issue? They can be amateur or professional.
I know a Chinese gentleman - Zheng De Xiong - who made a small place called Xiapu in Fujian Province famous throughout the world; he has been photographing this amazing place for 15 years, and I respect him a lot.
Thank you for sharing your story with us Thierry, and congratulations on finding your dream and making it work for you.
If you’d like to see more of Thierry’s images you’ll find his website here.
I don’t have a favourite photograph. You don’t even have a favourite photographer. So what do I write?
Well pick an image you like, then write about the composition, the photographer, the emotional impact the photo has on you.
But I’ve only been taking photography semi seriously for three or four years, my knowledge is too limited; I don’t want to make a fool of myself.
OK, read through some of the past articles Charlotte has sent a link to, that will inspire you.
Just did, made it worse. Maybe this tooth abscess and the drugs I have been prescribed will set my creative fire alight. I’ll take a couple more tablets.
Did it work? Nope, too mushy. A couple of glasses of crisp New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc, that will help. You’re still on the antibiotics.
DAMN IT. OK, I’ve written before, hell it was even deemed so good I was asked to read my story out on national radio. I can do this.
But that was forty years ago when you were twelve. In primary seven. And you only have a vague recollection of the story itself; something about how times had changed and that your mum used to pay into the pictures (cinema) with two jeely jawrs (jam jars) and eat a carrot during the movie (1950’s popcorn). Not much help.
Right, I have some photography books, that seems like a sensible place to start. Digital Photography for Dummies, Teach Yourself Photoshop CS5, The Digital Photography Book by Scott Kelby.
Ha, very funny, try those ones piled up on top of the printer, you know the one you rarely print from.
How about the awards books from Landscape Photographer of the Year, Outdoor Photographer of the Year, Scottish Landscape Photographer of the Year and International Garden Photographer of the Year? Lots of crackers in there.
True, but there’s just too much to go through with all those. You have others over there, in fact too many others to mention.
Well I need to come up with something. You do, and soon.
Excellent choice, but you better check the back issues just to be sure.
I have them all downloaded to my iPad so this should be quick. Back we go, nothing in the 170’s, 169, no, 168, clear, 167, keep going, issue 166, fine, 165, no probs, 164, looking good. Aarrgh. 163. I don’t believe it!
Start again. What motivates you? OK, I love to travel, and I love photography.
You love US National Parks, so there must be something in “Treasured Lands” by QT Luong that inspires. After all, it is “A Photographic Odyssey Through America’s National Parks”.
Problem. I love the book, I’ve been to thirteen of the fifty nine parks, but no single photo stands out.
When I first got back into photography it was the grand landscapes of Yosemite and the American West that inspired me. Colin’s book contains none of the above. It is filled with shots of twisted trees, reeds, frozen leaves, piles of slate and fallen branches.
OK, forget travel, you live in Scotland, one of the most beautiful countries in the world. Look there.
I did already. Nothing elevates my senses. It’s the drugs. Maybe you should stop talking to yourself. Thanks for the suggestion. And it worked.
I take pictures to get away from the pressure of running a small (circa fifty employees) business. I used to play golf to relieve stress but got fed up with the time it took to play eighteen holes, and the lack of decent weather. So about five years ago I decided to get back into photography, something I had dabbled with on and off since I was a teenager with a cheap SLR, a dark room and an enlarger.
Suddenly the weather didn’t matter, in fact, I learned through time that the worse the weather, the better the photos. I started to use my expensive golf waterproofs for something else, and I enjoyed it a lot more. After a pressure filled week at work, a few hours out with the camera worked wonders. Photography healed my mind.
Which takes me to “Healing” by Colin Bell. It wasn’t amongst those books piled on top of my seldom used printer. It’s somewhere safe, still wrapped in the bubble wrap it came in because it’s probably my favourite book. And all along I really knew the image I would pick would come from this book.
As mentioned above, when I first got back into photography it was the grand landscapes of Yosemite and the American West that inspired me. Colin’s book contains none of the above. It is filled with shots of twisted trees, reeds, frozen leaves, piles of slate and fallen branches. It takes me back to my youth, squeezing through bushes and clambering over trees in the local woods, trying to avoid getting stung by wasps and scratched by thorns and brambles that seemed to reach out and grab.
It has inspired my own work, opened my eyes up to another landscape. I no longer seek out the grand view, though some are still hard to pass up. Instead I now mainly try to solve the puzzle of the more intimate landscape.
Of all the images in the book, those captured on Holme Fell are the ones I return to most, the “Tarn Tales” series and the “Twisted Rowan” series in particular. “Tarn Tales II, IV and V” are simply stunning and encapsulate everything I now adore about landscape photography. “The Tarn and The Rowan” is a perfect combination of the two.
Sadly, this article is titled “End Frame” and not “End Frames”, therefore I must choose one, and “Twisted Rowan III” is my choice. This shot, judging by the tone of the grasses, the nakedness of the trees, and the soft blue cast to the fog, was captured on a cold day in winter. In my opinion, the composition is flawless, with the shadow of the tree in the lower right-hand corner grabbing your eye, the edge of the tarn leading you to the lone raggedy old rowan, which in turn nods to the two trees (birch?) on the small hill in the fog. The supporting cast are all perfectly placed, but the “Twisted Rowan” is the star of the show.
There, you done it! I thought you said stop talking to yourself?
Back in December in issue 173, our last of the year, we asked our subscribers to submit an image to represent their 2018 photography.
We had some great submissions and have compiled them into a PDF which you can download by clicking the cover image below (for which we can thank Paul Constable!).
Thank you to all who took part, we really enjoyed compiling all of the images and reading the captions.
Joe Cornish emailed us a few weeks ago about the campaign The Woodland Trust are running to fundraise to buy Ben Shieldaig.
If you had the chance to save 10,000 acres of prime wild land in the UK, would you try to take it? Well, the Woodland Trust is trying to raise £1.6 million to save Ben Shieldaig, one of the classic little mountains in Torridon.
It may be smaller in stature than others but it is surrounded by beautiful, ancient pinewoods. We're hoping that some of our subscribers will be able to contribute a small amount to support this venture. Have a look at the video below and enjoy Joe's beautiful photograph and please help if you can..
Ben Shieldaig is the prominent mountain on the right, Shieldaig village at its foot. ~ Joe Cornish
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.
Submit Your 4x4 Portfolio
Interested in submitting your work? We're on the lookout for new portfolios for the next few issues, so please do get in touch!
Field margins planted with native wildflowers are one of my favourite habitats to explore in the Spring and Summer months, alive with insects, butterflies and the scent of summer I love how the flowers dance as the wind travels over the fields of crops.
These images were all taken a few miles from my home in north Dorset, I used intentional camera movement and multiple exposure to convey movement in the dancing flowers.
Mid-May in Alaska. First light at 4am and last light at midnight. Travelling by car between Anchorage, Kenai Fjords, and Denali over the course of a week.
My first visit to the state, I was deeply moved by the immense, unspoiled beauty around every turn. A land wholly apart from the modern world – dynamic, powerful, timeless.
In June of 2015, I moved my family lock, stock and barrel to start a new life in Sweden. It wasn't a decision taken lightly! We had a 2 houses and a business in Malta, my wife had just given birth to my daughter Chloe and we were to turn our backs on Malta for good and move, more or less, blindly to Sweden.
Let me explain....
I am 52 and having taught tennis at all levels for over 30 years, I desperately needed a change. I was feeling drained of enthusiasm for the sport and tired of the routine. Sometimes in order to make a change, it needs to be a complete change, so we agreed we would start a new adventure with our baby in Sweden. Yes, we sold up in Malta, we bought a house in Sweden and here we are, very happy and very contented as a family.
What has all this got to with photography?
This is where the changes happened... I found a new passion, a learned new skills and after 3 years, I started a new business - landscape photography!
After 3 years of learning about using a camera in full manual mode, becoming more creative with compositions, developing a photographic style and adapting to different conditions, or more specifically learning about light!
By no means am I suggesting that the journey of learning is complete, in fact, I am an apprentice but having looked back at my early work, I do see the improvement which gives me the drive to keep moving forward.
Living in Österlen, in the south-east corner of Sweden is very easy and although more or less flat in terms of terrain, it has some of the most stunning beaches and seascapes as well as fantastic forests a rural scenes to give the landscape photographer a myriad of choice of subject to shoot depending on the weather and conditions.
This article features some of the seascapes all within 20 minutes drive and most within walking distance.
My aim as a photographer to create images that I am pleased with and that it makes me feel calm. I feel a connection to the landscape and my environment, that creates an emotion within my sole and I try to convey those emotions through my images.
It has become a life experience through the art of photography, rather than all about camera settings (although important). The therapy of photography wields a magic and one that I highly recommend to everyone. Being in the great outdoors experiencing nature in all conditions is more important than Facebook!
I hope this journey resonates with some and I would love to hear your experiences.
In the first part of this article (Click here to read it), I discussed the transitions of Luminosity and Contrast and how they work together to represent the fundamental realities of nature within our images. In my life and work, I’m very focussed on why things are the way they are; nature, science, beliefs, reality, perception. But, as I teach the art of creativity, I have to marry the why of it all with the how to do it, and with all great dichotomies, they can be jointly exhaustive or mutually exclusive. As I flow into the second stage of this article, I am truly aware of why I do these things, these hows. Without a Why there is very little need for a How!
The art of linguistic creativity relies heavily on tools of communication; words, punctuation, articulation, metaphor and nuance. Yet, in landscape photography, we are essentially mute in explicit language, leaving us with nothing more than luminosity, contrast, colour, texture and transitions. Armed only with this limited palette, we aim to express ourselves, desperate to communicate something, anything to another human being. “I was there, I saw this” are simple statements, being more articulate requires greater degrees of craft and intention. However, whether we are conscious of our statements, or they are byproducts of subconscious processing, there are impacts and consequences of everything within the frame.
At the very start of Part I, I used a few expressions that may have raised some eyebrows; what I call Attention Gradients and the Awareness Fulcrum.
The decision of what shape of a stage to perform on is critical to your expressive intent. I believe there is too much randomness associated with cropping, and the first step is to become more consciously aware of its impact.
I’ve thought about this for over a year now, and it’s really a fundamental of how I put my work together, and currently, they represent the zenith of my thinking on transitions. In this article, we’ll look at how these expressions came about, and how we can use them with an intention to affect how images are read, essentially making our images say what we want them to.
Hopefully, we’ll remember 2018 for the extended, and for many of us, the welcome spell of hot and dry weather that we had – ‘summer’ isn’t always something we can rely on here – and not for other things that have been dominating the headlines. The year has seen aptly titled new project work – ‘Hothouse’ – from Cheshire based Steve Palmer, a proliferation of image making matched only perhaps by the rate of growth of the plants in the water lily house at Kew. We catch up with Steve to find out more about this, and what he gets up to on his home turf.
Would you like to start by telling readers a little about yourself – where you grew up and what your early interests were?
I grew up in a small town in east Cheshire, with the countryside on our doorstep and the city of Manchester a short train ride away. As a young kid, most of my time was spent playing outdoors, getting all the usual cuts, bruises and nettle stings. My Dad was a keen birdwatcher, so weekends would be spent out in the countryside, binoculars in hand, searching for birds and animals. The highlight was seeing a migrating Osprey hunting for fish at Chelford sand quarries in 1975, a huge rarity at the time. From these walks, my love of the natural world grew and many happy days were spent walking in the countryside. I also had a love of music and had a short and unsuccessful stint making a terrible noise while at school. I think the world of music had a lucky escape!
Thomas Joshua Cooper is one of the most celebrated and distinctive landscape photographers working anywhere in the world today. He was born in California in 1946 but has lived in Scotland for many years. Cooper is the founding head of photography at Glasgow School of Art but spends much of his life seeking out the edges of the world. Like artists such as Richard Long, and Hamish Fulton, Cooper is a traveller, a nomadic artist whose extraordinary photographs are made in series at significant points around the globe, most often at its extremities.
Using an 1898 Agfa field camera and specially made photographic plates, Thomas Joshua Cooper creates extraordinary, meditative landscape photographs printed with selenium-toned silver gelatin. Each work begins as a location found on a map, which Cooper then exhaustively researches and tracks down. Composing only outdoors, he captures each site in a single exposure, stressing the “made” and “built” quality of each print over its documentary or snapshot elements. In his ongoing “Atlas Project” (1989-), Cooper charts the extremities of land in the Atlantic Basin, from South Africa and Scandinavia to the Arctic, Antarctica, and South America. Read our interview with Thomas Joshua Cooper.
The Promise in West, the Allure in North, the Fear in South
Fragments from the Atlas of Emptiness and Extremity
Identification with the work is a subtle and insidious phenomenon, one that we all are prone to experience to some degree. We view the work - rightly - as an extension of ourselves. Yet we cannot become the work. We must maintain a critical distance, and be capable of a more objective relationship with the content of our efforts. ~ David Ulrich
There is an old joke that the difference between a professional and an amateur photographer is the size of the wastebasket next to the light table. Granted, this was from the days of slide film, but the tenet still holds true. One of the defining characteristics that separate the professional photographer from the amateur is the ability to honestly and accurately critique one’s own work. It is also one of the more difficult tasks to master.
Learning to self evaluate one’s work is an extremely important exercise. A photographer's reputation is built on the images that she/he puts out into the world, whether it’s to editors or other potential buyers or simply the public at large. Sending out mediocre images shows an inability to discern between good pictures and bad. Worse, including lesser quality images with your best work in an exhibit or portfolio has a diluting effect and reduces the overall impact. Our work is only as strong as the weakest photo in the collection.
Self-critique requires us to be brutally honest with ourselves. It is often suggested by friends and family that I am too hard on myself with regards to my photography, and I understand how it can appear that way. But if not me, then who? If I listened to them I would believe myself to be the best photographer in the world, bless them. Truth is, all artists must have a critical eye when it comes to their work. We know when we have created something special, but it is just as important to know when we have failed, as much as we may try to kid ourselves. In order to learn and evolve as artists, we must be able to critically evaluate our work. It is easier said than done, as it can be difficult to cast an objective eye on our own creations.
Relying on Others
We all at one time or another have experienced the sting of posting a photo of which we are especially proud on social media, only to have it garner a tepid response. The first thought is one of confusion and disappointment. Is it not as good as I thought? Was I kidding myself? Or perhaps, is it the fault of the audience? Is it too challenging to appreciate, requiring time and reflection in which to be understood? All too often the latter may be the case, which is the danger of relying on social media for feedback. As photographers, we cannot treat our potential audience as if they are all equal. We must work to establish an educated audience, one that shares our sensibilities and is willing to put forth the time and effort to view and understand our work. And of course, saying that social media is a less than ideal platform for sharing our work is a tremendous understatement. The physical limitation of tiny screens coupled with the barrage of images posted daily all but discount it as a viable forum for opinion and feedback.
But, what of the educated audience? Can they be counted on for a fair evaluation of our work? The answer is maybe. Portfolio reviews with an established and respected photographer may provide informative and useful feedback, but there is no guarantee. Just because the reviewer is established and successful does not immediately make them qualified to critique your work. At a conference last year I signed up for three portfolio reviews. I learned very little beyond what I already knew of my work. In fact, in regard to one of my favourite images, one reviewer said he “doesn’t get” these types of photos, while admitting that others did. Okay, then. In all fairness (and at the risk of sounding immodest) I have been practising photography for over 20 years and my work is probably “beyond” the services provided by these particular reviewers (no doubt I would find a review with the likes of Guy Tal or William Neill most illuminating). However, for those not as far along in their growth reviews can be of much use, provided the reviewer exhibits the traits outlined in Chuck Kimmerle’s blog
As photographers, we cannot treat our potential audience as if they are all equal. We must work to establish an educated audience, one that shares our sensibilities and is willing to put forth the time and effort to view and understand our work.
Relying on Ourselves
While having our work critiqued by others can have a useful and transformative impact, we must ultimately learn to rely on ourselves when it comes to evaluating our own work. We will not always have access to a reviewer’s eyes and opinions. More importantly though, who knows you and your relationship with your subject(s) better than yourself? As Guy Tal points out in his article Judging the Judges, “how can a critic know if the photographer was successful in expressing something without knowing what that something is?”. Beyond a certain point in our development outside critiques are by and large immaterial. Not everyone shares your sensibilities. Approval must come from within.
The biggest challenge with self-critique is evaluating our work with an objective eye. As stated in the David Ulrich quote at the head of this article we need to have a critical distance between ourselves and our work if we are to be able to objectively view it. We need to realize that our work comes from us, it is not of us. Linking our identity to our work leads to much pain and frustration. We must not fool ourselves, one way or the other. Personally speaking, at times I flip-flop between thinking I’m something special as an artist to believing I’m nothing more than a hack. The truth is somewhere in the middle, we must find the true perception.
Identifying our failures is critical in our growth as artists, for we often learn more from our failures than our successes. Recognising our successes is often easy, our failures, on the other hand, can be more difficult to acknowledge. We look at the flawed image hoping that in time it will somehow fix itself, or we try and convince ourselves that it’s not really that important a flaw. I know from experience the temptation to keep “almost” shots. We know deep down when a photo doesn’t cut it, as difficult as it may be to openly admit it. Perhaps it was a once-in-a-lifetime type of shot that just didn’t come out right. Or perhaps it carries so much emotional weight from the experience or what was going on in our life at the time that we don’t want to let it go. Keep them if you wish, just don’t include them in your portfolio.
Identifying our failures is critical in our growth as artists, for we often learn more from our failures than our successes. Recognising our successes is often easy, our failures, on the other hand, can be more difficult to acknowledge.
As creators, we often have an emotional attachment to our work based on what we were feeling or experiencing at the time of the capture. That part is important to us, but not the viewer. We must divorce ourselves from that emotional attachment that can colour our perception of the photo. The best way to do this is to put some distance between yourself and the making of the image. Let it sit for a period of time, a day or two, perhaps even a week. When you come back some of the lustre and emotion will have worn away and you’ll be able to evaluate the image more objectively.
It is easy to spot technical shortcomings, or at least it should be, which is why I am not going to spend much time addressing it here. Photographers are first and foremost observers, it shouldn’t take much effort to spot such obvious mistakes ranging from the most simplistic (sensor spots, tilted horizons) to more technical (improper depth of field, processing issues, etc.). It’s the more artistic and creative qualities of a photo that are challenging to self-assess. A photo can be technically perfect and yet still not be successful. Usually, the first question I ask myself is the image interesting. I don’t concern myself with whether or not my audience will find it interesting, that is irrelevant to me. All that matters is that I find it interesting. I value simplicity in my images to a great degree, but at times simplicity can be simply boring. I then judge how original it is compared to my body of work. Is it something new and fresh or more of the same? Being self-derivative is a trap of which I am always wary.
The most important criterion, however, is does the image effectively communicate what it is you are trying to express. Step back and ask yourself what it was about the scene that moved you to make the photo. What were you trying to say? Has the composition, visual design, and processing all come together to effectively express your vision? If the answer is yes then it is a successful image, no further feedback or questioning is necessary. A sure sign of failure for me is when I find myself trying to convince myself that the image works. I want it to work, but there is that nagging voice in the back of my head that knows better. In truth, I always know better.
Learning to self-critique requires confidence in one’s own work as well as self-knowledge. We must be confident enough in our abilities and vision to not fear failure. No growth will come from playing it safe. Creativity is born from the freedom to fail. Allow yourself that freedom and embrace failure as you would your successes. Like everything else learning to critique our own work takes time and practice. Our ability to self assess grows as we grow as artists. The more confident we become in our work and the more we understand ourselves and what we are trying to convey the better we become at evaluating ourselves.
Back in the summer, Craig contacted us to tell us about his new book 'Into the Great White Sands' and the more I read about the White Sands National Monument, the more I wanted to know about the vast 224 square miles that the park covers and the six distinct ecological units it encompasses. We caught up with Craig to hear more about this special place, the largest gypsum dune field on the planet, and his sense of connection with it.
Tell us why you love landscape photography and your route into it.
To answer that question, I have to go way back to my experiences as a small child growing up in Canada. I was always drawn to the outdoors, being out in nature and observing and watching whatever I could find in my backyard; leaves, insects, birds, small animals. I was a focused, contemplative child who enjoyed spending time alone and getting lost in the workings of the natural world, trying to figure out why i seemed to work the way it did. As an adult, I continue to find great joy being out in nature, almost an obsession, and working as a photographer has given me the opportunity to constantly be learning something from my experiences in the natural world. For me it’s more than just about making pretty pictures, that’s nice certainly, but it’s more about having the opportunity to observe, to be a witness to the miraculousness of it all. While out photographing in the landscape, I have learned that I have to turn off the internal dialogue, to be quiet, still and patient so that the veil might be pierced and I am given a glimpse into some magic moment. And if I’m lucky enough for the veil to stay open long enough, I am given the gift of a beautiful photograph. Sharing these moments through my photographs brings me great joy.
A chance encounter at a gallery with a well-known photographer at the age of 14 ignited my imagination to the possibilities of becoming an artist and pursuing photography as a craft. This led me to the formal study of photography with Phil Davis at the University of Michigan. Phil was a stickler for craft and believed that with a thorough grounding in technique one could then begin the challenging process of mining the notions of what makes a good photograph. I am grateful for the discipline that Phil Davis taught me. A few years later, thinking that I wanted to follow an academic career track, I enrolled at the Rochester Institute of Technology where I received my Master of Fine Arts degree in photography.
While out photographing in the landscape, I have learned that I have to turn off the internal dialogue, to be quiet, still and patient so that the veil might be pierced and I am given a glimpse into some magic moment.
As a photographer, I have been incredibly fortunate to receive so much support for my work. Photography is a highly competitive field and it is difficult to get noticed, much less supported. I am tremendously grateful and a little overwhelmed by the people who purchase my original photographs, acquire copies of my books or attend photography workshops that I teach.
My work has covered a wide range of genres and has received national recognition, such as a television Emmy Award in 1991 for the PBS Documentary "En Divina Luz: The Penitente Moradas of New Mexico". I have also received two successive National Endowment for the Arts grants for my work. I tend to work on photographic projects somewhat thematically, projects that seem to grow and take several years to wrestle with and eventually complete. These often evolve into a book, then a travelling exhibition of that work. My latest body of work, "Into the Great White Sands", is my twelfth book published by the University of New Mexico Press and photographs from this are currently being presented at The Museum of the Southwest in Midland, Texas, where the exhibition debuted. The exhibition will continue to travel around the United States and possibly go on to Europe.
It's strange, I was writing an end frame article on spec for On Landscape when simultaneously Charlotte approached me to write one. I'd been making some notes about my favourite image which is in Joe Cornish's Scotland's Mountains book. For me, an easy choice. I return to this book frequently finding solace in the pages and it's great to spend time lingering over the photographs.
Although he doesn't know it Joe has inspired my photography for many years. Put simply, Joe's work inspired me to become a landscape photographer. Imagine my thoughts on a Wednesday morning in August this summer when I saw Joe in a crowded Kings Cross station. I was jet lagged and exhausted after travelling on an overnight flight from Florida. I walked past him while he was talking on the phone. I had to shake his hand. I wanted to tell Joe his work has inspired me but I was exhausted and jet lagged all I could mumble about was the rocket launch I'd seen in the early hours of the morning on the day we flew home. Joe had just returned from the Russian Arctic, that sounded interesting. I wish I'd thanked him for being an inspiration. I became aware of his work when I read In Search of Neptune and learned that Joe was the photographer. I found more of his work, as his career progressed becoming well known to us landscape aficionados with his images seeming to appear everywhere.
That inspiration has continued along my own photography journey. Joe's books are my most thumbed photography books. When I thought about an End Frame article, the long shortlist I envisaged was one photograph; the image that stopped me in my tracks when first reading Scotland's Mountains. Some were slow burners, others had an immediate impact and some I knew would become favourites. When I turned to page 38, that was it for the next half hour. I stared transfixed at this image tucked away on page 38 was Lochan Na Staigne. Immediate feelings of envy (why couldn't I make images like that) quickly dissipated to pleasure. Ansell Adams' Snake River, Grand Tetons had and does remain a favourite, but when I saw Lochan Na Stainge I knew I had a new one - why?
The muted colour pallet in which greys predominate is striking, then there is the quality of the light; with both lending pathos and, simultaneously being uplifting creating balance and a frame full of energy.
I see and think in colour and, these days I produce little black and white work. The muted colour pallet in which greys predominate is striking, then there is the quality of the light; with both lending pathos and, simultaneously being uplifting creating balance and a frame full of energy. I've listened to Joe's thoughts on composition and read just about all he's written on the subject, but it was this image that made sense of what he was saying. I made me think about the decision making processes that were employed. Compositional considerations, capturing the light, the degree of control over the highlights, masterful use of exposure onFuji Velvia, (not the most forgiving film), the use of the cracked ice as a foreground to draw attention and contrast of the rounded shapes of the three lumps providing a visual stepping stone through the frame. Where they're placed in the frozen lochan and how they echo the mountains create a balance that is restful and invigorating at the same time. The sharpness and clarity of the cracked ice is a joy to see and being able to appreciate the technical considerations of such wonderful depth of focus added to my enjoyment. The rendering of the dark clouds and rocks to the left the frame appeared at first sight to unbalance the composition but on reflection, my thoughts turned to an appreciation of the dark tones adding a sense of threat and a tension that creates a new vignette. That new character differs from the tonal balance and the image's overall serenity and in doing so creates a counterpoint that draws attention back into the frame, as well as making me think about what's over the mountains.
Lochan Na Stainge has been a schoolmaster, teaching me much about composing a photograph, and has been the catalyst to me adopting (or at least trying to adopt) Joe's philosophy of creating balance, depth and energy into my compositions.
This is a piece of art that opens up so many emotions. it uplifts whilst creating a sense of pathos, and is restful and energising at the same time as well as being dramatic and simple.
But I think it's the sheer enjoyment of viewing this photograph that I wanted to discuss here. Inevitably I was always going to write a critique when preparing this article. I have recounted many of my preparatory notes which centre on my critical observations but the emotional connection is obviously unique to me.
This is a piece of art that opens up so many emotions. it uplifts whilst creating a sense of pathos, and is restful and energising at the same time as well as being dramatic and simple. I don't know of many images that I've seen that can open up so many conflicting emotions and moods as Lochan Na Stainge, Meall a Bhuiridh beyond does. I first read Scotland's Mountains when I was starting to worry that my mobility wasn't all it should be. After the diagnosis of a degenerative spinal condition, the dawning realisation of that my ability to access remote wilderness would quite quickly diminish was sobering Joe's work became my vicarious access to this photographer's playground. That's when Lochan Na Stainge's became more significant, becoming far more important to me as an image and as a steppingstone to inspiration. Physiotherapy and drugs help my problem but the thought that one winter's day I'll stand on the shore of Lochan Na Stainge is my motivator to maintain my mobility and continue to call myself a landscape photographer. This image is an old friend, I know it as well as I would the lines and contours on the face of a loved one and think of it in the same way.
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.
Submit Your 4x4 Portfolio
Interested in submitting your work? We're on the lookout for new portfolios for the next few issues, so please do get in touch!
I live in Fort Collins, Colorado, USA. In our city, we have 48 natural areas, scattered throughout the city, but especially along the Poudre River. Several months ago I started a project to visit each of these natural areas and look for intimate landscapes within them. Recently the weather turned cold and the river has frozen over in places. I have been thrilled and amazed at the remarkable images the river affords in its frozen state. I wander along its banks for hours, looking for interesting compositions. It has become one of my favourite ways to spend a morning.
It is being said that we are entering a new age. No longer simply the product of evolutionary transformation, we human beings are now driving it. Not surprisingly, we have named this new age after ourselves – The Anthropocene. This new age marks the ascension of human will through the things we build and the garbage we leave behind.
Wilderness, the wild places of the world, are shrinking. We come to them now like tourists visiting an exotic zoo. We prize them for what they have to offer us – beauty, recreation, healing medicines and a retreat from the narcissistic wasteland we have made for ourselves. But the true value of these wild places is not in what they have to offer us. They are of value because they are life itself. Not something apart from us but something of which we are apart.
These photographs are the result of two, month-long journeys paddling the remote Berens and Bloodvein Rivers that flow down through Northeastern Manitoba into Lake Winnipeg. During the course of these journeys, my wife and I, just the two of us travelling alone, felt ourselves shedding our skins of civilized certainty and entering into a deep wilderness dialogue. We slowly awoke to ancient memory – we were once wild too. We arose with the sun and moved with the unfolding cycle of the day. We entered a dialogue that was both listening and revealing, receiving and giving, as the “I” so carefully nurtured and prized, slowly dissolved. We remembered who we really were and were welcomed home.
For years I have travelled all over the wonderful state of Florida photographing landscapes of state and national parks. I was returning from a trip to Tallahassee last summer when I realised that nearly all the parks I had photographed over the years were near to, or at sea-level. When you consider that sea-levels are expected to rise between four and ten feet over the next fifty years, all the landscapes I had photographed will soon be gone due to climate change.
Florida is the proverbial "canary in the coal mine" when it comes to climate change. The times we have King Tides (full moons that coincide with a high tide when the moon is also closest to the earth) it is not uncommon for the seawater to flood in the streets of Miami and Miami Beach. This collection of photographs are likely to be gone in my children's lifetime along with my Miami house. I hope to bring awareness to Florida's plight, and to inspire others to get out and enjoy our beautiful outdoors before it is gone forever.
Tim spoke to Jon Gibbs for our Featured Photographer spot back in March 2013. You can read the original interview here. Jon was the very first winner of Take A View’s UK Landscape Photographer of the Year competition in 2007 and this success helped him to turn his dream of becoming a full-time photographer into a reality. After 10 years running the Saltmarsh Coast Gallery in Wells-next-the-Sea with Gareth Hacon, Jon has announced that the gallery will close this year, so we thought we’d find out what he plans to do in its place and how things have developed for him in the last 5 years.
Congratulations on keeping the Gallery going during an especially difficult decade. Has anything in particular prompted you and Gareth to call it a day, or is it simply time to do something different?
Thanks, it has been a great experience and we are justly proud of our efforts, especially as all we have known over the last ten years has been a state of economic uncertainty. Starting up an independent retail business takes a lot of guts and I have nothing but admiration for those who continue to do so, it is not easy. From our point of view, we’ve had some real peaks and troughs and over the last couple of years I think both me and Gareth have run out of steam and now we feel that perhaps it is better to move on; the timing certainly feels right.
Now the fact is that there is hardly a roadside pond or pool that has not as much landscape in it as above it. It is not the brown, muddy, dull thing we suppose it to be; it has a heart like ourselves, and in the bottom of that are the boughs of the tall trees and the blades of the shaking glass, and all manner of hues of variable pleasant light out of the sky. ~John Ruskin, Modern Painters.1
As will be all too evident from my previous articles for On Landscape2, I like to make images of water in its various forms, but particularly the interaction of light and flowing water in streams and rivers. The attraction in making many of these images is often the points and lines of concentrated light that make the surface sparkle (and, of course, makes deciding on an exposure difficult!). We can sometimes use these points and lines with a slower shutter speed to give an indication of the movement of the water (see Sarine at Hauterive Caustic Traces below), or blur them out over a second or more to create more abstract patterns (see Eden at Shoregill Abstract below). Those points and lines of bright light are called caustics3 . We may have some vague ideas that they are caused by the effects of refraction and reflections in the flowing water. That is indeed the case, but caustics turn out to be a really interesting physical phenomena that have impact in a wide range of domains from dark matter and gravitational lensing around stars, to sound (the “whispering gallery” effect), understanding the ionosphere, non-destructive testing, and the interpretation of remote sensing images. From a photographer’s point of view, they are also important in how we see the rainbow, mirages, and the interaction between curved architectural glass and light.
Sarine at Hauterive: Caustic traces to show movement
Eden at Shoregill Abstract
Caustics may be defined as the envelope of light rays that have been reflected or refracted from a curved surface and projected onto a surface where they can be visualised.
This is not actually new, the first known drawing of such a caustic ray tracing is actually by Leonardo Da Vinci (that man again!) and dates from around 1508. Leonardo’s drawing is similar to that we see when sunlight is reflected from the side of a teacup onto the surface of the tea in it.
They can be generated quite easily for different light sources and surfaces using the modern computer visualisation technique of ray tracing that is used widely in computer graphics and games.
This is not actually new, the first known drawing of such a caustic ray tracing is actually by Leonardo Da Vinci (that man again!) and dates from around 1508. Leonardo’s drawing is similar to that we see when sunlight is reflected from the side of a teacup onto the surface of the tea in it. Other common examples are the often complex patterns of light passing through a glass of clear water onto a tabletop, and the patterns on the surface of a swimming pool when the surface is disturbed, as famously represented in the “Underwater Swimmer” image of André Kertész from 19174 and some of the Californian pool paintings of David Hockney. Sometimes we will see both the surface caustic and its reflection from the bottom of the pool or stream. With modern computational algorithms, it is possible to do ray tracing for a wide variety of complex lighting situations, including the generation of caustics in rendering surface water surfaces5. It is even possible to “reverse engineer” caustics. Work at EPFL at Lausanne in Switzerland has shown that a specially designed acrylic sheet can be used with a light source such that the resulting caustics give a clear image on a surface (they reproduced a photographic portrait of Alan Turing in their demonstration).
Leonardo Da Vinci, drawing of a caustic, ~1508 (British Library, codex Arundel 263, folio 87v)
Rainbows are another nice example of caustics at work. We all learned at school how rainbows result from the refraction of light and internal reflection in raindrops. Since different wavelengths of light are refracted by slightly different angles6, incoming sunlight is split into the spectrum of visible wavelengths and the resulting rainbow will be seen most clearly when the observer is at 42° to the direction of incoming light from the sun, especially if there is a large black cloud in just the right place for a good photo possibility….. In fact, most rays of light pass through the raindrops with little impact; it is only those that cross on leaving the drop that creates a caustic to give the intensity of the colours and the clean separation at the edges. The caustic surface or caustic sheet separates the region where rays of light cross and the light is concentrated, from those where they spread giving a darker region.
Rainbows are another nice example of caustics at work. We all learned at school how rainbows result from the refraction of light and internal reflection in raindrops.
For certain sizes of uniform raindrops, diffraction effects can also kick in7, resulting in extra supernumary rainbow arcs8, though to see more than one is rather rare (except perhaps in the fine spray at certain waterfalls – WR cameras and lenses recommended!).
There is a whole book devoted to caustics by John Nye, Professor of Physics at Bristol University (he is also an expert on the structure and properties of ice and glaciers)9. His latest scientific paper, published this year, is on Symmetrical Optical Caustics (note that Prof. Nye was born in 1923!). In his book, he notes that the study of caustics and the diffraction phenomena associated with them has revolutionised the study of optics, with a mathematical foundation being laid down by the developments in catastrophe theory by the French mathematician René Thom and others. A caustic surface is effectively a form of separating surface analogous to the catastrophe surfaces in the theory.
With the advent of catastrophe theory it is realised that there is hitherto unsuspected organisation in such patterns….. Nature also has its way of focussing light, but it is rather different. In nature there are few approximations to point foci; those that do occur are mostly in the eyes of animals, where nature has been aided by biological evolution. Rather, when light from a distant source passes through a refracting medium the natural result is the concentration of rays on to bright caustic surfaces. Even when the light is monochromatic, closer examination reveals that the caustics are not perfectly sharp but are softened by being decorated with characteristic diffraction structure…. Thus there is a whole spectrum of scales to be explored, with each increase in resolution revealing new structure.~ John Nye, preface to the book
Nye shows that at the macroscopic level (much greater than the wavelength of light), the scale at which we normally photograph, the stable objects are the caustics. There is a theorem from Thom that proves that there are only five distinctly different forms in up to three dimensions10. At finer scales, each of the five caustic forms has its own diffraction pattern, providing structure as the magnification increases (see Sarine at Hauterive: Bright Stars below, where there is a diffraction fringe around the main caustic).
In 1977, Michael Berry, one of Nye’s colleagues at Bristol had shown that these fine scale patterns can be fractal in nature, with all the rich complexity of structure that implies. Berry and Nye identified a problem, however, in that many caustic patterns in water show triple junctions that do not appear in the simple catastrophes. This was explained in the later work by Upstill11 who showed the complexity of caustic patterns that could arise by having two sets of surface waves intersecting at an angle. Such waves can be generated by the wind or other disturbance, and wave reflections from a boundary (such as in a swimming pool) or the turbulent vortices generated over a rough stream bed. Fractal optics is now a subject area in physics in its own right but the fine scale structures will generally be invisible to the macroscale photographer. What we can see are the caustics (and perhaps some lens diffraction) and their changing patterns over time. Nye has shown that small dynamic perturbations can result in changing patterns, albeit based on the same basic forms.
Sarine at Hauterive: Bright Stars (Reflection Caustics with Diffraction Patterns)
For the macroscopic caustics, we can use ray tracing to try to visualise the type of patterns we might expect in shallow water for a simple case with some waves on the surface, lit by the sun directly overhead. This can lead to some caustic sheets beneath each waveform as a result of intersecting refracted rays in the water (diacaustics), and to reflection caustics (catacaustics) when the waves are at just the right angle to reflect light to the eye or camera lens. Reflection also results in the light being polarised, which is why a polarizing filter can be so effective in reducing glare from water surfaces. These two situations are demonstrated using ray tracing in the figures for refraction and reflection, but it is necessary to remember that what the eye or lens sees will be only the rays reaching their small aperture to be recorded by whatever sensor lies behind it. Thus for the case of refraction caustics, we will normally see the light scattered from the caustic by the bed back towards the eye (and refracted again as it leaves the water).
Movement of the surface waves through which the light is passing will cause the forms of the caustics to persist but the location to shift. In some cases, small scale perturbations of the moving surface will mean that specular highlights can appear and disappear at the same place. This can give the appearance of sparkling on the surface. The situation in shallow water can be further complicated by caustics resulting from the reflection of rays from an irregular bottom surface interacting with other rays. Full sun on a water surface can, therefore, exhibit a number of different types of caustics, due to reflection, refraction from the surface and reflections from the bed that might all be seen in an image. These will be the bright highlights in the image, but there will also be colour, a result of reflections of the sky and surroundings from the water surface (sometimes called skypools and landpools12) and illumination of the bed (at least where the water is clear enough).
Eden at Shoregill (Landpools, Skypools and Caustics)
The images below represent the sum of all these effects. There are different types of caustics and reflections shown. Caustic highlights are sometimes playing across the surface as both points and patterns. Surface reflection caustics tend to lie in the depressions in the surface, where rays of reflected light will cross and concentrate the reflected light. This can occur between linear ripples on the surface. Refraction can lead to dynamic grid like patterns crossing the stream bed induced by the undulations in the water surface above.
Colours are a mix of reflected light and the transmitted colours of the bed materials. Larger patches of white highlight will generally be from the reflected sky rather than caustic sheets. Some colour fringing associated with the caustics can also sometimes be seen (see Eden at Stenkrith: Refraction Caustics and Edge of Pothole). This is a form of strong chromatic aberration resulting from the wavy surface acting as a rather poorly designed lens. Refraction causes the focusing of different wavelengths at different points on the exit ray pathways towards the eye. It is perhaps a little ironic that something that we would normally wish to avoid in purchasing a lens, can be rather attractive in an image of a water surface.
Film tends to handle such highlights with smoother transitions but the increasing dynamic range of newer digital sensors is making it easier to bring back underexposed areas.
Exposure of caustics in these images can be difficult. Exposure to the right so as to avoid clipping of caustics can result in underexposure of the rest of the image using both film and digital sensors. After all, they represent concentrated light. When the highlights are moving, a slower shutter spread can spread the load across the sensor area. This can be advantageous in getting streaks of highlights to focus attention on the dynamics of the flow; it can be disadvantageous in smearing patterns of highlights unless aiming for a more abstract pattern of colours. Aperture can also be important, since the smaller the aperture then the greater the effects of diffraction (something than can also be used to good effect in producing sunstars). Exposure is usually, therefore, some form of compromise and acceptance of some clipping. Film tends to handle such highlights with smoother transitions but the increasing dynamic range of newer digital sensors is making it easier to bring back underexposed areas.
Even after many years of experience, these types of water images remain an experimental process. Sometimes they work, sometimes not. The advantage of digital in that respect is that there can be immediate feedback on the choice of aperture, shutter speed, ISO and any filters used. Having said that, some of my favourite images have been taken on film, particularly Fuji Reala when it was still available (Eden at Stenkrith: Refraction Caustics and Edge of Pothole is one). I am, however, happy that the challenge is still there and will keep me occupied for still more years to come.
Sarine at Hauterive (Caustics over pebbles)
Eden at Stenkrith (Refraction and reflection caustics and Edge of Pothole)
Eden at Hell Gill (Skypools and caustics over rock and algae)
Sarine at Hauterive (Caustic Sheets and Reflected Sky)
Versasca at Lavertezzo (Patterns of caustics over rock surfaces)
Versasca near Brioni (Caustics over a stony bed)
Verzasca at Lavertezzo (Caustics over smooth rock with quartz intrusions)
Verzasca at Lavertezzo (Caustic Textures, colours from rock bed)
Sarine at Hauterive (3D caustic patterns, small skypools)
Verzasca at Lavertezzo (dry rock, caustics in shallow flow, deep water)
References
[1] Quoted in M. G. J. Minnaert, 1993, Light and Color in the Outdoors, (English edition), Springer; originally published in Dutch in1937, with a 5th edition in 1968, with some modifications arising from an earlier translation into Finnish!
[5] See, for example, Foley et al., 1996. Computer Graphics: Principles and Practice, 2nd ed. Addison-Wesley.
[6] Perhaps you remember Snell’s law of refraction? That dates from 1621 though Michael Berry in his 2015 paper on Nature’s Optics in the journal Contemporary Physics points out that this law was derived independently by Descartes in his 1638 explanation of the rainbow (but with some wrong underlying assumptions), was known to Harriot in 1602 well before Snell, and to Ibn Sahl some 500 years before that!
[7] Diffraction is the bending of light around a sharp edge or through a small aperture as the result of interference in the wave like nature of light, resulting in dark and light banding. The effect depends on the wavelength of the light and the size of the aperture (hence the longer arms of sunstars when a lens is set at small apertures). It occurs with all types of waves, including waves on a water surface.
[8] Michael Berry’s paper is worth looking up as it contains a fine photograph by Roy Bishop of a bright rainbow, secondary rainbow and supernumary diffraction rainbows curving over the birthplace of Isaac Newton. Nothing like being in the right place at the right time with a camera to hand! He points out that this is somewhat ironic in that Newton was not able to explain the supernumary rainbows in his optics. The effects were known at that time due to the work of Grimaldi but Newton suggested that they were due to the inflexion of the paths of the light rays. A full explanation required the wave theory of diffraction which came later, particularly after the work of Thomas Young in 1803 and Augustin-Jean Fresnel in 1825 (he of the Fresnel lenses used in focusing screens and to reduce the length of telephoto lenses).
[9] J. F. Nye, 1996, Natural Focusing and Fine Structure of Light: Caustics and Wave Dislocations, IOP Publishing. There is a transcript of an interview with John Nye as part of the British Library’s National Life Stories archive at https://sounds.bl.uk/related-content/TRANSCRIPTS/021T-C1379X0022XX-0000A0.pdf
[10] These are the fold, the cusp, the swallowtail, the elliptic umbilical, and the hyperbolic umbilical (see Nye’s book or the chapter on Natural Focusing by Michael Berry in The Artful Eye edited by Gregory et al., Oxford University Press, pp 311 – 323). There are some nice illustrations of various forms in Berry and Upstill, Catastrophe Optics: Morphologies of caustics and their diffraction patterns, that can be found at https://michaelberryphysics.files.wordpress.com/2013/07/berry089.pdf
[11] C. Upstill, 1979, Light caustics from rippling water, Proc. Royal Society, A365: 95-104
[12] See David K Lynch and William Livingstone, 1995, Color and Light in Nature (2nd Edition), Cambridge University Press, Section 3
Supposedly photography’s place in the world of art has been established for decades. But is it really? Or is it merely a certain type of photography that is even considered as such?
My recent visit to the Museum of Photography in Berlin made me wonder. The almost complete absence of landscape photography left me somewhat disappointed. The only exception was a couple of tiny Alfred Stieglitz prints and even those could only barely be counted as such. Of course, the location is not only the Museum of Photography. Two thirds of the exhibition rooms belong to the Helmut Newton Foundation and are arranged accordingly. Therefore, finding mainly a certain type of photography should not have been surprising. Only the third storey is being used for a variety of exhibitions from all photography genres by the Photography Collection of the Berlin Art Library.
The Newton Foundation is currently exhibiting works from the private collection of Carla Sozzani. There were many portraits, some fine artworks for example by Sarah Moon or Duane Michals and a seemingly endless amount of fashion photography. Additionally, there were the mentioned Stieglitz prints and one Edward Weston print if I remember correctly. My disappointment may be a bit unfair because of the general concept of the exhibition and also because for a long time fashion photography had a rather hard time to be accepted in the art world as well. Nevertheless, I couldn’t help it.
My disappointment may be a bit unfair because of the general concept of the exhibition and also because for a long time fashion photography had a rather hard time to be accepted in the art world as well.
The Art Library exhibition covers artist portraits throughout the 20th century. So as not to be misunderstood, it was a wonderful collection of photographs showing many fascinating artists and I really loved seeing it.
Still, I could not help feeling that often times photography has sought validation as art through the portrayal of established artists like Picasso, Frida Kahlo, Andy Warhol, Georgia O'Keeffe. Those were just the most portrayed artists of the exhibition, some of which I had already noticed in the Carla Sozzani collection as well. Many of these portraits are several decades old and therefore do not necessarily express a current trend. Their prominent presence can likely also be explained by exhibition politics, simply because certain artists will always draw in an audience.
After seeing the exhibitions, I went into the well-equipped bookstore of the museum. Again, I noticed hundreds of books on fashion photography and portraits, many books portraying high society and artists, some architecture and street photography, but very little landscape photography. There were one or two Ansel Adams books, one Edward Weston, Andreas Gursky of course, Sebastiao Salgado's 'Genesis' and at least the wonderful 'Landmark' book by William A. Ewing and 'Reading the Landscape' by Olaf Otto Becker. There were a couple more books by unfamiliar photographers, but compared to the total amount in the shop there were not many.
Despite all the logical explanations for the absence of landscape photography in this particular location, my lingering disappointment made me ponder the role of landscape photography in art and its status in general and I started some internet research.
Browsing through the online exhibition archive of the Museum of Photography, there does not seem to be much place for landscape images in general. During the last 14 years, there were exhibitions on street photography, architecture, war photography, portraits and nudes and yet again more fashion photography. I believe I have found only two exhibitions in the archive that can be classified as landscape photography, one by Michael Ruetz in 2014 and another by Sigrid Neubert in 2018.
America generally seems to have a greater appreciation for landscape photography as art. The American identity seems to be very much connected to the American landscapes.
I then went through the website archives of other photography museums and established art galleries worldwide. I can't claim to have done an in-depth research on this, but my impression was that the situation seems similar in other photography museums and galleries in Europe. Browsing through photography on Google Arts & Culture I came upon the collection of the Amon Carter Museum of American Art. This one stuck out. I love how photography sits comfortably between traditional paintings and sculpture in this gallery, online at least. I have not visited the place of course. America generally seems to have a greater appreciation for landscape photography as art. The American identity seems to be very much connected to the American landscapes. Likewise, from early on landscape photography has been closely connected to the naturalist movement and the impact of photography on the establishment of national parks cannot be disregarded.
In Germany, the kind of landscape photography you see in art galleries still seems to be based very much on the traditions of the ‘New Objectivity’ art movement which was largely represented by the Bechers’ School of Photography in Düsseldorf. Andreas Gursky being the most well known photographer from this school. Unfortunately, this is the kind of photography that leaves me personally largely unaffected, with one exception by the name of Elger Esser. However, he seems to have parted ways with the concepts of his companions and teachers for the most part, because his work is decidedly not objective. For me, art and objectivity exclude each other and the attempt at objectivity always seems affected and merely disinterested to me.
There are numerous other contemporary landscape photography trends, among which we've got the ‘Instagram-adventure-hiking-boots-and-glowing-tents photographers’, the ‘candy-colour-atomic-glow-luminaters type of photographer’, the ‘moody-black-and-white-only-square-loving-long-exposure photographers’ and then there are those I mostly see in 'On Landscape' or the German magazine ‘Forum Naturfotografie'; photographers who seek a more laid-back, authentic and personal approach towards landscape photography.
Despite the cheek, I find that there are some wonderfully creative and original artists (and also many more imitators) in each of these groups. However, none of these currently seem to have a place in established art galleries.
Possibly the overabundance of contemporary landscape photography on the internet contributes to a certain decline of the value of landscape photography as art in general and maybe it will just take a couple of decades to filter through the landscape photographers whose work is strong and expressive enough to pass the test of time.
At least we still have small local galleries like the Joe Cornish Gallery who strive to present landscape photography as something other than the daily Instagram image overdose.
Still, I’d love to see something similar like the aforementioned American museum in Europe, e.g. a landscape art museum, a place where images by Eugène Atget could be seen in the same exhibition as paintings by Monet, Turner and Friedrich. There are galleries exclusively for portraits after all and they sometimes show photography in addition to paintings, the National Portrait Gallery in London for example.
Still, I’d love to see something similar like the aforementioned American museum in Europe, e.g. a landscape art museum, a place where images by Eugène Atget could be seen in the same exhibition as paintings by Monet, Turner and Friedrich. There are galleries exclusively for portraits after all and they sometimes
I have to admit I have struggled quite a bit with this article. Not only have I not done much writing during the last 15 years, but I also feel that I have largely failed to understand the current directions of contemporary landscape photography in the chaos that is photography on the internet. Especially getting a feeling for differences between European countries seems impossible through online-only research, which is why there are few references to those.
I’d love to read what others think on the topic and where you see your own work in all of this. Are exhibitions important to you? Would you like to see more of your favourite contemporary landscape photographers or your own work in established art galleries or do you dismiss those as an elitist and commercial environment?
Personally, I cannot see my photography in galleries, neither established art galleries where my style would not be suitable for the current perceived art world climate nor local photography galleries for which I feel my work is not cohesive and mature enough yet.
So far, I had one image in a nature photography exhibition and for the most part, I just felt embarrassed and like a pretender. Perhaps I have to grow some more confidence to be comfortable in an environment like that, but for now, I just want to grow as an expressive and more creative photographer. Luckily I don’t depend on my photography for an income and I don’t need exhibitions to woo potential clients.
Sandra Bartocha is a professional photographer & editor from Germany, lover of light, forests, the sea ... good coffee and everything visual. She loves combining still and moving images with the specific aim of creating images that evoke an emotional response. You can read our Featured Photographer with Michela Griffith from August 2016.
On self expression, creativity and the essence of landscapes
The aim of photography is all about conveying the mood and sense of a place to an audience. Sandra Bartocha is going to explore those terms on the basis of her own path in photography and her latest project LYS.
Some people who make art are driven by inspiration, others by provocation, still others by desperation. Artmaking grants access to worlds that may be dangerous, sacred, forbidden, seductive, or all of the above. It grants access to worlds you may otherwise never fully engage. It may in fact be the engagement—not the art—that you seek. The difference is that making art allows, indeed guarantees, that you declare yourself. ~Ted Orland and David Bayles
An article I read recently proclaimed to have resolved the ever-contentious topic of “manipulation” in photography. Rest assured, this is not another article about that topic, I just found it useful to illustrate a point. In truth, I only read the article because the author is a photographer I respect, and I hoped to find some new wisdom in his writing, which I did. Ironically, what I found likely is the opposite of what the author had intended. The article’s primary argument is this: people who see a photograph and later visit the place where the photograph was made, expecting to see this place as it appears in the photograph, and instead finding it different, may feel “cheated,” and therefore “manipulation” of photographs is unethical. It is in recognising that both the premise and, consequently, the conclusion of that argument are patently wrong, that I found some useful wisdom.
Nicki’s photographs are some of the few I can instantly place when I see them online. She has a beautifully lyrical and soft way with her images that suit her new found home in Orkney.
Being as she has only lived on the island for a couple of years, she has produced some fantastic work and this particular book, printed on Orkney as well, focuses on the flowers and grasses on this windswept land.
Snowdrops, heather, cotton grasses, daisies, buttercups, orchids, ragged robin, sorrel, scabious… such a range of beautiful meadow flowers on such a windswept island. Nikki has distilled all of this into a range of images that deserve the title ‘dreamtime’.
If I was to say anything negative about the book, it’s that there are runs of images that work well in a sense of flow in browsing the book but they might not work well as a set of individual images. If you appreciate a book as the cumulative effect of the images passing by like a film, then this matters not. If you want every image to work on its own, you might think there are a few weak ones and a tighter edit would work. In the latter case, I’d wait for a while as when Nikki produces a broader view of the island I think we’ll be in for a treat.
Hans Strand already has one book published about Iceland, the very lovely “Above and Below”. Why, then, does he need another one?
Well, he’s not short of photos for one and I get the feeling he wasn’t particularly happy with the first book. I think this was an attempt to lay the Iceland publishing demons to bed for once. When I asked to buy a copy, Hans pointed out that it’s a little large and may cost more than the average book just to deliver it. Not being averse to spending on photographic publications I went ahead and underwent a little weight training in readiness for the postman. I’m glad I did as the end product is over 9lb in weight and each double page spread is about 2ft wide (29cm by 37cm)!
I spent a good afternoon perusing the images and I’m not sure whether I’m impressed or disappointed. On the one hand, the images included are great and it’s nice to see some new ones, particularly the snowfield images. However, as an owner of “Above and Below” I already have many of my favourite ones in that publication. However, the size of the book doesn't half impress and there are many magnificent images that I hadn't seen before!!
One of the problems, which may well be a personal one, is that nearly all of the images therein are double-page spreads, which I’m not a fan of - dividing each image with a fold and forcing a crop to fit are something I would prefer to avoid. In a book this large, the individual page images are more than large enough for most images also. Still a personal problem I imagine.
I know I’m a critical viewer though and a few people have been impressed with the publication when they’ve dropped by and if you’re a big Hans Strand fan (with equally big pockets and arms) then this is probably a must buy. If you want a well produced book in a more modest size, have a look at “Above and Beyond”
You can buy Hans Strand’s "Island" from Amazon Germany for 98 Euro.
I picked up Nick’s book without any expectations of what the book would be. Having made locations guides myself in the past, I knew that trying to make every image a compositional classic is missing the point of a photography guidebook and could be said that it robs the reader of the chance to find classic compositions themselves and subliminally tells them what to take photographs of.
After an excellent start to the book showing the safety, accessibility and local knowledge aspects of walking in the mountains (i.e. Where to get a good breakfast!) the book’s core content is a series of high-level mountain walks, with viewpoints selected along the way. These aren’t necessarily just big hill bimbles either. The Snowdon Horseshoe walk, including Crib Goch, isn’t for the faint of heart, especially carrying a camera bag and tripod. Most walks are more accessible though still ‘strenous’, especially on a winter’s day. The “moderate” walks still over 8 miles and 2000ft of ascent!
The photographs included have been chosen to show the context of the mountain and parts of the walk and as such are mostly more literal than artistic but they are just what you need in a guidebook to show you the lay of the land and hint at the potential of each viewpoint chosen. The text description of each stage of the walk is excellent as well. A good description of the impediments you may encounter and often less exposed alternatives.
I’ll certainly be using the book when I make a trip to the area next year and if you have a passion for the Welsh mountains you won’t go too far wrong in this book
You can buy the book directly from fotoVue for £25
p.s. If you find yourself feeling like you can’t manage one of the big mountain walks, there’s a bunch of roadside bimbles described in the last chapter - Bonus!
If you’re an older photographer, you may remember the original ‘The Making of Landscape Photographs’ and ‘Seeing Landscapes’ books that Charlie produced in the 1990s and if you do then, like me, you would have enjoyed reading his descriptions of how he found and constructed the photographs therein.
Well, Charlie has created many photographs since then and has put together a compilation of the best of his older work and the best of the newer work into a new ebook that tells the story behind each photograph. The end result is a compilation that underscores just what a great and varied photographer Charlie is and shows how his characteristic use of light runs through all of his work.
Included are 70 high-resolution images (approx 1600px dimensions at a reasonable jpg compression - they look fab as a double page spread on a high-resolution screen) each with about 600 words of description and with photograph metadata included at the end of the book. It’s a pleasure to peruse and for the £10 cover price, you would be hard pushed to find something better to while away a few hours.
You can buy the book as a digital download directly from Charlie’s website.
Having been asked by Tim Parkin to write this months End Frame, My first thought was. Who? You see having been a working photographer since 1990 I view an image as a commodity, something you sell to make money. I usually only view images from the fact. Is it doing its job? There are very few landscape photographers who's work I enjoy, and that's not to say there are people making some wonderful pictures out there. I lay my blame flat squarely in the lap of the Internet.
From an art's point of view there are many images that impart a feeling, whether that be of joy or recoil. One of those photographer's that seems to allow my creative energies to grow is Australian photographer Bill Henson.
He is one of Australias most admired and respected artists. His work is represented in every major Australian, and many of the world's leading museums and art galleries. In fact it was the purchase of two of his book's this year that inspired me to go and make some urban landscape pictures that have just been published in the US. Funny how things work out, as I don't see the way Bill does. I just enjoy his eye for light and how he reveals it to us.
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.
Submit Your 4x4 Portfolio
Interested in submitting your work? We're on the lookout for new portfolios for the next few issues, so please do get in touch!
Over the past 2 years, I reviewed and became fascinated by multiple still images and videos of the Scoresby Sound in Eastern Greenland. An `11 day photography expedition into the longest fjord in the world with periodic landings sounded ideal. It did not disappoint. Sweeping vistas, landscapes of some of the oldest rock on Planet Earth, icebergs of innumerable shapes and sizes, including a spectacular crystalline iceberg, Northern Lights, Arctic flora and fauna, all bathed in the special autumn Arctic light were a photographers dream. From pre sunrise to late at night the photographic opportunities were unending.
I'm very fortunate to have Strensall Common Nature Reserve just a fifteen minute drive from home, and only a couple of miles northeast of the York A1237 bypass.
It's a fabulous large lowland heath where pink heads and grey green leaves of cross-leaved heath intermingle with the purple spikes and green foliage of ling heather. There are common lizards, mixed woodland areas and so many beautiful silver birch trees.
"Keweenaw" is a Native American word that means "portage or place where portage is made". The Keweenaw Peninsula is the northernmost portion of Michigan's Upper Peninsula. It projects into Lake Superior and is formed from tilted strata of volcanic rock that form both the Keweenaw Peninsula and Isle Royale. The ancient lava flows of the Keweenaw Peninsula were produced during the Mesoproterozoic Era as a part of the Midcontinent Rift between 1.096 and 1.087 billion years ago. This volcanic activity produced the only strata on Earth where large-scale economically recoverable 97 percent pure native copper is found.
The Keweenaw has called to me since I first visited the region in 2012. With its pastel sky's and dark rocky shores it's a landscape of great tonal contrast, a true Yin and Yang.
My work in this region has mainly focused on the rugged strata that form the shoreline, however, there is a softer, warmer side to be found in the Keweenaw as well. Lush greenery can be found in its forests and along its waterfalls and lakes in the interior of the peninsula. A great feeling of solitude and calm fill my soul when I am alone in the Keweenaw and its ancient topography and tonal contrasts draw me in every time I walk its shores.
Much of Canada is covered in prairies, and while this might not sound like the most exciting of places for a photographer to shoot, these particular photos beg to differ. Taken on Nose Hill, Calgary, a well known natural area which also happens to be one of the largest city parks in North America, these pictures show off the many unique photo possibilities you can find in prairie landscapes if you’re willing to look for them.
Each photo also strives to encapsulate each of the four seasons. In some pictures, I tried to go as close to my subject as possible, but others I felt that taking a simpler, less complex approach to my photos would be better.
Another feature I’ve experimented with is using an oil paint adjustment filter in Photoshop, as you can see in the first picture. Combined with the sea of flowers, it creates an interesting, albeit subtle effect that isn’t immediately apparent but still leaves an impression on the viewer while smoothing out the rougher, less photogenic details of the trunk and grass.
A lot of people would be surprised at the amount of variety you can find in a prairie, but with some creativity and passion, you can get some spectacular pictures.
I've been following Trym's work on Facebook for quite some time and it's nice to see work from such an iconic place as Lofoten but through the eyes of a 'local'. I hope you enjoy his photography as much as I do.
Can you tell me a little about your education, childhood passions, early exposure to photography etc?
I was a very visual child. In the evenings my mother came to give me a hug before I fell asleep, but I was in my dream/fantasy world and had no time for her cuddling. I wanted to go back to my adventures and journeys. But she had a small darkroom and this is where I got exposed to black and white, putting objects on the photo paper, exposing and then developing it. Very intriguing.
At the age of 16, I was given 20 rolls of Ektachrome 200 by a painter friend of the family. And the first time I looked at a developed colour slide film, a new world opened to me. Since then I have loved to photograph and that's 40 years ago this year. I got my education at Brooks Institute of Photography in Santa Barbara, California. It was a commercial school. But I was fortunate and had a chance to work at Friends of Photography in Carmel, where I met many great photographers and saw their work.
What are you most proud of in your photography?
Difficult to say. But I made a book about the Reindeer People in Norway, the Sami people. It was the most selling book in the region where they lived, in Finnmark for two years. I was told it made the Sami people proud about their own culture.
With over 30 books to his name, Charlie Waite’s distinctive images are recognised around the world and his work has received wide critical acclaim over many years. A recent article in the Royal West of England Academy of Art Magazine featuring Waite’s work commented ‘Waite’s landscapes are rare perfections of light, colour, and composition, and offer the viewer a luxuriant portrait of a planet at peace.’
In 2000 Waite was awarded the prestigious honorary fellowship to the British Institute of Professional Photographers. Read our interview with Charlie Waite back in 2014 talking about the background to the year of the print exhibition in The Mall, London.
Behind the Photograph
Charlie was the opening speaker at this year's Meeting of Minds conference in Penrith. His talk was on an investigation into what the landscape photographer needs to attempt to invest into the photograph to draw a favourable and positive response from its audience.....
A central feature of my art practice is my interest in history and humanity. The landscape is often used as a backdrop to express an environment in a contextual way, or simply as an imaginary space, such as when I construct a composition of plant life on my light-sensitive paper. I have always used an experimental approach as my starting point. On reflection, I have recognised this from my early days as a mixed-media painter through to the alternative photographic images that I produce today. I find that the simple method of utilising camera-less photography with chemicals and sunlight fulfils the same needs and nurtures my curiosity for the historical.
The photogram allows the observer to identify familiar objects and shapes, yet offers aesthetic values that are often intriguing. I have enjoyed reading Shadow Catchers: Camera-less Photography by Martin Barnes. He brought to my attention an interesting fact that pioneer William Henry Fox Talbot continued to produce photograms, or ‘photogenic drawings’ as he would like to call them for many years even though he had discovered image-making using a camera. The book also reminded me of a quote by Talbot that totally sums up my feelings ‘It is a little bit of magic realised’.
As a landscape photographer, I’m really interested in transitions – whether they’re physical, such as shorelines where land becomes water, or simply changes in weather conditions. The most intriguing of these shifts in conditions is the transition between seasons – those coveted few weeks when one becomes another. For me, (and for many other photographers) these moments can provide the most interesting of conditions and turn a mundane scene into something really special.
Dawnon Derwent
As the heat and harshness of summer gives way to the decay of autumn my excitement levels rise. These are the times when warmth and moisture of the day collides with the cool air of the night, ideal conditions for the formation of mist and fog. Whereas most people might wish to stay tucked up in bed on a misty morning, I’m out of bed early ready to capture the best of the conditions. If you’re willing to brave chilly mornings, especially during the change in the seasons, you can be sure you’ll be rewarded with some beautiful, atmospheric conditions.
The colours of autumn
Each year during autumn, I make my way up to the Lake District, where there is such a variety of landscapes and scenery that it’s sometimes overwhelming. There are some spots that I’ve come to know well and they are especially beautiful when the colours of autumn take hold. Some of my most memorable mornings of photography have occurred on the shoreline of Derwentwater, surrounded by swirling mist, still waters and the pastel colours of dawn.
Line of Light Derwentwater
As a photographer, there are many mornings of disappointment permeated with images I’m never likely to share because they aren’t quite up to standard, so when I get a morning when all the conditions conspire I try to make the most of it. This, of course, means I frantically rush from location to location, putting into practice all the skills I’ve honed through each unsuccessful photographic trip.
When you’re viewing an image on a non-calibrated monitor, you’re not viewing the true image – the colours might not look how you intended them to, and you may be missing crucial shadow detail.
Reproducing accurate colour
When I get back to my laptop after a morning shoot it’s important that the colours I witnessed on location are replicated accurately on screen. Of course, any camera struggles to reproduce a scene perfectly when compared to how adaptable and versatile our eyes are at distinguishing between colours, tones and contrast. When you’re viewing an image on a non-calibrated monitor, you’re not viewing the true image – the colours might not look how you intended them to, and you may be missing crucial shadow detail.
Derwent Harbour
Getting it right from the get-go will mean you’ll minimise the amount of work you need to do in post-production and this starts with a calibrated screen. Being able to envision a scene on the shoreline during a sunrise, capturing the moment and seeing it come to life on the screen and subsequently in print is ultimately very satisfying. Ensuring I have the right tools to facilitate this process, therefore is invaluable and adds another layer to my workflow. With the right colour management equipment, I can make sure the monitor on my MacBook Pro is always calibrated to perfection in an attempt to get as close to how my eyes saw the scene during the moment it happened.
Making colour management a key part of your workflow, therefore, is essential if you want to avoid this disappointment. It’s a lot easier than you think and will ensure you maintain all the key details of your photo, saving you time and helping you avoid over-editing. This becomes even more important when printing work for customers or exhibitions when you want to be sure the subtle tones in your images are faithfully represented. I can be sure that my images are a true-to-life representation of the transitional light and colour that took place during those beautiful autumnal months.
Verity uses Datacolor Spyder5PRO when calibrating her monitor to achieve accurate colour in her work.
Tim interviewed Doug Chinnery way back in May 2011 (you can read the original interview here). At the time, Doug’s biography mentioned that he had a particular interest in the transformative opportunities of landscape photography and there is certainly a striking difference between the images that article featured and his attempts to balance head and heart – the demands and expectations of his commercial clients and his personal fascination with more experimental techniques including camera movement and multiple exposure. Now the personal has the upper hand and has proved to be commercial too, with the workshops that Doug offers, many with Valda Bailey, proving so popular that the two have set up baileychinnery to offer workshops, tutorials and a print service for photographers. So while there is potentially more to catch up with than we can fit into a short interview, here’s a taster.
Have your tastes in photography changed at all, or what you find inspiration in? (Either in terms of your own work, or what you enjoy looking at.)
This is an interesting question Michela. My tastes have changed hugely in the last few years and this is reflected in my work. I have always enjoyed and spent a lot of time looking at the work of others – enjoying discovering new photographers and finding inspiration. Like so many, in the past, this meant looking mainly at more classic landscape photography much of the time. However, I have found my interest in this genre has significantly waned in recent years. Why this is, I’m sure, is down to a couple of things.
Firstly, there is so much of it these days – and for me, it has become rather generic. I do feel everyone should make images in the way they want and of what they want. Photography should bring the photographer joy. But for me, both looking at and making this type of image was no longer doing that. Social media is awash with sameness. There seems to be so little striving for putting something of the photographer into the image. It is more about making images which are like everyone else’s.
Secondly, on a personal level, I have found I am seeing the world in a different way. I now spend far more time looking at art (and I use that term in this instance meaning images made without a camera – paintings, drawings, and ceramics). I am particularly drawn to the abstract impressionists, the impressionists, the cubists and so on. From this, I have found my own image making has been hugely influenced and all of my work is now abstract in form.
It has been 4 hours since I left Edinburgh’s Airport and snow has been falling since then. My little Toyota rental is struggling on the windy roads across the Scottish Highlands, along the lochs and across the snow-covered passes. The light is from another world, the atmosphere surreal; coming across an elf or a fairy would feel like a completely normal encounter in this place…
It is somewhere around 9:00pm on the 27th of December 2017 as I cross the bridge and leave the mainland for a few days. Welcome to the Isle of Skye!
Elgol Peninsula
As the sun rises behind the clouds on that first morning, I pick up my gears and head towards the Cuillin Hills. My plan for the week is to explore as much as I can on the island, discover its beautiful nature and culture, and try to absorb as much as possible of its soul and atmosphere to translate in my pictures.
I had in mind the picture of a cold and windy island, of waves crashing on the shores; I was picturing long-haired cows and sheep pasturing in green fields, little fishing boats mooring on little protected bays and white little cottages on the shores surrounded by rocky outcrops and wild land. And rain, lots of rain!
As I left home with that preconceived idea, I decided the emotions of this trip would be best reproduced in black and white.
As I left home with that preconceived idea, I decided the emotions of this trip would be best reproduced in black and white. So here we are, this trip will be about translating my emotion through the harsh rays of sunlight and the soft feelings of the cloudy days…
The Cuillin is a little mountain range on the south end of the island culminating 3200ft above the Loch Brittle. Yesterday’s snowstorm has dusted a good layer of white powder over the peaks of the range, and with the thick cloud cover of the day, the landscape is almost already in black and white! The little road from Broadford near the entry to the island takes you to the very end of the Elgol Peninsula. My first Scottish one-lane two-ways road! Combined with the left-hand driving, this makes it for an interesting experience…. Ok, I get how the crossing bays and narrow road system works now, we are off!
Snow dusted Cuillins on the first morning
The way down the peninsula is incredible, the eastern faces of the Cuillin on the right, the sea and mainland on the left, many opportunities to stop and head-off the beaten tracks for better pictures... Along the way, I come across a herd of Scottish Highland cows, typical to Scotland, protected from the cold by very long woolly hairs and wearing beautiful wide horns. Further along, it’s an old Celtic cemetery of abandoned tombs stones carved in granite that appears around the corner. I am starting to get seriously impregnated by that magical atmosphere!
Further along, it’s an old Celtic cemetery of abandoned tombs stones carved in granite that appears around the corner. I am starting to get seriously impregnated by that magical atmosphere!
The landscape from the southern end of the peninsula opens up on a wide windy bay where the waves come crushing on the jetty of a tiny fishing port. From the rocks around the port, the view over the snow-capped mountains across the bay is breathtaking!
The Cuillin have so many exploring opportunities, so many trails, so many little lakes, rivers and hidden gems! The following day, I head down the Sligachan Valley on the western side of the mountains. A road through the middle and a house or two here and there; a great feeling of wilderness as I drive down to the photo locations I spotted on the map earlier… Rivers, waterfalls, mountain lakes, trails dominating the ocean, I don’t know where to start… One way to explore this island is with a good pair of hiking boots, a waterproof jacket and a rain cover for your camera bag.
Portree, the main town of the island, is a cosy village built off the shore about half-way up the island where a little fleet anchors between the fishing campaigns, bringing back crayfish caught on traps at sea. The wooden houses on the wharf have that little something of a step back in time creating a romantic and contemplative atmosphere.
Old Man of Stor
After a good coffee in town, time to head North of Portree toward the Quiraing mountain range. From afar, those mountains look like a giant plateau with a sharp needle clearly detached on its eastern side; The Old Man of Storr. Created by an ancient landslide, the Storr is an upright rock pinnacle that can be seen from miles. Very popular hike, that needle is a 180ft high rocky outcrop standing alone on the edge of those mountains, overlooking the horizon and protecting them from unwanted visitors. Follow the coast until the northern most accessible point and explore the side roads, coves and tiny villages (each one has a little boathouse, a dry-stone wall or a little cottage that make for beautiful images) until you get to Uig. From there, a road in the Fairy Glen Valley will send you deep inside a world of fairies, of trolls and Magic! Explore a little and you will find the traces of their latest appearance!
On the way back to Portree, cross the Quiraing range through the eponym pass, up a steep windy road that can be closed during winter. From the pass, the harsh sunrays beaming through the clouds on the mountain range, the lakes on the foothills and the ocean make for a very dramatic atmosphere.
Kilt Rock Waterfall
Just before you head back to Portree, stop-by at the Kilt Rock & Mealt Falls. On a full moon night slightly shaded by passing clouds, the falls dropping 180ft in a single continuous flow from the lake directly onto the sea give once more a surreal atmosphere to that location.
My vision of Scotland and the Isle of Skye was also made of sheep and whisky.
Head west towards the Dunvegan area and take a drive all the way to Waterstein Cape and Neist Point Lighthouse, another very classic photo opportunity at sunset. On the way there, you will most likely be stopped by a herd of Scottish Blackfaced sheep resting across the road with no intention to move out of your way. Patience is key in photography! And it makes for a great photo opportunity.
As for the whisky side of the island, the Talisker Distillery is a bit further south along the coast. During your walks, you most likely will come across some tidy little piles of what looks like mud bricks at first. After a closer look, you will realise these are carefully selected bricks of peat; that ingredient from the mountains giving such a unique taste to some of the best whiskies.
There were the grey skies, the stormy winds, the cold rain, but most of all there were powerful lights and strong contrasts depicting perfectly the rich culture of that land, the long history that built it and the strong characters of the people living here.
Neist Point Lighthouse
As I look back at the island one last time, I go through the experiences and feelings of a week of peregrination. I did have the preconceived idea of a land beaten by cold strong winds and heavy rainstorms coming from the ocean. I had in mind grey skies, low contrasts landscapes.
Well it was quite different indeed! Yes, there were the grey skies, the stormy winds, the cold rain, but most of all there were powerful lights and strong contrasts depicting perfectly the rich culture of that land, the long history that built it and the strong characters of the people living here.
Winter on the Isle of Skye, or discovering the true soul of a Scottish island…
One of the things I realised when Charlotte kindly invited me to write an End frame article was that I probably do not have one single favourite image. There are, however, several photographers I admire and whose work has both inspired and influenced me on my own journey in photography. This I presume will be the case for most On Landscape readers. Many of the photographers I admire will be familiar names to Onlandscape readers, and one of the most important for me is Paul Wakefield.
The first time I was exposed to Paul’s work was when I years ago bought a National Trust book titled “Coast” which in addition to Paul Wakefield’s work also features images from David Noton and Joe Cornish, the latter being the main contributor of images to the book.
Coast contains many beautiful images, but it was Paul Wakefield’s image on the front page with a view from Irelands County Down beech towards Mountains of Mourne that made the strongest impact on me. This was an image I felt transmitted a very strong sense of the place with its dramatic sky with clouds partly obscuring the mountains and motion blurred marram grasses in the foreground.
This image led me at some point to Paul’s Internet homepage showcasing both his personal work as well as some commissioned work. While studying Paul’s work there was a point when I realized that these were landscape images shot under conditions where there was never any direct sunlight on the scene. I was almost in shock. Paul was making very strong images working almost exclusively in light conditions which I in my inexperience at that time found more or less impossible to work with.
Studying Paul’s images it became clear to me that I had slowly but surely placed myself in a straitjacket of chasing what Sweden’s Hans Strand calls “hallelujah-light” at the extremes of the day. If the weather did not meet certain criteria I would simply stay home. I had somehow developed an unhealthy tendency to previsualize what I was going to shoot even before I left my house. If the weather or the scenery did no turn out the way I had previsualized – and unsurprisingly it rarely did - I would all too often block up creatively and head home with a feeling of frustration.
Paul’s images became a turning point for me. Amongst the lessons I learned was that soft, diffuse light can be an essential ingredient to bring out the subtle tones and small details in an image.
The Landscape is a great narrative of Paul’s work and a quiet and meditative tour de force showing that Paul is equally at home photographing the grand vista, the intimate landscape, abstractions and always with great quality and a stunning ability to master visually complex scenes and transmit a strong sense of the place.
For the first time, I realised that I had to work with the light and the conditions mother nature provided. It was immensely liberating, and it not only changed the way I see; it completely changed my approach to making images.
In 2014 when Paul released his latest book, The Landscape, I bought it without hesitation. And I was not disappointed. The Landscape is a great narrative of Paul’s work and a quiet and meditative tour de force showing that Paul is equally at home photographing the grand vista, the intimate landscape, abstractions and always with great quality and a stunning ability to master visually complex scenes and transmit a strong sense of the place.
So while I initially stated I do not have a favourite image there was one image that kept popping up in my mind when thinking of an image for End frame. It is the image featured on the front page of Paul Wakefield’s The Landscape: The Isle of Rhum taken from the Isle of Skye.
The image has been shot in the upright format – for which I feel the aspect ratio of the 4 x 5 view camera is so well suited – and it enhances the feeling of depth in the scene. There is a sense of drama and even a touch of melancholy in the soft yet dramatic light being just sufficient directional and beautifully orchestrated in order to bring out the details in the foreground where strong lines draws the viewer into the scene. The colour palette is subtle and consists mainly of shades of grey with tones of green algae and there is just a touch of warm light in the otherwise dark and dramatic sky sending its rays down to the distinctive silhouette of the Isle of Rhum.
For me, this is a classic seascape showing how Paul works with the light and it is an image that creates a great sense of the place and invites you to study it in detail. It is the kind of image I could only dream of creating and would be more than happy to hang on my wall.
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.
Submit Your 4x4 Portfolio
Interested in submitting your work? We're on the look out for new portfolios for the next few issues, so please do get in touch!
The aim of the project was to understand and then visually interpret Andersen’s almost mosaic-like way of seeing the world around us. His short stories and fairy tales remotely resemble musical improvisation of scat singers. As if you were turning a diamond with thousands of reflective faces. Andersen begins a sentence in one topic and ends up in another, freely switching between open talk and descriptions, leading the story forward, constantly inviting you to his imaginative scenes. Individual shots were taken in Luhačovice, Štramberk, Štiřín, Copenhagen, Odense, Helsingor, Bisserup. Partly, I was looking for the emotions of the selected Andersen stories hidden within these landscapes, partly I was following his home addresses, that might influence him. I was greatly impressed by Nyhavn Harbor in Copenhagen, where Andersen lived in three different addresses. The collection won 2nd place at MIFA – Moscow International Photo Awards 2017 and 3rd place at IPA – Los Angeles, International Photography Awards 2017.
How do I approach the project? And what about Exupery? What is the goal of the project?
The ambition is the same, as with the previous two projects - to try to imagine, how Exupery would look around the world if he looked through the camera. How would these pictures look like in order to reach similar quality as literary texts? How would “Courier to the South” take it, how the “Citadel” builder and how “Little Prince”? What would they notice about, what they would capture, and how they would edit the photo, to get the same experience as Exupery's reader? Nothing more, nothing less.
I come from the fact, that each writer wrote on the basis of his own life experience. And at first, I want to understand, what influenced them. What were the moments, that have been repeated in their works over and over again in various forms or attitudes? So I do not care about the illustrations for a particular book, but the storytelling style, the values of life, the preference and the way of building a plot. Breakthrough moments.
Mostly I will start searching in biographies. Where a particular author lived, where he went to school, which street or city could have influenced him because he spent a significant part of his life there. So I get a list of places physically existing. In the case of Exupéry, this is especially the place of his childhood and adolescence, to which he has a deep relationship - Saint Maurice de Remens, Saint Raphaël, Fribourg - the places that bind to his aviation "trance" - Orconte, Cabo Juby, Amberieu - which either remained tied to emotionally strong experiences or where his works were made - Fleurville, Bevine House. And of course I try to get there and take pictures, not everywhere, but a few places fit. I dare to say now, that for Exupéry in my submission, it will be mainly Saint Maurice, Amberieu and Fleurville (well I still have to think about flying over Cabo Juby ...).
In addition to physical locations, I will always try to define virtual sites. So those, who are representatives of the dream landscapes, that I see when reading Exupery's books. Photographs of such places can then be created anywhere. In the case of Exupery, it will be about valiant mountains, tall trees, big skies, sand and pebbles, harsh palms, paradoxes straightened and scattered, catechism and rituals, aeroplanes in the dark. And maybe there will be stars and roses, but maybe not. So I read again at least the Courier to the South, the People's Land, the Citadel, and the Little Prince.
The book "Antoine de Saint Exupéry in Pictures and Documents," by Alain Vircondelet, using the archives of Consuelo de Saint Exupéry, served as the biographical basis and start of Exupéry. As for editing and techniques, it still needs to be matured. In any case, I already know that compared to the previous two projects, Exupéry will be much simplified and more concentrated. Much more important for me will be the way of presenting and printing photos, their processing, including the choice of material - here I am going to mourn a lot of myself and the chosen company because I have quite a clear idea of the desired result :-).
Well, and when the project is done, I like to praise him on the On Landscape magazine here. But it will not be until 2019.
Most of my photography is about where I live. There are some woods a mile from home, Grovely Wood, where I go for walks with the camera. The woods have many old Beech trees, some with historical stories attached to them, which is why it's also where we go for walks as a family or with friends.
The conditions for nature and landscape photography at my place of residence on the outskirts of Berlin are not optimal. It was only a few years ago that I realized that even small areas in the city that are largely unspoilt can be worthwhile motifs for nature and landscape photographers. For some years now I have been photographing regularly on my way to work.
The way leads through a suburb of Berlin and past a small valley. A small stream flows through the valley and there are small meadows, woods and old trees. The area I photograph is small, maybe as big as 4 football fields. Meanwhile, I know the area very well, know when the sun is in which position, where which flowers bloom when to mow etc.
Because all this is not very spectacular, I rarely came up with the idea to photograph here regularly. But it is a big advantage to be able to photograph in an area almost daily over a long period of time. This way of photographing opens up good opportunities to improve one's own skills. For example, it is useful to observe how one's own photography, one's own view of things changes over the course of several years. Beside pure nature and landscape motives, I also try to show the coexistence of nature and city in some pictures. In the course of the years, the number of pictures depicting the localities has decreased. Increasingly, I include multiple exposures or over- and underexposures in my work.
I believe that by regularly dealing with one and the same area, I can also improve my ability to photograph in the much more natural and spectacular landscapes of Northern Europe. The next holiday will definitely come...
Autumn is always a stunning time of year to explore the woodland. As the seasons change, the light changes along with a beautiful explosion of colour. To wander amongst the trees is always a pleasure and a great way to take time out. Photography can be explored at a slower pace taking in the atmosphere and sounds that a woodland offers, looking for compositions that are often unique.
Making an order from chaotic scenes can be difficult and the challenge is what appeals to me. I have found using a square format helps me create images somewhat easier narrowing down my viewpoint, this collection of images are an example of that, captured in a local woodland I regularly take walks.
Most people who know me know that I have a bit of a thing about books, photography books in particular. I’ve accumulated about four Ikea Billy bookshelves full of landscape photography related books and new ones get added on a regular basis. However, many of the books just aren’t that great (although they may contribute something to my understanding). Finding a book that combines inspiring photography with a ‘journey’ of some sort is uncommon. So I'm always on the lookout for a book with something extra.
When I spoke to Alex Nail about his work a few years back, he kept saying “Oh I’ve kept a few photos back for the future”. I hoped then that he might be planning a book and given the quality of the pictures he wasn’t holding back, I had a strong feeling that it was going to be a “good ‘un”.
I’ve known Alex Nail for a while now, I can’t remember when we first met but it was probably sometime after I started seeing his amazing Dartmoor sunrises in around 2010. We included Alex as Featured Photographer in 2011 and he also wrote an article about the weather which featured the North West of Scotland from what was only his second visit to Assynt and included three images that would make their way into the book.
What stood out in our first chats about photography was Alex’s passion and commitment to landscape photography. Anything he considered doing was done to the Nth degree. Camping was planned to the gram, walks and viewpoints assessed in advance with software and research to create the best opportunities. His own ‘code of ethics’ on what was ‘right’ verged on obsessive. We would talk for hours about the edges of honesty and manipulation.
While some of these conversations might seem to some as ‘inane’ or pointless, they are the surface evidence of a deep thoughtfulness about photography
Every year, whenever it came round to competition results, there would be the inevitable dissection of who was stretching things a bit far, why this or that cliche was a crutch, how social media was changing people’s opinions on what true photography was.
It’s true that Alex has calmed down a bit since those days but he still has a fire for the ‘right thing’, as evidenced by a recent debate hosted on the “F-Stop Collaborate and Listen” podcast with Erin Babnik.
While some of these conversations might seem to some as ‘inane’ or pointless, they are the surface evidence of a deep thoughtfulness about photography and one only needs to look through the book to see the evidence of this deep self-consistency in his work.
Behind the scenes, though, Alex was building a portfolio of images ready for “something”. I’m not sure when this something really took shape, I’m imagining it must have been around four or five years ago, but it must have been compelling to have such a large number of pictures from one area and to think “what can I do with these?” Alex has told me that one of his inspirations was Joe Cornish’s “Scotland’s Mountains” which sets such a high target for quality. From this point on, Alex started “keeping back” some of his best pictures from each trip. I can’t imagine this was easy but it’s fair to say that he wasn’t short of great images to post on social media regardless.
Alex has told me that one of the things that set “Scotland’s Mountains” apart from other mountain photography books was its sense of narrative and the way it immersed you in the experience of the mountains. Some of the classic mountain books can be a little formulaic - get to the top of the mountain for dawn/dusk and shoot a pano. Alex wanted his book to have some of this sense of the adventure and experience of the land.
I have to admit to having a sneaky preview of the book before most other people. Alex and I have been chatting about the printing and books for a while and when it came time for Alex to create this book, I was happy to help where I could. Unfortunately, Alex’s first trip to the printers was a disaster. The printer company itself did a fantastic job but the paper that was used had a serious manufacturing problem and the whole print run had to be scrapped.
Fortunately, this was actually the best thing that could have happened. You see, when you go to a printer, you typically get three different standards of proofs for your images. The first is a digital proof, which is just a digital file showing how the ink and paper might affect your images. This is something you can do yourself in Photoshop if you have the printer and paper profiles etc. The next level of proof is an inkjet proof. This is a high-end simulation of what should happen on the press, printed on a calibrated inkjet printer. The most advanced simulation though is a ‘wet proof’, where an actual metal plate is made from your image file and the image printed on the press itself just as it would be in the final production. However, wet proofs are onerously expensive and in some cases people might have one or two done but most people just skip them completely. However, if you really want to know what the result will look like, this is the only real way to go.
Alex’s luck is that through this failed print run, he had wet proofs of a large number of photographs in his book. Alex used this opportunity to ‘remaster’ all of his prints based on these 'proofs', fixing some of the colour casts, opening up and desaturating the shadows a little and making some local tweaks here and there, especially to the blues - one of the more challenging colours in CMYK printing.
Fortunately, on the second run of printing, things came together and the final result was significantly improved because of this delay.
So What of The Book
Although I’d seen all of the images in the book while sitting with Alex at my house, whilst doing final checks between the two print runs, it’s not the same as getting the final printed copy in your hands. All of Alex’s worries about the quality of both the print and the work itself could now be put behind him, the result meets all expectations.
The Binding
There are two aspects to the binding that are important. Firstly, there is the way that the cover wraps the book and secondly is the tension and quality of the binding of the folios (the groups of pages within the book) and stitching of the spine itself.
The cover of the book is really the chance to make a first impression and Alex’s choice of a classic cloth hardbound presentation with subtle, embossed gold titling creates an expectation of classic, understated quality.
The binding of the folios and spine can, quite literally, make or break a book and whoever bound this book (I believe it was Deanprint in Manchester) did a brilliant job. The book almost lays flat naturally without having to ‘crunch’ the binding but the tension still holds the spine shape after a good browse.
The Print Quality
I’ve written extensively about print screening and quality before now and have compared many books to get an idea of what constitutes quality and Alex’s book is about as good as it gets without esoteric approaches. There is no annoying textures in high key skies, no pooling of ink in deep shadows, no halo sharpening, etc. The print just does what it’s supposed to do, get out of the way and let you enjoy the pictures.
The Content
To really enjoy a book, I like to spend my time and read it cover to cover. I’m normally too impatient to manage this on the first or second glance and so for this review, I went back, found a well-lit armchair and let an hour slip by, allowing myself to be (hopefully) carried away to the North West.
For as much as Alex says that it is the literal representation of the landscape he favours, he does have a way of framing, a consistent interest in mountain shape and curve and a restraint that has it’s own character.
My hour passed in a blizzard of Highland scenery, each an individual gem but together creating a very personal view of the area. For as much as Alex says that it is the literal representation of the landscape he favours, without forced foreground interest and with processing done so well that they don’t look processed at all, he does have a way of framing, a consistent interest in mountain shape and curve and a restraint that has it’s own character. I have quite a few mountain books on my bookshelf, from landscapes of a much greater stature than our ‘mediocre’ peaks, but few of them have a consistency like this.
Then again, a series of great mountain images can become tiring, even the best of them, so it’s good to have changes in rhythm throughout. Alex’s stories about his encounters in the hills provide just this, giving some idea of trials and tribulations, as well as the pleasures, of his journey. You don’t get bonus points for difficulty in landscape photography but this narrative certainly gives some hints that these are far from your typical roadside encounters.
What struck me while looking through these images and through reading about his adventures is best represented by his choice of ‘Guest’ for the introduction to the book. Instead of a landscape photography luminary or a magazine editor or gallery owner, Alex asked Chris Townsend, someone you probably won’t have heard of unless you’re a dedicated walker or mountaineer. You see, Chris is a professional wanderer; a man of the mountains; an adventurer, just like Alex. Alex makes this point halfway through the book where he states that, at the start of his adventures he saw himself as a photographer first and the backpacking merely as a supporting role. Now he considers the two equals, he is a “member of both tribes” as he puts it.
David Clapp reviewed the book last week and did a lot more eloquent job than I have. He pointed out something that many people forget. The vast majority of people who start landscape photography have dnoe so out of a love of the classic landscape photograph. They were inspired by the likes of Joe, Colin and David’s depictions of sublime landscapes and it's unlikely that they weren't blown away by some of their depictions of our Northerly mountains. Many of them probably did their best to create their own, similar depictions but most realised very quickly just how difficult it is, not just in photographic terms but in the persistence and energy required to consistently create them.
Alex has taken those difficulties, both photographic and strategic, and revelled in them and in doing so produced the first in what I am sure will be a series of classic landscape photography books that will, in turn, inspire more photographers.
I can highly recommend this book to any photographer who has ever expressed an interest in mountain photography and I can also strongly recommend it to anyone, photographer or not, who takes pleasure walking our islands unique hills and valleys.
You can buy Alex's book direct from his website for £36.
Fleeting first impressions; Malaga’s concrete, graffiti and adobe all crumbling together at midnight, the original Mediterranean melting pot, blood hot and briny humid. The next day; a terraced hill town, a poet's spring town, hardware stores and hotels, farmers and old ladies, where the children leave for the sea and the cities. An early morning drive on the edge of the desert, bridges and springs and storm cut gullies into sandstone bulwarks. The smell of fresh pine at 2000metres, anaemic. The smell of wild thyme freshly drenched from a hail storm, fragrant. Lime green cactus grass, rust red dust, silvered micas, shattered schist. Feeling the weight on the first full day of walking, finding my feet on the second. Space, the wind and a thirst, before the rocks and the weather reared up to slow our passing.
If photography is above all about developing a habit of noticing, then a long, strenuous walk is one of the best ways to be present. Physical graft, time out of mind, helps to clear out the clutter and noise. The job of the walk is not to get you to the finish.
If photography is above all about developing a habit of noticing, then a long, strenuous walk is one of the best ways to be present.
Think that and you’ll always be wanting it to be over, and never happy in your bones as you drag them and your pack over the next lump. No, the job of the walk is to get you to be really there, in the moment, every moment. Those moments are grains of sand; they only ever happen once. We should pay attention to all of them - especially when we aspire to work in a time-based art form.
Put another way, it's the journey that counts, not the destination. Personally, I think that applies to photography too. If I were really present, all the time, maybe I wouldn’t need to take pictures at all, save that the habit of framing helps me slow down for long enough to help me notice, to help me see. But I digress, and we’ve barely begun…
As part of our Meeting of Minds Conference held at the beginning of November in Penrith, we held a community exhibition. Every delegate was invited to submit an image for the exhibition.
If you walked into the gallery at the conference during the breaks there was a real buzz, and that’s exactly what we wanted. Delegates talking to each other about their photography. A few people suggested we should have a prize for the best picture but we really wanted to make sure this was a democratic sharing of images, not a competitive environment.
One of the nice things that we saw this year compared to the last event is that people have chosen images that are a lot more personal to them. There were very few ‘cliche/icon’ locations or images and the exhibition was so much more interesting for this.
A big thanks go to Fotospeed who printed and mounted the delegates prints, the presentation and quality of the printing was outstanding and the assignment of paper choice to photograph was very nicely done.
On a more functional level, having a photograph of the delegate next to the print with a paragraph of narrative about the picture was useful, both in order to help delegates to find the photographer but the text also provoked part of that conversation that we found so engaging.
We have created a PDF of all the images which were submitted to the community exhibition. Our thanks go to each of our delegates for supporting the conference and for making it such a brilliant event.
We would also like to thanks Susan Rowe, who proofread every submission and to Matt Lethbridge, David Unsworth, Anna Booth, Richard Earney, David Knight and other volunteers for helping with the installation of the exhibition at the Rheged. Finally to David Eberlin for taking the photos of the exhibition for us.
Click on the cover below to open the PDF or right-click and "save as" to save a copy to your computer. The file is approximately 150Mb.
“Everyone’s gone to Iceland” as the ad for a certain UK store says, and if they haven’t yet, they probably want to. It’s hard to think of another country that has captured the collective imagination over the past decade in quite the same way.
I’ve read that Iceland did have good tree cover (estimated at 25-40% prior to settlement in the Iron Age) and also that as much as 40% of the land is considered as (wet) desert as a result of volcanic depositions and soil loss. It’s interesting that we are all so enamoured of a landscape that is much altered from what would have been its natural state. Perhaps more broadly we delude ourselves that we are looking for, and at, natural landscapes when much of the appeal may simply be due to the fact that they are so different from the ones that we are used to.
Thomas has lived in Iceland for just over 20 years now and is perfectly placed to share some insights into his adopted home, as well as talk about his own photographic evolution away from the kind of images that we typically see of his adopted homeland.
What first brought you to Iceland and how long have you been living there now? How has life changed during that period?
In February 1993 I met my Icelandic wife during a snowstorm in Akureyri. Akureyri is the second largest city in Iceland and located on the north coast, close to the Arctic Circle. I was at that time making a roundtrip around Iceland, starting in the Westfjords and travelling via plane and bus around the country. I bet I was the only tourist at that time. During the connection flight from Egilsstadir (east) to Höfn (south), after entering the small aeroplane, I was asked to close the door to the two seat aeroplane – the pilot and me. This was my second visit to the country. I had been there on a holiday 1991 and loved the summer time but I wanted to experience winter as well, with its ice, the darkness and the very much wanted northern lights. After writing love letters back and forth from Germany to Iceland we decided to move in/ live together so my wife packed her bag and moved to Germany.
I have been an obsessive-compulsive landscape photographer since 2012. Living on the very edge of Dartmoor has meant that I have spent most of my spare time when not at work as a vet, or trail running, scouting the park for new locations or compositions.
Dartmoor is very much a working landscape with much of it devoted to or relies on farming in one way or another, and although best known for its tors, and perhaps its prison, there is much more to this national park than meets the eye.
I guess I put myself in the category of a traditionalist landscape photographer. I have dabbled in the odd seascape, a bit of astrophotography and the odd bit of long exposure but we often gravitate to what we find most visually pleasing. and for me, this is golden light, a captivating vista or nice atmospheric optics like rainbows or the odd fogbow.
Of particular interest to me are misty and foggy conditions, perhaps not only for their visual splendour but also for the challenge, to be in the right place at the right time. I also enjoy capturing many scenes as panoramics.
Of particular interest to me are misty and foggy conditions, perhaps not only for their visual splendour but also for the challenge, to be in the right place at the right time.
Many of my fellow photographers have encouraged and supported me to present my body of work as an exhibition. I’ve often heard photographers saying that curation is the most challenging aspect for them, when exhibiting their work, and I would certainly agree. It can be hard to choose your favourite images, and be objective, but also perhaps have your audience in mind especially when you are also selling your work; There is much more to Dartmoor than just big chunks of granite’.
This is the culmination of my last 6 years work and a celebration of perhaps the lesser known areas of both the uplands and lowlands. As time goes on your tastes change, your compositional skills (hopefully) improve and perhaps your images become a bit more thoughtful. Most of the images I have chosen are from the last 3 years.
The collection of 40 images range from snowy scenes, colourful sunrises to rolling farmland and historic villages and the odd misty vista of course!
The prints are on display at the Dartmoor National Park visitor’s centre Tavistock Road, Princetown, Yelverton, Devon, PL20 6QF and is open to the public from 10am to 3.30pm Tuesday to Sunday. Entry is free.
We’re all in a constant state of transition; moving through time, one breath to the next, one place to another, day after day. The anticipated pleasure of arrival is a measure of how much we’re looking forward to our next destination. We pursue leads of interest, following threads of experience, striving forward with hope, optimism and energy. As in life, transitions are one of the most important tools in photography, and in this article, I want to look at what they are, their origin and types. In Part II, I will go on to explore how our perception of images, how we relate to them and the messages they are sending are controlled by what I call Attention Gradients and the Awareness Fulcrum.
What are Transitions?
Simply, a transition is a change from one thing to another, and in landscape photography, the eye of the viewer will follow these transitions. The creator of the image should be mindful of these movements and the aesthetic differences between areas of interest within the frame. Everything that is confined by the four walls of an image is relevant and there to be seen: You cannot place a sticker with “don’t look here!” over an area you don’t want people to notice. What you can do though is use two powerful alternatives to achieve the same thing, in a less obvious way, and we’ll see later in Part II that Luminosity and Contrast are our most powerful allies.
The effective use of transitions can lead to greater feelings of engagement, satisfaction and interest. Furthermore, they can enhance movement, energy, resolution and intent. I’d be hard pushed to think of anything in Landscape Photography more important than transitions.
In Black and White photography we have only Luminosity and Contrast. The first term, luminosity, really deals with how Light or Dark something is and refers to both global and local variance
Types of Transitions
In Black and White photography we have only Luminosity and Contrast. The first term, luminosity, really deals with how Light or Dark something is and refers to both global and local variance. I prefer the word Luminosity over the more mundane Brightness, as it is simply more Illuminating. In an onomatopoeic sense, it feels joyful, and in the emotional spectrum of photographic communication, luminosity is our catalyst of interest.
Sometimes you think you've got things so right and yet, when you look at the result, you realise that something has gone significantly wrong. In the last issue I published the results of a series of test on graduated filters, even though I had a few doubts about the results. I didn't think the results were necessarily wrong, but they weren't showing something useful in the context of our landscape photography. If you're interested in the why's and how's of the testing, just have a read past the results and conclusions.
Results
OK, I've spent enough time analysing these graduated filters for colour that I'm happy to come to some general conclusions. I've worked out a colour difference between the clear part and the ND part of each filter (averaged across the ND zone of the filter) and this is given in terms of "Delta E 2000", a term used in printing to denote the difference between two colours in 'human' terms. Values of over 1 are 'visible' if placed next to each other. Most high-end printing companies consider any values less than or equal to 3 to be an acceptable colour match.
Below you can see a list of colour 'errors' for all of the filters tested. There's a lot of data, so I've sorted them from 'best' to 'worst' in terms of colour error. Please bear in mind that the density makes a difference. A denser filter is harder to create so try only comparing similar densities.
Finally, I averaged the two most important filters in my tests (the two stop hard and three stop soft) and came up with this table of brands.
Brand
Delta E
Std Dev
Lee
1.1
0.7
Kase 1.1
1.3
1.2
Kase
1.8
0.2
Zomei 85
2.1
1.6
Sirui
2.5
0.0
Haida RD
2.5
0.3
Wine Country
2.5
0.6
Nisi
2.6
1.0
H&Y
2.8
0.5
Benro
3.0
0.7
Breakthrough
3.5
1.7
Firecrest
3.5
3.6
SRB
3.5
3.6
Haida
4.0
2.4
Progrey
4.8
3.3
XC Source
5.1
4.2
Cokin
5.8
0.4
Zomei
7.1
1.4
84.5
9.9
5.4
You could get very OCD and say that anything more than 1.0 is noticeable but in the field, I would suggest that anything under 3 is going to be accurate enough that nobody would see the difference.
As you can see - for all that the original Lee filters is made out of resin and is an 'old' technology and it leaks infrared, etc. it actually produced some of the best results of the whole test. The three stop filter in particular was amazing in that it showed 0 colour error that we could measure!
One of the real surprises was the "cheap as chips" Zomei 85mm filters. I bought an 8 pack of filters, four grads and four ND filters and a holder for £18, and they turned out to be pretty damned accurate. So much so that they beat many filters 10x the price (in fact, 80x their price if you break down the cost of the package into individual filters).
It's worth taking a look at the results panels below as well as some of the filters may have scored OK but you can see that they have variable colour across the gradation.
The Nisi filters were an example of this going from Cool to warm across the top part of the filter. The Nisi also had an odd gradation, getting less dense at the top of the 0.6 hard like some peculiar reverse grad.
The Lee 0.6 hard grad also had this slight colour difference around the transition area, with the colour getting less accurate (cooler/cyan) just at the boundary. Each Lee filter is hand dipped so this may well be variable depending on the process.
NB: The 0.6 Hard Kase filter was replaced during the test as it was an older version with a very hard edge. If people want to see the data for this I'd be happy to send it to them. Also the order of the results in terms of brands is unchanged. The old filter had a colour accuracy of approximately 2.2 and the new one 1.8.
Caveats!
Now there is a reasonable caveat on most of these results that says I didn't test a large sample of filters apart from Kase. The cost of doing so would be massively prohibitive and getting some of the manufacturers to lend me anything was quite hard. But, I'm confident that the results of the test are generally indicative.
However, my next task will be to take all of these filters outside and shoot a landscape with them. Am I looking forward to that!!! err... (55 test shots! The filters weigh more than camera, lenses and tripod!)
Geeky Stuff
OK! You've shown an interest in the real geeky stuff! I mentioned in the prior article that I was using a high-end flatbed scanner, a Fuji Lanovia, to scan the graduated filters. The scanner has been calibrated during each scan to ensure the results are "accurate'. I also used a spectrophotometer to measure the colour transmission of the grads using a professional Just Normlicht lightbox.
Sadly, both of these devices, the lightbox and the scanner, use fluorescent light sources and despite them being very high-end fluorescent lamps, they still don't accurately model daylight and so I knew I had to do the tests properly.
As it turned out, it's a good job I did as the results were quite substantially changed in some cases.
This time around, I based myself in our conservatory and waited for a stable, fairly clear day with hardly any wind (and in the Highlands, they are few and far between) and made three separate tests.
1) Using a Greta Macbeth i1 through a diffuser (a Capture One, lens cast calibration plate) I measured the spectral transmission of the filters
2) Photographed a i1 Colorchecker illuminated by indirect, diffuse daylight through both the clear part and the ND part of the graduated filter using a Sony A7R3
3) Placing each graduated filters against the diffuser up against a window, I photographed the filter using a Sony A7R3
I had to ensure that the camera results were calibrated correctly and created 'untwisted' colour (many camera profiles have colours that vary with brightness - obviously a bad thing for our tests).
From these tests, I created a panel of results, an annotated example of which is shown below (in this case for the densest Zomei 100mm filter - a particularly bad filter).
I've aligned the reproduction of the graduated filter with the graph of density to make this a lot easier and intuitive to read. I've also added the hue and error graphs to this graph so you can see how the colour changes across the gradation (check the annotated chart for a key). The top left shows the colorchecker with embedded squares to show the tinting effect of the dense part of the graduated filter. Finally we have the spectral analysis of the filter alongside a 'theoretical colour' based on a perfect D65 illuminant (I used the software "Spectrashop 5" which gives you this colour alongside the spectral response).
Other Articles in Series
If you missed the other articles on the Graduated ND Filter Testing:
So here we go - for those of us with too much time on their hands, here's a compilation of all of the tests done as noted above. First of all here's the key to each panel again.
and then a dump of everything!
Other articles in this Graduated Filter Test series
And now for something entirely different. There are plenty of end frame articles (and for good reason) where the chosen image has been like a cherished friend, something well known for many years and returned to, often. I have many such favourites that would instantly spring to mind. But my choice for end frame may well buck that trend and is a more recent “find” from the expansive photography repertoire of Sir Wilfred Thesiger (b.1910 – d.2003), perhaps one of the last century’s greatest travel explorers - and one who may be known more for that fact than his photography.
A scant awareness of Thesiger’s middle eastern travels sufficiently piqued my curiosity to attend a curator tour at the Said Business School in Oxford for a recent exhibition, “Contrasting Arabia – Hotel Zaatari & Wilfred Thesiger” where a dozen or so of Thesiger’s images were on display (including the chosen image for this end frame submission). With Thesiger’s well-known admiration for the peoples he lived with and photographed, the exhibition - mostly portraits but some landscapes too - was seeking to make a contrast between the peoples and cultures Thesiger encountered with the harsh everyday life of Syrian refugees (as captured by modern day photographers). My personal preference was for Thesiger’s imagery which struck me as natural and unburdened by the resonance of current day experiences.
Everybody likes an adventurer and I guess most would like to travel more than they currently do. With more time on my hands, perhaps this is what caused a re-awakening of my interest in Thesiger, a desire for a sense of adventure with my camera. Thesiger’s work certainly does resonate strongly - a sense of wanting to see and experience the places he has captured with his camera.
Before turning to the chosen image of this article, a brief introduction to Thesiger might be merited. It would be an injustice to call Thesiger an old-school T.E. Lawrence type with a camera but his extensive travels throughout Africa, Arabia and Asia in the 30’s through to the 60’s, prior to the more recent transformational changes of revolution and conflict in some of those regions, have been brought to life by Thesiger’s 35mm Leica film camera. While Ansel Adams was laying down the foundations of black and white photography in the wilds of the great national parks in America, Thesiger was rampaging around the deserts of the Middle East, particularly the Empty Quarter, an environment so hostile to life that few had traversed it. Anybody who attended the coronation (by invite) of Haile Selassie was destined to have a colourful life it seems, and Thesiger certainly lived up to the expectation. Upon his death in 2003, an inheritance tax settlement with HMRC allocated some 38,000 black and white negatives to the custody of the Pitt Rivers Museum in Oxford –an important photographic archive saved for posterity.
Thesiger, a largely self-taught photographer, realised that he could bring to life the incredible scenery he witnessed and the peoples whose cultures he respected and cherished.
Thesiger, a largely self-taught photographer, realised that he could bring to life the incredible scenery he witnessed and the peoples whose cultures he respected and cherished. With the need to travel light (sounds familiar?!), Thesiger kept it simple – Leica film camera, fixed length lens, black and white film, yellow contrast filter and the occasional use of a polarising filter, all carried in a goat-skin bag. Images were handheld without the use of neutral density graduated filters. On occasion, films were left unprocessed for over a year. Unburdened by the many considerations of the modern-day photographer, and having a trust in and familiarity with, a camera set-up that a lifetime experience had brought, Thesiger could focus on the subject composition and the capturing of light/shade to enhance that composition. And what astonishing and varied images he produced. Over time, Thesiger had become a highly-skilled photographic artist.
The geographical remoteness he consciously sought out has ensured that Thesiger’s impressive photographical archive is a treasure trove of portraits and landscapes that are almost unrecognisable in the modern era. It was a breath of fresh air to see something entirely new - whether subject matter composition or photographical style. I marvelled at the chosen image of this article when I saw it for the first time and continue to marvel at it now as a quickly-ordered print now hangs on my study wall as I write this article. Thesiger’s strongest suit is undoubtedly his portraits and his “greatest hits” collection - containing both his portrait and landscape work – are brought together in a single volume, Visions of a Nomad (Collins, 1987). I would certainly recommend this book for those who are further interested.
Between 1951-57, Thesiger found himself in Southern Iraq. A short trip intended for a fortnight’s duck hunting found him eventually staying in the marshes of Southern Iraq for nearly 7 years. At this stage, no European had lived amongst the Marsh Arabs (or Madan), an indigenous people who lived in reed houses built on small man-made islands. Trees in Gale is an image produced during Thesiger’s stay here - taken near Hamar in 1953, a year reputedly of great floods in the region with floodwaters six feet deep and covering the desert on the western edge of the Marshes.
The simple graphic detail of the image is immediately eye-catching; I was drawn to the composition as soon as I glimpsed it out of the corner of my eye - if I were present, I would certainly have been drawn to make an image. But there were no tripod holes where Thesiger travelled and many of these regions have been much changed by the cultural and political revolutions of the last 60 years. The image solicited an immediate response from the viewer - I wanted to be there, looking through Thesiger’s viewfinder, seeing what he was seeing - the light of a passing storm is often unique and I doubt that Thesiger confined himself to a single frame capture at this location.
Copyright Pitt Rivers Museum, University of Oxford (2004.130.3751.1).
It’s not immediately apparent but the foreground female figure, seemingly struggling against the wind, is actually walking towards the camera. The recently-purchased print more clearly shows this; my initial inkling (all subconscious) was that the figure was walking away (from the camera), leaning into the wind. Good separation between the trees (certainly a deliberate compositional choice) enhances the composition; the addition of the lone female figure gives a human interest (on which we know Thesiger was so keen) and a sense of scale. It’s a simple image but in a world of saturated imagery (for which I also plead my guilt!), this has a dynamic freshness and has whetted my appetite to stray beyond typical holiday destinations and visit more exotic climes.
The palm trees straining in the wind, with a frond just detaching at the point of image capture, belie the strength of the gale force wind. Thesiger, in his books, recounts how he does wait for the right moment to take an image (these are not simple record shots), so we are encouraged to know that the timing of capture is deliberate and intentioned.
The palm trees straining in the wind, with a frond just detaching at the point of image capture, belie the strength of the gale force wind. Thesiger, in his books, recounts how he does wait for the right moment to take an image (these are not simple record shots), so we are encouraged to know that the timing of capture is deliberate and intentioned. The deeps greys on the horizon and the highlights on the water perhaps show the storm has just passed and the strong sunlight (nicely silhouetting the trees as we look at the image) introduces deep and pleasing contrasts into the image – it’s all about the angularity of the now water-submerged trees as they struggle to remain upright in the gale. The lack of sky detail (it didn’t concern the likes of Dombrovskis!) equally doesn’t bother me; a stormy sky isn’t what this image is solely about but the hint of the stormy dark horizon hues provides a pleasing context to the composition.
One will also notice that the horizon isn’t straight. Given this is repeated in the book publication, the high res digital scan produced here (without amendment from the scan provided by the Museum) and in my image print copy, I tend to think this reflects the original negative image (rather than a poorly-aligned scan). My perhaps romantic conclusion is that the photographer wished to show the strength of the gale with the world almost leaning over in sympathy! Others may be less forgiving.
Beyond the draw of the strong visual aesthetic of this image, it resonates in other ways as I imprint my own feelings and experiences - I think of climate change, the plight of peoples and threatened cultures, the effect of globalisation on communities and the environment (a concern which Thesiger himself voiced on his travels). Above all, I wonder what this scene looks like now…are the trees still there? Are the Madan still making their reed houses and boats? I might need to get down to that travel agent after all and pack my bags!
We are looking for end frame articles for our forthcoming issues. So please do get in touch if there's an image that you want to write an article about.
The current exhibition - “Contrasting Arabia – Hotel Zaatari & Wilfred Thesiger” - is a curator tour only exhibition which is being held weekly until the beginning of December. Tickets are free and can be obtained through Eventbrite.
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.
Submit Your 4x4 Portfolio
Interested in submitting your work? We're on the look out for new portfolios for the next few issues, so please do get in touch!
Wandering around woodland has long been a good way to relax and has become a significant focus for my photography over the years. Inspired by the work of William Neill, Charles Cramer and Christopher Burkett amongst many others, I found I was often looking for “perfect” scenes of magical woodland as shown by the masters. After a while, I found that wasn’t reflecting my experience. In the woods, I would be drawn to the fallen and damaged trees. I’m not entirely sure why this would be but implicit within the damage and decay would be a story and something that hints at a story always adds a little interest to an image.
Recognising this as a recurring theme led me to flick back through my Lightroom catalogue and On Landscape provided the opportunity to show the images. The final push came with the recent conference. There really is a creative buzz from attending and I would recommend it to anyone.
All of the images chosen were taken within an hour’s drive of home and were shot, like most of my images, in autumn or winter. Having the opportunity to revisit these locations it is surprising how dynamic the woodland can be. New vegetation gets in the way or favourite trees are removed for whatever reason. Light and weather are key as so often the case but at least we are not short of cloudy days in the UK.
I was outdoors last week trying to capture something meaningful. Paradoxically, it was an ordinary grey day with no interesting light. After a few images, I was about to head home frustrated. But suddenly, I came across this interesting collection of trees.
It was hard to create any good compositions since the woodland was a pure "mess" - branches, trees, foliage in overload. A tight and compressed scenery, hostile to any landscape photographer. But these trees had that grand coloured leaves that captivated my attention. I was thinking how it would be possible to reduce the image to the core of the scenery? How could I capture the spirit of the place?
So, I put my camera on my tripod and adjusted the settings to allow for a slight intentional camera movement. In my opinion, the resulting motion blur essentially helped to subtract the chaotic nature of the scene and to shift the attention to its core. In the end, these pictures are more natural to me than any other sharp shot that I could possibly take that day. They exhibit what I witnessed at that particular moment in time. They are my subjective interpretation of the landscape.
This 4x4 portfolio should be a reminder that sometimes it is necessary to pursue something else in landscape photography with more meaning than pure image sharpness, faultless composition and perfectly balanced exposure.
Living in the East of England, it's easy to get jealous of the stunning vistas that photographers from other parts of the country may share. But the East more than makes up for its lack of mountains with its 500 miles of coastline.
These images were taken over a weekend camping on the North Norfolk Coast. Each day I was treated to orange and pink clouds streaming across the morning sky. The contrast between the sky and the sand made for some interesting compositions.
The breathtaking cliffs between the two caps Erquy and Frehel inspire me again and again. The high tides and the rapid change of light and colours here in this area have their own charm.
Every day the landscape looks different. In summer the heath flowers and in winter huge storm waves roll to the beaches. At low tide, the green algae show up and at high tide, you can hear the sound of the waves hammering against the rocks.
The nature there is rough but can also be tender. Great place to take photos.
Amid the big vistas and intense interpretations that dominate some platforms, there are quieter voices. We’ve featured some of them before and in this issue are returning to Canada* to speak to Krista McCuish in Nova Scotia about what she refers to as ‘the art of noticing’. For those that find the North truly magnetic, the idea of limitless wetlands and coastal areas where nature still holds sway may just make you a little envious.
Can you tell us something about where you grew up and live now, and the extent to which this has shaped you and your interests?
I was born and raised in Halifax, Nova Scotia, on the coast of Atlantic Canada. My home was surrounded by woodlands and lakes and I lived the life of a free range child. My earliest recollections of this time involved running wild in a pack of children, roaming far, with the only limit being our imaginations. This meant we were always exploring and discovering and attuned to everything nature had to offer.
I’ve lived in numerous cities in Canada and the US while following career paths with the intention of moving back permanently to the area where wild spaces are still plentiful and where it is easy to leave urban life behind. I have been back in Nova Scotia 10 years now and I live in the woods much the same way as where I grew up. When time allows, I wander with and without a camera. I find myself taking in elements and their details and visualising them into an image based on what I know or what I want to understand. The camera is my tool of choice and a way to express myself through images that bring meaning to where I am on the path of life.
Where did your education take you initially, and what prompted you to go on to further studies? Did the later courses influence or alter your relationship with your environment at all?
When I finished high school, I joined the Canadian Armed Forces on scholarship as a means to fund my science degree in nursing and also earn a living at the same time. I had a fear of uncertainty of what path to follow and I desired financial security. I went on to receive a varied experience as an army nurse specialising in aeromedical evacuation and critical care nursing. This career path had its rewards, but I eventually felt restless and began to live for my infrequent days off. My structured and disciplined life became stifled and I felt severed from the natural world. After nine years, I started anew and over the next decade, I completed a geology degree and pursued studies in environmental toxicology. My life became filled with field and thesis work and I was outdoors where I wanted to be. My critical care background is often invaluable, and I continue to draw on it, in all aspects of my life, especially in medical emergencies.
My later studies have pushed me to delve more deeply into the how and why of natural processes and how these shape the landscape around us and our place in it. My life has gone from busy multitasking and critical decision making to a slower pace of unitasking and the art of noticing.
My later studies have pushed me to delve more deeply into the how and why of natural processes and how these shape the landscape around us and our place in it. My life has gone from busy multitasking and critical decision making to a slower pace of unitasking and the art of noticing.
When did you become interested in photography and what kind of images did you initially set out to make? How much time are you now able to devote to photography?
I bought my first camera (Canon AE-1 film camera) in high school and quickly taught myself the technical aspects and basic darkroom techniques. I was enthusiastic and loved making images of nature but I wasn’t focused and, in many ways, too hungry and impatient for results which left me disappointed. I documented travels, and outdoor adventures without any real artistic intent. I knew then that photography was something I wanted to use as a creative outlet, but as I pursued my career there were many fallow periods. It has only been in the last 5 years that I feel my photography has moved past the snapshot and is more about a restless curiosity attempting to bridge my creative side with my science background.
In the last three years, my photography has suffered short lulls for sure. Life events such as losing loved ones and caregiving responsibilities when cancer strikes the family have left me heavyhearted and taken a toll on the creative flow. Looking ahead though, creativity usually returns, especially when I take the time for exploring in solitude and can just ‘be’.
Where do you most enjoy exploring, and what can you find on your doorstep?
My favourite places to explore involve water in all its forms. Nova Scotia is almost completely surrounded by water and still largely wilderness. Being almost half the size of the UK, finding limitless wetlands and coastal areas is quite easy.
My favourite places to explore involve water in all its forms. Nova Scotia is almost completely surrounded by water and still largely wilderness. Being almost half the size of the UK, finding limitless wetlands and coastal areas is quite easy.
I find myself on the coast exploring coastal barrens and tidal pools, bogs, ponds, riverbanks, and many unnamed brooks. The fall and winter are my favourite times to explore. The sun is lower and produces magical light, and I prefer the cold and wet over the unpleasant heat, biting insects and harsh light of spring and summer. I often go repeatedly to the same locations to understand the changing forces at work and to build on projects I’m working on.
Sometimes I don’t have to venture very far to find interesting subjects. I have been easily distracted by textures in my garden during spring thaws. The overwintering plants and their textures can be a feast for the eyes.
Who (photographers, artists or individuals) or what has most inspired you, or driven you forward in your own development as a photographer?
My first inspiration in photography was Freeman Patterson. I still remember reading his words in the Photography of Natural Things about experiencing what nature has to offer and bringing your own interpretation into images. I didn’t know at the time that visual literacy would take decades to transcend and the process never stops!
The first time I heard the term “intimate landscape” was when I saw the early work of Eliot Porter. His seasonal approach to seeking out the usually unnoticed beauty around him and forsaking the sensational resonated with my sensibilities. This led me to read the books of David Ward and his ideas of simplicity, mystery and beauty as attributes in images. After that, Guy Tal’s essays in More than a Rock gave me many more things to think about, especially the notion that we can deny ourselves a full range of experiences if we limit our artistic intent to a narrow mindset or purpose. I know I can be prone to this thinking at times and have to consciously move past it.
Another aspect that has inspired me and driven me forward is becoming knowledgeable about earlier photographers/artists, and especially those who carved their own path by staying true to themselves. The names that immediately come to mind are Eliot Porter, Harry Callaghan, Robert Frank, Georgia O’Keeffe and Saul Leiter to name just a few.
You’ve written in one of your web galleries that “coming from a part of the world where one’s images need to shout to be heard, seemingly goes against an ingrained quiet and thoughtful approach to creative expression”. How important do you feel it is for photographers to stay true to their own personality and interests, and to see where this leads them, rather than chase the crowd?
Much has been written about the sensational versus the subtle or images that shout rather than whisper. In photography, there will always be both, although I prefer the latter, so it is important for me to stay true to my own interests and hopefully, that will come out in my work.
Much has been written about the sensational versus the subtle or images that shout rather than whisper. In photography, there will always be both, although I prefer the latter, so it is important for me to stay true to my own interests and hopefully, that will come out in my work. I can only hope to accomplish this by doing the best I can to express myself the best way I know how. I do this by exploring wild places often in solitude and prefer images born from a quiet and studied approach – as Rainer Maria Rilke writes “…your solitude will be a support and a home for you, even in the midst of very unfamiliar circumstances, and from it you will find all your paths”.
As you may know, we spend a lot of time in the UK grumbling about weather and don’t cope well with snow. What is a real winter like and what adjustments do you make to keep active – and safe – in pursuing your interest?
To some people, winter here is just a long, bitterly cold battle to be conquered by hot chocolate (or beer) and staying indoors. Others grumble and head south on vacation to escape the temperatures and snow. You might have guessed, I love winter! Our winters have become highly variable. Sometimes we have many snowstorms that accumulate snow into high banks and everything freezes up solid. This is perfect for winter sport since we are huge ice hockey fans and love to toboggan and snowshoe. Other winters are marked by frequent winter rains and only a few weeks of cold below -15C. I prefer to take each day as it happens although I will admit that winter undeniably forms an integral part of who I am and what I do.
I have been known to get an occasional soaking when I have overestimated ice thickness and slippery rocks, so I’ve had to be wiser in that regard. I prefer to follow waterways and the paths of wildlife when I explore, so I carry maps and a GPS. I have been lost several times, but never for very long. I think that comes with the territory. You have to know how to navigate using nature’s signs in addition to maps and modern technology to problem solve and find your way. It is also useful to have a good working knowledge of edible plants and fungi as well as being able to track wildlife. These are all good ways to notice what is around you and coexist harmoniously with nature.
I think it’s safe to say that you have a bit of a thing for ice ;-) Most of us know that the Inuits have many words for snow, but perhaps not that the name for ice varies too according to its type and location?
Yes, you are definitely right about that! I wouldn’t call myself a pagophile, but ice can certainly fascinate. It can be brittle. It can flow like honey. It can support huge weight and carve rock. It can last for thousands of years or disappear in seconds.
Snow and ice terms are used together and the ones that interest me most have a cultural context. They tend to be a combination of dialect, specific weather conditions, and distinct phenomena. I like the sounds of them and how their descriptive use shapes the sense of place. I’ve collected many words over the years of photographing ice.
Snow and ice terms are used together and the ones that interest me most have a cultural context. They tend to be a combination of dialect, specific weather conditions, and distinct phenomena. I like the sounds of them and how their descriptive use shapes the sense of place.
Some of my favourite words come from Newfoundland, SW Nova Scotia, Nunavik and Russia:
Brickle – brittle ice
Breccia – angular ice pieces frozen together
Clinkerbells - icicles
Frazil – ice crystals in rough waters
Flake – thin ice scales
Gruel – thick slushy ice-like soup
Pancake – round discs of floating ice
Qautsaulittuq – ice that breaks after its strength has been tested with a harpoon
Qinualuk – slushy ice close to the shore
Sastrugi – parallel ice ridges on packed snow
Sikkuaq – newly formed skim of ice
Stamukha – accumulation of drift ice piled up on the shore
Would you like to choose 2-3 favourite photographs from your own portfolio and tell us a little about why they are special to you?
Peregrination
On an early April morning, I was following a strand line at low tide along a beach on the southwest coast. The sun was still low enough that all tracings of periwinkles and sand worms were illuminated. I abruptly stopped when I saw this trail. The meandering nature was very different than the rest of the marks on the beach. In a figurative sense, it resembled my life’s journey. You can be on a set path, then become disoriented and find yourself going in circles. Eventually, things have a way of working themselves out and you carry on, all the better for the experience. Then I think of the tides and how they leave traces that only last between one tide and the next; the only thing certain is change and seeing things anew every day.
Ice poetry
I was exploring a boggy wetland in March after a rapid freeze where the temperature dropped quickly to below -10C after a rain. In this case, over the course of a kilometre, there were thin sheets of ice over the shallow river. The sheets revealed incredible flowing lines in the ice. It made me think of ice poems or nature’s lines of writing in the most imaginative sense.
Forest frost
One January morning the landscape was bare of snow after a rain in between snowstorms. The temperature and humidity was perfect for frost formation, so I wasn’t surprised to find a light coating of frost on everything in the forest. When I came upon this scene, it struck me how fragile it was. I could have easily stomped across it and kept walking down the path, but I stopped and was mesmerised by this miniature frost world with details of delicate frost covered fern, moss, needles, leaf remains and red lichen adding a subtle splash of colour.
Tell us a little about the cameras and lenses you like to use and how they influence the images that you make? Has this changed over time?
I currently use a Canon 5D Mk III. My most used lenses are the 100mm and 65mm macro to make images of ice and other fine details in nature. I prefer to use live view and magnify to achieve critical focus. As time goes on, I have become more and more meticulous about sharpness and focus in my macro work because it is essential for me to express depth of detail in shape, texture, and patterns. I want the viewer to be able to wander around in the details, see processes at work, and the infinite possibilities in nature, but I think this is my science mind coming out! At times this can be challenging and necessitate the use of focus stacking with software such as Helicon focus.
For experimenting with water flow imagery, I use a 90mm tilt shift lens and love the tinkering and slow approach of making manual adjustments to achieve the amount of movement and focus I want across the image. Water requires a certain amount of study because so many factors influence flow. A favourite subject in water is swirling foam (plant saponins). Sometimes I see large shallow slow moving pools of foam that, when rendered as an image, resembles a fine spirograph. Nature can sometimes produce fine art in the abstract.
My lens selection has definitely changed over time. I rarely use zooms and really must get on with selling them. I have become more particular about the lenses I use, but at the same time it is a balance between ‘what works well enough’ and not becoming obsessed with technological developments. I suspect like many others I will go to a mirrorless camera option when the weight becomes bothersome for hiking far distances. For now, I keep the weight down by only taking two lenses at a time and using a lightweight Gitzo tripod.
Can you give readers an insight into your workflow from the point of image capture to output?
I use Camera Raw, Adobe Bridge and Photoshop CS6. I will upgrade when I have to, but for now it does everything I need. I work in layers, sometimes use masks and blending tools with basic adjustments in curves, hue/saturation, and colour balance. I often use smart objects to save time later if I want to go back and re-edit the white balance in Camera Raw or make small adjustments as in sharpening certain areas of the image. I do enjoy Photoshop for the many different possibilities for doing similar things. Processing images in black and white is an example. I used to shoot film and develop my own images in a dark room and now Photoshop is just a different way of visualizing the final image. This is sometimes achieved with multiple images and/or intentional camera movement.
Is it important to you that other people see your work in print, and how do you choose to print and present your pictures?
I think producing prints is very important. It’s the final step in the process of making an image. I still use the old workhorse of a printer, the Epson 3800, and a variety of papers. There was a time when I wanted to make large prints for shows and festivals with a larger printer – the bigger the better! Somehow that started to feel “too shouty” and less intimate for my work, so for now, I print to a maximum of 12” x 18”. I want my prints to draw in the type of viewer who wants to step closer and study the image to become intimate with the workings and wonders to be discovered in nature.
Recently, I had the opportunity to have my mushroom prints on the front and back covers of Bowdoin Magazine for their Spring/Summer 2018 edition and I was very pleased with the printed result in magazine format.
I don’t actively seek publication and print sales, but certainly, appreciate the recognition that comes when someone reaches out and wants to purchase a print or images for personal or commercial purposes.
I have a large cabinet full of nature collections that I guess you could call a cabinet of natural curiosities. I would like to use photography to express relationships between some of these natural things.
Do you have any particular projects or ambitions for the future or themes that you would like to explore further?
I have a large cabinet full of nature collections that I guess you could call a cabinet of natural curiosities. I would like to use photography to express relationships between some of these natural things.
I also have an upcoming group show in January focused on the ice. It will be an interactive show with the sounds of lake ice on audio, videos of ice phenomena, and my detailed ice images. If it coincides with a snowstorm and we need to snowshoe there on opening night, it will be perfect!
Last May, I wrote a journal post for Kozu Books titled Ice World in the Barrens. This gave me the idea to make my own journal in the form of a mapping project with images and multimedia in print form. It is a map from one place to the next and is turning into a self-reflection about finding my way and asking questions and less about getting lost in the unknown looking for answers.
If you had to take a break from all things photographic for a week, what would you end up doing? What other hobbies or interests do you have?
Aside from spending time with my family, I love wandering. I could quite happily wander for a week if I had no other responsibilities. If I wasn’t carrying camera gear in my pack, I would fill the equivalent space with books. Gardening and playing the piano are two other interests that fill the free moments.
What was the last image (by another photographer or artist) that stopped you in your tracks?
Freeman Patterson’s “In my Mother’s Memory”. His image of dying hostas grabbed my attention before reading his title and description because I am drawn to the texture and feel of decaying plants. I know I feel a subtle emptiness when everything is finished for the season and dies in the garden. The next thoughts are of the change of seasons and what spring will bring.
And finally, is there someone whose photography you enjoy – perhaps someone that we may not have come across - and whose work you think we should feature in a future issue? They can be amateur or professional.
I enjoy the work of Chris Murray and Thomas Fleckenstein. I’m sure you’ve seen the images of both. Chris wrote an excellent article for On Landscape called, “The Confident Artist”. Both people approach photography as quiet explorations in nature which I can relate to quite easily.
Thank you, Krista.
For more head to Krista’s website; as well as images, this will give you links to the social media platforms that she is active on.
You have no responsibility to live up to what other people think you ought to accomplish. I have no responsibility to be like they expect me to be. It's their mistake, not my failing. ~Richard Feynman
Declining an offer to become a staff photographer for LIFE Magazine, Ernst Haas wrote to then-editor Wilson Hicks, “There are two kinds of photographers—the ones who take pictures for a magazine to earn something, and the others who gain by taking pictures they are interested in. I am the second kind.”
Explaining his reasons for turning down what was ostensibly a dream job, Haas wrote, “I have always felt better taking a risk than an easier route for what I believe in. . . . What I want is to stay free, that I can carry out my ideas. . . . I don’t think there are many editors who could give me the assignments I give myself.”
Like Haas, I also consider myself among the “second kind.” I’m also fairly certain that no editor would give me the kind of assignments I give myself, which generally involve wandering in wild places without plans, goals, or expectations
Like Haas, I also consider myself among the “second kind.” I’m also fairly certain that no editor would give me the kind of assignments I give myself, which generally involve wandering in wild places without plans, goals, or expectations; mindful of experiences, thoughts, sensations, and encounters that on occasion inspire a photograph or a piece of writing about some topic not known in advance.
What, then, are the things that second-kind photographers “gain by taking pictures they are interested in,” that are significant enough to warrant declining a prestigious job offer? Some of these gains, such as satisfaction, popularity, awards, perhaps even sales, are self-evident, although these are available to any photographer. What distinguishes first-kind photographers (those who make photographs to satisfy others, or in submission to the influence of others) from second-kind photographers (those who pursue their work primarily out of personal interest)? The answer is in Haas’s letter, if perhaps subtle: second-kind photographers are free to carry out their own ideas—to choose, by whatever criteria they set for themselves, those things they find most worthy of photographing, and to do so as a matter of course.
The distinction between the two “kinds” is not unique to photography. Long before Haas wrote his letter, painter and educator Robert Henri, in a piece titled, “To A Teacher,” expressed a remarkably similar sentiment. He wrote, “There are two classes of human beings. One has ideas, which it believes in fully, perhaps, but modifies to bring about ‘success.’ The other class has ideas which it believes in and must carry out absolutely; success or no success. The first class has a tremendous majority, and they are all slaves. The second class are the only free people in the world.”
Freedoms come in two complementary forms: there are freedoms from, and there are freedoms to. One must be free from such things as tyranny, coercion, destitution, anxiety, need, insecurity, etc., in order to be free to pursue such things as meaningful experiences, education, art, photography, etc. A first-kind photographer must, by necessity, forfeit some freedoms (both from and to) in order to satisfy, or submit to, the demands or expectations of others. A second-kind photographer (if free to have a say in the matter), if at all constrained, is only constrained by choice.
Certainly, one must be in a privileged position of having freedom from certain conditions and obligations, in order to have the freedom to be a second-kind photographer. But it is also true that some who have (at least a degree of) such freedoms, for various reasons still choose to pursue photography as a first-kind photographer—within constraints and expectations imposed by others. This is not meant as a condemnation. In fact, it illustrates well the point that freedom does not always culminate in happiness or prosperity, and thus may not appeal to everyone. When one is free to make choices in defiance of expectations, rites, or traditions, one must also be prepared to accept the consequences of such choices, which at times may be severe.
“Anxiety is the dizziness of freedom,” wrote Søren Kierkegaard. It is a lesson I learned on several occasions. One such occasion of note was the time I decided to resign my former corporate career to pursue a new life as an artist, writer, and wanderer. Faced with the freedom to make my own choices—and to wager my lifestyle and livelihood on these choices—I nearly had a nervous breakdown. For a long time, the anxiety of living without a regular paycheck remained palpable, spoiled my experiences, and kept me awake at night until I came to accept the risks and uncertainties of my new life as the “cost of admission” for the kind of work—more important, the kind of life—that interests and inspires me.
For a long time, the anxiety of living without a regular paycheck remained palpable, spoiled my experiences, and kept me awake at night until I came to accept the risks and uncertainties of my new life as the “cost of admission” for the kind of work—more important, the kind of life—that interests and inspires me.
You may wonder what I gained by my choice, by the ostensibly alluring freedom to pursue my interests unhindered, coupled inextricably with the much-less-alluring freedom to bankrupt myself by some failed endeavour or ill-conceived decision. What I gained is life: more time to spend, and more rewarding (to me) experiences to spend it on. I gained the freedom to be myself, to go about the world as myself; and, for as long as I can sustain it, the freedom to dedicate my life—the majority of my hours and days—to things that are meaningful, important, interesting, and satisfying to me. Certainly, I gained a lot of anxiety, too.
My point here is not to urge readers to go to extremes but to point out that most of us are free to be second-kind photographers if we so choose—to pursue our interests without regard to trends, influences, traditions, and expectations that may not accord with our sensibilities and goals. Also, we are free to question our goals and the degree to which they are, indeed, our goals, and to change them as we see fit. Creative work, communing with natural places and lives, indulging in beauty and deep thoughts—all these are available to us to experience and to engage with according to our sensibilities, without deference to expectations and outside influences. And of course, each of us has the freedom to decide what to aim our cameras at, and what to do with our images.
Why be a first-kind photographer—a photographer who sets aside creative freedom in favour of impressing others, one who complies with rules and constraints set by others, accepting them as inalienable—when you don’t have to? When you have the choice to be a second-kind photographer—a photographer free from undesired impositions, and free to practice and to experiment on your own terms and according to your own interests.
Reclaim whatever time you spend imitating, keeping up, following, arguing, competing, and placating.
Go into the world as you are, photograph as you are and as fits your interests and sensibilities. Claim your freedom. Claim a portion of life for yourself, a portion separate and shielded from the dictates, concerns, judgments, and expectations of others.
Go into the world as you are, photograph as you are and as fits your interests and sensibilities. Claim your freedom. Claim a portion of life for yourself, a portion separate and shielded from the dictates, concerns, judgments, and expectations of others. Spend this time on elevating and rewarding experiences so that, should you encounter the “dizziness of freedom”—the anxiety, the uncertainty, the worry, the occasional disappointment—you will also know the thrill, the satisfaction, the inspiration, and the pride that make the dizziness worth enduring.
Friedrich Nietzsche wrote, “Independence is for the very few; it is a privilege of the strong. And whoever attempts it even with the best right but without inner constraint proves that he is probably not only strong but also daring to the point of recklessness.” Perhaps an intimidating thought in the context of such things as relationships, employment, finances, or beliefs; but when it comes to art; when it comes to creative expression; when it comes to the ways in which each of us chooses to pursue photography, why not? Why not be independent? Why not be daring to the point of recklessness? Why not proclaim, too, “I am the second kind”?
Back in September 2017, Elliott submitted his work for our 4x4 portfolio feature. The project was based on four months in Kyrgyzstan, highlighting the generational disparities between those nostalgic of the abolished USSR order and modern westernised youths born after the fall. All images were made on his 5x4 camera that he uses.
Since then Elliott has published a book with UK company, Another Place Press, and had an exhibition at the Andrée Chedid space of Issy-les-Moulineaux, Paris. We caught up with Elliott to find out more about the project and how he came to photograph in Kyrgyzstan.
Tell me about why you choose landscape photography? A little background on what your first passions were, what you studied and what job you ended up doing (if not photography)
I would describe myself as only a landscape photographer, I wanted to be a photojournalist from very young. My godfather was a print collector and I spent a lot of time with him looking at his collection. He shared with me his sensitivity and love for photography. I think that I originally liked the romantic vision I had of lonely photographers travelling around the world, having incredible culture and experiences, living a thousand lives.
When I was 19, I received a grant to undertake my first trip as a photographer - a series of portraits of former Karen soldiers who were victims of land-mines, in Burma. Since then, I’ve been to a photography school in Paris and travelled for several projects during the summer holidays. I went to Burma over and over again, documenting drug addicts and the Rohingya crisis, but also visited Mongolia and Indonesia. There I spent a month with three Afghan refugees, living with them in a slum area, getting to know them more deeply than anyone I photographed before. It changed my relationship with the people I photograph, and more widely, the way I wanted to document things.
Tell us about your passion for Kyrgyzstan and your connection with the region and its people.
I like to travel to places that a man like me, born in a middle class family from Paris, would have never been. Meet people I would have never met. I want to testify of the world apart from hot news, with deep social issues, to take time and break into people’s intimacy. This is why I try to find original themes that suit my everyday quest for beauty through struggling people full of nostalgia, melancholy and sensitivity.
I want to testify of the world apart from hot news, with deep social issues, to take time and break into people’s intimacy. This is why I try to find original themes that suit my everyday quest for beauty through struggling people full of nostalgia, melancholy and sensitivity.
I was more and more interested in Central Asia after my trip to Mongolia. And I remember looking at a map and wondering what was Kyrgyzstan. I literally had never heard of this country before. I know, it’s a shame! I started doing some research on it and found very little about it. So I decided to go for a month to see by myself at first. I think I will always remember the first time I arrived in Kyrgyzstan. It was dawn. The soft pink light of the rising sun was touching the wall of mountains in the south of Bishkek. It was all quiet. Everything there seemed eternal. I decided to go back for a longer time and a bigger project.
What came first the idea for the book or the photography project?
Definitely the photography project. After my first trip in Kyrgyzstan without taking any photos I liked, I definitely knew I had to make a change somehow. I worked a couple of month in a bar, bought an analogue camera I have tested once to an old man, three hundred films, and went again to Kyrgyzstan with no return ticket. Fortunately, I had a grant a month later to pursue the project, because I really don’t know how I would have lived there and developed all the films… The project drew itself by the time I have spent there.
How did the project evolve into an exhibition as well? Did that impact on the style and type of images you took?
I have spent 5 months in Kyrgyzstan doing some images and defining more and more the project day after day. I never knew that will end up with a book or an exhibition. But I knew this project will be different from the others, by the time I have spent doing it, but also by the way doing it, with my large format camera. The deeper I was documenting the country, the greater dimension I knew this project was taking.
What story did you want to tell with the reader? How did you go about structuring the images to develop this story? Did you have a creative idea of what the images would be?
I have once read a comment under an article presenting ‘A Shaded Path’ that was saying: "It’s not Kyrgyzstan who is depressing, it’s the photographer who is depressed". After laughing a bit, I realised how accurate this comment was, even if depressed is not the more appropriate definition for me. ‘A Shaded Path’ is about Kyrgyzstan, but it’s more about people, individuals, their interaction with landscape, and of course, as photography is undoubtedly subjective, it tells about my perception and the feelings that influence it.
The dialogue that happens between the portraits and the landscapes can speak of many subjects but one stood at the forefront of my mind. Despite their contextual importance, these landscapes show how man can adapt his environment to his own wishes yet his surroundings always win out in the end.
I think I always had a kind of melancholy in me, and Kyrgyzstan emphasised it, all ingredients there and in my life at this precise moment drew this portrait of a woebegone country, with persons stuck between past and future. I believe ‘A Shaded Path’ is many more things than depressing, I like to see it as a blend of subtle emotions. A human story after all. And I wanted them to dialogue with the landscapes. The dialogue that happens between the portraits and the landscapes can speak of many subjects but one stood at the forefront of my mind. Despite their contextual importance, these landscapes show how man can adapt his environment to his own wishes yet his surroundings always win out in the end. They show the passage of man, the wear they put upon their environment. In essence, they represent the fleetingness of man.
How did you go about researching, planning the photography trips for the book etc? i.e. Was it one trip or multiple trips? What challenges did you have along the way?
As I said before, it was only one trip of 5 months.
You mention in the introduction to the book 'the young republic of Kyrgyzstan is a contradictory Neverland where great aspirations cross paths with remnants of a Soviet era How did you go about capturing this tension in the images to convey that?
The landscapes of Kyrgyzstan bare the traces of its soviet history. I wanted to capture that, among other things, to set a fantasized forgotten country, cold and windy, quite unique. Some portraits are an open window to a more modern and globalized way of life. They mainly contain this tension, this struggle, this subtlety that contrasts with landscapes that don’t have this double lecture. I try to make people in portraits look like soaked by their environment, but dreamful about their future.
Which images gave you the hard challenge creatively?
The coal miner in Min Kush. He was walking to the mine with his picks in the snow of the mountain. I took him in the car. The mine was still so far away. When we finally arrived, it was -18°C. I really wanted to shoot him and his white working clothes in the black mine, as he was eaten by darkness and fighting it, but it was very difficult as I was on slippy sloping rocks. It took time, but this guy never moved or lost patience, he looked like he was truly glad and thankful he could testify of his way of living. He was posing for posterity.
Sequencing is obviously important - how did you manage the flow of the book with the images and the visual narrative?
Once again, I really wanted the landscapes and portraits to dialogue. One is answering to another. But a few times, portraits opposing completely different persons are also answering themselves, and look familiar, finally united under the same melancholy.
The only chronological aspect of the sequencing appears in the weather. I wanted to begin by an image obviously made in autumn, soft and calm, and go deeper and deeper in the winter, finishing by those cold and white landscapes. I wish it shows a certain feeling of time flowing, but also a loss of bearings, like the Neverland I wrote about earlier.
Did you manage the project yourself or did you work with an editor?
In my opinion, the finality of photography takes place by printing and publishing. These are things that exist long-term. In a time where images are consumed through screens, a wide range of mediums were made available, I think the younger generation of photographers are becoming more aware of the notion of the ephemeral image and therefore are trying to make their work live longer through more traditional ways of communicating their images.
Fortunately, Iain Sarjeant, from Another Place Press, came to me quite quickly to offer me the possibility to publish with him and his edition.
How did you decide on the format of the book e.g. size and paper, print type?
Another Place Press aims to produce a range of high-quality affordable books. All their collection does not come in large formats. It really suited me fine as I didn’t want something huge, but intimate. I chose an uncoated paper to accentuate the faded, vanishing sensation you would feel discovering this country on the outskirts of global headlines.
Where was the book printed and how was the experience of working with a printer?
The book was printed in the UK and I was unfortunately not able to be there.
Could you tell us a little about the cameras and lenses you typically take on a trip and how they affect your photography?
I chose to do this project with a large format camera, for two reasons: I wanted to have a special quality that it offers and take the time to do the images. Large format camera requires time to settle and for settings, I like to take this time for photography, and I especially did in Kyrgyzstan. It is quite long, heavy, inconvenient, and costly, but at the end, it’s definitely worth it. Last reason also, for portraits, I like people’s reaction in front of a large format camera. As a photographer, you get more credibility, but they are also posing differently. They are more serious. They naturally pose for posterity.
What sort of post processing do you undertake on your pictures? Give me an idea of your workflow.
Back in Kyrgyzstan, I was sending my negatives to Paris threw people travelling over there. One of my friends was waiting for them in the city and was taking the films to the lab. The lab developed them, scanned them in low resolution, and sent them back to me digitalised. I could know what I was doing. When I came back I started selecting ones for the series and took them back for a higher resolution scan. Sometimes, the film has some weird colours or is over contrasted, I really can’t be 100% sure of what the result will be when I use my large format camera. I am not that experienced with it.
What other projects are you currently working on and can we expect another book?
I’m very happy to recently begin getting assignments thanks to A shaded Path for publications such as Vogue Italy or The New York Times. But of course, I would like to make another documentary, maybe even deeper, because long term projects are what truly drives me in photography. I am preparing something about collective resilience in Liberia, planning a first and short trip there in mid September. I’d like my work to follow some themes I value, something around time, memory, and existential struggle.
Tim spoke to Lizzie Shepherd for our Featured Photographer spot back in March 2013 (you can read the original interview here). Since then Lizzie has picked up a number of commendations – her image Zigzag, Wensleydale, was the Living the View winner in Landscape Photographer of the Year 2015 – and she’s been busy with workshops as well as travel both professionally and personally. Looking through her website it’s clear that her image making has developed since the original interview and we thought it would be good to catch up and see if, among other things, she’s any nearer to finding that elusive balance.
Last year (2017) seemed to be especially busy for you, with a lot of travelling both professional and personal. Was there anywhere or anything that especially made an impact on you? Falling down aside ;-)
Yes, last year seemed a bit crazy – in all honesty, probably a little too much travelling for me although, fall aside, I wouldn’t change a thing – I’ve just redressed the balance somewhat this year. I have to say the fall made a massive impact. I don’t think I’d ever appreciated just how much we take our physical well-being for granted – those of us lucky enough to have such, at least. Not being able to go out properly and do the things I love for several months really did get me down for some time. It has certainly given me even greater respect for those who cope with permanent ill health or disability.
I was recently listening to an episode of the Togcast (click here) - a photography podcast by UK duo Sam Gregory and Paul Sanders, for those of you who are unfamiliar. Their interviews are almost always insightful, informative and fun, and I generally try to listen in fairly soon after new episodes come out. So it was that I was listening to the recent episode where Paul had roles reversed, and was being interviewed by none other than Charlie Waite.
As always it was a thoroughly enjoyable interview, and I was astounded to learn just how many images Paul would have to go through on a daily basis when he was picture editor of the Times (I won't spoil it for those who haven’t heard this episode yet!) If you haven’t listened to this or any other episodes of the Togcast I would highly recommend it.
It was one particular topic that really caught my attention, however, to the extent of making me reach for keyboard and tablet to give substance to my own opinion, which I have to admit is a rare occurrence these days. Both Paul and Charlie seemed to wholeheartedly agree that the print is the culmination of the photographic process.
To the extent that it was even suggested “seeing your work printed is the only thing that makes you a photographer”, and “if you’ve got a print then that makes you a real photographer”. Bold words indeed! Of course, this is hardly the first time I, or indeed you, surely, have heard words along those lines. But this time it bothered me slightly because here were two eminent, respected and well-known photographers saying that unless you print your work then somehow you are not achieving your full photographic potential, even that you are not a ‘real photographer’. Now before I go any further I would just like to add a necessary disclaimer - I do print my own work when an image passes muster. I love the whole process of printing, learning how to print and print well. It is as infectious, infuriating, expensive and involving as photography itself. And therein lie some of my qualms with messrs Waite and Sanders. Let me explain.
Printing is an art in itself
My first argument is that printing is an art in itself, and like any art, it is not necessarily for everyone. The reasons for this are myriad. Some people may not be interested in learning about a whole new process - and it is a complex process - involving colour management, calibration, proofing, ink types, paper types, and the rest of it. Nothing wrong with that. But does that mean they are somehow achieving less?
Well, you might say, then at least they should get their images printed professionally. Sure, that is an option, but by and large, the output from sending your digital files off to a lab for printing is not always as you expect or intend, again due to mismatches in colour calibration and profiling, among other things. My argument is not so much about printing yourself versus getting someone else to print for you. Indeed, I would say that if you are going to print, take the time to learn to do it yourself.
My argument against printing is, in fact, not against printing at all. It is against everyone printing or feeling that must print. A digital presentation is a perfectly legitimate form of showing an image if that was the intent.
A digital presentation is a perfectly legitimate form
My argument against printing is, in fact, not against printing at all. It is against everyone printing or feeling that must print. A digital presentation is a perfectly legitimate form of showing an image if that was the intent. Some images were taken with the sole intent of being presented on social media, and that's fine. There is no way I want to see the vast majority of those in print! But more than that, even some highly considered and crafted photography is sometimes created with the intent of being presented digitally. When they are also processed with that intent then why should these images be considered any less 'finished' than if they were output as a print?
Are you somehow less engaged by seeing some of your favourite photographers work on Twitter rather than in an exhibition? Have you truly not ‘seen’ their work if you have not been to the aforementioned exhibition (which, by the way, may never have existed for you to visit in the first place)? Going forwards I think the digital presentation of fine artwork is going to become more mainstream and processing for this medium is inevitably going to involve some thought and skill as well, so why should it be any less valid as an output process?
And what of competitions?
Dare I even start on this contentious topic?! As the venerable editor of this publication quite correctly pointed out to me recently, entries for the major photography competitions these days are, in the first round at least, judged on the digital file. So if we are not judging a photographers ‘real work’, then can it be a true and valid assessment? I’ll let that one fester.
The other issue is environmental
Getting everyone to print is probably not any good for the health of the planet. Photographic paper is not cheap to produce in terms of resources, and certainly, printing ink is one of the most expensive commodities (by weight or volume) in the world. As landscape photographers, I am sure most of us are looking to minimise our environmental impact, and as such it is sometimes difficult to reconcile our love of expensive and resource-heavy equipment and paraphernalia with our obvious regard for nature. Reams of photographic paper being bought, and consequentially - let's not kid ourselves - a lot of it being wasted is not exactly being green. Sorry, Fotospeed!
When prominent photographers suggest that printing is the ultimate final end-point of the photographic journey, it invariably results in countless unsuspecting (and blameless) individuals going out to buy the latest Epson or Canon photo printer (plus the aforementioned reams of paper), at no small cost to themselves, with the well-meaning intention of printing purely their best work (and when they see the price of Epson Ultrachrome HD ink, only the best of the best!) They then quickly discover that if they don’t print anything on their high-tech new printer for a few weeks the ink heads get clogged up and need to be cleaned (at best) resulting in further wasted ink, or (at worst) expensive repairs!
Printing is not for everyone, and neither should it be. If you are willing to spend the time and effort (and expense) to learn how to do it well, then I can tell you from personal experience that it is a very rewarding process.
Printing is not for everyone, and neither should it be. If you are willing to spend the time and effort (and expense) to learn how to do it well, then I can tell you from personal experience that it is a very rewarding process. But do not be put off by suggestions that without it your photographic journey is somehow unfulfilled, coz it just ain't so! For those of you who do take the plunge, all I can say is do your research beforehand - perhaps go on a one-day printing workshop - and then enjoy the journey!
Some things to consider before deciding if you want to learn to print your own work
It is expensive. A good quality photo printer will set you back anywhere between £400 to £1000+ and that is just with a set of starter inks (the ink cartridges that come with the printer are usually of smaller volume than the standard set you will buy later). If you want an idea of expenditure for ink, a single cartridge of Epson Ultrachrome HD ink for the SC-P600 is around £20, give or take. That printer takes 9 cartridges, so do the math! Yes, there are ways of getting it done cheaper, but for a beginner, this is where it would start. You would also need to invest in a calibration tool for your monitor (which, to be honest, you should probably do anyway if you process digitally) and a few boxes of test packs of different types of paper to see which ones suit your type of imagery.
Print heads clog up if they are not used for more than 4-6 weeks (varies slightly based on the model). Again, there are ways of mitigating this but basically, if you are not going to be printing at least a couple of images every 4-6 weeks you are running a significant risk of having clogged print heads, which at best leads to ink wastage when cleaning, or at worst having to get it repaired or replaced.
Learning Curve. There is quite a learning curve when it comes to all the different aspects of creating a high quality print, so don't expect to become an expert in a few days or even a few months!
Recycling print cartridges. Print cartridges should be recycled, don’t just chuck them in the garbage. You generally can't put them in your household recycling bin either.
Good quality home photographic printers are not small! If you are expecting something the size of your office 3-in-1, think again! The Epson SC-P600 is a hefty and sizeable thing by any standards, and the Canon Prograf 1000 is an absolute beast! If you don’t plan for some table-top real estate to put your new printer, you could be in for some grief when it arrives on your doorstep.
Making proof copies before the final print is the norm. So if you don't like the thought of wasting precious ink, think twice! One of the advantages of getting a lab to print your work is that they usually perform all these quality control steps, and hence absorb the cost of waste. Of course, that is reflected in their prices.
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While standing on a sandy beach along the Colorado River one morning during my recent rafting trip through the Grand Canyon, I posed a philosophical question for my fellow trip mates, mostly photographers, to ponder throughout the day as we floated along
If no one ever saw your photographs, would you photograph differently?”
This question came out of a discussion I had a year or so ago with a couple of friends after watching the documentary, “Finding Vivian Maier.” As the story goes, a man named John Maloof visited a Chicago-based auction house in 2007 to see if he could dig up vintage photographs to support one of his book projects. There, according to www.vivianmaier.com, “…he found a box of negatives depicting Chicago in the 60’s. Unable to get a thorough look at its contents, he took a gamble and purchased the box for around $400.” He learned the box—and likely the negatives inside—had belonged to a person named “Vivian Maier,” but a quick search online to find out who she was turned up no leads. Two years later, he repeated the search and found her obituary.
As other people have confessed here, writing this piece is much harder than you think so I take my hat off to all contributors.
There is no doubt that the photographs of Charlie Waite got me started on working more seriously towards making better images. It was the purchase of a couple of greetings cards, published by Waite and Tait and including the iconic image of cows on the beach, that led me to the Light and Land photography workshops. In 2006 I set off for Vermont, New England for my dream holiday – to meet up with a group of like minded photographers - and Phil Malpas and Clive Minnitt.
That was the start of my adventures with Clive and Phil – and where I received one of the most enduring pieces of advice for photographic composition, embodied by my Endframe choice. It was delivered by Clive and it goes something like 'mind the gap' – at least that's how I remember it. Not a health and safety instruction when clambering over the countryside in search of the perfect spot but a reminder to look again at your arrangement and make sure that there is clear separation, no matter how small, between the key elements to help to lead the eye around the frame and clarify the intent of the photographer.
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.
Submit Your 4x4 Portfolio
Interested in submitting your work? We're on the lookout for new portfolios for the next few issues, so please do get in touch!
I am a photographer, a photographer of stories in the landscape. I try to look at the world around me, and despite all its complexity, superficiality and speed, I present its beauty in an unusual, inventive way. I take pictures of joy, freedom, melancholy, sadness or fairy-tale, roughness, infinity.
For years I tried to master and perfect my landscape photography. Like every enlightened landscape photographer, I graduated from many courses, (physically or virtually), reading stacks of literature and perfecting the post process. And I was still not happy, it was not enough to be technically perfect (although I still have a long way to go).
One day I discovered Chris Friel and his photographs for me. I remembered my childhood when I went to painting courses… And I started again, this time with ICM.
After hundreds of hours in the field and at the computer, and suddenly, what I did not experience with classic photos. I got internationally awarded, I came across my holy grail. Recently, one of my colleagues, whom I very much appreciate, has said over my photographs that one has to get matured and I think it finally happened to me. It was clear to both of us, that she was not talking about composition and post-processing, she did not evaluate what she saw as a photograph, but as a story, that addressed her.
I then asked myself, what happened to me after so many years of photography, but I did not come to anything wiser, than just letting my hands and my heart do their job and not getting into my head.
My photographs are influenced by impressionism. Impressionism is simply a way to capture the world around us. I like to go to the Impressionist exhibitions, but I am mainly interested in how they worked with the light and whether the camera with the light can work the same way.
Story projects in the landscape are emerging in my portfolio over the past three years. I have found, that the linking of literary stimuli, musical inspiration and imagination, work for my greatly. I decided to connect my technical and aesthetic development with the literary world and planned triptych, where I combined three authors and three different historical periods. Czech poet Karel Hynek Mácha, narrator Hans Christian Andersen and humanist Antoine de Saint-Exupéry.
The first two projects are successfully accomplished. In the case of Mácha, it was mainly about the romantic expression of the coloured surfaces and their interrelationships, while at Andersen I caught the mentioned rich "staccato" tongue, whose response was found in the work with light and colour contrasts, boundary signs and details. While in Mácha as a pure romance, whose poetry is a somewhat artificial concept of a dramatic scenario, lyrical sceneries turn into horror and tragedy, the more realistic Andersen blends with brilliant imagery with the premonition of unfortunate decay, and the fairytale dream ends with harsh awakening. However, the lyrics are common to both authors, the dreamlike vision of the story, and the scenery of the landscape, mournful and melancholy.
Macha Contemplations
The project is based on the poem Máj (May), written by the poet Karel Hynek Mácha. The story itself took place in the 70s of the 18th century, 60 years before Mácha made it in his poem. Mácha has created a masterpiece of the landscape that is full of water, hidden rocks, sun, moons, colours, overflowing with love and grief. Individual shots were taken in the landscapes around Mácha’s Lake and in Bohemian Paradise. The collection won the 3rd prize at the Prix de la Photographie Paris, 2016, it was awarded the Los Angeles Jury (2016 – IPA, International Photography Awards) and Luxembourg Art Prize (2016). Example of “Mácha contemplations” project was published in the annual publication “Vision 2016” of the 1X.com curator.
In late winter 2018, a friend and I made a cross-country road trip from the east coast of the United States to California to spend some time photographing in Death Valley. On the way, we made a two day diversion to Joshua Tree National Park, a place neither of us had been before but wanted to see and experience.
On our first day, we made a pre-dawn visit to Indian Cove, a popular location that borders the Wonderland of Rocks, an area described as "12 square miles of massive, jumbled rocks". It was this landscape that immediately resonated with me. The photographs in this folio were made that morning over a period of about two hours.
Painting this world allows me to feel fully my belonging to it. The spectacle offered by nature is sublime and constantly renewed. It's my red thread and my fuel. Without him, I would be mute. Painting, photography, mixed media are just tools to let emerge this energy it has given me. I combine the techniques, the materials, the colours between them, by looking for this primitive vibratory energy. When I feel it, then I know I'm in the flow
Everything starts while hiking. Don't resist to the feelings, let the power impregnate the body and the mind. Then we can photograph it ... and say it
During April 2018 I had the pleasure of travelling the South Island of NZ with Christian Fletcher, Joe Cornish and Steve Gosling. We covered a lot of ground and I returned with a bunch of new and revived friendships, plus a bucketful of pictures that I am still working my way through.
Having just enjoyed watching the recent OnLandscape video interview in which Joe recounted the highlights of his Antipodean trip, I found myself motivated to share these four images as another perspective on the NZ chapter of that journey.
It was generally a case of rich pickings every day, so picking the quadrella was quite a challenge. Joe made it slightly easier by featuring his photo of the snowy first morning overlooking Shotover Valley from the Coronet Peak Road (my similar shot is my favourite image of the trip). I feel I have betrayed Steve Gosling by failing to include a black and white image here. All I can say by way of excuse is that it was Autumn and the light was amazing.
Every now and then social media feeds throw something a little different your way, which is how we’ve come to talk to Joan Kocak. It’s easy to think that you have to travel to make interesting images – all we learn in reality is how little we know of a place and without returning many times it’s unlikely that we will do much more than scratch at the surface. Our images are about place or subject, rather than being a reflection of us as individuals. In time some of us will come to realise that it is better to work close to home, to get under the skin of what surrounds us, and to let it get under ours.
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 grew up in the days when parents let their kids out the door in the mornings and didn’t ask many questions, assuming you’d show up again when you were hungry. Gratitude for being raised in the Connecticut countryside is with me every day, and gave me a profound respect for nature, though I didn’t realize it at the time. We had heaven: ponds to skate on, forests to wander through, endless days of fields and trails.
Every problem could be solved with an escape into the woods, even during the years of teenage angst (though I may have been sneaking a cigarette out there in those woods also). I was a psychology major in college, with an art minor. It should have been in reverse order.
When did you first pick up a camera and what kind of images did you initially set out to make?
I loved to paint and draw when I was very young and maybe inherited that from my dad who had a knack for portraiture. It was his cameras that fascinated me: an Ikoflex, several box cameras including the magical Brownie that he let us play around with. It wasn’t until I saved up enough money in high school to buy my first SLR camera, a Minolta 101, that I just started taking pictures of any and everything.
I didn’t think about it very much; I just always took my camera along and as a result, I have boxes and boxes of odd photos - everything from someone’s foot to a fork on the floor. There are a couple, though, that I like to this day. And it’s interesting to see that many of the themes I shoot today caught my eye when I was young.
Who (photographers, artists or individuals) or what has most inspired you, or driven you forward in your own development as a photographer?
I pored over the work of many different types of photographers and admire still a broad range of styles, from Irving Penn to Robert Frank to Garry Winogrand. But somehow my own photos always come back to nature and the places most revered to me, with occasional detours into travel photography.
I now live outside Boston in a beautiful area of Massachusetts covered in conservation land and trails. These are places where I always find inspiration with the changing seasons, places I’ve walked with our various dogs over the years.
There’s forever something new: a new light, a new angle, a new approach. And when there’s fog, well, that’s a good day. Nothing brings more mood to landscape photography than fog and mist.
There’s forever something new: a new light, a new angle, a new approach. And when there’s fog, well, that’s a good day. Nothing brings more mood to landscape photography than fog and mist.
Inspiration is everywhere. This morning I was in a vintage shop and found a beautiful book by photographer Roman Loranc. I was unfamiliar with his work until now and am thoroughly taken with his stirring landscapes. We both share a love of trees and his images are transporting. It’s like finding a treasure to look him up and view his portfolios. From early on, Andrew Wyeth’s stark realism impressed me and caused me to begin painting. Somewhere in a closet, these paintings exist though I’ve lost track of them. I remember loving to paint November scenery in New England; it reminded me so much of Wyeth, with the brownfields and sense of melancholy. I still see his influence in my photos.
You’ve referred to photography as being “your life and soul”, so I guess you fall (like many of us) into the category of “obsessive” ;-) What is its appeal for you, and have you always felt this way, or did anything happen to precipitate your interest?
I’ve always loved the printed image; as far back as I can remember. Learning the darkroom in college was a turning point for me I think. It really did become an obsession and my focus on my major (psychology) suffered because of it. At that time, I still loved to paint and I was pulled in both directions, often painting from my photographs.
How much time are you now able to devote to photography and do you need to travel far to make your images?
These days I’ve put down the paintbrush and devote my time to photography exclusively. As much as I enjoy travel photography and exploring new locations, there really is no place like home when it comes to subjects for my photos. I’ll often take a little drive, either with a specific location nearby or not, and see what presents itself. Some days are very non-productive! Then you hit just the right light and time stops. Even walking the same trails daily is different each time. I love this corner of the country and am connected to it through my past.
Would you like to choose 2-3 favourite photographs from your own portfolio and tell us a little about why they are special to you? (Although the emphasis of the magazine is ‘natural’ landscape, feel free to select images from any subject or genre that you have enjoyed working with.)
Being asked to select some photos of mine that are favourites is difficult for me - not because there are so many but because this could waver from minute to minute. One day I will love something, the next I’m not so sure. I don’t know why this is, but it happens all the time. I’ll try though to choose two photos that as of this moment seem to be on my good side.
Magic Tree
“Magic Tree” is a photo taken in Ireland. This day the light was perfect, beautifully enveloping this large tree that had about it an otherworldly feel. It seemed to belong to a pack of gnomes or faeries; it stood quite majestically apart and comfortable in its quiet glory. Looking at it now, I’m transported to that day and that moment and it’s all so very vivid.
Way Home
“Way Home” is a well-worn path to a little cottage on Block Island, which is a small island off the coast of Rhode Island. How many times I’ve walked this dirt road! It leads to a place of happy times and peaceful days. I feel like I know every rock, rut and bend in the road.
To what extent – and how – does your graphic design training influence your image making? Texture and mood seem to be especially important, and you’ve talked about being drawn to graphic shapes in nature.
Working in graphic design for many years has definitely informed elements of my photos. I search for shapes, lines and patterns in nature that are simple and interesting and instantly attract me. I love the elemental empty space of an image, a sense of airiness. I will sometimes layer an image with a light texture of another image that I’ve shot, such as dirty snow or cracked sidewalks, to add a painterly aspect to a specific type of photo, being careful to not overdo it. Over time, I’m using this technique less though, in favour of the texture being applied through the process of encaustics, which we discuss later.
Working in graphic design for many years has definitely informed elements of my photos. I search for shapes, lines and patterns in nature that are simple and interesting and instantly attract me. I love the elemental empty space of an image, a sense of airiness.
You list a variety of cameras and processes on your website - analogue, digital, toy cameras, alternative process, Polaroid - and elsewhere I’ve seen mention of your father’s old Ikoflex and your iPhone. What have you learnt from these, and which do you currently prefer to use?
I shoot mostly digital now, with both Nikon and Fujifilm, but still really enjoy the freedom of Polaroids and Holgas. I still also bring out the old Minolta and Ikoflex every once in a while. Each one teaches you to see in a specific way. I love that with the twin-lens Ikoflex you can be less intrusive by looking down into the camera. I’ve tried stealing some street photographs that way. I respect all forms of photography if the finished product is deserving. Indeed, some iPhone photographers are simply amazing, while some technically savvy equipment buffs leave me cold. Sometimes I’ll find a blurry old Polaroid that breaks my heart with its mountain of soul. It’s all in the telling.
We all invest a lot of time in “getting it right”, but I wonder whether in experimenting you’ve learned too from getting it wrong, or had any happy accidents?
Oh yes! I’ve learned the most from my mistakes without a doubt. Especially in the analogue days, where the cost of film and my low wages were a big issue. It taught you to really really think about pulling that trigger! And the joy of accidents that turn out to be favourites is a grand thing. If only it happened more often.
Can you give readers an insight into your workflow from the point of image capture to output?
Developing themes and series is the way I work best. I don’t always start out with a particular theme; often it just happens. Over time a pattern of images presents itself and becomes a series. Many themes are ongoing. I have a small series called “Island Horses” which is always being added to as the horses permit. These island horses aren’t always as cooperative as I’d like (nor is the weather). On any given day I usually just head out when the light is right and see what I can find. As Garry Winogrand has said, “All Things are Photographable”. When I download the day’s take I tend to not examine them too closely at first. It takes many viewings for me to really see them. I still find images from old shoots that were overlooked at the time but turn out to be some of the better ones.
Developing themes and series is the way I work best. I don’t always start out with a particular theme; often it just happens. Over time a pattern of images presents itself and becomes a series. Many themes are ongoing.
For editing, I most often use Nik’s Silver Efex Pro 2. I haven’t found a better black and white image converter. I also use Nik’s Color Efex Pro 4, but sparingly. There are a lot of options in it that aren’t useful to me; a lot of editing overload. And of course, I use good old Photoshop curves and dodge and burn. The more time goes on the more I prefer less and less editing, with the exception of the abstract encaustics.
Digital images can be perfect on screen but it isn’t until you hold a beautiful print in your hands that photography really works its charms. Printing is an integral part of the process of course, and it can be frustrating at times. The paper that I use is a crucial component of each piece. Hahnemuhle German Etching fine art paper is a beautiful heavy archival paper that has the look and feel of a watercolour paper. It suits my landscapes very well and it is the paper I most often use.
Is it important to you that other people see your work in print, and what do you hope that viewers will see in your images or take away with them?
I strive to evoke a sense of place in my images and hope that the viewer can be a part of the mood of each landscape, if only for a moment. The magnificence of nature never fails to inspire me and I try to convey that. The everyday world is a beautiful place and even the most common things we see every day can be glorious if we pay attention. These trails and forests that I love to photograph are eloquent expressions of nature and provide me with a strong sense of place. Observing them change through the seasons is a delight and it truly humbles me. I hope that comes across in even a small way to the viewer.
The everyday world is a beautiful place and even the most common things we see every day can be glorious if we pay attention. These trails and forests that I love to photograph are eloquent expressions of nature and provide me with a strong sense of place.
You’ve started to work with encaustic - how has this been going? Are you applying beeswax and heat to prints, using photo transfer or planning to add collage materials?
I stumbled upon this process out of the blue. One of the joys of photography is there is always somewhere new to go in this medium - something new to try. I can’t foresee ever becoming bored with it. It still keeps me up at night with ideas. At present, I’m very interested in the textures and mood of photo encaustics, the ancient process of applying pure beeswax and resin with heat to create a unique resilient surface over a photo that is mounted on a thick wooden cradleboard. Certain images are conducive to this process, which feels a bit like combining the love of painting with photography. The finished piece requires no framing or special care save for a little buffing with a soft cloth from time to time and an avoidance of very extreme temperatures. If it was okay for the ancient Greeks I guess that is a testament to its longevity, as it began as a coating for the preservation of ships at sea and was developed into use for paintings, many of which are displayed in museums to this day. The Fayum Funeral portraits are perhaps among the best known of the ancient encaustic paintings, and they look as vibrant today as perhaps the day they were painted in the first and second centuries. Wax is a strong preservative.
I’ve begun trying to add touches of encaustic paint in addition to wax to my images as well, for a real mixed media experiment. These pieces have a mind of their own and you just have to go with the flow and not over-think it. The trickiest part is the amount of wax in each layer - too much and you have large opaque blobs that detract from the entire image; too little and you lose the beautiful textured appearance. Again, just trial and error and finding what works best for you. This is very much a process where “accidents” occur on a regular basis and can be a bonus. And not-so-great accidents occur also. The joys and the sorrows! I’m presently developing an encaustic series called “Earth and Sky” and hope to exhibit it soon. This series is more abstract than most of my other work, which lends itself well to the free-spirited encaustic process.
Do you have any particular projects or ambitions for the future or themes that you would like to explore further?
In the future, I’d love to go more deeply into long exposure seascapes/waterscapes, which I experimented heavily with some years back. The dreamy look of this technique has always captivated me. I would love to try it with city street movement as well. Another wish is to become more involved with portrait photography; I have a studio setup and have lately put it aside for landscapes and nature.
If you had to take a break from all things photographic for a week, what would you end up doing? Do you have other hobbies or interests?
If I were to take a break from photography for a week or so, I would most likely be hiking and reading (separately of course). My husband and I have a new dog named Elmer who loves nothing better than exploring the conservation trails in the area. I also enjoy summer jaunts to Block Island, which is off the coast of Rhode Island, where life is slow and simple and refreshing. However, I would still probably be taking photos there…
And finally, is there someone whose photography you enjoy – perhaps someone that we may not have come across - and whose work you think we should feature in a future issue? They can be amateur or professional.
So many artists and photographers inspire me daily. As we know, with social media and Instagram in particular, everyone’s a photographer! But if you are a discriminating user, you will find an enormous wealth of talent there. It’s a joy to run across someone who is extremely unique in their execution and imagination. You can tell they are in love with the medium and they know what they’re doing. A couple of names that come to mind that I admire greatly and that I’ve discovered online in the landscape genre are Gerald Arzt and Ando Fuchs. They are always inspiring, along with so many others that share this passion.
How fortunate to have a love like this one, photography. It has contributed to much happiness in my life, in that it steers my focus away from the problems of the day and puts it on a creative and fulfilling path. I’ve often felt it to be an entity almost, a partner in my artistic endeavours, pushing me along to a new idea, the next expression, an untried technique. Each camera has its own personality and imposes it upon me. We are cohorts of a sort, recording our emotions and setting them free.
Thank you, Joan.
For more head to Joan’s website; alternatively, you can find her on Instagram.
When it comes to the idea of the photographer, there is something glamorous about the idea of the solitary individual, lost in the wilderness or submerged into the action of a war, working his way through adversity and challenges, bringing to the rest of mortals images most of us cannot expect to see with our own eyes. The reality, more often than not, is exactly like this. Photography, at least in the way I practice is, is a complete solitary endeavour, and in fact, that is one of the things that attract me the most about it.
However, it is interesting to see that this is not the case for all photographers, artists, or creative individuals. In fact, even for the most solitary photographers, there are frequent moments where collaboration with other individuals related to the long chain of the photographic process.
A good example of this is the common collaborations between photographers and printers. Some are the photographers who print their own work, but many are those who have a person of confidence in charge of printing their work, either in the darkroom or in the digital lab with inkjet printers. These collaborations, based not only on technical aspects but also on creative and expressive issues, can foster in the photographer a feeling of belonging to a community, bringing something together with the help of other people and creating something physical that exists by means of a team collaborative effort. In the same way having a child as an act of love and collaboration taking place within a couple, working together with a master printer in the creation of a portfolio or a print can prove a very rewarding experience.
Putting together a book with the help of a publisher will mean having to work and collaborate with an editor, who will help us decide which photos, where and how they will appear in our book. Printing that book will also open the door to more collaboration, this time with the printer, preparing the files, making tests, validating and correcting the press as the sheets fly away. What in theory could be understood as a merely technical and barren collaboration that has to be done in order to obtain a final goal, can indeed be planned and approached in a creative way, taking advantage to think out of the box and analyze what we are doing from other perspectives. It might also shake our own convictions of how we want things done, and get to know other possibilities that we might now have considered in the first place.
Even beyond the realm of documentary photography, there is a commonly held perception that photographs are linked to the ideas of truth and accuracy. For some, photography is a medium meant to record moments objectively, regardless of the subject matter or intention of the photographer. In the landscape photography world, this conversation often involves heated debates surrounding the merits of editing techniques. There are strong opinions on both sides about how much editing is too much, and when or if we should use labels such as “digital art”. Compromise is found by allowing each person to draw their own line in the sand, not forcing any particular belief system on someone else, and being truthful about artistic choices. That being said, there is a glaring dilemma in the photography world that rarely gets mentioned. It begins well before we open our computers or tablets. In fact, it begins the moment we pick up the camera.
As a society, we have been conditioned to expect true-to-life images in photography, and there is condemnation of processes viewed as excessive. However, there is seldom any acknowledgement of the fact that photos are inherently imprecise, as every photograph incorporates elements of personal interpretation. Susan Sontag described it succinctly in On Photography, a collection of essays released in 1977, when she wrote, “Even when photographers are most concerned with mirroring reality, they are still haunted by tacit imperatives of taste and conscience. … Although there is a sense in which the camera does indeed capture reality, not just interpret it, photographs are as much an interpretation of the world as paintings and drawings are.”
In spite of my suspicion of competitions for photographers, I have still been coerced into a number of assessment committees and judging panels. So many competitions are there that, as in our judicial system, even the unwilling must serve in the jury eventually!
Yet ‘judging’ pictures is also a terrific learning experience. One of my observations from this is that landscape photography is almost uniquely hamstrung – in competitions anyway – when compared with other genres of photography, in lacking a ‘subject’.
Imagine you have to choose between three brilliant pictures: a landscape; an animal; and a person (or people)…even for those of us who love our field of work, it is close to impossible to by-pass our conditioned response that humans are more important and more interesting than anything else. And animals evoke our empathy, sense of wonder, and also have the ‘cute’ factor to sway the audience. Thus, in open competition, landscapes are rarely ever better than worthy also-rans.
Yet ‘judging’ pictures is also a terrific learning experience. One of my observations from this is that landscape photography is almost uniquely hamstrung – in competitions anyway – when compared with other genres of photography, in lacking a ‘subject’.
“The Dolomites are widely regarded as being among the most attractive mountain landscapes in the world.” states UNESCO*. Recently inscribed onto the UNESCO World Heritage List, on June 26, 2009, these mighty mountains hold a wide appeal for hikers, climbers, skiers, cyclists, historians, and naturally photographers. They are a mountain range in the northern Italian Alps, with over 18 peaks which rise to above 3,000 metres in altitude and feature some of the most beautiful mountain landscapes anywhere, with vertical walls, sheer cliffs and a high density of narrow, deep and long valleys.
The range and its characteristic rock take their name from the 18th-century French geologist Dieudonné Dolomieu, who made the first scientific study of the region and its geology. These dramatic mountains are famous for their unique colours. Once known as the Pale Mountains, they become firey at sunrise and sunset, and ethereal purple during the dawn and dusk alpenglow. The verticality provides a dramatic contrast to the verdant, pastoral valleys beneath, and they provide a pure haven for photography.
I remember visiting the Dolomites for the first time in 1996 during my annual visits to my home in Italy whilst still living in South Africa. I remember clearly the first time I saw the majestic Sassolungo peak that is visible through the pine forests as one approaches Ortisei, a beautiful alpine town in Val Gardena, a world famous valley in the heart of the Dolomites. From that moment on, I knew that they would become part of me and my future. Now that I am living here in my home in northern Italy and am a short distance from them, I have taken my time to get to know these impressive mountains, not only the scenery that is so popular and frequently photographed but the lesser known but equally spectacular areas.
Now that I am living here in my home in northern Italy and am a short distance from them, I have taken my time to get to know these impressive mountains, not only the scenery that is so popular and frequently photographed but the lesser known but equally spectacular areas.
Perhaps the most photographed mountains in the Dolomites are the Tre Cime di Lavaredo (Drei Zinnen) and are the symbol of the Dolomite UNESCO World Heritage site. The distinctive shape and colour of the Three Peaks make this massif easily recognizable: the "three dolostone fingers" stretching towards the sky comprise of Cima Grande (2999 m), Cima Ovest (2973 m) and Cima Piccola (2857 m). The Tre Cime are dotted with mountain huts so one can stop along the way for refreshments, a breather or overnight stay during summer and early autumn. Many of the mountain huts close during winter months, so it is always best to check before planning a trip.
Other distinctive peaks are Sassolungo, Sassopiatto and the Sciliar massif to the south-east, which with its unmistakable profile are visible from the famous Alpe di Siusi plateau, also known as Seiser Alm, the largest high-altitude Alpine meadow in Europe.
One can describe at length the beauty of the Dolomites and its spectacular peaks, but perhaps one of my favourites is Mount Nuvolau with its magnificent south facing tower Ra Gusela and Mount Averau situated on the Giau pass a short drive up from Cortina D’Ampezzo. Many walks and hikes can be done from this mountain pass, both for novices and experienced hikers.
Another magnificent peak to visit and easily accessible by cable car from Ortisei in Val Gardena is Seceda. At the top station of the cable car and a short walk to a viewpoint, you can enjoy a marvellous view of almost the entire South Tyrol as well as of the mountains in Trentino, Lombardy and Austria. Last but not least, you can admire the breathtaking peaks of the nearby Dolomites.
One cannot write about the Dolomites without mentioning the magnificent lakes that are dotted around the entire area. One of the most famous is Lake Braies (Pragser Wildsee) also known as the “Pearl among Dolomite lakes”. The emerald green lake became famous in the last years due to the Italian television series “Un passo dal cielo” starring Terence Hill and is extremely popular photographically due to its incredible beauty.
I quote one of my favourite authors, John Muir, the father of conservation and mountain lover: “The mountains are calling and I must go”.
Other lakes that are magnificent are lake Dobbiaco (Toblachsee) and lake Landro (Durrensee), both in pristine condition, with incredible colours and both surrounded by the peaks of the Dolomites.
All these areas are very special to me and fill me with immense joy, and continue to inspire me to photograph. I quote one of my favourite authors, John Muir, the father of conservation and mountain lover: “The mountains are calling and I must go”.
The images that draw us in are those that speak to the things that make us who we are: our emotions, our history, our culture, our beliefs, the things we value. There aren’t many places in the world I value more than forests and woodlands. If they have a river or a creek flowing through them, so much the better. Walking through them I find a deep inner peace that eludes me in day-to-day life. Exploring along their light, mystical, sometimes imposing, always intriguing paths, camera on my back, I lose all sense of time. The textures of the bark call out to my fingers, the smells infuse my nose, the mud squelches under my feet (and I pray that they don’t come out from under me when the dogs lunge after a squirrel). Pleasing patterns hide in amidst the jumble of leaves and branches – it’s all magic.
I’ve always been inspired by Ansel Adams’ work, not just because he was a great photographer, but also because he was a great conservationist, and that combination really resonates with me. Photography, like all art, has a role to play in shaping the current discourse, and that’s exactly what his works did. In fact, they were instrumental in bringing about the creation of the first national parks in the United States.
Tenaya Creek Dogwoods isn’t one of his most famous works, but it’s my favourite, made around 1948 with an 8" x 10" camera. He tells the story of searching fruitlessly for dogwoods to photograph until he came upon this scene on Tenaya Creek close to Mirror Lake Road. He almost didn't set up his camera...
He believed the first contact print made from this negative ranked among the most satisfactory prints he ever made, displaying marvellous colour and capturing the luminosity of his subject..
A light rain began to fall, and I considered giving up for the day, but when I came to an opening in the trees and saw this subject open up before me I banished such thoughts of defeat and set up the camera under protection of the focusing cloth. The rain added a certain richness to the scene and suggested an atmospheric recession of values that would not otherwise be seen.
According to the Ansel Adams gallery, in making the enlargements, Adams had difficulty separating the grey tones and found the process to be largely paper-dependent. He believed the first contact print made from this negative ranked among the most satisfactory prints he ever made, displaying marvellous colour and capturing the luminosity of his subject.
I’ve only ever seen the image online but even on my small screen I can feel the gentle rain falling on me and feel the tranquillity of the scene with the sound of the water. The tonal range is rich but the overall feeling I get is one of lightness and joy. It’s a celebration of a fairly ordinary scene that, with different trees, could be anywhere.
We had a recent email from a reader asking whether we should still be using ‘expose to the right’ when modern sensors have such a large dynamic range. It’s been a while since I’ve even tried ETTR but a theoretical yes was my first instinct. But then I had to have a proper think about the processing of taking of an image and how ETTR (expose to the right) would work in practice and a different answer started to emerge.
For those of you who don’t know what ETTR is, let’s have a quick recap. Without going into too much depth, digital cameras have a fairly constant level of noise. When you give a photograph more exposure, the ‘signal’ (your photo) gets larger whilst the level of noise remains the same. If you don’t give the photograph enough exposure, you have to increase the exposure when you post process it, and inevitably this means boosting the noise as well.
So, more exposure, less noise. Obviously, there is a limit to how much you can increase the exposure because you get to a point where you clip the highlights. So, in order to get the least noise in your image, you need to increase the exposure as much as possible without clipping your highlights. The ‘Expose to the Right’ phrase comes from visualising this by shifting the lumps on your histogram to the right.
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.
Submit Your 4x4 Portfolio
Interested in submitting your work? We're on the lookout for new portfolios for the next few issues, so please do get in touch!
For part of the year, I live at Bundanoon, in the Southern Highlands of NSW - the high country a hundred clicks south of Sydney. It's right on the border of the Morton National Park, which extends for huge distances around it.
Most mornings I ride my mountain bike into the part of the park which is a dry forest above the gully of the Bundanoon Creek. There's a magnificent rock pushing out into space, and I stop at it many times a week, and often photograph it as I see its character change with the seasons.
I am reluctant to call myself a landscape photographer. Granted, I do spend a lot of time exploring the wild outdoors with my camera in hand, and my images almost always include rocks, water, sky or trees. But that title, “landscape photographer”, conjures up a mental image of a person, a location, a bag of gear and a checklist of techniques that has very little to do with me and my image-making process.
For me, and I suspect for many other On Landscape readers, the important thing about landscape photography is not the photography itself. Nor even the beautiful landscapes we travel through. What’s important are our experiences in those landscapes and the larger meaning-of-life questions we ponder when we are out there. It is those questions, and our attempts to answer them, that propel us beyond merely documenting the pretty scenery, and instead make images that tell stories, express ideas, evoke moods and spark conversations.
What we bring to this kind of image-making is, well… our whole lives! In my case, this includes happy formative years on Canada’s Atlantic coast, some turbulent years stranded in its largest city, and all the wonderful outdoor adventures that have punctuated my journey. It encompasses my eclectic studies in philosophy, literature, earth science and natural history, and an earlier career writing about wilderness travel and environmental issues. It also flows from my craving for solitude and freedom, and, paradoxically, my enjoyment of the company of good friends. It is inspired by the work of other photographers, and by paintings, poetry, music and the songs of birds.
In short, a whole medley of sensory, emotional and intellectual input goes into the making of my images, in a process that begins long before I press the camera’s shutter button, and often continues long afterwards in my digital darkroom. Indeed, it even persists in the creation of titles for my images to complement and enrich them (a lively topic that merits its own essay!).
The four images I have chosen for my 4x4 portfolio reflect this image-making process. They all originated in my camera but didn’t truly come alive until I transformed the visual raw materials in my computer and gave each image a worthy title. Now they speak to me, and for me, of matters that are close to my heart.
Are they landscape photographs? Yes. Perhaps. But I can’t help hoping they are something more.
It’s no secret that landscape photographers like spending time in woodland. These often hidden areas of beauty can be both challenging and extremely rewarding to shoot.
The challenge (in my humble opinion) comes from trying to create a coherent composition in what is often a chaotic landscape. Whilst it's true that mist and fog help, this is only (a small) part of the answer.
The reward (for me) goes beyond creating appealing images. It comes from having the privilege of spending time in these areas at times of the day where no one else is around. There is a special atmosphere not experienced elsewhere. These areas often have their own microclimate, being a few degrees cooler than those which are just outside the woodland. The trees and their foliage also absorb sound, creating a sense of stillness and peace which can make it feel like time is standing still. The final reward comes from (hopefully!) representing all of this in the final image.
I hope these four images go some way towards achieving what I have described.
The tree alley which is the subject of these photographs is likely one of the most photographed locations in Germany, at least regarding trees.
Whenever I visit such a well known place I challenge myself to ignore all the images I have seen and to find a different take on it. At the same time, I'm always afraid of doing something that is too affected, too stilted. I don't want to be original for originality's sake.
In this case, the visit happened shortly after I had switched camera systems from Sony to Fuji and I now had a dedicated button for multiple exposures. It's not something that I had done since switching to digital 12 years ago, because it doesn't work for me in Photoshop. On this day I had so much fun experimenting and playing with my camera that results were secondary. There are still a couple of images that I quite like. The light and the clouds were changing rapidly and this moody atmosphere along with the graphic quality of the trees and winding path inspired me to create something that reminds me of Escher's drawings or Kafka's stories. At first, it was accidental, but I noticed it at the time and went with it.
It is common in art to revive the styles and sensibilities of older periods. Such revivals often correlate with similar historic circumstances. For example, classical art, dating back to the days of Ancient Greece (and later Rome), coincided with an era of progress in democracy, science, and philosophy. In the 18th century, a movement in art now referred to as Neoclassicism arose alongside the Age of Enlightenment, also marked by progress in freedom of expression, science, art, and philosophical thinking.
Following the Enlightenment, Romanticism—a movement celebrating natural beauty, emotions, and individualism—came about, partly as a response to the drudgery of workers in the early days of the Industrial Revolution. Not surprisingly, the tenets of romanticism are also found in much of today’s art—including landscape photography—on the heels of the Internet revolution and rampant capitalism. In defiance of stressful jobs, long work hours, and traditions disrupted or supplanted by technology, many professionals today try to balance their lives with creative activities and time spent away from the bustle of cities.
In defiance of stressful jobs, long work hours, and traditions disrupted or supplanted by technology, many professionals today try to balance their lives with creative activities and time spent away from the bustle of cities.
Although much landscape photography remains true to the aesthetics of the romantic era, the rest of the art world had since moved on. Following romanticism, a new art movement—Realism—came about after a series of political revolutions in France (particularly the “February Revolution” of 1848). With greater social equality, realist artists portrayed, as the name suggests, things as they are, without deference to religious or aristocratic powers, and without (unrealistic) embellishment. Realist paintings portrayed, among other subject matter, such things as plain views, negative emotions, and social commentary, that are not generally found in romantic art.
The Realist Movement coincided with the invention of photography, causing some turmoil among painters who felt threatened by a medium capable of reproducing detailed, realistic, depictions with greater ease and accuracy than they could in painting. It was partly due to painters seeking to distinguish their medium from photography, that realism eventually gave way to impressionism—a harbinger of what we know today as Modern Art.
Impressionist painters did away with fine details (partly as a concession that photography had the upper hand in that regard) and focused instead on the qualities of natural light, and a natural palette of colours. Later, post-impressionism did away with allegiance to natural colours, too, although post-impressionists still retained fidelity to recognizable shapes and objects. Later art movements did away with these, too.
Contending that photography, like painting, can be a medium for art, photographers of the 19th century evolved a style known as Pictorialism. Pictorialist photographers eschewed sharp detail and used a variety of techniques to accomplish a dreamy, painterly, effect in their work. These techniques included soft focus, and direct manipulation of prints using brushes, chemicals, and sometimes pigments. It may surprise some today to learn that pictorialism was the dominant style in photography for many decades, and into the 20th century. Famous pictorialists include such notable photographers as Alvin Langdon Coburn, Henry Peach Robinson, and Julia Margaret Cameron. Alfred Stieglitz, Edward Steichen, Edward Weston, Ansel Adams, and other 20th-century photographers also started their careers as pictorialists.
Pictorialist photographers eschewed sharp detail and used a variety of techniques to accomplish a dreamy, painterly, effect in their work. These techniques included soft focus, and direct manipulation of prints using brushes, chemicals, and sometimes pigments.
Stieglitz, along with Paul Strand, all but waged war on the pictorialist style. Stieglitz wrote in 1899, “About ten years ago the movement toward pictorial photography evolved itself out of the confusion in which photography had been born, and took a definite shape in which it could be pursued as such by those who loved art and sought some medium other than brush or pencil through which to give expression to their ideas. Before that time pictorial photography, as the term was then understood, was looked upon as the bastard of science and art, hampered and held back by the one, denied and ridiculed by the other.” Strand was even more outspoken, writing, “If you let other people’s vision get between the world and your own, you will achieve that extremely common and worthless thing, a pictorial photograph.” Their efforts were successful, and pictorialism fell out of favour, to be replaced by so-called “straight” photography.
Although attributed (erroneously) by some to western (American) photographers, such as Edward Weston, Ansel Adams, and others in Group f/64, it was actually Alfred Stieglitz who promoted straight photography as a purer form of the medium for about two decades before the founding of Group f/64. Despite common belief, the pioneers of straight photography did not object to manipulation of their photographs, so long as the manipulation was done using “photographic tools,” such as the use of various optics, chemicals, dodging, burning, and even the removal of distracting elements from negatives.
If straight photography has one defining characteristic, it is not fidelity to realistic views, but fidelity to sharp details—the quality most commonly considered as photography’s distinguishing characteristic (and the reason for the moniker “Group f/64,” referring to what is usually the smallest aperture on a view camera lens, rendering the greatest amount of sharp-looking details).
Although some still believe passionately that photography today is still largely “straight” and realistic, that is not the case. This can be demonstrated with a simple thought experiment. Consider the routine of a person living in an industrialized country. In the course of a day, this person will encounter hundreds of photographs in a variety of contexts—snapshots and creative photographs on social media, photographs in advertisements and news media, etc. (For reference, a survey in 2014 estimated that an adult person will see on average 362 ads in a day). A sizable proportion, if not the majority, of these photographs, are neither straight or realistic, even if the person believes them to be.
Artistically speaking, straight photography had been a short-lived period (and one should remember that straight does not mean un-manipulated). In fact, one of the first to abandon straight photography was also one of its greatest promoters—Ansel Adams.
Artistically speaking, straight photography had been a short-lived period (and one should remember that straight does not mean un-manipulated). In fact, one of the first to abandon straight photography was also one of its greatest promoters—Ansel Adams. In her biography of Adams, Mary Street Alinder writes this about one of Adams’ most famous photographs, Monolith, the Face of Half Dome, made in 1927: “Monolith is Ansel’s most significant photograph because with this image he broke free from all photography that had come before. Nothing in it smacks of Pictorialism, or of Stieglitz, Strand, or Edward Weston. With its extreme manipulation of tonal values, it was definitely beyond the dicta of straight photography; this was a new vision, and it was his.”
Just like some painters still create paintings that are impressionist or romantic in style, so do many photographers still adhere to straight photography, the difference being that painters who favour older styles know that they are working in older styles, which is not the case for most straight photographers. In particular, most landscape photographs we see today are anything but straight. Most landscape photographs today are designed to evoke emotions and to glorify natural beauty. These are characteristics of the romantic era in painting, and of its photographic counterpart—pictorialism. Also, as in the romantic era, we are today facing many of the disruptive (not always in good ways) effects of a revolution in technology, the rise of a global economy, income inequality, more demanding and time-consuming jobs, rampant urbanization, etc. Like romantic painters, it is fair to say that many landscape photographers practice their art in defiance of, or as a respite from, the demands of whatever industry they work in.
What we are seeing today, I believe, is a revival of styles and attitudes toward photography that are more in line with those of pictorialism than of straight photography (and certainly different from realism). Unlike painters, who generally become educated in the history of their art, many photographers are drawn to the medium without such background, and as a result may become convinced that what they know about photography at a point in time has always been, and will always be. But art always has, and always will, continue to evolve and change. Movements come, and movements go, and today’s reign of what I believe can be referred to as neopictorialism, will surely also be replaced in time by something else.
One common pattern to the rise of art movements is that new styles are often greeted with scathing criticism and moral outrage, sometimes even ridicule. Look no further than artists like Claude Monet (impressionist), Paul Cézanne (post-impressionist), Pablo Picasso (Cubist), etc.—all of whom were the subjects of spiteful and derisive criticism. But ultimately, in historical perspective, the most vocal defenders of obsolete movements are those we consider today as lacking in vision.
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For the past couple of years, our social media feeds have been enlivened by Richards’s strange creations, the result of one of those happy accidents. His Warped Topographies do indeed show that we can all learn from mistakes, and also that we should not be too hasty in throwing away or deleting images that at first sight are ‘rejects’.
Richard wrote an article for On Landscape in April 2017 about his experiments with out of date film and a faulty Polaroid camera, and how these had inspired him to research both the history and significance of Polaroid and the chemical composition of the films. Now, with a Fellowship of the Royal Photographic Society and a book which quickly sold out its first edition, we thought we’d catch up with him and talk about his adventures and where these may take him next.
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 Old Windsor but grew up in Ealing, West London. I also went to University in London, which considering my love of the outdoors was probably a mistake location-wise, but I did meet my wife via that route, so it was a good thing!
I grew up being curious and interested in the natural world and the landscape, although I knew more about the former than the latter.
When I later saw Ken Robinson’s Ted Talk, ‘Do Schools Kill Creativity?’ I had to answer with a resounding, “Yes!”
My degree was in Politics and Government, although my real love was (and still is) Economics. However, I became disillusioned with Politics (the subject) after my degree and started on a path to become a Graphic Designer.
In those days this was a highly unnatural path. At the time it was really difficult to swap courses, which meant I had to study in different ways. It was also strange because in Art classes at school I was dismissed. My art teacher didn’t like photography and my more diagrammatic approach to art, because it wasn’t ‘real art’ in his view. Perhaps if he’d been a bit less blinkered he would have noticed there was quite a strong design bias to my art! When I later saw Ken Robinson’s Ted Talk, ‘Do Schools Kill Creativity?’ I had to answer with a resounding, “Yes!”
I have since worked in publishing as a book cover designer, a web designer, an app designer (my claim to fame there being that I designed the Shazam app), and I’m currently a User Experience designer.
We all, as photographers, reach for our camera, place in the frame what we want to include in our photograph, and press the shutter button. One thing that is common in all of us is that we did it for a reason. It may have been a moment we wanted to remember, a fragment of time, or we wanted to share something about what we saw on that day/night. One thing that will be common is an emotional impetus that made us do it in the first place. Did we want to show other members or our family or friends? Did we intend to impress someone with our photographic prowess and art, or did we want to shock, as we ourselves were shocked? This is something that we should ask ourselves, otherwise, we may lose direction having never understood why we make photographs in the first place and it is a question that is difficult to answer.
As a young photographer, I recall vividly looking at the work of master photographers and being physically and emotionally stirred by what I saw. It is worth noting at this stage that I was sixteen years of age at the time, and this age is not commonly associated with a deep connection with art as the world was moving at a fast pace and you are enjoying the ride! So it was most certainly important to me. Also, it was not all photographs that I encountered that invoked this response. Some I thought, were at best, fitting into the category of mediocrity, and some, quite frankly I concluded were boring and secured little or none of my time.
Becoming an artist means creating your own path and in all likelihood going it alone. It means relying almost entirely on yourself in a world that's more or less indifferent to all that you do. The sad truth is that while art may be recognized as a noble profession, it rarely gets mistaken for a useful occupation. ~ Ted Orland
On March 1 of this year, I officially became a full-time artist. As usually happens in life the reality of the moment didn’t quite meet expectations. I had envisioned it for years, an occasion marked by joy and celebration, a long-time goal finally realized. Instead, the day came and went with scant recognition on my part. The reasons were varied and obvious to me, and while the day itself seemed no different than the days previous, the months since have gradually revealed my new life and with it the ensuing rewards and struggles.
In many ways, my story is no different from so many other nature photographers who, tired of the stress and strain of the corporate world longed to live a life of greater meaning. In my former career, I was a geologist. It wasn’t until the final year of my PhD program that I discovered my true passion was nature photography. Leading up to that I knew I didn’t love geology, but I liked it well enough and not having an idea of what else to do it seemed like a decent way to make a living. By the time I discovered my true passion in life the career train was already well down the tracks.
I don’t come from a particularly artistic family. Living the life of an artist was something that, well, artists do. And certainly I was no artist, or so I believed. Truthfully, at that stage, I wasn’t. I completed my studies and spent the next nine years living a false existence in the corporate world of the energy industry, practising my art all too infrequently when time and circumstance allowed. Eventually, I decided I had no choice but to pursue my dream of becoming a professional nature photographer, realizing the regret that would surely come later in life if I didn’t try. Fourteen years later the dream came to fruition.
Much of the joy and excitement I expected to feel was tempered by a fear of the unknown and a firm hold on the reality facing me in the months and years ahead. What if I don't make enough money? As Robert Adams states, “Money is important. It allows you the power over yourself - your time, your energy, the place you love, the tools you have - to be yourself, to get the job done.”
Much of the joy and excitement I expected to feel was tempered by a fear of the unknown and a firm hold on the reality facing me in the months and years ahead.
Ideally, I would have set a date in the future and built a sizeable nest egg before quitting my day job. However, the “going pro” date, in the end, wasn’t my decision, and it came sooner than expected. For the past ten years, I had been working part-time as a consultant from home, the idea being that it would provide me with the freedom to pursue photography on my own schedule while providing a reasonably steady income. For a period of time, that model worked relatively well. However, due to a downturn in the energy industry, the work became increasingly scarce during the past few years. It came time to stop waiting and take action if I was going to make it as a full-time artist it was now or never. At the end rather than jumping off the cliff, it was more than I was pushed, forced off by circumstances before we were financially ready. Looking back I realise that it had to be that way. I was too comfortable before and not hungry enough. It had to become a sink or swim situation.
The life of an artist is filled with uncertainty. Freedom comes at the cost of security. My wife and I are still adjusting to the new realities, and it will be some time before we are out of what I call “the wilderness”. Until then neither of us is certain where and how we will be living a year from now. The house in which we currently reside no longer suits our needs and is beyond our means. Still, we’re certain we won’t be on the street. It is an adventure, and like any adventure has its terrifying moments as well as moments of pure joy. What is life without the quality of the unknown? In the meantime, I augment my photography income with commercial work, specifically real estate photography. It’s not a fact I care to advertise because it is not what I want to be known as, though I am in no way ashamed of it for it allows me the opportunity to advance my creative work. If it was good enough for Ansel Adams then it’s good enough for me. I fully expect the day will come when the commercial work will no longer be necessary. Until then I strive to maintain a working balance between the creative work and commercial.
I am often asked how I make a living as a professional nature photographer. It’s a fair question with no obvious answer. In the past, I would say half jokingly “when I find out I’ll let you know!”. With time and necessity, however, I have begun to figure it out. I now answer that one must cast a wide net. Sitting passively waiting for the public to purchase your work from your website is a delusion many aspiring photographers share early on. Relying on print sales alone is the single biggest mistake an aspiring photographer can make. You can’t be passive, you must get your work and your expertise in front of the right people. And who are the right people? They can be editors and buyers of nature related images or other photographers. As to the latter, it’s of the utmost importance to build an audience of other photographers; amateurs, enthusiasts, fellow professionals, it doesn’t matter. Share what you have learned. If you enjoy writing then create a blog or write articles for magazines. If you enjoy teaching then follow that route. These days I teach classes at a local arts centre as well as a community college, in addition to leading workshops. At times I feel like a huckster, pedalling my talents and expertise to those who would listen and may have a use for it. Such is the life of the creative person.
For the last several months I’ve been wooed by a company that offers a website template designed to maximize sales, essentially an online art gallery. In addition to the website, they offer tutorials on engaging your online audience and offering specials, giveaways, and so on. Their ads are replete with almost impossible to believe testimonials from clients praising how much this company has helped their online art business. Based on experience I’m sceptical of such claims, though I admit to being tempted. However, the main reason I haven’t pulled the trigger is more personal.
I want my audience to feel inspired to do so and not do it because I ask. I prefer my website resemble an online portfolio rather than a “storefront”.
Early on I decided I would take a low-key approach to marketing. I don’t list my website on each social media post. I no longer ask people to like, share, or comment. I want my audience to feel inspired to do so and not do it because I ask. I prefer my website resemble an online portfolio rather than a “storefront”. It might be stubbornness bordering on foolishness (neither is foreign to me), but I am not comfortable treating my art as a commodity. It’s not why I have chosen to live a creative life. If money was paramount I would still be working as a geologist. It’s not that I’m against making money as an artist, far from it. I simply prefer for it to happen in a more natural and less obvious way. Much of the rampant self-promotion I see almost borders on the narcissistic. Yes, my work is available for purchase through my website, but a price tag next to each image is not the first thing you see. I want people to purchase my work because it moves them, not because I have pleaded with them to do so. I want people to sign up for my classes and workshops because they feel I have something to offer them based on what they see in my images.
I often hear aspiring photographers say that they fear becoming a professional because the responsibilities and struggles would ruin their love for photography. Hogwash. Certainly, there are many valid reasons for not going pro, but this sounds like an excuse pure and simple. Artistically I’m as passionate about my photography as ever. Yes, there are added pressures, but I decided at the outset I wouldn’t let them direct or shape my artistic expression. Granted, and I can’t stress this strongly enough, I am fortunate that I have a wife with a steady income and benefits (and the decision to not have children has also helped immensely). Ultimately it’s about a way of life, not simply making photos, and for me, that way of life is worth the sacrifices. So deep is my passion that I feel I have no choice. To have continued to live my previous life would have been a betrayal of my true self.
I am not sharing my story in search of sympathy. I chose this artistic life, or more to the point it chose me. I feel fortunate to have been claimed by a passion so intense that it dominates almost every facet of my life. Most people will never know that feeling. But, as great as the rewards are so are the difficulties. Making a meaningful image is easy, making a living at it is infinitely harder. If you are an artist take solace in the fact that yours is a struggle shared by every other artist throughout time. If you are not an artist then consider supporting one on their journey to better themselves and perhaps even the world.
I recently reconfigured my home office now that I no longer need a dedicated space for my geology work. As I was dismantling my computer set up the realisation that I would never be doing that type of work again finally hit me. Feeling a little wistful I turned on my geology laptop and looked at the the last project I had worked several months ago, knowing that after twenty years I would never be doing that work again. After some time I closed the laptop and in doing so closed that chapter of my life forever. Time to be moving on...
