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...
Living in the beautiful Yorkshire Dales, a large part of what I shoot could be considered quite traditional landscape photography. When it comes to my favourite images of other photographers though and the works I find most awe inspiring my tastes are a little more eclectic. I find I am often drawn to images that have a cinematic quality, either in the tone or lighting, with atmospherics or the epic nature of the visual. But above all, what I think captures me is the narrative. Although I am drawn to a cinematic feel, I love the still image as it allows the viewer the freedom to create their own story from what is in the scene.
An image I believe demonstrates many of these qualities and a favourite of mine is ‘Chongqing XI, Chongqing Municipality’ by Nadav Kander. It is part of his award-winning series ‘Yangtze, The Long River’. Captured over several trips to China in 2006 and 2007, this body of work documents the people and landscapes along the banks of China’s largest and most significant river as he followed it upstream from the coast in the East to close to its source in Qinghai Province in the West.
A stunning composition, this photograph represents the powerlessness of the common people against the authority of the state and its continuous drive for development often at any cost.
In it we see several people, small in the frame, standing on a large rock slab by the edge of the water. In the background, huge cranes perch precariously on the unfinished arch of what I believe is the Chaotianmen Changjiang Bridge, dwarfed by its immense size. The river is so wide that the far bank has disappeared into the haze. The surface turbulence an indication of the sheer volume of water flowing by.
Looking closer at the foreground a series of pools in the rock draw the eye to the group of men fishing on the bank. The arc of their traditional nets mimics the arc of the bridge.
The image, tonally rather drab and desaturated and with such an imbalance of scale between the people and the rest of their environment has an almost oppressive feel and makes those in it appear inconsequential to the change that is going on around them.
Looking closer at the foreground a series of pools in the rock draw the eye to the group of men fishing on the bank. The arc of their traditional nets mimics the arc of the bridge. Nets, the design of which has likely remained unchanged for generations, are juxtaposed against the new construction taking place in in the background. A woman stands alone staring off upstream. A mask covers her nose and mouth to protect her from the smog. In the distance, having left his clothes and shoes piled neatly on the shore a figure has waded out into the water with a small rod.
For these people, the landscape that they view today is so immensely different to the one their great grandparents would have seen. Like previous generations, they still use this historic river to provide sustenance but now they face a potential risk to their health due to the heavy pollution present in the water.
Nadav Kander is perhaps best known for his landscapes, portraits and nudes. He has taken portraits of many well-known people and celebrities possibly most notably his series ‘Obama’s People’ for the New York Times and his portrait of Donald Trump on the cover of Time for their ‘Person of the Year 2016’. He was born in Israel in 1961, and at an early age moved with his parents to Johannesburg, South Africa where he lived until his mid-twenties. It is also where he got his first camera and began to photograph. He left South Africa in 1985 for London where he still lives today.
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 finally saw the native azaleas and rhododendrons blooming in the wilds of the southern Appalachians this past June. I travelled from my home in northern Virginia, just outside Washington, DC, about 400 miles southwest to where the borders of Virginia, North Carolina and Tennessee converge. Guided by members of the azalea and rhododendron societies, who have been visiting these mountains for a couple of decades to inventory and monitor the wild azaleas and rhododendrons, I was able to experience some of the magic of this landscape.
These images were taken in the Roan Highlands, straddling the North Carolina and Tennessee border, and from the Blue Ridge Parkway nearby. Roan is known for its Flame azaleas (Rhododendron calendulaceum), blooming pale yellow to deep orange, stands of purple Catawba rhododendrons (Rhododendron catawbiense) and open balds (high meadows) on mountain crests and ridges. The Blue Ridge Parkway is a beautiful 469-mile road of smoky-blue mountain vistas, winding southward from Rockfish Gap, west of Charlottesville, Virginia, to just past the Smoky Mountains in North Carolina.
While the Canadian Rockies are known for their splendid vistas, few views are as beautiful as the top of Sulfur Mountain. Located in Banff National Park, Alberta and requiring a lengthy gondola ride to the top, the 7600 ft. elevation allows you to see some of the most beautiful sunsets that mountain range has to offer. For the past couple of months, the Sunset Festival has been a special celebration of Banff’s remarkable sunsets, with the entire facility atop of Sulfur Mountain getting renovated and transformed into the ultimate viewing pleasure.
A struggle I had to deal with was the raging forest fires burning in Western Canada throughout the whole summer, leading to poor visibility and a general haziness that made shooting almost impossible. On our way to Banff, everything seemed to take a turn for the worst as, in addition to the smoke, it started to rain. I wasn’t sure what to expect nor did I keep my hopes up, but miraculously, when we arrived at the mountain top, the clouds parted and a sliver of the beautiful sunset managed to shine through, just begging to be captured. Although normally the smoke alongside the mountains would prove a hindrance, the perfect combination of sunshine and elevation ended up producing some pictures that would be impossible to take otherwise.
Although stormy weather threatened to ruin my trip, the perfect opportunity presented itself, and for the next few minutes, there was a beautiful, peaceful serenity on the mountain top – punctuated only by the shuttering of my camera.
I've been a lover of woodland photography for several years now, a lot of this has been quite representative colour scenes, but more recently have favoured a darker, mono aesthetic as well as looking closer at detail heavy and more graphical compositions, often with a long lens at a distance to flatten the image.
These dark woodland squares have become an ongoing theme which I'm always on the lookout for when out with my camera.
The Altopiano di Asiago or Altopiano dei Sette Comuni, (Plateau of Asiago) is situated in the Veneto region of North Eastern Italy and is a large plateau near the border of the Trentino-Alto Adige/Südtirol regions in the foothills of the Alps.
Asiago is the principal town with a population of roughly 6,500. The town was the site of a battle between Austrian and Italian forces on the Alpine Front of World War I. The Asiago War Memorial seen in my photo of the sheep transhumance, is a World War I memorial located on the outskirts of the town and houses the remains of over 50,000 Italian and Austro-Hungarian soldiers. In Italy the memorial is typically called Sacrario Militare di Asiago or Sacrario Militare del Leiten. Leiten is the name of the hill on which the memorial sits.
There are many traditions on the Altopiano that are fiercely protected by the local population. The most important one being the annual religious rite of the “Grande Rogazione” A tradition handed down for centuries, for over four hundred years. This ritual is celebrated precisely forty days after Easter and consists of a procession that lasts a whole day, in which prayers and thanksgiving songs are performed in Cimbro, the original language of the Asiago plateau.
The region is the origin of the world famous Asiago cheese and is a major Italian DOP (Protected Designation of Origin) cheese. During the spring, summer and autumn seasons the Altopiano of Asiago is a spectacular area for walking, hiking and mountain biking, with more than 500 km of tracks available. During the winter months, snow conditions permitting, it becomes a destination for winter sports, particularly cross- country skiing.
The Faroe Islands, an archipelago of 18 self-governing islands but belonging to Denmark, are located at around 62 degrees N in the North Atlantic, approx. 300km north-west of Scotland and some 430km south-east of Iceland. Benefitting from the Gulf Stream, the climate is relatively mild but rather wet and at times very stormy. We certainly experienced some very windy times and when coupled with driving rain, photography was a challenge, to say the least! With a population of a little over 50,000, it’s not a crowded place.
The Faroese economy is about 98% fishing, which implies that tourism is still a very minor activity. Indeed as the tourist brochure says, when you consider the over 7 billion population on Earth, it’s a very small and exclusive group that have been to the Faroes! But in recent years, there’s been growing interest among photographers and some predict that it could experience strong growth as a photographic venue in the coming few years.
The islands are formed primarily from volcanic black basalt and hence as in Iceland, there are sharp jagged ridges and black sand beaches. Spectacular cliffs rise up steeply many hundreds of metres directly from the sea, while small uninhabited islands and sea stacks add to the other-worldly feel of the landscape; add to that stormy skies or colourful light at either end of the day and you have plenty of dramatic subject matter. But of course, seek and ye shall find and other, quietly anonymous cameos are available.
Back in summer 2017 five likely lads were considering where to go and play with our cameras. One of the group, Harvey Lloyd-Thomas, had visited the islands some years earlier and we quickly decided it would be worth visiting before it gets too crowded. Although landscape photography tends to be a solo pursuit, I for one really enjoy the social aspects and camaraderie of getting back in a group in the evenings, sharing experiences and perhaps looking at each others’ pictures on a screen of some sorts. The conversation, comments about composition and processing, seeing just what others have found as subjects all help me to formulate my own approach and extend my knowledge of photography and post-processing. But more than that, these “plenary sessions” also help me to open my personal boundaries on what constitutes subject matter – I’m more likely to go outside my comfort zone the next day.
We pooled our resources and after some research on the Web and seeing the hotel prices, a large AirBnB house seemed the best option for cost, flexibility and comfort. Given all our luggage and camera bags, even a large estate rental car would have been too small and renting a minibus proved to be better value than renting two saloon cars. This gave us plenty of room to comfortably spread out - a boon when sheltering from rain. I was surprised that even though we were booking some 8-9 months ahead, there was already restricted availability of accommodation and minibuses for rent.
In early May 2018 we found ourselves landing at Vagar airport and were soon on our way to Hoyvik, a small town close to the capital Torshavn on Streymoy, the main island. From here we had good access to many locations on Streymoy itself, also on the islands of Eysturoy and Vagar. And, most importantly, there was a well-stocked supermarket less than 10 minutes' walk from the house making domestic life very easy!
But what about the photography? Well, there are some very photogenic locations on these three islands and you can find plenty of images on the Web. The honey-pots certainly attract photographers but in early May the islands were generally very quiet. With the help of detailed maps, Google Earth and the geo-analytical skills in our party, we discovered several quiet spots where good images could be found that others, especially photo tours, might in all probability pass by as insufficiently iconic. In fact, only one location - the Mulafossur waterfall at Gasadalur - was busy with a photo-tour when we arrived, restricting our own image-making to a degree.
Apart from the fantastic coastline and inland mountains, there is plenty of choice with intimate landscapes and details, a good selection of boat houses with peeling paint, rusty corrugated roofs and various marine artefacts and village scenes and details. Whether you shoot colour or black-and-white, it is not difficult to find your own unique subjects. Oh and don't forget the waterfalls - both coastal and inland they come in various sizes and varieties.
The following selection of our "favourite four" as chosen by each of us, illustrates the variety of styles in our group, as well as the different subjects and locations that caught our attention.
Joe Cornish spent a few weeks travelling around Australia and New Zealand at the start of this year. Tim Parkin took the opportunity to ask him about a range of images taken during this trip.
It’s always nice when, instead of pushing your own images on social media, you come across someone else’s. So a thumbs up for Instagram, which introduced me to Jaume Llorens. His images are a celebration of nature, and of place, with many derived from the area around his home close to the Lake of Banyoles in north-eastern Catalonia. And perhaps most importantly, they are a celebration of his own relationship with both.
Would you like begin 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 a working class neighbourhood of Porqueres, a small village in Catalonia, about 120km north of Barcelona and next to the Lake of Banyoles, something that has had a very decisive influence on my fondness for photography.
The lake is an unbeatable laboratory where you can experiment with the camera and at the same time a friendly space where you can be in permanent contact with nature. And without the need to travel far. Now I live a few hundred of metres from its shore. A real privilege.
The annual open water swim across the lake is much celebrated. It is very popular – around two thousand swimmers take part – and I have participated in it since adolescence. During the 2.2km swim, your relationship with the natural environment acquires another dimension.
I'm married, with two teenage children. I have a degree in Psychology, but I’m not practising. I earn my living as a web designer.
The external landscape as a mirror of our own inner. In my case, I think I have some tendency to look for a range of emotions around may be a low mood, melancholy… loneliness...
Like any other aspect of my life, I imagine that education and my profession may have had some kind of influence on my work as a photographer. I think that probably we can use landscape photography to represent any kind of human emotions. The external landscape as a mirror of our own inner. In my case, I think I have some tendency to look for a range of emotions around may be a low mood, melancholy… loneliness... In fact, I have the impression that some of my landscape photographs are just intimate self-portraits. I can recognize myself in them. There are also repeated traces of my character reflected in my images. And I imagine that other people can also recognize themselves in them.
A perfect storm by the Baltic Sea began - seagulls are tossed in the air like paper toys, yellow fishing boats are dwarfed by the waves, the wind is howling, stormy clouds are rolling in, and I can feel the first droplets of rain on my face. I am watching it all from a safe distance amidst the sand dunes. My bare legs are being repeatedly hit by the sharp marram grass and my hair is full of sand but I don’t mind…I am a bit frightened but fascinated and I want to know why and how the sea gets so angry. I have just learnt a new word, “Oceanography”. I am five years old.
Fast forward a few decades and yet again I am facing the angry sea. This time I am on the beach of Newhaven, Sussex. This small port town lies at the mouth of the River Ouse, on the coast of the English Channel, and is a ferry port for services to Dieppe in France. For photographers, this is “the place” for the waves, the really big waves, when hurricane-force winds merge with the high tide.
The Newhaven breakwater draws crowds like a magnet during such storms. The cliffs behind the beach usually provide some protection from the elements, but not when the direction of the wind is from the south west.
The fascination with the sea that started in my childhood was strongly reinforced later when I saw “that lighthouse” image by Jean Guichard. “Lighthouse in a Storm at la Jument” taken in 1989 depicts the French lighthouse "La Jument" in a tempest. In the photograph, a wave is about to engulf the lighthouse when its keeper, Théodore Malgorne opened the door thinking Guichard's was the rescue helicopter
I promised myself that one day I would be taking images of the sea at its worst! The Newhaven breakwater draws crowds like a magnet during such storms. The cliffs behind the beach usually provide some protection from the elements, but not when the direction of the wind is from the south west. The western breakwater was constructed to arrest longshore drift and to cut off the supply of shingle to the spit. At the end of the breakwater, there is an imposing round white lighthouse made of cast iron. The breakwater in the past was very popular with fishermen and tourists. I wish I could walk the length of it to the lighthouse, but it is closed to the public as it is deemed to be unsafe. The beach within the breakwater is sandy, while the one on the western side of the breakwater is shingle. Walking on the shingle is reasonably easy, but walking there with the camera bag and a tripod when the shore is being lashed by gale force winds, is an arduous task.
While I appreciate that storms bring havoc to people’s lives, most photographers, me included, love them. I have a much greater understanding of waves and storms than when I was five-years old; waves are formed as a result of an interaction of the earth, moon and the sun. They are also formed by winds that create the motion of the sea. The waves generated away from the land in deep water intensify as they get closer to the shore. In shallow water, the lower part of the waves drags on the sea floor and forces the upper part to tilt forward and crash. That’s the scientific bit, but for me it is still all very magical. As in William Cullen Bryant poem “Hurricane”, I am dismayed, fearful yet spellbound by nature unleashing its forces.
Lord of the winds! I feel thee nigh,
I know thy breath in the burning sky!
And I wait, with a thrill in every vein,
For the coming of the hurricane!
And lo! on the wing of the heavy gales,
Through the boundless arch of heaven he sails;
Silent and slow, and terribly strong,
The mighty shadow is borne along,
Like the dark eternity to come;
While the world below, dismayed and dumb,
Through the calm of the thick hot atmosphere
Looks up at its gloomy folds with fear.
Nature churning seas into chaos, giant waves swelling up and engulfing Newhaven lighthouse and breakwater - all that fascinates me and creates perfect scenery for my photographs.
Powerful and beautiful, the waves are not easy to photograph, especially in heavy rain. There is nothing regular or predictable about them, and with no control over the sea, timing is everything. I concentrate on catching the decisive moment and including interesting shapes, textures and contrast into my composition. A glimmer of light breaking through the clouds, colliding breakers or a passing bird give the picture a strong focal point. Most of the images from my series “Sea Fury” are converted to black and white. I believe the classic noir approach best reflects the drama of the open water and its perpetual cycle of change.
Nature churning seas into chaos, giant waves swelling up and engulfing Newhaven lighthouse and breakwater - all that fascinates me and creates perfect scenery for my photographs.
Most photographers in stormy seas hold the camera by hand; I however use my tripod to steady my view on the scene. The tripod is important to me, as it eliminates the strain on my wrists, especially while using heavy zoom lenses. I use a fluid head though - just one lever enables quick movement of the camera in all directions and allows me to catch the decisive moment of the fleeting shapes of the waves. My favourite lens is 70-200mm zoom. My preferred aperture is f/9 as this ensures that more of the scene is in focus. The shutter speeds of 1/500 of a second and faster work well, but often I go as fast as 1/1000 or even 1/4000sec. Light during storms is notoriously unpredictable. The white crests of the waves make the camera think it is very bright so it occasionally under-exposes images. Even more challenging than the exposure is keeping the camera kit dry.
The best way to keep the lens dry in my experience, is to fit a deep lens hood and to use ultra-soft lens wipes from Specsavers or Boots followed by a quick wipe with a dry lens cloth. UV filter is useful to protect the lens from scratching and spray. Even though my camera is weather sealed, I protect it with an Optech camera waterproof cover.
There is no right or wrong place in Newhaven harbour to photograph from: up the hill from the distance - this ideal vantage point offers a wide and unobstructed field of view; closer to the shore allows for inclusion of the pebble beach into a shot and a lower perspective making the waves look more prominent; close to the breakwater entrance is perfect for including the now dilapidated and worn walls and watching struggling ferries entering the harbour, while standing further to the left, within the basin is perfect for photographing patterns that the swirling water creates.
During my trips to the coast, I never underestimate the power of the sea. Safety is very important to me, especially when dealing with extreme weather. Sometimes, overexcited by the spectacle in front of my eyes I get too close to the sea, but immediately step back reminding myself about the danger of the rogue waves. No picture is worth my life or anyone else’s. Let’s stay safe.
The word mindfulness has taken a dramatic surge in popular culture over the last few years. Everyone from Hollywood celebrities, Silicon Valley executives and athletes, to me and my 86 year old mum practice mindfulness meditation as a way to create a sense of equanimity in a frantic and often upsetting world. I’ll be honest, as a sceptic with a scientific background, even when we lived in the Tibetan Regions for 7 years, surrounded by monks, lamas and temples, I could never quite bring myself to meditate.
I am however an optimistic realist, and when scientific evidence begins to show the numerous benefits of a regular mindfulness meditation practice; from stress reduction, increased immune function, lowered blood pressure, increased attention and focus, lower anxiety levels and feelings of calm, I begin to listen (here's a link to the NHS NICE search on mindfulness - Ed). There is now sufficient evidence to show that neuroplasticity, the brain’s ability to rewire and reorganise itself, can reduce grey matter mass in the amygdala, a key stress responding region of the brain. Equally, increased mass in areas such as the Prefrontal Cortex, Hippocampus and Anterior Cingulate Cortex offer improvements in our abilities to plan, regulate emotions, deal with stress and increased cognitive flexibility.
Fractions of Moments
All of that was enough to pique my interest, and early in 2018 I began to incorporate mindfulness meditation into my daily schedule. Within a matter of weeks I noticed significant differences in my outlook, stress levels and ability to focus and even received comments from family and friends who noticed these changes manifest in my behaviour.
It took me no time at all to start joining the dots between my career in landscape photography and the practice of mindfulness.
Landscape Photography is Mindfulness
As I began to notice thoughts, feelings and sensations while sitting, I realised I had been doing this for decades with a camera in my hand. My relationship with the landscape has always been one of retreat, escape from daily troubles in the city, or from a stressful career: In fact I actually started photography to de-stress. Those moments behind the lens are filled with engagement, focus, calmness and my new buzz words Creative Attention. The expression that photography is a Marriage of Art and Craft could be reworded justifiably as periods of Being and Doing. Without hijacking this article with a lengthy cul de sac of “why do we make photographs?” - I’m sure most of us would rather be out there with a camera in our hands than sat on a commuter train running 20 minutes late!
The expression that photography is a Marriage of Art and Craft could be reworded justifiably as periods of Being and Doing.
My second realisation was that while Landscape Photography in a state of Mindfulness may be a Utopian ideal, it often isn’t. My life with a camera in my hand certainly hasn’t always been blessed with a feeling of equanimity, and things get in the way that disrupt it, often leaving us with negative emotions of frustration, anger, low self-esteem and jealousy! Not good at all!
A good percentage of this year has been spent investigating what those barriers to mindfulness are and becoming, well, mindful of them. In short, taking back control of my motivations, expressive and creative output and peace of mind. Hmm, fresh realisation, mindful of being a control freak!
Path of a Tibetan Cloud
What is Mindfulness?
The practice of mindfulness has been around for many thousands of years, ever since a young Prince abandoned his life of privilege to go walk the land searching for truth. Buddhists and other faiths all incorporate various forms of meditation into their daily lives, keen to simplify existence and gain a better perspective on the troubles that personify the human experience.
Here’s a great definition.
“A mental state achieved by focusing one's awareness on the present moment, while calmly acknowledging and accepting one's feelings, thoughts, and bodily sensations, used as a therapeutic technique”
If we leave home with any expectation of what we hope nature will deliver, we may as well pack our anxiety, frustration and anger in our bags with our gear!
This is most commonly achieved while sitting in a quiet space at home, or in your car when you’ve parked at the office, or pretty much anywhere you can grab a few minutes. However, doesn’t the bit about focusing one's awareness on the present moment sound awfully like landscape photography? Even so, the barriers to mindfulness often hijack our being in the moment with creative attention, and instead we become overrun with distractions, excuses, pressures and occasional despair.
It used to be that if you wanted to use a graduated filter, you had a choice between Lee or Cokin (or maybe Singh Ray if you were in the US). Over the last few years a whole range of new filter manufacturers have appeared and more recently, metal sputtered coating of glass has become cost-effective and this has resulted in a big range of new filters appearing. I originally thought that they would probably be the same filters but white labelled but, as our ND filter test showed, it looks like they are all custom (but possibly created in the same factory?).
Since the ND filter comparison, I've been trying to accumulate a good sample collection from each manufacturer and although it's taken nearly a year, I now have enough to do a fairly definitive test (although there are a couple of manufacturers I'd like to get samples from still - Singh Ray and Marumi H&Y - we'll add these when we can get them).
So far we have filters and systems from Kase, Benro, 84.5, Haida, Breakthrough, XC Source, Zomei, Wine Country, SRB, Cokin, Nisi, Lee, Progrey & Firecrest.
Because of the work involved and volume of information, we've split the article into three sections. The first is our initial impressions of all of the systems which includes a video showing how they work with myself offering my first thoughts.
The following article will look at the more scientific analysis of the filters with colour accuracy, gradation quality, transmissions spectra.
For the final article we will discuss how we got on with the systems out in the field and may include possible effects on sharpness, any flare or reflection issues, robustness (scratch resistance, drop resistance) and final conclusions.
Here is the video of my first impressions followed by a narrative overview.
Two wrong assumptions about people and place bring me to my selection for End Frame. A selection that challenged me to think more closely about both and to put aside those assumptions to find out more.
When you think of New Jersey, you may well, like me, think of the heavy industry, the casinos of Atlantic City, the songs of Bruce Springsteen and maybe even “The Sopranos”. Coupled with its proximity to New York, if you didn’t know any better (as I don’t), you would assume that one of the most densely populated states in the United States is just urban sprawl, turnpikes and factories.
Pushing beyond my stereotype-like assumptions of New Jersey, a cursory glance at a map shows you it's actually quite green. In fact, it calls itself “The Garden State”. On closer investigation, aside from mountain ranges and forest, the state has an almost Venetian like a lagoon with some interesting salt marshes that I’m sure if I was more local I would be paying them some serious attention.
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!
Capturing the sunsets and sunrises is my favourite type of landscape photography as it is done at a peaceful time, no one is about and it also pushes my skills around composition and the technical side regarding the use of filters, camera setting etc. Some of the images presented here were captured whilst Wild Camping in the local area.
Wild camping nearby is a good way of being there for the Sunset and Sunrise without having to hike in the dark. Sometimes you get lucky, sometimes not. I think there is something special about the Sun setting and rising and picking a location that adds to drama also helps too.
As a child, my earliest and most significant and happiest memories belong to days spent by the sea.
The sound of waves crashing, the smell of sea air, feel of the sand bring with them associations of contentment and an affinity with water. This has become the driving force behind much of my landscape photography.
I spend much of my time on the Scottish islands seeking out remote places and to create imagery. All of my most powerful images have been made in times of aloneness. It is solitude that allows me to be at my most creative. The images in this portfolio were all made on the beaches of the Isle of Harris during the winter months when the weather was wild and the beaches were empty.
Bonaventure Island (île Bonaventure) is an island in the Gulf of St. Lawrence off the coast of Percé, Quebec. The island is only 4.16 square kilometres, but it is the seasonal nesting site for more than 280,000 birds. The Northern gannet has the largest population, but there are also populations of up to 218 different species, such as black-legged kittiwakes, common murres, terns, black guillemots, razorbills, cormorants, and Atlantic puffins. The island became a migratory bird sanctuary with the signing of the 1916 Migratory Bird Convention between Canada and the United States.
I like to kayak, but the waters were a bit rough on the day we wanted to go to the island, so we took the ferry around the island instead. The ferry travelled fairly slowly, so I was able to get some good shots of the birds and the rocks. Still, one had to be quick to be able to see and shoot as the ferry moved. Sometimes the birds seemed to space themselves evenly over the rocks. It is a phenomenal place. The preceding day I had been photographing thousands of birds on their summer migration to the South. Staying together in a straight line, flying into the strong wind. Why are these birds flying south in July? Where did they start? Where will they end up? What caused this whole cycle of migration to begin with? It is awe-inspiring to see how hard these tiny creatures work to keep the species going.
Professionally, I have been a book designer (mostly visual books) and a designer for National Parks in the US. I got my first camera when I was 10 years old — a Brownie. I like to photograph the wondrous things in life whenever I see them — often we miss them.
Near to our home, there is a small natural habitat, called Pflasterbergle, covering an area not larger than about 100 x 150 meters, I guess. Over the last two years, I´ve been visiting this place with my Linhof Kardan Color (4"x5") nearly every other day.
My motivation is not purely the documentation of the place, but the recording of the mood, my personal reception and interpretation. So I feel the autumnal leaves in pfb01 to be dancers, the thistles in pfb02 to perform a stage scene, the leaves in pbf04 showing different stages of life, and in pfb03 reminding on ray-fishes underwater.
But it sometimes happens that I cannot easily shake off the village. The thought of some work will run in my head and I am not where my body is—I am out of my senses. In my walks I would fain return to my senses. What business have I in the woods, if I am thinking of something out of the woods? ~Henry David Thoreau
The practice of mindfulness meditation (indeed, even the very words) suffers from what some practitioners and scientists describe as, “a PR problem.” Some perceive (and consequently dismiss) meditation as a New Age fad, as westernised romanticised versions of mystical eastern rituals, or as a means to contrived “spirituality.” All are true in some cases. However, the scientific study of the effects of meditation is in fact a thriving area of research whose empirical conclusions are profoundly useful. Among the general (proven) benefits of mindfulness meditation, some are of particular interest to those pursuing creative work.
A bit of good news: the benefits of meditation can be had without ever sitting in the lotus position, without chanting mantras, and without seeking a path to enlightenment and freedom from the cycle of karma. In fact, you don’t even need to know what any of these things mean to benefit from meditation. To those sceptics not prone to fall for the hype, and who demand (paraphrasing Carl Sagan) extraordinary proof for extraordinary claims—rest assured, I am one of you. You’ve probably heard the hype. Allow me to fill in the science.
DMN stands for Default Mode Network—a set of related brain regions that become active when your attention is not consciously focused on something specific when your mind is free to wander.
Our collective view of the landscape has never really caught up with the industrialisation of agriculture and the extent to which this shapes the land. Paul’s work is in marked contrast to the Romanticism of much landscape photography – it has been described as sitting between documentary and landscape, and slipping into fine art (Elizabeth Roberts). Stillness and silence and a lack of people extend across his work, yet I can’t help but feel that his images could equally be described as portraits – of the land.
Paul concentrates on a precise geographical area, photographing intensively over a number of years. He is well known for his finely crafted silver gelatin prints and for the books he has produced to acclaim: TRUNCATED (2008) and FARMED (2016). A third – DRAINED – is out this autumn as well as the second edition of FARMED.
Firstly, congratulations on making The 250th Royal Academy Summer Exhibition 2018.
Thank you! I first exhibited at the RA Summer exhibition in 2012. Chris Orr RA shortlisted two pictures from my series TRUNCATED. Of these ‘Portal’ was hung in Gallery II, and ‘Alien’ was selected but wasn’t hung! I continued to apply for a couple of years after that but wasn’t lucky enough to have work chosen. The selection process involves so many thousands of different works and it’s only relatively recently that the RA has accepted photography, so you can’t predict the outcome. But, this year is the RA’s 250th Summer Exhibition and with Grayson Perry as curator, I decided to give it a go again. Needless to say, I was really delighted that ‘Caulton’s Cottage’ from FARMED was selected and hung in The Sackler Galleries… Somewhat amusing I thought considering that this year was billed to be ‘the most colourful Summer Exhibition’ and yet my black and white picture of a tiny cottage in the Fens made the selection!
Every photographer has an image that means a lot to them, even if it's not the most successful on social media or one that friends and family don't 'get'. Images that stretch the edges of compositional norms, that show well-known places in different ways or that reflect a moment that means so much personally in your progress as a photographer or just in life. When Ian Moore sent us this image, we thought it would be a good way to start a regular feature. So thanks Ian!
If you have a personal favourite photograph of yours and a story behind it and why it means so much, then why not share that with our community. Submit your favourite image here.
We have all been inspired by a unique moment defined by an unrepeatable image. For me it was Earthrise, the ‘Blue Planet’ photograph of Earth rising over the Moon’s surface, taken from lunar orbit by Bill Anders in 1968, during the Apollo 8 mission. (Galen Rowell said “it was the most influential environmental photograph ever taken”). The closest I have ever come to personally experiencing such an event occurred during a touring holiday in New Zealand, a few years ago. I was carrying only a small travel camera, so the resulting image is certainly not one of my best, but remains vividly imprinted in my memory for the reason of being in exactly the right place at the right time…..”..be there” as we say…
Whilst planning my three-month tour, I had researched NZ history and culture, especially the Maori legends. The image shown is of Mount Hikurangi which stands 80km north of Gisborne on the eastern coast of the north island of NZ, in the Raukumara range, and according to Maori mythology was the first place of their nation to rise from the seas, fished out of the ocean by Maui (a Maori cultural hero). It is revered by the Maori, and the summit of the mountain was chosen by one of the largest tribes as the place of celebration for the arrival of the new Millennium. As mountains go, it is not particularly striking in appearance and at 5748ft certainly not the highest in New Zealand.
However, Hikurangi was of interest to me for a different reason. I had read that due to the tilt in the earth's axis and orbital pattern around the sun,
I had read that due to the tilt in the earth's axis and orbital pattern around the sun, in the southern hemisphere summer months the slopes of Hikurangi are ‘generally regarded’ as the first place on earth to receive the first rays of sun of each new day,
in the southern hemisphere summer months the slopes of Hikurangi are ‘generally regarded’ as the first place on earth to receive the first rays of sun of each new day, due to its altitude....although other islands in the Pacific east of NZ claim this distinction at other times of the year, and Gisborne claims to be the first 'city' in the world to see the new dawn.
Visitors from the north island of NZ meeting Maori from the largest south island tribe, are apparently given a traditional greeting which translates as "Welcome O’ Sunrise," a coded reference to Hikurangi. We regard sunrise and sunset as the 'golden hours' of the day for making pictures, and some even measure the future by the number of sunrises left in a life. So, I decided to make the trek to the Waiapu Valley looking out onto Hikurangi, and, perhaps for the only occasion in my lifetime, be amongst the first on earth to witness the start of a new day. But standing alone on a remote windless hillside that morning, with no-one else in sight, no man-made sound, and only bellowing bulls and birdsong for company, looking out at Hikurangi, at 21 minutes past 7am local time, I realised I had a unique view, and like to believe that, however unlikely, I was the first and only witness to the start of a new day.
Many are the individuals who have praised the beneficial effects of limitations and constraints in the creative process.
The enemy of art is the absence of limitations. ~ Orson Wells
The more constraints one imposes, the more one frees one’s self. And the arbitrariness of the constraint serves only to obtain precision of execution ~ Igor Stravinsky
In the book “Wired to Create: Unravelling the Mysteries of the Creative Mind,” Scott Barry Kaufman mentions that creativity “Involves variability – different ways of doing things,” but also “involves constraints, which can either promote or preclude creativity”.
It might seem logical to think that an artist which plenty of tools, options, and possibilities will see his or her artistic output thrive. The reality seems to be just the opposite.
Even if it is true that a minimum of resources is needed to create, limitations and constraints reduce the overwhelming feeling triggered by too much freedom and channel creative energies, providing a framework and helping us focus our attention, energy, and work. All writers and painters dread the blank page or empty canvas syndrome. This effect is nothing but the consequence of the total absence of limitations and constraints. Right before the first word is written or the first brush stroke is laid on the canvas, all possibilities are there for the artist to grasp. The sheer amount of options available, theoretically infinite, can freeze the creative process even before it starts. As soon as the first few sentences are written, the story starts being channelled, and the options get progressively reduced. Constraints appear as the beginning of a plot begin to materialize. The painter experiences the same progressive liberation as paint disrupts the empty space. Each brush stroke informs the following one, and as the painting emerges on the canvas, the options get narrower and narrower, the idea clearer and more transparent and the actions more focused and determined.
As photographers, we are all on a journey. As with any journey, each is unique, the options unlimited and we each choose our own route. They all differ and there is no right or wrong. It’s a very personal thing. The journey can equally be a single project or portfolio or even cover an entire career. It can be very targeted or quite varied, but both are progressive. For many of us, at least at times, the journey can become confusing but if we have an idea as to our direction of travel, an objective, from the outset it can make the journey far easier.
When you look at the work of some of the great photographers you can often see a clear understanding of direction. A perfected expression of place combining vision, mood, technique, style and the individual eye to ultimately capture the soul of the location at a moment in time in an image. Their personalities are revealed by a subtly combined execution of many elements including format, subject, composition, lens, time, settings and post production and a profound understanding of light and how it reacts to the sensor or film. A personal reaction to place, light, season, weather, time of day. The ability to capture varying conditions that present themselves on any given day with respect to their personal style.
When you look at the work of some of the great photographers you can often see a clear understanding of direction. A perfected expression of place combining vision, mood, technique, style and the individual eye to ultimately capture the soul of the location at a moment in time in an image.
For others, the journey is more varied. My own has seen me travel down a variety of paths including the odd cul-de-sac, motorway dead end and some sublime single track roads. My travels have developed through traditional, impressionist, minimalist, contemporary monochromatic (though rarely black and white), etc. with each project informing the next as my knowledge grows and the journey continues. Each informs the last and I revisit roads previously travelled with the increased information gained from all that has gone before. But as I commenced my latest journey I was profoundly shaken as events required me to radically change my approach and perceived thinking on capturing landscapes to suit immediate and personal circumstances. The same journey but most definitely a new road. Let me explain.
I’m not sure what brought about the impulse that led to me responding to Tim’s recent appeal on Facebook for contributions to End Frame. I’ve often thought it would be good to write a short article for it but I’ve always debated what Image I would choose. This time I knew instantly what I wanted to write about, an image I was instantly drawn to, one I was prepared to put on the wall.
Iceland, for all that it is massively overexposed in photographic media and on the internet, is a compelling place photographically. Many excellent photographers have developed compelling bodies of work with Iceland as the sources of their inspiration. But the work I keep returning to is that of the master monochrome printer, Tim Rudman.
I was given the superb book Iceland: An Uneasy Calm back in 2015, a book full of haunting toned monochrome images. Many are strongly graphic images, with a very skilful use of line and contrast. But others are full of detail and delicacy. I don’t tire of looking at the images, but however good a reproduction is in a book they rarely hold up to seeing the prints for real (if you want to know why the master printers like Ansel Adams are so highly regarded, get to see an original print when you get the chance, they positively glow).
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!
