For many years, I've sailed the little sea between the Costa Brava, on the northeast coast of the Iberian peninsula and the Balearic Islands, behind a steering wheel.
The more pleasant moments of the sailing were, at down or dusk, looking from the deck the cliffs, the capes, the lighthouses and the darkest entrances of the coves.
But that was long time ago. Today, sometimes I try to revisit – walking- these cliffs, capes, lighthouses and coves behind a camera. And always around down or dusk, or after the “llevantades” or “tramuntanades”, the heavy east or north winds that, sometimes, beaten these coasts.
The two photos from the Costa Brava were taken on the granitic part of the coast, an astonishing area of pink granite.
The two photos of Menorca, were taken on the Favaritx Cape area, a mysterious cape make up by black and grey slate and clay.
I picked those 4 images because all of them were taken at sunrise,
during the very first light of the morning, as the title of the set suggests.
As a landscape photographer I often avoid taking images during the
day, when the light could be too harsh and the shadows too dense.
Instead, I enjoy the incredible feeling of the early mornings, with no one
around and that particular cold, but soft light that starts to hit the land or
the coast.
I tried to include 4 completely different kind of locations that look at their
best when photographed at sunrise.
The Lake District with Wastwater
Portland in Dorset with the rocky beach of Church Ope Cove
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 colors between them, by looking for this primitive vibratory energy. When I feel it, then I know I'm in the flow
This work presented here exactly shows this hybridization domain where starting from numeric photography, on can end up on paper using old photographic process, where original picture is used as a template for producing a negative for developing a cyanotype on watercolour paper. Then a tea staining is done, ending with a final drawing intervention!
Just treat picture as a cooking procedure, love that so much, really fun!
I read an article propounding that 'photography is all about space and time' - as a landscape photographer, my exposures generally fall in the range of tenths of a second through to 30 seconds; or if I'm feeling particularly creative, I have been known to set the shutter to 'bulb' for exposures of multiple minutes.
We can all relate to seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months and years but beyond that our comprehension of 'time' becomes much more difficult. Whilst on the Isle of Lewis in the Outer Hebrides I took the opportunity to photograph the local rock formations. I don't know too much about geology but I do know that the beautifully structured Lewisian Gneiss is the oldest rock to be found in Britain and at 3 billion years old it is also one of the oldest (although not the oldest) rock forms found on Earth. Three billion years old; well I really cannot get my head around that scale of time; human life is no more than the single flutter of a hummingbird's wings as measured against such unfathomable time.
Likes, shares, views, hits – are these the final bullets shot into the almost lifeless body of landscape photography? Is social media an insidious virus that will infect us all and cannot be cured? Are vloggers marching towards us like an army of the undead, insatiably overwhelming all those who dare not to join their horde? And have I, in my quest to draw your attention, used one analogy too many?
Are vloggers marching towards us like an army of the undead, insatiably overwhelming all those who dare not to join their horde?
As you may have guessed I have taken on the task of writing down a few thoughts about social media. It seems like quite an unwieldy beast to take on as I sit here eating my strawberry yoghurt, but one I feel I want to address. My one disclaimer is this – these thoughts may or may not fully represent what I think, but it is a discussion I think we need to have.
As landscape photographers I’m sure we all feel the pressure to post our images online, to share them across various social media sites. That nagging pressure of keeping up with everyone else, that thought that if you don’t post something people will forget about you and anything you’ve ever done. That urge to keep churning out work, to better what you did last year.
To be clear, I’m not attempting to dismiss social media as a whole. I think there are some really good aspects to it, with the two main ones for me being exposure to images and styles I would otherwise have not seen and the chance to make friends with like-minded people. But there is one aspect that is increasingly making me feel uncomfortable and it is this – the perceived position and status afforded to certain photographers based on their following online rather than the quality of their work.
To expand on this, my issue is not so much with the photographers themselves, but more with the way the industry appears to be using them as cheap advertising, as an easy way to access thousands of followers and viewers but at the expense of highlighting meaningful and important work. Integrity is being sacrificed on the altar of commercialism.
So when magazines, brands or camera retailers feature these social media stars, are they really doing it because they believe in the photography they produce?
So when magazines, brands or camera retailers feature these people, are they really doing it because they believe in the photography they produce? Or do they do it because it’s a lot cheaper than paying to reach the same number of people?
And when a travel company pays for a social media star to travel around a country taking pictures for them is it really the photos at the end of the trip they are interested in or is it just the number of times their company name gets mentioned in the videos?
If it was the photos they really cared about, would they not be better-paying someone who has built a career on producing quality photography rather than on how savvy they are online?
If magazines are really interested in educating and expanding our horizons on the medium should they not be seeking out the people making challenging and intriguing work, rather than just the people who create the most digital noise?
I know what my answers are. And in fact, when I look at some of the photographers I respect the most quite often they have very little social media presence at all.
At this point, though I imagine some of you are thinking one of two responses (or both) – that’s just how business works and you’re just jealous.
To address the second one first, this is often the response I see when people dare raise their heads above the parapet and ask these questions, but it really couldn’t be further from the truth for me. And the danger is it’s used as a tool for avoiding actually answering the questions.
However, I think the first response holds more weight as magazines, websites, brands etc all need to make money. Ultimately they are businesses and can’t just indulge in things that are not profitable.
But I do think they have a certain responsibility to value the medium itself and not just chase after the latest craze. Photography existed a long time before social media did so there is no reason why it now needs to be held to ransom by it. As well I think a distinction between content that is produced for entertainment and content that is photography focused would also be helpful. Both have their place, my issue is more when the two get confused.
TRANSFORM YOUR PHOTOGRAPHY AND BECOME AS GOOD AS ANSEL ADAMS IN FIVE SIMPLE STEPS (did it work?)
The instant nature of social media, immediately seeing how many hits, likes or retweets you’ve had, can also have a detrimental effect on photography. Images need to impress instantaneously, for the two seconds they are viewed in a timeline already saturated in content. Likewise, the titles of photography YouTube videos become increasingly banal and ludicrous – eg TRANSFORM YOUR PHOTOGRAPHY AND BECOME AS GOOD AS ANSEL ADAMS IN FIVE SIMPLE STEPS - all in a desperate attempt to grab your attention.
So what should we do in response? Well, you might totally disagree with me and therefore conclude nothing needs to be done. But if something in this resonates with you then I think there are a few things we can do. Firstly a few simple suggestions are these – continue to produce your best work and continue to champion those photographers you think are producing great work.
Secondly, I think we should be more selective with our time and money. So next time a big photography show is coming up and one of the main speakers is a social media star, ask yourself are they there because of their photography or are they there because they get lots of hits online? Similarly, with magazines and websites. Are you getting value for money?
And thirdly I think we should probably all spend a lot less time on social media.
PS Please be sure to share this article on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram and maybe make a vlog about it.
This September, Fotospeed’s Foto Fest South is returning for the third year running, bringing together 4 of Britain’s best photographers and big name brands for a day of photography inspiration and a celebration of the printed image. This year, Valda Bailey, Julian Calverley, Terry Donnelly, and Paul Goldstein are taking to the stage to share their photographic journeys and expert insights.
Making it in the Midlands
What you missed at the first ever Foto Fest Central
This summer saw the inaugural Foto Fest Central event, which saw Fotospeed extended the event to the Midlands after the success of the annual South festival, which was launched in 2016. Speaking on the decision to extend the festival, Toby Herlinger, Sales and Marketing Director at Fotospeed said, “The best thing about the photography community, to us, is the strong desire to help others learn and be inspired, so we were thrilled to be able to bring Foto Fest to more people.”
Foto Fest Central saw talks from several leading landscape and wildlife photographers. Landscape photographer Mark Littlejohn‘s talks focused around ‘atmosphere’, and how being selective in your composition can help create a sense of intrigue within the viewer, while Ted Leeming and Morag Paterson, spoke about the creative process of collaboration, and how working with other photographers can help you to explore different styles. Leading photographer Charlie Waite’s talk asked some probing questions about the origins and future of landscape photography, as well as addressing the question ‘where does the impulse and compulsion to want to photograph originate?’. Wildlife photographer Tom Way answered questions about what it takes to be a wildlife photographer, including details on the importance of light and composition when trying to compose a sellable image.
Each of the talks were designed not only to give an insight into the way each photographer captured some of their most important images, but to encourage photographers to learn new skills and try new techniques. “What I would like to think,” said Mark Littlejohn, “is that people will listen to me, listen to Tom, listen to Charlie, listen to Morag and Ted, and pick out the bits that apply to them. It’s about doing what’s right for you. What I do suits me, it might not suit you. But there might be a small aspect of what I do that suits you.”
“It doesn’t matter at all that they’re in a different discipline,” added Morag Paterson, “because although that might not be what you’re interested in, or the way you work, it’s the thinking behind what they do and how they execute those photos … it’s all so helpful to hear. And it’s inspiring for us as well.”
What to expect at Foto Fest South
An opportunity to get hands-on
As well as a programme of inspirational talks, this year’s Foto Fest South sees the launch of the brand new Capture to Output station, where you can try out some of the latest photography products, take away top tips, and create your very own printed image to take home.
Your chance to be inspired at Fotospeed Talks
Valda Bailey
In her talk ‘Photographic Impressionism’, Valda Bailey explains how and why to look beyond the obvious approach in landscape photography. Her top tip for creating alternative landscape images.
The secret, she says is time. “Spend time in a place,” she says. Rather than rush from location to location, really get to know a small area. I believe creativity thrives on boundaries.”
Terry Donnelly
Terry Donnelly will share his thoughts on capturing the personality of a subject in a photograph in his talk ‘An Approach to People Portraits’.
“My talk will include my approach to shooting portraits, including my thought process before, during and after the shoot, as well as a look at how to use different types of lighting setups and lens selections to achieve your desired look.”
Julian Calverley
‘A Journey in Landscape Photography’ will see prolific landscape photographer Julian Calverley take you through his advertising photography, how that led to his love of landscape work, and how he ended up making pictures entirely on an iPhone, including his top tips for creating images for social media.
*Spoiler alert* Julian says that squinting is his top tip for smartphone photography; “start off with simple graphic compositions that lead the eye in and avoid overly busy compositions or scenes, where the detail would be lost when viewed at a small size. Squinting aids the simplification of the composition and breaks the image down into fewer elements,” he says.
Paul Goldstein
Paul Goldstein describes his talk as “the pursuit of the perfect wildlife image, a tortuous and amusing quest for the unobtainable”.
Join him for ‘Catching the Moment’ and hear his experiences, touching on the pinnacles and pitfalls of many years of eventful photography in Kenya, Antarctica, and beyond.
Event details
Where: The University of Bath, The Edge
When: 9th September 2018
Time: 9:30am – 5:00pm
Entry to talks: £40
Entry to Market Place: Free
Anything else?: Free parking on site, all day
When I started my research for this interview I knew of several Nialls – nature photographer, author, co-founder of Wild Wonders of Europe, workshop leader, passionate advocate for enhanced knowledge of and connection with the nature on our doorsteps, yet it is only in preparing my questions that I start to fully register the breadth and depth of Niall’s interests and work.
Most people recognise that professional photographers need a variety of income streams to survive these days, but this is possibly the broadest and most carefully considered portfolio of commercial and personal work that I have come across to date, and beautifully presented to boot. Niall has referred to what he does as “Nature photography with creative intent”. Tell us more!
Would you like to begin by telling readers a little about yourself – where you grew up, your education and early interests, and what that led you to?
Well, my name is Niall Benvie (as in “kneel”) and I’m an Angus man. Our family has a long association with this part of eastern Scotland. I grew up on the small farm my parents bought in 1948 when Dad left the army. These were the days when you could make a good living off just 80 acres of land and allow your children to dream. Dad’s real passion was breeding Australian parakeets and finches and he was very successful in this field, exporting birds all around Europe. But he was also a fine naturalist (and planted trees on the farm just because he thought it was the right thing to do) and greatly encouraged my obsession with birds from about 10 onwards.
As the only person in my secondary school actively interested in the natural world, I learned to plough my own furrow pretty early on.
Every now and again I get sent an email from a reader with a question about a way of working, technical advice, an opinion on an exhibition, etc. I usually try to help and/or put them in touch with someone I know who may be better placed to give an informed reply. I recently thought it would be a good idea to share some of these with our readers and ask for their advice.
If you have any questions you'd like to share with our readers, please send them to submissions@onlandscape.co.uk and we'll post some every couple of issues.
Neil McCoubrey's question about seeing in two dimensions had me thinking about whether this is a learned capacity or something innate that some people have. I also used to think that covering one eye would drop everything into two dimensions but unless you stand extremely still, the parallax during movement makes everything pop back into three dimensions.
Please respond to Neil's thoughts on the 3D process, and also on his playing with the effect using post-processing, in the comments section below.
Tim Parkin (Editor)
I am a researcher at Edinburgh Napier University studying the intuitive practices of a landscape photographer and I hope that On Landscape photographers may be able to help me.
Occasionally, I will instantaneously perceive a landscape scene in just 2-dimensions, not three. This occurs when the scene has few or only weak depth cues and especially if it is largely monochromatic. This effect only lasts a few seconds until my brain catches up with reality, but it leaves a very strong impression. Recently, I have been trying to capture and even reinforce the 2D impression in my images and this has raised two questions that I hope On Landscape readers may be able to help with.
First, I understand this effect of initially perceiving in 2D which is then modified to 3D once the brain has caught up has been studied by others, but I have been unable to locate any papers or articles describing such research. Even having a name for the effect would be a good starting point.
Secondly, as photographers, whilst our images are inherently 2D most of us want to reinforce the impression of 3D. For this type of image, I want to achieve the opposite. I would like to enhance the 2D impression that I initially saw such that others may be encouraged to see it as well. Any ideas or pointers to others who have attempted this would help.
Here are a couple of examples
Lerwick Harbour
This is the scene in Lerwick harbour that I photographed
However, I initially perceived it as a series of strong lines and geometrical shapes that are all on the same plane. I have deliberately desaturated the image to emphasise the monochromatic nature of my perception.
Buachaille Etive Mor
This next image of The Buachaille Etive Mor is unusual in that is has strong colours, yet I still saw it in 2D, as a set of strong triangles rotating around a single point.
Here is the scene as I had seen it.
I have been using the above technique, of desaturation and the addition of lines, to reinforce the 2D impression. This is a very technical approach, but I want to achieve something more emotionally appealing whilst encouraging the viewer to consider the 2D nature of the scene rather than its content. The following is my most satisfying effort yet. Any suggestions for artists or other photographers who have attempted this kind of work and I welcome any ideas to improve on my results?
Trees are poems that earth writes upon the sky. We fell them down and turn them into paper, that we may record our emptiness ~ Kahlil Gibran
In the 1800s when Northern California was inhabited by Native Americans the coastline was covered in over 2,000,000 acres of Redwood forest. Initial settlers were attracted to the forests which sustained the growth of the lumber industry. When the gold rush happened those who were not fortunate in finding gold found their treasure in the forest. The giant trees were prime territory for logging and the practice led to an economic boom which facilitated the birth of the San Francisco metropolis. The unrestricted logging practices, unfortunately, led to the catastrophic devastation of the forests. Today a small fraction of that original forest remains protected under National and State laws. Serious conservation efforts made since the 1960’s have resulted in a sanctuary for the giants, along with a narrow strip of the California coast that extends over a distance of 470 miles (750 Km) in length and less than 47 miles (76 Km) in width. In 1980 the forest was declared as a World Heritage site.
Considering that I was born and bred 45 miles from the nearest coastline I have a very strong affinity to the sea. All my friends are fully aware of my love of the coast and that I can happily spend hours sitting on a rock, or a bench, watching the sea ebbing and flowing across the shore. The sea constantly changes and whenever I travel to the coast I can never be sure of what I will experience, even after planning and consulting weather forecasts and tide tables. I love being out with my camera photographing mountains, rivers, lakes and woodland but I have discovered that my real passion is for the North East coast and the sea.
To my eye Jenifer Bunnett produces inspirational coastal photographs and studying them is very useful to me as I develop as a seascape photographer. I enjoy browsing through social media and I discovered Jenifer’s work whilst searching #seascapes on Instagram and I was led to her photograph ‘solitary.’ It depicts a lone groyne post surrounded by a flowing sea with a stormy sky in the background. It reminded me of my own favourite photographs ‘Bird at Blyth Beach’ which also features a single post out to sea although that is where the similarity ends. This encouraged me to visit her website and I unearthed her shoreline and sea galleries which are now inspiring my exploration of the North East coast.
Jenifer’s background in photography is completely opposite to mine. She spent her childhood learning darkroom skills and camera craft from her father. Her university education was also centred on photography as she successfully completed a BA in Photography and Film. My own interest in photography only developed when I was too old to chase a lacrosse ball but I wanted a hobby that enabled me to spend as much time as possible outside enjoying the countryside. Taking many of my holidays in the Lake District provided me with splendid vistas of mountains and lakes but it was only when I retired that I had the time to regularly drive east towards the delights of Flamborough, Whitby and the Northumberland coast.
At first glance, it seems that there is just a single white wave starting its return to the sea but then my eye is drawn deeper into the photograph where there are actually many layers.
Many of Jenifer’s photographs are of the sea reacting with the shoreline. They capture the swash of the wave as it travels up the shore and its return to the sea. I have spent many hours studying waves and how a tide develops on the shore. It isn’t straightforward at all as there are so many variables; the phase of the moon, wind speed and wave fetch, water depth, and the direction of the currents. Jenifer has clearly spent many hours learning the minutiae of her locations and waiting for the conditions which produce the patterns and lines in her shoreline photographs. It is impossible to take such intricate photographs without knowing your locations intimately.
My favourite photograph from her Shoreline collection is called Confluence. At first glance, it seems that there is just a single white wave starting its return to the sea but then my eye is drawn deeper into the photograph where there are actually many layers. Immediately behind it another wave is covering the beach and producing a beautiful diagonal across the foreground leading to a line of breaking waves and the sea. The band of the sea then leads to a glimpse of yellow light underneath the brooding storm clouds. The sky is an important element in all seascapes as there is rarely any major landmark or feature to provide a distraction. The strong sky stops the eye drifting out of the frame and draws me back to the strip of sea which is mimicking the colour and mood of the clouds. The other feature of ‘Confluence’ is that there is no sense of place. There are no cliffs or lighthouse to enable the viewer to recognise an actual place. There is no location for a photographer to go and stand; it is just the sea and the sky at one point in time. I am transported into Jenifer’s world for that instant. However, the moment has passed and can never return but it has been captured perfectly with a long exposure to enable the camera to track the waves’ paths.
How has this influenced my photography? Like many seascape photographers, I have learnt that you must know your locations thoroughly and be prepared to visit them frequently in order to get the photograph you really want. For me, the challenge of capturing a scene at Saltwick Bay is very satisfying. Apart from the real danger of being cut off from safety the tide rises and falls very fast and it is easy to spot a photograph too late. How many times have I stood on a spot pleading for just one more wave before an opportunity is lost? In her galleries, Jenifer demonstrates that there are many different facets to coastal photography and I am trying to widen my expertise and technical ability to enable me to portray what I am feeling. I need to use ultra fast shutter speeds to make breaking waves look like ice and sculptures but longer exposures are required to emphasise and draw the lines and flow of the sea on the shore.
Like all seascape photographers, I feel a sense of awe when I am at the coast and I am watching the force of the sea crashing or gently seeping into the shoreline. We are privileged to be there to try and capture the essence of each unique moment. And then to share.
The sea, once it casts its spell, holds one in its net of wonder forever ~ Jacques Yves Cousteau
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!
This is a new as yet unpublished portfolio of my local area. I have photographed this piece of the coastal landscape for more than 30 years and I'm always surprised but what it reveals to me as time goes on.
I live on the NSW Central Coast, just over an hour from Sydney Australia. My reasons for making this new collection is for the simple fact I can never get enough people to commit to having their portrait made when I want, so I have to go out and look for other things, the coast is it.
After watching the seminar through this very magazine which was presented by Bruce Percy I visited his website straight away. I was, needless to say; blown away. Muted colours, subtle tones and pristine composition. Now, I know that my offerings are not this but I was inspired to use what I have learned over the years and turn my ideas into vision.
This was a recent (and first) visit to the Northumberland coast. The stunning outcrops and roads which are temporarily consumed by incoming tides begged to be captured in no less than 2 minutes(ish). I have to say that this can be a little unnerving when you try this with the tide still coming in, but alas, tide and time were against me.
These images were produced with the Lee filter and some post processing in Lightroom and Photoshop and this combination enabled me to make photographs that stirred my emotions. My hope is that other people are also stirred, and for some feel the way that I do when I see these colours and tones working together... Or i may be wrong?
Footnote: If you are going to try this; PLEASE, judge it for when the tide is going away from you! Happy shooting.
Solitude is essential to many artists. Solitude results in an enhanced joining of the unconscious with a visual play of light, revealing textures, shapes, mood and awareness. These images were captured during a very specific emotional low point and reflect that period with my emotional state at that time.
In our third instalments of our Capture One for Landscape series, Joe looks at a few of his images from a recent trip to the Isle of Eigg in the Scottish Inner Hebrides. Along the way, he will be demonstrating some of the steps in his typical workflow and also his approach to post-processing images. (Watch Episode One here and Episode Two here)
If you have any questions about the video or general questions about Capture One, please add them in the comments below.
It has never been easy to understand and define “beauty”. Throughout history Philosophy, Art and Aesthetics have provided to us with multiple understandings of the term. Beauty is inherently perceptual, complex and subjective by nature. Out the wide of range of definitions I quite like one from the philosopher George Santayana for its simplicity, in which he emphasizes that “beauty, is not a perception of a matter of fact; it is an emotion; an affection of our volitional and appreciative nature”. Although the intent of this essay lies far from engaging in a dense philosophical and semantical discussion on the concept of beauty in art, I introduced the above definition as a way to connect with the essence of this essay. Thus, in the following paragraphs, I will try to explain and share my learning experience of embracing a different (and difficult) approach to nature/landscape photography: to evaluate whether I can emotionally connect with “green” urban or semi-urban spaces and make images that can reflect that experience. Furthermore, the idea of this essay is to encourage the community of OnLandscape to share their own experiences or unique visions on this topic.
[my father] would say: “no matter where you are, or how hideous a place may be, make sure you try to appreciate the hidden beauty around you, using your intuition and heart”.
For this issue, we’re talking to the man behind the black cat: Damian Ward. Damian lives north-west of London in an area that is not one of the UK’s more obvious photographic honeypots but does have some rather nice woodland and includes the Chiltern Hills Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty. By working locally he is able to fit image making around work and family life and has a connection with a place that he can trace back to childhood.
Would you like to tell readers a little about yourself – your education, early interests and career to date?
I grew up in a small Oxfordshire village, surrounded by countryside and woodland, so being outdoors and wandering around fields and woodland has always been something I like to do. I still live close by, so the woodland and fields of my early years often feature in my photographs.
By the time I had completed my apprenticeship computers were commonplace and the reproduction process had changed considerably. The scanners and camera had been converted from film to digital and I started to use Photoshop to retouch and colour correct the fine art images
At school, I always preferred the more practical lessons like art, woodwork and cookery. I was not what you might call a studious person so I decided not to go down the path of higher education.
The great artists are the ones who dare to entitle to beauty things so natural that when they’re seen afterward, people say: Why did I never realize before that this too was beautiful?
~André Gide
If you are like most people, looking at the photographs on this page, you may not consider that there’s something very wrong with them, at least according to many contemporary art mavens. What’s wrong with them is that that they are beautiful.
In today’s art world, that something is beautiful, may be reason enough to disqualify it from serious consideration. Still, to the chagrin of some in the art business, most people consider beauty and art as almost synonymous. To wit, if I asked you to think of a favourite work of art, odds are you will think of a work of art you find beautiful, even if you are schooled in the arts and capable of appreciating creative works that are, by design, not beautiful..
10 weeks to go until the conference now and things are hotting up. We’re now in the middle of arranging for the audiovisual equipment and live streaming setup. Although we’re not sold out yet, we have sold more tickets already than we did in both previous years.
We’ve just announced the schedule for the two days and made day tickets available. So if you can’t make the full weekend, please come and visit us for a single day. You’ll still be able to submit your image for the conference exhibition too! The price for day tickets is £130 and you can book them on this page.
Click to see larger
Our final speaker has also been announced this week and I’m pleased to say that Nick White who we have interviewed previously about his Black Dots project , is giving the penultimate talk on Sunday. Joe Cornish will be interviewing Colin Prior as the final talk of the conference.
Conference Exhibition
If you are attending the conference - don’t forget we need your image submission for the conference by 27th September. We’ll be sending reminder emails out this week as well.
Call out for final lightning talks
Finally, if you’re interested in giving a short 10 minute presentation on one of your projects or on a subject of your choice, please get in touch as we have four Lightning Talk slots available on the Sunday! Please give it a go, it’s a great way to focus yourself on a project and have some practise presenting it to a friendly audience.
Why not watch some of the community talks from 2016 to give you an insight into topics & how they work:
I am a British freelance photographer living in Orkney, an archipelago of seventy islands lying ten miles off the northeast coast of Scotland, at the point where the Atlantic Ocean meets the North Sea. Of these islands, sixteen are inhabited and the capital city, Kirkwall, has a population of some nine thousand. I live on the largest of the islands, known as Mainland, where we have some of the best-preserved Neolithic sites in Europe, are world leaders in renewable energy research, and have the most northerly cathedral in Britain. Our beef and scallops are world famous, we have abundant wildlife and the islands are rich in myth and folklore.
Living on the 59th parallel does not come without challenges; we are three degrees of latitude north of Moscow and one degree south of St Petersburg, however, our seas are fed by the gulf stream, meaning that our climate is relatively mild, wet and very windy. Our winters are long - the days can be as short as six hours and the constant gales leave us scoured and battered. But in summer it does not get dark at all.
What a gift! Many artists come here for the exceptional quality of the light, and I am entranced by the perpetual twilight, or simmer dim as it is called here, that we experience for a month or so either side of the summer solstice.
It should be said that I really love my bed and I need plenty of sleep in order to avoid the grumps…however this can prove a challenge in high summer, even with black-out blinds, so I decide to fully embrace the simmer dim experience and stay up all night. The sun sets at around 10.30 p.m. at this time of year and rises again at about 4 a.m. so I pick a night that looks clear and set off to Birsay on the North West corner of the island, for an Atlantic sunset.
The arctic tern colony is never still. As most of us are winding down for the night they must be constantly delivering food to their tiny chicks whilst watching out for Orkney’s infamous bonxies - great skuas - who would as soon simply disrupt life in the colony as snatch a chick to feast on. Bully boy birds…not a pretty sight. But now the elegant terns are suffused by the softest pink light and the scene turns to magic before my eyes. This is the time for an artistic image - gorgeous low light, slower shutter speeds, and the chance to capture the essence of these hero birds.
William Neill is no stranger to On Landscape, most notably because he runs his own On Landscape column for Outdoor Photographer (I promise I didn’t pinch the name William! I think we both got it from On Photography), but also as we’ve reviewed a few of his e-books previously. His e-books are relevant here as a reasonable amount of the photographs and a few of the themes within “Retrospective” draw from these books. This is in no way a bad thing though as they included a great deal of his best work and the themes tie neatly with the way in which he has always worked (and isn't that the whole idea of a retrospective). First a little background about William.
Always an ‘outdoorsy’ person, William really found the love for the land through personal tragedy, spending long periods in Glacier National Park, where he worked at the time, wandering and healing. Later, he found a job working for the National Park Service and then working as the photographer in residence for the Ansel Adams’ gallery (jump in at the deep end William!).
Through his work at the gallery in Yosemite, William met many of the eras greatest photographers (e.g. Don Worth, Ernst Haas, Alan Ross, Paul Caponigro, Joel Meyerowitz, Jerry Ulesmann, John Sexton) and his own work blossomed. Unsurprisingly, William worked with a large format camera but unlike Ansel, he embraced colour photography - and it suited him well.
Striated wall of an ice cave, Jasper National Park, Alberta, Canada 1995
Living with such easy access to the heart of Yosemite, it is no surprise that some of the most memorable images are of the valley, in large and in detail. However, the retrospective holds a couple of surprises if you don’t know his work. The Antarctic and Impressions of Light series are two avenues of exploration that have produced work with its own aesthetic. Personally, although the images are very well captured and composed, the Antarctic work is the weakest section in the book. This is probably as much to do with how much I enjoyed the rest of the book as to how different the section feels, they’re still excellent images after all. The Impressions section uses intentional camera movement to abstract the subject, leaving strokes of shape and colour that suggest rather than describe. I’m generally not a great fan unless these sorts of images have very strong form and suggested subject (i.e. not completely abstract shapes). In this case, the image of Horsetail Falls is the stand out for me.
Desert Varnish, Canyon De Chelly National Monument, Arizona 1983
The most memorable images, for me, are those that are imbued with William’s passion and knowledge of his locale, which means beautiful imagery of Yosemite and its surroundings. With echoes of Eliot Porter and possibly David Muench, these photographs of stone, wood and water give a window into a primal landscape - at times awe-inspiring but always captivating.
The book itself is well produced with detailed images and consistent colour all on a semi-gloss paper that suits the work well. The hardbound finish is tight and the tipped-in cover image of Cascade Falls a good taster of what is within.
Morning Mist Rising, Yosemite Valley, Yosemite National Park, California 2016
If you’re a fan of the typical American landscape with a penchant for the Sierra Club classics, this is definitely a recommended purchase. Triplekite have sold out so if you want to buy in the UK, I would recommend Amazon, otherwise, if you're in the US, you can buy directly off William's website.
Striated wall of an ice cave, Jasper National Park, Alberta, Canada 1995
Morning Mist, Yosemite Valley, Yosemite National Park, California 2013
Morning Mist Rising, Yosemite Valley, Yosemite National Park, California 2016
Horsetail Fall, Yosemite National Park, California 2008
Desert Varnish, Canyon De Chelly National Monument, Arizona 1983
Clearing winter storm, Sentinel Rock, Yosemite Valley, Yosemite National Park, California 1990
Burnt trees and shadows on snow, Blacktail Plateau, Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming 1993
Cloud reflections and Mt Moran at the Oxbow Bend on the Snake River, Grand Teton National Park, Wyoming 1990
You could be forgiven for thinking this is a set-up! In fact, it is quite the opposite. Tim Parkin rarely makes an image in black and white and does not normally include people. His photograph ‘School's Out’ is, therefore, a break in his usual style as part of his Lochaber 365 sequence(which has been on pause since April, back soon - Ed). So intrigued by this I kept returning to the image and, in the end, contacted him with the request that I might write this up as an ‘End-frame’ contribution.
‘Schools Out’ deserves examination in detail. There is much more to it than its being a straight record shot. Yes, it has a good sense of composition. The footpath is a natural leading line drawing the eye to the mother and child on their way home from school; small figures that might otherwise be overlooked, and ensuring that they become central to our thinking. The handrail on the steps occupies much of the lower half of the image. It would have been only too easy to omit this - a man-made object that spoils the view! Instead, it is used as a device that pulls us into the whole image and links the viewer with the scene.
The lower part of the image comprises a number of key components. The steps roughly cut into the hillside, where once there was probably only a slope, draw us down into the central area. Although they dominate the foreground they add strength to the middle and distance. To the right are the stems of last year’s bracken fronds sweeping downwards to counter the curve of the rail. The curves are in sharp contrast to the upright stems of the self-sown trees. Those on the left conveniently obscuring a bright sky that would have otherwise formed a natural distraction. In many respects, the vegetation is a contrast between the old and the new and yet they all remain stilled by the cold of winter.
As the layers of the image unfold we enter the middle, scrubland area. To do so we pass through a gate. Looking carefully you can see that this is not a straightforward gate and neither is it a stile. Both these features could have held us back and stopped us from entering the scene.
As the layers of the image unfold we enter the middle, scrubland area. To do so we pass through a gate. Looking carefully you can see that this is not a straightforward gate and neither is it a stile. Both these features could have held us back and stopped us from entering the scene. This is a kissing gate - never open, never closed - it is an entry to another place. This is a land that is unclaimed by man. Possibly a wet area unsuitable for development, possibly unwanted by farmers. Those ‘islands’ of scrub are probably welcome havens for wildlife but suggest an area of uncertainty, neither one nor the other. A place where a young person should be accompanied. This is an area of transition, a place to move from security (so the title implies) to safety, from school to home, from child to adult.
Most landscape photographers spend their life trying to keep the built environment out of their images. On this occasion, Tim has included it to make a clear statement. Yes, it is the destination for the walkers, but on the other hand, it acts as a symbol. How small the homes look set against the dark, somewhat brooding, the barren slope of Beinn Bhan. How small man’s efforts seem against the snow-capped peak of Sgorr Bhan. How heavy the grey clouds seem as they, too, hang over the village.
Like so many elements of this image even here there is a paradox. It seems that the mountain furthest away is the one that sets the scale and because of the light on the snow our attention is drawn towards it. The almost central position of the peak has been carefully placed above the line of the path. We are being invited to walk, from the wasteland, through scrubland, on to urban land, only to continue to a barren land and, ultimately, a shining destination. Perhaps the whole image is an allegory. Above all, it is a landscape photographer's essay on nature’s dominance over humans.
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 started out at 6 am for the Wicklow Mountains National Park which is south of Dublin and can be reached by car in under an hour from Dublin city. This is the largest National park in Ireland spanning 200 square kilometres of mountains, valleys, streams and rather precarious mountain roads.
On the morning of my visit despite the initial clear morning air when I reached the uplands a veil of mist covered the mountains giving very poor visibility and light. I reluctantly abandoned the trip but determined to capture the beauty of the area I visited again a week later at dawn. The stillness and loneliness of the mountains were awe inspiring.
The only sound was the cry of the peregrine falcon. As the sun came up the mountains revealed their splendour and the patient wait was rewarded with the beautiful colours of forest and fauna. Some mist still hung in the distant air giving a slight mystic feeling. I hiked up to the top of one of the peaks beside the deep blue Lough Dan and placing the camera on the tripod and the shutter was released to capture the sacred beauty of this most ancient landscape.
Inspired by Rachael Talibart, my coastal photography has recently changed tack to focus on the ocean as a discrete subject. In doing so I’ve discovered a passion for wave photography. The ocean is in constant motion, interacting with light, weather and geology to produce unending moods, shapes and tones.
Released from the shackles of the tripod, I enjoy the freedom of shooting handheld and feel a greater sense of engagement with the elements. My aspiration is to try and capture the spirit of the ocean as I experience it.
These four images are from one exhilarating morning in Cornwall shooting the Atlantic Ocean (Keynvor Atlantek in Cornish).
A series of images from a summer evening walk. We've had an uncharacteristically hot summer in the UK, and I wanted to try and capture the feeling of the dry grass in the last of the evening sun.
In late May I had the good fortune if visiting Yosemite for the first time. Of course, I had to make some images of one or two iconic views - why resist temptation when presented with really good lighting conditions - but I also wanted to find cameo scenes that worked well in the conditions I had or subjects that others may have walked by.
Apart from some rather more intimate landscapes, requiring walking perhaps a few hundred metres from the car I also found others that were "hidden in plain view". The four here are a selection of those that took a bit of effort to find and make pictures.
Chiaroscuro
Chiaroscuro: I was very taken by this convoluted tree with its cut-down companion and with a bit of post-processing I tried to bring out the silvery limbs against the dark woods behind.
The Light Beyond
The Light Beyond: I was struggling to get something at Siesta Lake but came across this dark and secluded part of the woods at one end. Walking just a few yards in and crossing a boggy patch suddenly took me a world away from the rest of the group. ICM helps to emphasise the slightly scary feel I had here.
Time and Motion
Time and Motion: The Merced was rushing by while gusty wind shook the dogwoods on the other bank. A Little Stopper helped to bring out the dynamic nature of this cameo scene.
Trees
Trees: This was made not far from the Sentinel. I found this fallen tree while walking along the Merced river at El Capitan
In August 2015 with a lull in commercial work, and a growing sensibility of photography becoming a medium in rush: we had seen the onset of Instagram, and especially in a commercial sense, experienced the term “content” be attributed to photography, instead of craft, I set myself the challenge of beginning a new project, something that would take time, something that would slow the pace down, and something that would allow me to be patient & observe. In 2016 I travelled to the snow covered alpine regions of Australia, to document ski infrastructure and the landscape, which would eventually be exhibited in November of that year as “The Fall”, to great success and an invigorated passion & outlook for the craft.
I was eager to continue this momentum, to throw myself into this project, however in a Southern hemisphere context, would need to wait until the following year to continue in winter.
The transient nature of imagery sought in 2016’s expression of The Fall, and the tiny window in which this Winter imagery existed, lead a conceptual evolution for the body of work, to grander fascinations of seasonal change & metamorphosis.
It sparked an evolution in thinking, The transient nature of imagery sought in 2016’s expression of The Fall, and the tiny window in which this Winter imagery existed, lead a conceptual evolution for the body of work, to grander fascinations of seasonal change & metamorphosis.
What happens before the snow arrives? What does this landscape look like when it melts? What is the overriding narrative in this complete cycle? In one of the inexplicable timings in life, I had become aware of an inaugural residency at Falls Creek being offered, to assist artists with conceptual development and those working in an Alpine context. After presenting the idea of returning monthly to Falls Creek for 1 year to document the region, I was extremely honoured to be an inaugural recipient of the grant. The overall ethos for The Fall was for an enduring body of work and commentary on the world inhabited, to utilise the photographic medium’s ability to tell a story. There would be no greater story than to document and immerse myself in a location for a year. The 2018 exhibition marks a 1 year timeline, beginning from the first period of residency at Falls Creek in March 2017 through to March 2018.
Falls Creek is undoubtedly a stunning part of Australia. From the project’s very inception, I knew imagery would be simply stunning, graphic and minimal, and in the 2016 expression in Snow covered winter conditions indeed it was. Evolving to the year study, I endeavoured to let go of any premeditated imagery in my mind, and simply immerse myself in the location, to let the location tell me the story. All I had to be was present as often as I could, have a willingness to observe, be prepared and open to whatever the conditions may throw at me.
Minimum monthly trips were undertaken to Falls Creek, and on occasion up to 3 times per month, to document the experience, from subtle changes in climate & quality of light to the more tumultuous, the inhospitable and stark transformations. I got out of my comfort zone, hiked, Skied, camped amongst the snow – all pursuits I had previously little or no experience, but like the changing of the seasons, adapted to the environment evolving around me. My work evolved with it.
Minimum monthly trips were undertaken to Falls Creek, and on occasion up to 3 times per month, to document the experience, from subtle changes in climate & quality of light to the more tumultuous, the inhospitable and stark transformations
Through each session at Falls Creek, the imposing mountains could almost appear to be breathing, sensitive, exhibiting a pulse, and a temper. Where most of the human condition is chaotic & without reason, there is a certainty & purpose in the changing of the seasons. A metronomic rhythm to which all processes of life keep time.
My process has always been very meticulous, technique driven and faithful to the subject, to avoid making imagery over manufactured. Though your process can change quite a lot over a year. In Feb 2018, with the project nearly complete & most of my work already captured, I happened to stumble across some of Arthur Streeton’s works on a visit to the NGA. The tonality, colour palette & richness of the landscape, just gave me the final piece of the puzzle, of how to edit, how to curate the final collection from the extensive body of work, and how to faithfully convey the experience of the moment the photographs were captured.
Work on The Fall has continued to present day, beyond the year I had set myself. Each trip I gather new ideas, new ways of seeing and no two days let alone hours are the same – an overriding mantra in this entire project. The snow does not last, neither does the seasons, or the light.
The exhibition is on display at The Fox Gallery, Kensington, Austrailia and runs from 11 August – 2 September 2018.
The thorny issue of ethics and moral responsibilities in documentary photography, particularly in the case of photojournalism has been discussed many times. It has also created severe turmoil in the careers of long-established and respected photographers, who failed to comply with the expectations of the audience.
The reader might remember the polemic discovery of severe photoshop retouching in images of the former National Geographic photographer Steve McCurry. The case exploded following a post by an Italian photographer, who spotted on some exhibited gallery prints severe visual inconsistencies in some of the images that led to thinking of substantial image manipulation. Further analysis led to discover that in many of McCurry images, people had been eliminated, compositions had been cleaned and backgrounds strongly modified. The photographer, under logical attack, first claimed his ignorance about the fact his images were severely retouched, pointing to his own assistant as the real culprit and firing him. Then, he changed his discourse, claiming that he had “artistic freedom” to manipulate his images at will, since, after all, his images were not to be understood as photo-journalism, but as fine art photography.
This last detail is of special interest to me. Beyond considerations of the dubious (or not) reasoning inherent in such claims, McCurry explanations brought under the limelight a number of barbed issues. McCurry, a photographer best known for his image “Afghan girl”, made his reputation as one of the photographers for National Geographic. His career was built on the basis of images made to document and represent the identity of certain cultures and societies, illustrating articles supposed to transmit truth, as the reputation of a publication like National Geographic would let us think. It can be easily understood that if the polemic would have taken place at the time when he was part of the staff of NG, surely enough heads would have rolled.
Getting to take pictures of New York from out of a helicopter must certainly be the dream of many photographers. The flight itself is already a great experience. The removed doors of a so-called doors-off flight not only increase the release of adrenaline but, by their very nature, also improve the view and the possibilities for the photographer enormously. That New York from the air represents a stunning motif with enormous potential, does not require any great explanation.
Can there be anyone who isn’t familiar with those picture books full of images of the New York skyline. It does, however, require a good bit of planning to be able to enjoy the dream to the full and to come home with all the pictures you’d like to. I’d like very much to share some of the experiences I was able to gain from 3 flights over New York in February 2017. I wasn’t badly prepared, but I was by no means perfectly ready for what I awaited me. Very few of us are able to "practise” taking pictures from a helicopter flight. For this reason, this short report aims to be more than a suggestion that one takes a flight in a helicopter, but rather to also attempt to offer some welcome support to those willing to take the plunge; it is composed as a snapshot and makes no claim to completeness.
“Doors-Off" flights offer the passenger an almost 180-degree view to the side of his or her seat and the chance to point their lens almost vertically downwards.
It all begins with booking and choosing the flight. On the internet, you will find many suppliers of flights who set off in Manhattan and offer the traditional route along the Hudson for 20 to 30 minutes or so. These are flights for tourists with closed doors, which are certainly worthwhile but not especially aimed at the needs of photographers. On more or less specified routes, you fly parallel to the city to some extent but not really over New York. Of course, in terms of duration and range, such flights can easily be upgraded, but generally speaking, the doors remain closed. Then there are several providers offering special flights for photographers.
“Doors-Off" flights offer the passenger an almost 180-degree view to the side of his or her seat and the chance to point their lens almost vertically downwards. They are often used by professional photographers, who are completing an assignment and thus have a clear idea of what they want to photograph from which perspective, from which height, in what light conditions and at what time of the day. More powerful helicopters, such as the Robinson R44 Raven 2, which fly more gently than smaller machines and can fly at higher altitudes, are used. And I can confirm that this model allows the photographer to get good results. I cannot offer model comparisons here.
My flights didn't set off in Manhattan but from Linden airport, 1101W Edgar Rd Linden, NJ 07036, southwest of Manhattan near Newark Airport. The approach to Manhattan takes 7 minutes. The small airport can easily be reached in about 1 hour by train from Penn Station followed by a short taxi ride. The providers of the flights are housed in inconspicuous hangars. I went for Core-Heli in Hangar 600. I had to be there one hour before the flight. The briefing by the pilot includes questions of safety, the flight path and communication on board. Understandably, the cameras had to be secured with fixing straps. In order to be able to use the cameras well in a sitting position, you should test the set-up beforehand. Sat there as I was with my 3 cameras, fastened to the left, right and in the middle, I got smiled at more than once. But it worked. Nothing is allowed on-board that might fall from the aircraft, such as a lens cap, for example. In hindsight, it seems to me that a lens change might have been possible. But I’d advise against it; even if the pilot turns a blind eye.
Clearly, you are strapped in, but you still have enough room for manoeuvre so that you can lean out and photograph down below. I was least prepared in terms of the flight path. The possibilities here are unlimited.
Clearly, you are strapped in, but you still have enough room for manoeuvre so that you can lean out and photograph down below. I was least prepared in terms of the flight path. The possibilities here are unlimited. If you want to circle the tip of the Freedom Tower from up close, photograph the Manhattan Bridge from different perspectives, target the Manhattan skyline from the south or Manhattan via Central Park while heading in a southerly direction, everything, or at least almost everything, is possible. As I was offered a "ride" as a free flight in the company of a professional photographer, I now know what good planning is all about. The professional had gone for the Flatiron Building from every conceivable angle. My good fortune, because the Flatiron Building is probably one of the most attractive buildings in New York. Of course, I had no influence whatsoever on the route taken. I benefited greatly from the pilot, who had a lot of experience with photographers’ wishes and to some extent made up for my lack of planning. Unfortunately, Mr Trump has instigated a no-fly zone around his Trump Tower, which the pilot has to observe strictly. The operator is very annoyed about this but I wasn’t really so bothered; probably because I can’t really comment on something I missed out on. Without this zone, I probably wouldn't have been able to photograph an army helicopter hovering in the air in front of a row of houses. The microphone and headset communication onboard work quite well. In terms of what you want to do when up in the air, you have to think about what the pilot is actually able to deliver. A talk is given with this in mind before the flight. However, it is better to arrive at the airport with a detailed idea in your head and to discuss this with the pilot.
During the flight, you can make amendments but determining a completely new route costs time and money and might not even be possible if there isn’t enough fuel. If you want to take a flight and get to see a lot and have sufficient time to take photographs, you should allow at least 1 hour and preferably 90 minutes. Obviously, clothing is important too. I flew at minus 5° and at plus 15° for up to 2 hours of flight time. So you have to wrap up very warm and in windproof clothing. The hands, feet and head should also be well protected. This is also inspected critically before setting off. Do this and surviving a helicopter trip in February is not impossible.
Heading out from Linden Airport, you approach Manhattan from a south-westerly direction. If so desired, the first view will be the skyline with the Statue of Liberty in the foreground. I primarily made use of a Nikon D 600 with the 20 mm type lens from Sigma, but also a Pentax 645Z with a 35mm lens. The wide angle also came into play for the view of Manhattan from Brooklyn; something which I can recommend. The southerly view north of Central Park is also worthwhile. It is essential that you circle the Freedom Tower and the Empire State Building. I captured the latter from the tip of the building with the moon shot in the background.
Here, I mostly used a Nikon D 810 with the 85 mm from Sigma, but also the Pentax. Brooklyn Bridge and Manhattan Bridge are extremely photogenic from many different angles and can be photographed well with an 85 mm lens. The view of Manhattan from a westerly direction, with the southern tip just in the right half of the image and with the sunset in the background, is one of my favourites. This is just a small, highly subjective selection of views and lenses which you can choose from. Of course, light conditions and the time of day play an important role. I experienced wonderful sunsets and afternoons with milky light. The flights were at 2 pm, 3 pm and 4:30 pm. If you select a late flight, the ISO values in terms of exposure times reach between 1/1000 and 1/2500, which is no longer really fun. With my equipment, a flight after 5.30 pm in February, oriented towards the sunset, would be of limited value.
The high light intensity of the Sigma lenses is a real plus for photographing from a helicopter. I used the Sigma lens open or in an aperture range of up to 2.8. The Pentax was only to be used with an open aperture if you wanted to keep the ISO number down. I didn’t detect any shaking with either of the Nikon, while I at best achieved mixed results with the Pentax. However, the sharp photos taken by the Pentax are of breath-taking quality. I’m also excited by the results with the Sigma 85 mm. The D 600 with the 20 mm lens also delivers really good photos, as my 120 cm x 80 cm format prints prove. In my experience, you should not work with an exposure time slower than 1/1000. From my point of view, fixed focal lengths starting from 15 mm to 20 mm and going up to 85 mm are to be recommended. If necessary, a focal length of up to 135 mm might also make sense. But no focal lengths longer than this. Overall, I am satisfied with the images I collected, but it is also clear that, with even better preparation or with a professional, I would have got even more out of the 3 flights.
The internet search for a flight had led me to an agency which I initially and incorrectly took to be the operator of the helicopters. I recognised this error when booking the 2nd flight on site, which was significantly more favourably priced than the first booking via the agency. I’d also like to offer two tips, given to me by the owner of Core-Heli. You should only book with an operator, who is also the owner of the aircraft and is itself responsible for the maintenance. When searching the internet, you should always enter the name of the company plus ‘accident’. One crash on the record sheet is one too many if you want to have confidence in them. Better to be on the safe side says the expert. Of course, the whole thing is a very expensive fun, which you will however probably only be able to enjoy once in your life. But it's worth it, no question!
Brian Kosoff has described his default setting as being beauty, but in contrast to the many landscape photographers who go to great lengths to exclude obvious signs of man from their images, Brian embraces these and imbues them with an elegance that defies their often humble origin. Best known for his film-based black and white landscapes, he likes the way that monochrome strips an image down to its basic elements of light, composition and form. In contrast, his colour work is digital, and explores themes of motion and, in “Warning Signs” and “End of the Road”, our own mortality.
Would you like to tell readers a little about yourself – where you grew up, what your early interests were and how you became interested in photography?
I was born in Manhattan and raised in Brooklyn New York near Brighton Beach and Coney Island. It was a great place for a kid to grow up, and its close proximity to the beach and the Atlantic Ocean was one of the few places where one could see an actual horizon in NYC. I attribute my appreciation of open spaces, vast horizons and possibly why I favour wide panoramic formats to having grown up in the visually congested environment of NYC.
My uncle, who was a hobbyist photographer, sparked my interest in photography. He shot mostly slide film with a Nikkormat and every time there was a family function at his home he would put on a slideshow of all the family and vacation photos he had taken. At about age 15 I bought my first camera and pretty quickly became obsessed with photography. I converted my bedroom into a room in which I could block out all the light and make a darkroom. It didn’t have running water so I had to wash prints in a tray in the tub in the bathroom. I discovered that the worse the weather the more interesting the photographs, so I would venture out on the stormiest of days to shoot photos, come home and process film and then spend the night in my darkroom printing.
How crucial to your future direction was the art program at high school? Many of us were directed away from art at school, so this sounds like a wonderful thing.
In sunshine the Skylark, suspended overhead, flutters in the air, radiating a beautiful warbling song.
Big boots crunching and grinding on crumbled Gritstone bedding.
Rain washed Peat, with microscopic flecks of glistening Quartz.
Nesting time and the Curlews glide on the eddy, making their distinguished, haunting two note call.
I squelch through boggy Peat to reach the Cotton Grass.
Above the sweeping Bog cotton, a low-lying Stratus layer, and higher up, radiating lines of Cirrus.
August warmth, the fresh scent of Heather with colours of soft Pink and Purple and Magenta.
Large, solid, dark rounded blocks of Gritstone, interrupt the horizon, once climbed upon, I find pot holed pools and strong Westerlies blow rain against my face.
Grey, damp and motionless calm, interrupted by fast-moving grouse, making comical call sounding like “go back, go back.” – say it fast!
A freezing night, the dogs walk on iced puddles, making loud cracking noises.
Distant vertical grey cloud streaks, the onset of large snowflakes floating in the air, gently falling … time to walk home to a log fire.
In April 2015, my life took an unexpected and devastating turn. Two weeks prior to my 14th wedding anniversary and four weeks prior to my 40th birthday, my husband (who had also been my best friend for 22 years) and I decided to separate. After experiencing an outrageous amount of success throughout my charmed life, the word “failure” had never entered my vocabulary, and I felt like I had failed at one of the most important things to me in my life. My soul died.
As the emotional storm tossed me into a whirlpool of despair, I sought to redirect my pain into a new dream. I decided to stand-up-paddleboard (SUP) the 141-mile length of Lake Powell, a reservoir along the Colorado River on the Utah/Arizona border. In November 2015, my 64-year-old mother and I launched on a 14-day journey. However, like my marriage, it too did not go according to plan.
On the fourth day of our trip, we encountered unpredicted crosswinds that stirred the lake waters into five-to-six-foot swells.
While navigating through the disappointment and shame, in the aftermath, I learned how to go with the flow, not just in my life but also in my photography. My struggle with personal trauma is a dramatic example of this newfound attitude.
As one wave after another slammed into my paddleboard, I watched the swells toss my mother’s kayak against the sheer 400-foot cliffs bordering the lake for almost two hours. Small grottoes threatened to swallow her and her kayak whole with each outgoing wave and then smash her with the next incoming one.
The wet plate collodion process dates back to the middle of the 19th Century. During that period you had a couple of choices if you wanted to engage in that new-fangled photography thing. Firstly you could go French and produce an ultra sharp (and small) Daguerreotype, a one-off ‘print’ that couldn't be reproduced, or you could produce a much softer and textural salt print or calotype.
The ideal world, though, would be a combination of the sharpness of the Daguerreotype with the reproducibility of the salt print.
Around 1850, collodion was discovered, made by dissolving guncotton in ether and alcohol (which is why you should buy your collodion off the shelf instead of making it yourself). Collodion was the perfect support for photosensitive materials as it dries to a ‘skin’ which will stick to most materials, even glass.
So there I was minding my own business when an opportunity came my way. Those nice people who run on landscape asked if I could contribute an article for the end frame feature. This came as something of a surprise, particularly as these articles seem to be written by people with an in depth knowledge of what they want to write about.
I always assumed that the authors came from a background in writing or had some qualification and experience in such matters. Beyond the should I do it and could I do it thoughts came the question of which one image to choose. How to select just one photograph singled out from years of
interest in photography and in a time when we are close to drowning in a flood of increasingly dynamic, saturated and for want of a better word, shouty images. My own preferences are away from the visual fast food and towards something more subtle and enduring. Being forced to sit down and think about it there is certainly no shortage of images I could choose that are memorable and somehow significant to me. To choose the greatest
one of all is an impossible and pointless feat so I decided instead to pick one from the many that have really caught, and more importantly kept, my 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. You can view previous 4x4 portfolios here.
Submit Your 4x4 Portfolio
We're on the lookout for new portfolios for the next few issues, so please do get in touch!
If you would like to submit your 4x4 portfolio, please visit this page for submission information.
I have been recently working with Paul Gallagher on fine tuning my photography and Paul suggested I should look at working more in woodlands and in black & white.
To be honest I am not someone who likes photographing woodlands as I find it difficult to find a composition with all the chaos presented by all those trees - surely a lone tree is enough in an image ? Give me big views and fine light and I am happy; woods on a bright sunny day and I am well out of my comfort zone! However; I found the bright sunlight worked well, providing great side/back-lighting that complimented the fresh green foliage of early summer.
This series of 4 images were made at Hodge Close Quarry in the English Lake District and the combination of sunlit leaves with a stiff breeze gave me an impression of the trees dancing, so I utilised a 6 Stop ND to try and capture the movement; which I think worked.
Four pictures to represent the wilderness of Patagonia; in particular, Torres del Paine is for sure one of the highlights of this incredible region of Sud America. With this photos I want to picture all the possible situations that you can find in this land, from cloudy sunsets to incredible sunrise, to end with some incredible starry nights! The mountains that you can find here are probably between some of the most majestic ones that you'll ever see on the whole planet, rising fiercely towards the sky.
As landscape photographers we live in search of good light. When that light presents itself we get very excited. This was the very day the that nature delivered.
This is Simrishamn in the south east corner of Sweden where I live with my family. Photography is my daily routine as this region is well known for its incredible light.
I like taking tripod-mounted sunset shots as much as the next landscapist but grey days can be liberating. Walking around hand-held without worrying about chasing the changing light, you can really free your mind to find shapes in the landscape. I also love the way soft, grey, damp days make the colours so much richer.
Trees in a mysterious mood near The Wizard, Alderley Edge
A view of the lower Duddon Valley looking north.
A green lane in spring near Coed y Brenin forest, South Snowdonia
An old barn overshadowed by trees, Coed y Brenin forest, South Snowdonia
Whilst putting together this issue, including Joe Cornish's article on Sally Mann and my own article on the second life of wet plate, I asked Alex Boyd, a well-practised collodionist himself, about what it was about the medium that attracted so many people - Tim Parkin.
I was one of the many photographers who visited Sally Mann's exhibition at The Photographer's Gallery in London in 2010, and while an admirer of her Immediate Family work, was more drawn to What Remains, her quiet meditation on landscape, death and the process of decay. The prints were reproductions of glass plates she had produced while working in the field, and along with their compelling subject matter they revealed the signs of their creation - of unpredictable chemical processes, of tired hands, a concentrating eye, and of the landscape around her which stuck to the plates in the form of dirt and dust. To my mind they recalled the records of Tom Waits with all their scratches left in - everything compelling captured within the frame.
I started photographing years ago, as it was just a passion that would allow me to bring home memories of what I was living.
Over time I grew up, changing my mind. I began to appreciate the precious good of “time”, to get the better of the most particular moments, transmitting them firstly in my mind and then to my camera. I appreciate the calm of nature, trying always to learn what it has to teach.
By nature I am a solitary explorer, I love self-challenges. That’s why I do love high mountains (even though the Scottish coasts are ones of the most amazing in the world!). Mountain is so proud, tall, impervious, seductive and mysterious, always ready to be hiked.
Going along across the paths in a wood, feeling the effort running on my back, stopping to catch the breath and admire the landscape that changes around. In silence, sometimes I observe what seems to be a motionless atmosphere. But it is not. Distant sounds, creaks of branches, footsteps of animals that mark the rhythm of nature, the real one. It is reuniting with what we are, hiding from the technological chaos created by man and returning to develop our innate curiosity through the five senses.
Light through Gran Sasso Mountains
I live in Rome and work as an ICT developer. I am often thinking about changing my life, but it is only the lack of courage that still prevents me.
For this reason, as soon as I can, I run away towards what I consider as an ‘open window of the soul’. With photographic backpack always ready, I get in the car, and I run looking for new emotions.
Although I'm essentially an avid photographer of the wilder landscape, in recent years I have become captivated by the more cultivated and tranquil charms of Thorp Perrow Arboretum, Bedale. My visits there began over 30 years ago when it was first opened to the public, but in the last 5 years my relationship with the arboretum has developed to the point where it really is my second home. During this period, I've made more than 150 visits and enjoyed over 700 hours there with my large format camera, shooting exclusively on 5"x4" transparency film.
Tiara Cascade
The current exhibition reveals a small section of that broader work, concentrating exclusively on flowers, their remarkable diversity and individual characteristics. I am very much indebted to Jo Rose, curator of the Joe Cornish Gallery, for suggesting that I focus exclusively on flowers as the theme for the exhibition to complement their summer promotion of the UK cut-flower industry. The selected images do not encompass the huge range of flowers that can be seen at Thorp Perrow, they are simply my most-loved genera and species.
I like to think my approach to floral studies is much the same as any portrait photographer, in that I aim to capture them looking at their finest, in their natural environment and with favourable lighting. For me, this usually entails shooting within a couple of hours of sunrise when the flowers are in prime condition and before the wind rises: wind movement is the most difficult aspect to contend with in close-up large format photography, especially when exposure times are rarely less than 1 sec. My ideal weather conditions are gentle overnight rain followed by the faintest trace of the early morning sun, but if I find these elements together with the perfect subject then I do consider it a real privilege.
Magnolia biloba
Cornus Gloria Birkett
I firmly believe that knowing one's subject well and being passionate about it are key factors in any form of photography and my floral portraits are mostly the result of numerous visits to some of my favourite plants, shrubs and trees, often over several years. They frequently involve lengthy set-up/composition times and extensive waits for the rain to stop, the wind to drop, or the best light. Occasionally, however, they arise from chance encounters with unfamiliar subjects and magical lighting conditions and it's moments such as these that sustain my passion for Thorp Perrow.
I would like to express my gratitude to all of the Ropner family for their consent to hold this exhibition, their support in my photography at Thorp Perrow Arboretum and for their dedication and enthusiasm in restoring and maintaining this special environment for visitors to enjoy.
Floral portraits: Rod Bennington Saturday 28 July - Thursday 30 August 2018 Joe Cornish Gallery, Northallerton
It’s quite possible that we could interview several Karl Mortimer’s – the woodland wanderer, the quarry ghost, or the new minimalist. And that’s without mentioning his alter ego (if you follow him on social media, you’ll know what I’m referring to). Working my way through his website it appears that a more graphic emphasis is coming into his work – his use of the square format, the negative space in his compositions, and his macro minimals. So will the real Karl Mortimer please stand up?
Would you like to tell readers a little about yourself – your education, early interests and career to date?
Monday to Friday most weeks I’m a freelance business consultant, sat in an office with minimal natural light, coaching and mentoring senior managers, helping them develop a strategy or running those hellish workshops with stomach curling icebreakers and team building exercises. I arrived here via a circuitous route starting initially as a geologist, re-educated in IT, with a few brief years as a ‘techie’, before following the standard routes into management and then ricocheting into organisational and transformational change management. It’s no wonder I like to get out with the camera, is it?
So in an attempt to balance the rat race with my own sanity I occasionally manage to spend some time with the camera in hand and exercise those creative impulses and muscles.
How did you first become interested in photography and what kind of images did you initially set out to make?
I first got my hands on a camera as part of my geology studies, using it to document my field studies of outcrops and other geological features. It was an old 35mm Praktica that I foolishly offloaded in a car boot sale some years later, but that simple little camera was how I learned the basics back in the day, a needle to indicate exposure and a split prism for focusing. That largely simple approach to my photography persists to this day strangely when I think about it. I probably use less than 2% of any of my camera’s functions on a regular basis when making my work.
If it is true that we admire the quality in others of which we are most in need then embarrassingly for me, that virtue is courage. Perhaps by writing about Sally Mann I hope to acquire some, through osmosis perhaps, or maybe because her controversial reputation means that any appreciation of her work moves the writer into the firing line.
I have now read her memoir, Hold Still, twice and am pretty sure I could re-read it several more times, never be bored and continue finding new depths and insights. Courage is a such a characteristic of her art that I hope I have learned more about it, both creatively and personally. How many books can move the reader to laughter, tears, shock, physical pain, surprise, delight, frustration, wistful reflection and wonder?
Even if we are visual artists mainly, the pages of Onlandscape have proved for years that photographers can write as well as anyone. (Perhaps that’s just as well in an era when “Everyone’s a photographer, Darling”.) In the foreword of Hold Still Sally Mann claims to be no intellectual, yet this is the work of a brilliantly talented writer. Her story-telling instinct and luminous use of language is equal to the task of weaving key passages in her own life with those of her ancestors and contemporary family. In her case, fact really is stranger than fiction.
How many books can move the reader to laughter, tears, shock, physical pain, surprise, delight, frustration, wistful reflection and wonder?
There is an epic cast of characters, family, friends, heroes and villains. The three main heroes are Sally’s tall, handsome, philosopher husband Larry (Mann); her aloof, complex, artistic and fascinating father, local GP Dr Bob Munger; and the Munger family’s long-suffering black housemaid Virginia Carter (Gee Gee) who’s self-sacrificing saintliness and superhuman resilience is balanced in equal measure. There’s also a beautiful vignette of her neighbour and confidante, the painter Cy Twombly. Of the villains? Well, here she is more restrained, but the power of these portraits gains from what is left unsaid.
Sally Mann’s fame, and notoriety exists in part because of a body of work from 1991, called Immediate Family. For this long-term project, in which her children are the unifying theme, she used black and white film, a 10x8 inch camera, and deployed the same methodical, tripod-mounted, one frame-at-a-time approach familiar to many of us when making landscape pictures. (Not so familiar for documentary portraits though, when a compact and possibly flash would appear to make sense.) This laborious technique reflects her total dedication. She had the privilege of time and the privacy and pleasure of her family farm as a backdrop. So far so straightforward. But these enigmatic, ambiguous, curious, somewhat sensual, sometimes-staged (sometimes-not) pictures appeared in a world traumatised by revelations of abuse and exploitation, an existential crisis about childhood that remains with us today. Unwittingly, Immediate Family released a cultural firestorm. On the one side were art lovers defending her freedom of expression; on the other were moral guardians for whom any image of a child is potential evidence of evil-doing or psychological-illness.
A unique style emerges in photography by ignoring it, concentrating on the subject, and allowing care, passion and knowledge to bubble to the surface through a lot of hard work over a long period of time.
~Bill Jay
A common trope in photography is that you need to find your vision (or voice, or personal style, or some other personally-unique quality). Logically speaking, this is an impossible task since, if a person’s vision is different from other people’s visions, then there is nothing out there for one to find. And if you search within but don’t know what your own vision is, how will you recognize it when you find it? If this sounds a bit like a Zen koan, it’s for a good reason. As explained by D.T. Suzuki, “We look for its [Zen’s] secrets where they are most unlikely to be found, that is, in verbal abstractions and metaphysical subtleties, whereas the truth of Zen really lies in the concrete things of our daily life.” Vision, personal style, voice, etc., are not things that you find; they are things that you are.
..if you search within but don’t know what your own vision is, how will you recognize it when you find it?
I never looked for, let alone found, a personal style or a vision. I always assumed that, by virtue of it being my vision and nobody else’s, there is no point in looking—I already have it. So long as I create my photographs according to my own instincts, interests, and aesthetic sensibilities—rather than attempt to imitate others—whatever vision I have will naturally ensue out of my work. Rather than criteria by which I create photographs, I think of my vision simply as a byproduct of creating photographs. Put another way: style, vision, voice, etc., are not things I strive for; they are things that, if I properly express myself in my photographs, other people may find in my work.
“What’s this then?” said the man who’d poked his head around the gallery door. “We’re just hanging an exhibition, it will be opening tomorrow morning” I replied.
“Is it paintings or photographs?” he asked.
“Landscape and still life photography” I said.
“That’s not proper art then is it” he said before walking off.
I recently held my first solo exhibition since returning to landscape photography at the Colonnade House Gallery in Worthing, Sussex. The gallery is part of a large art deco building regenerated by the local council into a creative hub and gallery spaces. Perhaps naively when I booked my slot six months in advance I had very little idea of the sheer amount of work involved in planning and preparing to fill 348 square feet of blank wall and floor space.
When I began to make plans for the show it seemed that an exhibition could hold two pure functions, commercial or artistic. Dominating the preparations was a constant tension between these considerations. Every decision about the exhibition involved weighing up a fine balance between them.
Unusually the opportunity of exhibiting at this venue came before the idea of holding an exhibition to show a specific body of work. The first decision that had to be made then was on the type of work I would exhibit. Would a portfolio show, displaying my ‘best’ but unrelated pictures, or a themed show displaying a consistent body of work be better? From a purely commercial point of view displaying pictures that had already sold well, alongside popular images of landmarks made more sense. From an artistic point of view, a themed show would hang together better in the gallery space. It would also be more visually appealing through a consistency that would lead the visitor around the gallery space.
From an artistic point of view, a themed show would hang together better in the gallery space. It would also be more visually appealing through a consistency that would lead the visitor around the gallery space.
While keen to sell work through the exhibition and use it as an opportunity to increase print sales through my website, I felt uncomfortable with the idea of a purely commercial show. While all art is subjective, landscape photography and the vast differences in the treatment of subjects by individual photographers within the genre is particularly so. What one photographer might consider being their best work, or the work they are most proud of, does not necessarily appeal to others. Buying a framed print to hang on the walls of your home or workplace is a deeply personal experience. Alongside an appreciation of the subject and the photographer’s personal vision, home décor such as wall colour and furnishings influence a buyer’s decision. The mantra that your ‘best’ work will sell falls flat when challenged by people’s individual tastes.
I decided then on a themed show based on a monthly series of nature writing and landscape photography essays that I publish on my website called ‘Echoes from the Landscape’. The inspiration behind the series is to give the viewer a more rounded experience of the physical and emotional experience of spending time in the landscape. This would provide a visual consistency, a narrative for the visitor to follow and a through connection from the gallery to my website. To satisfy the need for a supporting commercial element to the exhibition I could place unrelated work in print racks or as greeting card designs to display my wider portfolio.
With this decision in place, I was able to move on to plan the layout and select prints for display. This was done via low tech 1:10 scale drawings of the floor space and walls. I then arranged cut out scale sketches of prints, helpfully coloured in crayon by my toddler. This guide proved invaluable both in choosing which prints would hang together in terms of colour, subject and shape, and later on during the time-consuming process of hanging the exhibition. I was then able to make test prints of my selection and check the final layout.
Rather than sacrificing displaying a print in its best format for uniformity, I reasoned it would be better both artistically and commercially to choose frames on an individual basis.
When it came to framing work there seemed to be a clear decision between two options. A traditional approach of framing in a uniform black, or frame as I do in my online print sales in oak or black to suit the individual print. A traditional gallery approach would favour the cleaner visual of a line of matching black frames. Unusually here, however, the commercial and the artistic came together. Rather than sacrificing displaying a print in its best format for uniformity, I reasoned it would be better both artistically and commercially to choose frames on an individual basis.
The opposite was true of the decision to use standard or anti-reflection glass. Commercially, anti-reflection art glasses make no sense. They are very expensive, often doubling the cost of a frame. Most people who buy a print won’t consider the huge difference between a standard and an anti-reflection glass. Artistically though the glass will make the print look at its best. Colours and detail are sharper and clearer. If a viewer can read the picture at its best they are more likely to want to buy it. With this in mind, I accepted the reduced profit margin and chose to frame using the anti-reflection glass.
There were so many logistical considerations that choosing which pictures to display and how to frame them turned out to be only a quarter of the workload of exhibiting. How to take card payments, ordering business and greeting cards, ensuring I had enough stock, ordering bags for prints and cards, promoting the exhibition and dressing the rest of the gallery space were all tasks to complete and decisions that had to be made. Even relatively simple tasks such as ensuring each print were labelled required research, testing and making. In the early hours of the day the gallery opened, I found myself retrieving labels that had been left outside to dry, blown around the garden and spray mounted themselves to several bushes.
Looking at completely blank walls and an entirely empty gallery space while hoping that your plans were correct and you have enough work to fill it could make even the most confident photographer nervous.
Promoting the show through invitations, local magazines, tourist websites and social media was one of the most time consuming parts of the process. Despite feeling at times like efforts to attract visitors this way were in vain it did prove to be worth the time invested in it. Throughout the two weeks, lots of people came in and said they had seen the exhibition advertised and promoted on Instagram, Facebook and in the local press.
Walking into the gallery on the day set aside to hang the exhibition was a daunting experience. Looking at completely blank walls and an entirely empty gallery space while hoping that your plans were correct and you have enough work to fill it could make even the most confident photographer nervous. Nearing the end of the six-hour hanging process it became clear that the layout meant there would be a large hole left in the display near the end of one wall. Toward the end of the printing process, I had changed the size of some Foamex backed panels that displayed the nature-writing element of the exhibition. Luckily I had prepared a spare framed print that fitted perfectly into the empty space.
A very large curving art deco window fronts the main gallery at Colonnade House. In a traditional gallery, this window would account for a third of the available wall display space. The gallery advised on creating matching sized framed prints that can be hung back to back in the window to overcome the loss of a third wall. While this can attract people to come into the exhibition, too many pictures would obscure the view through to the rest of the work. A clear space to see exactly what they are entering into can also make it more inviting for people who would find the experience of visiting an art gallery slightly intimidating. To avoid obscuring this view too much and to carry the theme across the gallery space while still creating an inviting display, I decided to dress the windows with coastal plants and a herring net borrowed from a local fisherman. Pulled from a fishing locker on the beach the day before, the net also bought an authentic smell of the sea into the gallery.
“Look at this place” said the man looking through the window on the third day of the exhibition to his wife
“Is it photographs?” she asked.
“What a load of rubbish” he said, “that’ll never make any money, it will be closed down in a week”.
Once opened the exhibition was a hugely rewarding experience. The ethos behind Colonnade House and its staff, to help and support artists to exhibit, made showing my work less of a daunting first step than it otherwise could have been. As encouraged by the gallery I chose to sit in at the exhibition for as many days as possible. Taking the time and opportunity to meet and talk with people about the pictures and nature writing was a real privilege. It was also nice to overhear comments people made when they didn’t realise that the work was mine. The most common question I was asked throughout the fortnight was whether the prints were paintings or photographs. As this is the effect that I try to create when photographing it was hugely reassuring to hear.
The most common question I was asked throughout the fortnight was whether the prints were paintings or photographs. As this is the effect that I try to create when photographing it was hugely reassuring to hear.
In the Instagram age of saturated and over polished sunsets where it can be equally tempting to over edit and frustrating to witness others do so, it was great to hear people praise the pictures for their natural quality. Printing, rather than viewing on a screen, is the true test of an images quality and its ability to engage the viewer. Resisting the urge to overproduce pictures to attract ‘likes’ online was rewarded by prints with real depth that captured people’s imaginations. The exhibition also served as an excellent advertising opportunity to make people aware of my website and how to buy prints online. Despite days of endless rain, the fortnight was a real success. Prints sold and lots of other opportunities to work with people arose through it. It was also lovely to meet other artists working in the community and learn from their experience of exhibiting and selling.
Knowing how much work is involved from conceiving an exhibition to the opening, would I do it again? I’ve already booked my next two.
Back in May 2013, Al Brydon was our featured photographer in issue 58. We caught up with Al to hear more about how his 'The dark project' panned out, his new project 'Solargraphs', and his forgotten 20 rolls of film he re-exposed...
CP: You talked about “downgrading’ to your Holga camera and from that, the Holgaroid series developed, tell us more about that. Is the series still ongoing? Do you still use the camera? Have you downgraded again?
AB: Yep. I thought I couldn't reach a new camera based nadir until I did. It got even simpler to the point where I was making cameras out of empty beer tins with a tiny hole for a lens. More on this later though.
Holgaroids was never really meant to be a series. I'd been working on a fairly intensive body of work for roughly two years and I saw the Holgaroids as a way to decompress and simplify my practice. I bought a Polaroid back for that particular camera and just started to make the work.
So much of the work I make is about walking. 'The lost art of walking to nowhere ' became a bit of a mantra for the series as it progressed and I realised it had become something other than a few Polaroids. I'd had been reading Moby Dick by Herman Melville and there was a particular line that I kept going back to. ‘It is not down on any map; true places never are.’ The quest for beauty (or what I think of as beautiful) just made finding it all the more unattainable. It became clear I was looking for something else but that would only be found when I stopped looking.
I finished the series some time ago and gave away the Polaroid back to a friend. She's now creating her work with it and the world keeps turning exactly as it should.
CP: You were working on ‘The dark project’ when we spoke last. How has that project panned out?
AB: It's still ongoing. I originally called the series 'Acyrologia' but found I couldn't pronounce it with any regularity and people quite rightly kept asking what it meant. It was a title too far so it's been scrapped. I think titles and words are what I struggle with the most and I've generally struggled with this body of work on many occasions. I even published it as finished way before it ever was and subsequently removed it from my website until I could think about where it should go.
It was rushed into something it wasn't meant to be. Photographers rarely seem to talk about their failures and mistakes (for obvious reasons I guess) but for the work to become what it has finally become these mistakes had to occur.
It was rushed into something it wasn't meant to be. Photographers rarely seem to talk about their failures and mistakes (for obvious reasons I guess) but for the work to become what it has finally become these mistakes had to occur. I gave it a rest for a year and started shooting for it again last winter. I still struggle with it but I love that it isn't easy. Everything about it is difficult and frustrating. Also, enough time has elapsed for the initial reasons for making the work to have distorted or evolved (depending on how you look at it) into something completely different. I continue to be compelled to make work at night or dusk. Aside from the aesthetic of the photographs, there's something challenging about the process that I clearly enjoy. I usually work very quickly when I'm out but making work for this series takes planning and a level of pre-visualisation I am still unaccustomed to. It's very different to everything else I've done and I've started to include work made during the day too. Hopefully, it'll keep evolving and I'll have something to show you all at some point.
CP: Your Solargraphs series - is that a recent project you’ve been working on? What was the appeal of this project?
AB: Ah, the Solargraphs. They are kind of my main focus at the moment due to the impending book later this year from J.W Editions. For those of you who haven't a clue what a Solargraph is, allow me to furnish you with a bit of info.
A solargraph is a pinhole camera. I make mine from old beer tins with a pinhole placed half way up the can. I then insert a piece of 5x7 standard darkroom paper and tape a makeshift lid on. These are then gaffer taped to something static and left to expose for anywhere between two weeks to a year. Then if I've hidden them well enough and they've not been tampered with I pick them up and hope they've worked.
As with the Holgaroids, these were never meant to be a series. Then again we're something I liked to do when one series had been finished and I was kicking my heels waiting for the next one to spring out of the muddle which is my thought process. That was the initial appeal but the more work I made the 'how' became less important and the 'why' became the all encompassing reason. I started to wonder what the landscape looked like when I wasn't there to experience it. As the exposures for these range from a few weeks to over a year, it is essentially a different Al collecting the can than the Al that had left it. This is in itself pleasing. Plus what's implied in the photographs but isn't actually visible is for me personally is important too. All the animals and insects, other people, any movement other than the arc of the sun (and sometimes moon) isn't actually visible in the finished photograph but it's in there somewhere. I don't want to give too much away. If you're interested you'll just have to buy the book. Or don't see if I care. I do care. Buy the book! I need new socks.
CP: 'Based on a False Story series' -Twenty rolls of film found in a draw and no recollection of what was on them. How did you feel when you re-exposed them and reflected on what you’d taken. Did you feel that you’re photography have evolved if so in what way?
AB:
I thought about just getting them processed but then struck upon the idea to re-expose them essentially creating a photographic collaboration with my former self.
This body of work came about when I found around twenty rolls of previously exposed film in a drawer. They'd been exposed between ten and fifteen years ago. I thought about just getting them processed but then struck upon the idea to re-expose them essentially creating a photographic collaboration with my former self.
It was an odd sensation re-exposing them. I felt I was destroying the past. I didn't really know what was on them but I knew there were going to be some irreplaceable photographs in there somewhere. Friends no longer with us etc. I think that the decision to create something new from this destruction was completely the right one. My life now couldn't be more different than the one I led then. It felt like the right thing to do. There wasn't really any pressure in making the new photographs. I just tried to imagine my younger self walking with me while I was making the work and what we'd talk about. Would we have even got along? I could photograph whatever I felt like. It almost didn't matter. It's only when I started to get the work back from the lab that I realised what I had. Total serendipity from a destructive process. I wanted to continue that destruction so after I got the films I kicked them around my cellar for a bit. The scratches and dust offering yet more abstraction and confusion.
I loved the fact there was a finite number of films. Once the last one was gone that was it and the working connection would be severed and I was left with a body of work. I did, however, keep one film back that I will re-expose in another fifteen years time.
As for my work evolving, I'm certainly hoping so. In some cases 15 years had elapsed between each click of the shutter. I must admit it's difficult to express how it has evolved. I always feel like I'm just beginning with photography., I like feeling this way. I never want it to feel like a journey completed. There's something to be learnt from everyone and I want to keep learning. That quest for 'fame and glory' certainly diminishes as the years zip by. Ego's deflated (in some cases) and I find myself just wanting to make the work. That's it.
CP: You said in your featured photographer interview “Retrospective revelations about what I was thinking can be fairly illuminating and may then influence the next set of photographs. Building upon old ideas and taking them somewhere else seems to have allowed an evolution to the work.” Based on the last story, do you think your reflections on this have helped shape your recent work?
You can only draw on your own life and experiences when creating something you feel is important enough to share with other people.
CP: All the work I've ever made has informed the current or recent work. It can't do. You can only draw on your own life and experiences when creating something you feel is important enough to share with other people. I find myself thinking again that one of the most basic human needs is to be understood. We're all as confused as each other. If I can get just one person to engage with a piece of work I've made then I've made a connection with that person. That's all I can hope for. Even if no one looked at the work I'd still make it of course. But it's my own work first and foremost. If you don't fall in love with your own work how can you expect anyone else to?
Q - In your featured photographer interview you talked about a collaboration with JM Golding on the 'Tales from a non existent land', which was something that you were working on. Tell us more about this project now it’s finished.
AB: It ain't finished. In fact, we've just done another roll. We recently exhibited a few pieces stateside which seemed to go down well. I've talked about making connections with people and this photo series has done just that and more.
The premise was thus. We each would expose a roll of film (Jacki in California and myself in the UK), mail the film to the other person, and re-expose the film we had received. Neither would know what was already present in the latent images on the film. We agreed on a few general parameters such as using Holga plastic cameras and making the exposures at the film numbers rather than in-between but that was it.
These cameras are at best unpredictable and obviously, we were unaware of what each other were photographing. It sounds so hit and miss but it really worked. So we started to create an imagined world that only exists in these photographs. I'd try and imagine Jacki walking with me while I made me exposures for the project. It was really all about a connection with a person I had never met. On the last roll, we agreed to listen to the same album by 'A Winged Victory for the Sullen) while we were photographing to see how that would affect the work produced. Eventually Jacki came to visit me and we were able to walk together for the first time and of course, we did a roll of film each.
I'm incredibly grateful to be able to work with Jacki and she's become a very close friend. And it's all been made possible by a £30 plastic medium format camera and two people's willingness to collaborate. If you happen to be in California some photographs from the series are being exhibited at the Adobe Art Gallery in Castro Valley. Do pop in.
CP: You mentioned that becoming a father had meant putting a few things on the back burner. What other changes in your art has this influenced?
AB: Aside from the continuous pink fog of tiredness? I'm certainly more risk averse these days but I think the most noticeable change has been the massive acceleration of time. There is maybe an urgency to make work while I am able. A few years ago I worked on a series called 'As we Wander' which in a nutshell was about the last photograph I'll ever make. There has to be one. There will be a time when I'm unable to do what I do.
At the end of the day when he was safely in bed, I'd go through his pictures to see what he'd been doing. He simply photographed what was important to him. I learnt a lot from looking at his photographs.
It isn't a bad thing just the way of things. When I was younger I thought I was invincible and without faking up a rampage led my rather chaotic life accordingly. Now things are a little more relaxed. Another change or realisation occurred when I bought my boy a digital camera. At the end of the day when he was safely in bed, I'd go through his pictures to see what he'd been doing. He simply photographed what was important to him. I learnt a lot from looking at his photographs.
CP: Your part of the collective called ‘Inside the outside' with founding partners Joseph Wright, Rob Hudson and Stephen Segasby. Tell us more about the role of this in your work.
AB: ITO was effectively born in a horrible pub in London one drunken afternoon a couple of years ago. I don't recall a great deal about the evening. Coked up Chelsea fans wanting to thrash yours truly and angry air hostesses rolling on KFC floors. It started exactly as it should have.
We all wanted a vehicle for sharing work from other photographers we love and for the exchanging of ideas and concepts. If you visit the ITO website there are free articles written by photographers who've been gracious enough to share their work with us.
The four of us are all very different but I think this is why it works as a collective.
As for how being involved with the collective has affected my own practice I think working so closely with three other photographers whose work makes me want to make better work has zipped me off in all sorts of different directions. I love looking at someone else's work and thinking 'I wish I'd made that'.
It a wonderful thing to be able to work with other people but at the same time, there's the realisation we don't want to get swallowed up by this. We are individuals with individual ideas. When we come together good things seem to happen. We'll keep at it.
Putting on the exhibitions has been the most enjoyable aspect for me personally. Our first one at the Photo parlour Nottingham went better than I could have ever hoped for and the same exhibition then travelled to London to be shown at MMX Gallery. We have the next show this year with new work at a gallery in the Midlands. I'll keep you posted.
CP: How have you found collaborating with other photographers for your exhibition?
AB: It's been an utter privilege sharing work from the amazing photographers who have shown with us plus we learnt so much for the first two exhibitions. For the next one, we've been a little more curatorial with who and what we want to show. Just come along to the show and say hello.
CP: You feature other photographers articles on the website - how do you find curating the content on there. Is there a theme to the work you publish?
AB: I think the main premise with ITO was to show work from other photographers. There's so much good stuff out there. So many people making thoughtful and engaging work. It's just a case of approaching said people and asking them if they'd like to contribute. Simple as that. If they say no or they haven't got the time its no bother. Finding good work isn't a problem. Sure there are a lot more photographers nowadays but it if you're making compelling work I like to think one if us will find you at some point. I like the premise of a photographic community and a supportive one at that. That's one of the things I personally wanted to achieve with ITO.
CP: What projects are you working on now?
AB: Solargraphs. The evolution of 'The Dark project I mentioned earlier. I also started a series early this year making paper negatives from positive 35mm slide film which seems to be called 'Currently Untitled'. I've also been shooting some post-industrial 5x4 mono stuff but have put it on the back burner while I concentrate on the above.
I still utilise Instagram on a daily basis although that fulfils a different need to the other project work. The ITO collective shot some disposable cameras last Winter for an upcoming zine we've been planning on doing and the collaboration with Jacki in the States rumbles on. I've also been shooting graveyard bins in my local cemetery. Busy busy.
CP: How has your post processing workflow changed, if at all
AB: If I ever get a workflow I'll let you know.
CP: Thanks so much for your time Al, and it's been great to catch up after 5 years.
There is no truth in photography, only honesty - Giles Duley
The role of realism in photographs, as discussed in Guy Tal’s recent article on the morality and realism in photography, is as provocative as it is elusive. Guy’s article, whilst impeccably written and well received, stimulated debate and discussion both on our website and amongst many of my colleagues. I wanted to express some of the ideas and reactions I had on reading the article and try to dig out what it is about an “anything goes” default position that I find disturbing.
Post processing - the red herring
The most obvious and first point to discuss is possibly the biggest red herring in the whole discussion of truth/realism in photography, and that is post-processing. There seems to be a widely held view that no post-processing is equivalent to truth and the more post-processing you do, the more your work veers away from reality. This view is responsible for more arguments and dissent in the photographic community than any other.
The problem with this argument is that some photographic post-processing can make images more truthful and some images with no post processing can be quite deceiving.
The problem with this argument is that some photographic post-processing can make images more truthful and some images with no post processing can be quite deceiving. For instance, the use of white balance to make an image match what the eye saw brings an image closer to a representation of reality whereas images rendering weak aurora displays as vivid green have led many an arctic visitor to feel deceived and ultimately disappointed (more about this in a future article about the ‘truth of aurora photography’).
Another example of the way a straight photograph lies is the use of wide angle lenses. The eye does not see like this and early viewers of photography were confused at the resulting images. However, using warp distortions to fix the perspective of a fisheye lens could be perceived as making it more truthful.
In short, global vs local post-processing, cloning vs none, saturation levels etc are not 'bad' in and off themselves. It's always contextual.
Modern viewers of photography are a lot more savvy about what is ‘normal’ in terms of post-processing. We see so many images that have graduated filters to make the sky a bit darker, sun stars due to lens aperture choices, seeing into shadows that would perhaps be almost black in real life. This has been going on since the early days of photography and yet we don’t think these are ‘lying’ as such.
So, what is a better foundation on which to discuss the role of ‘truth’ and photography? In my opinion, a much better criterion is, perhaps, the perceived feeling of deception in the viewer.
Feelings of deception and the implicit contract
The viewers feeling of deception is at the heart of most of the arguments we end up having when we’re talking about realism and photography.
This negative reaction is at the heart of most of the arguments we end up having when we’re talking about realism and photography. This is obviously subjective and will vary from person to person. However, let's analyse some situations from this perspective. Before we do, let me be clear that I don’t intend to relate any feeling of deception in the eyes of the viewer with an intent to deceive by the photographer!
There is a term used to describe the expectations of a viewer when presented with something. This term is the “implicit contract” and in legalese terms, this is the ‘fair’ expectation that what you are being presented with meets certain criteria even though there is no explicit contract.
For instance, when people first found out that many of the photographs on the fronts of fashion magazines had been manipulated heavily to make the models seems slimmer and smoother of skin, the typical person felt cheated or deceived to some extent. There was a broad assumption that what was presented was inherently truthful. Even though there was nothing in the magazines that promised to represent their models truthfully and no intent to deceive, there was an implicit contract between the magazine producers and the readers that this was so and when this contract was broken, the magazine’s readers felt deceived.
This implicit contract is really all about managing viewer expectations. If you think your audience is going to expect a ‘straight’ photograph and you present them with a heavily post-processed one, they will possibly react negatively when they find out. Likewise, you can post a straight photograph of an amazing sunset on a website known for it’s OMG! Wow! Digital Art concoctions and you shouldn’t be surprised if people yawn at your photo in comparison with its neighbouring confections.
So, were a photographer to want to honour this ‘implicit contract’ with their viewers, the biggest hurdle to overcome is to work out what their audience accepts as ‘non-deceptive’ photography. This raises a pretty big hurdle - what does the average person think photography really is!
What an Audience expects from Photograph
One of the aspects of Guy’s article revolves around the definition of photography, calling on dictionary and encyclopedic quotations. These sorts of definitions should be handled with caution as there is a great deal of difference between the ‘bounds’ of what ‘could’ be considered photography and the general layperson’s idea of what photography is.
In fact, in other artistic practices, there are quite rigid guidelines that bound what makes a watercolour or an oil painting. Some purist watercolourists would baulk at the use of gouache to lift their whites (body colour) and the addition of oils to a watercolour painting would cause apoplexy in some quarters.
So perhaps we need to call some works that have been heavily manipulated and ‘painted’, “mixed media” or “digital art” instead of photography? Personally, I don’t think it matters. Arguing the bounds of word definitions is a form of sophistry that has never really solved anything. However, I do think that there is a point at which many people would say an extensively processed image breaks the accepted idea of what a photograph is. Whether this then becomes Mixed Media or Digital Art is irrelevant but they certainly warrant an explanation if the images appear in the context of photography and we want to manage our audience's expectations.
The Variation in Audience and Context
There is a small problem in trying to work out where these boundaries sit anyway. For example, different audience groups will have different levels of acceptance of manipulation/deception
There is a small problem in trying to work out where these boundaries sit anyway. For example, different audience groups will have different levels of acceptance of manipulation/deception and additionally, the context in which the image is found further informs the audience's expectations. For instance, an older audience may well expect a photograph to be fairly ‘straight’ whereas a younger audience may accept that photoshopped pictures are becoming the norm.
Also, if an image is found in a guidebook for a national park, the images therein would be thought to have a level of veracity that perhaps would not be expected in a wordless ‘fine art’ portfolio.
In my conversations with Guy Tal, he suggests his audience just accept his work and don’t approach the details of their creation critically. However, whilst his audience would not really be surprised by typical Lightroom adjustments and some Photoshop work, the wholesale removal, addition or rearrangement of fundamental elements in the image would perhaps be ‘Beyond the Pale’. Whereas fans of Art Wolfe’s or Steve McCurry’s work would be a little more forgiving (see here and here)
Creating and Informing Your Own Audience
What Guy has done is to work hard at building an audience that has an understanding of where his work is coming from. He has taken them on a journey where they accept the work he creates because it is Guy they have invested in and not necessarily the work itself.
Artists may still find it difficult to carry all of that audience with them should they change approaches suddenly, however. (witness the crying and wailing that went on as Radiohead developed their sound over their first five albums).
Is there a problem with breaking an audience's implied contract?
A bit of a cop-out answer to this one. “Not Necessarily”. For one, most people who view your images won’t have a chance to compare things with the location or object you’re are photographing and so they won’t ever feel deceived. However, should they feel like this on one of your images, they will start to doubt the others in your portfolio. This isn’t the best way to develop a relationship with your audience.
If you’re happy with what you are doing and are not pretending that what you are presenting is anything other than what it is (both implicitly and/or explicitly) then no one is going to be harmed.
In fact, the biggest issue regarding this management of expectations is when presenting images in public forums alongside other images. For instance, if you are presenting images on a group website where the usual working practice is ‘straight’ photography, you might want to think twice about managing expectations if your work departs from this norm (i.e. make a note of how it was created). Also, if you are a straight photographer and wish to post on a forum that typically posts work tending toward the‘digital art’ category, don’t be surprised if you don’t get as many wows and omgs as anybody else on the website.
Work out your relationship with what your pictures are of...
If what your photograph is ‘of’ is important and you wish to portray how this is important to your audience, I believe that a certain level of respect for both the subject and your audience can go a long way. Anything that breaks the perception of truth in your photographs is a crack in your audience’s relationship with both yourself and the subject of your photographs.
Suggestions
Given the ability for most individuals to decide at what point the manipulation of a photograph has begun to deceive, and then a point at which it exceeds the bounds of their acceptance of what a photograph is, we can say that for a particular population, there is a rough consensus of what is acceptable photographically.
The problem is that this is a very ‘soft’ definition. Some people can accept a large amount of manipulation without feeling deceived. Some people have a very sensitive trigger and feel deceived at even a slight saturation adjustment. The majority of the population fits in the middle ground between these two extremes though and in most cases, the photographer themselves instinctively knows when they have gone so far as to ‘disturb’ the typical viewer.
It doesn’t take much imagination to pretend you’re in a gallery, explaining your photograph to the local ranger or guide and imagining their reaction.
It doesn’t take much imagination to pretend you’re in a gallery, explaining your photograph to the local ranger or guide and imagining their reaction. If you can imagine yourself explaining your work to these people, who know your subject so well, without feeling embarrassed in any way then you’re probably on the right track (or you’re a sociopath!).
The Three Levels of Honesty in Photography
I wanted to have a think about what an audience might think of as an ‘honest’ photograph .
Straight Out of Camera
The first is where the picture is used ‘as is’. I.e. The transparency or a ‘straight’ print from a negative. This is the ‘gold standard’ and yet isn’t quite as honest as it seems. Only the transparency is untouched really (and then you'd have to choose E100G which isn't available anymore - Velvia 100 is out of the question). The ‘straight’ print is still a choice of contrast and tone (never mind compensating development etc) and in the world of digital, it should be fairly obvious that this doesn’t really exist. It could said that ‘as untouched as possible’ works is for digital if you take a "straight out of camera" photograph e.g. perhaps only global adjustments. Not a realistic approach at the end of the day though.
Journalistic Ethics
The second is the level of reality that is demanded by the documentary and journalistic establishments. A good reference for understanding these is the World Press Photo PDF on The Integrity of the Image .
The Public’s Perception of Photographic Honesty
The third is the level which I’m talking about here which is subjective and pivots on whether the viewer would feel deceived if they knew the full provenance of an image. This last is a tough one to define but people inherently know it themselves when they encounter it.
This isn't to imply that photographs that don't fit the above are dishonest - as I've said previously, it's all about context. An example raised in discussion with another photographer is whether an ICM photograph that was generated on a computer from old 'straight' photos is dishonest. Well, encountered on it's own there are no issues as there is no context to suggest anything either way. If it was shown alongside other work that was ICM then there is the scope for an audience to feel deceived? Why should the way the image is generated make a difference to the audience? Well, that's at the heart of the nature of photography. The end result doesn't stand alone, it has the baggage of creation, assumed or explicit.
Conclusion
I just want to end by saying that I don’t think any level of manipulation of a photograph is inherently wrong. The artist should have full creative freedom in the production of their works and if that includes the radical changes to the subject of the photograph then it is important that this is respected.
There are no hard lines implied by any of my ideas but for there is an implied contract between the photographer and the viewer (depending on context, and audience as above) that goes something like this… “Here is something I saw and then photographed” with the hopeful reply from the viewer “I believe you”. In other words, even in the images where I have extensively post-processed them, I strive to remain honest and hope that my audience understands this.
I'd like to know whether you have boundaries in your own photography and how you manage audience expectations. Let me know in the comment section below.
We live in an age of unparalleled consumerism and gluttony, but the human race's insatiable appetite isn't just limited to the physical. It extends to the digital world as well. We are bombarded with dozens of gorgeous images every day on social media, leaving us always craving the next grand vista or the next moment of magical light.
So when I was contacted by Charlotte from On Landscape to cover one of their End Frame articles I thought choosing an image would be the easy part. How wrong I was. Over a month later I still hadn't made a decision, but it wasn't for the reason you might expect.
Obviously, the choice was overwhelming, but the vast majority of these were images I'd seen in the last few weeks. How could I be sure that these images would stick with me when so many before them hadn't? Very few images these days stick with you, so it takes something truly special to etch itself into your mind.
The one set of images that I kept coming back to in my mind was Scott Robertson's series from Boreray, a small island just north of the incredibly isolated St Kilda archipelago in the Outer Hebrides.
When I say isolated I mean it in the truest sense of the word. St Kilda hasn't been home to a permanent population in almost a hundred years now and it sits over 40 miles away from the rest of the Outer Hebrides. I have never been to the St Kilda archipelago, but thanks to Scott's enormous efforts I feel like I have.
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. You can view previous 4x4 portfolios here.
Submit Your 4x4 Portfolio
We're on the lookout for new portfolios for the next few issues, so please do get in touch!
If you would like to submit your 4x4 portfolio, please visit this page for submission information.
In the last year, I’ve been discovering some captivating woodlands within the urban area of Edinburgh, Scotland. For multiple reasons, all related to the hectic dynamics of my PhD, I did not have the chance to visit, or even discover, these places. But in the current final phase of my studies, these places have been fundamental for improving my mental and spiritual well-being.
Visiting these woodlands started as an essential need for maintaining a sane self, just that. I, therefore (wrongly) assumed I could not find any real peace or even having a chance to do expressive photography in these woodlands, like those I can find in remote areas of southern Chile, my home country. However, the visits had become something more. Without noticing, I began forging some sort of bond with these local woodlands.
As I developed this special affection for these forests, I remembered a quote from Henry Peach Robinson, of his book “Letters of Landscape Photography” (y.1888). He paraphrases another person, saying: “Each of us is constituted with a special idiosyncrasy related in some mysterious way to a certain class of natural scenery, and when we find ourselves in a scene answering to our idiosyncrasy, the mind feels itself at home there and rapidly attaches itself by affection”.
I don’t know if these four images make justice to the mysterious beauty of these woodlands. I’m not certain if these images can be sufficiently expressive of my emotional responses to the qualities of these areas, and particularly to the peace of them. For now, I just want to honour them for their existence. For now, I know one thing for sure: in these woodlands, my mind feels at home.
Photos were taken during Mar 2018 trip to Bismarck, North Dakota
I left North Dakota as a teenager to attend the University of Colorado. For a long time, I didn't think much about North Dakota - it was a rural, sparsely populated area in the USA. But as I aged and travelled around the world, I began to recall fond memories of my childhood - the simpler things of life. Now I go back to capture images that touch a memory while growing up in North Dakota.
This past winter, I made several trips back to Bismarck - where I grew up. During one of my trips, there was a typical winter snow storm. I gathered my gear and headed out along the Missouri River bottoms. Typically during a winter snow storm, the wind is blowing so the snow appears to be coming down horizontally. Because visibility is limited, traffic is sparse. A blanket of snow muffles all sounds adding a sense of peace and serenity. During this storm, I captured the solitude of a typical North Dakota winter storm.
The trees of the marsh always are changing shifting with the light and the seasons. I frequently go to Huntley Meadows Park in Fairfax County Virginia, a wonderful retreat with a lovely lake and marsh.
Most people go to see and photograph the birds I go to see and photograph the trees and other plants living in the water and on the higher ground.
Here in The Netherlands I am out walking my dog every day. I have the time to notice the changes in nature as the seasons change. This year after a very long and cold winter, the arrival of green in the woodland where I walk filled me with so much energy. Inspired by the work of Doug Chinnery (and have been lucky enough to attend one of his workshops) I have been experimenting with ICM. Having started with complete abstract ICM, I have found that in woodlands I want my images to look a little different to 'all the other up down ICM images' so I found that by retaining some detail it added interest, but with enough movement to add a feeling.
I find ICM photography to be therapeutic, challenging, rewarding and frustrating all at once! Every time you move your camera, the image is different - that can be wonderfully refreshing, but downright annoying if you are trying to replicate something you have already captured and love. After much practice and experimentation, I have found a set of camera settings that seem to work well for the style I am trying to create. As a 'traditional style' landscape photographer i already understand the importance of light and composition to create the final image, although it took me a while to realise the importance of these in ICM, but now that is stuck as well and it makes a huge difference. For a couple of these images i saw the location, then stood there waiting for the sun to fall just where i wanted it - one very bored dog!
When I find a location that i am inspired by i will return when the lighting and weather are optimal. Looking at images from various shoots at the same location helps me really identify what makes the images I love to stand out from others that are ok but missing something.
These 4 images I created in the Veluwe National Park in The Netherlands in April. For me, the contrast of the bright green of the new leaves against the brown of the trunks is integral to the images. Whether it be branches of the trees or the fresh ground foliage. With a slight camera movement, the bright patches of sun on the floor of the woodland turned to sparkles, which add to the feeling of spring magic.
These 4 images are part of an ongoing study of the woodlands in the Veluwe National park throughout the year.
Rereading my last article for On Landscape on The Impact of Photography on Impressionism, I was struck by a thought relating to the idea of the essence of place. I wrote there:
One of the features of a successful landscape photograph is that it seems to capture some essential feeling of place. We can often recognize this in a photograph, even if it is of a place we do not know well. As landscape photographers we will often endeavour to encapsulate that essence – the atmosphere, spirit or soul of the place, and our feelings towards it – in a single still image, even if that image is not necessarily as the scene appeared to the photographer in reality.
I have been fortunate to have taken pictures in Mallerstang, the headwater valley of the Cumbrian River Eden, for the last 20 years, albeit as an “off-comer”. So the thought was: what does it mean to have captured the essence of a particular place like this one?
Mallerstang, also known locally as the Magic Valley, lies between Wild Boar Fell to the west and Mallerstang Edge to the east and was made part of the Yorkshire Dales National Park in 2016 (although it has never been in Yorkshire, and before the formation of Cumbria in 1974 was part of Westmoreland). At the head of the valley you can stand on the three way drainage divide between the Eden, which flows north to Carlisle and the Solway firth; the Lune which flows south and west to Lancaster and Morecambe Bay; and the Ure, which flows east down Wensleydale to the Ouse, Humber Estuary and North Sea. It shares the geology of the Yorkshire Dales, with carboniferous limestones, gritstones and shales, but runs north-south rather than east-west, and the geology has been subject to a bit more faulting than some of the other Dales.
Not everything that comes out of America these days concerning the environment is uplifting (the same can be said of many countries) but I hope that our feature with Floris van Breugel will brighten your day. His photographs offer a different perspective on the American landscape that emphasises biodiversity and includes a sense of scale and delicacy while hinting at the epic adventures that may be had there.
Would you like to tell readers a little about yourself – your education, early interests and career to date?
I’ve always had an interest in exploring the outdoors and creating nature related art. At first, that was drawing and painting (birds in particular), and I used photographs from books as source material. That got me interested in eventually taking those images myself, but bird photography (especially 20 years ago) was prohibitively expensive. As digital cameras got better, I eventually did make the transition to photography as my creative outlet.
In the meantime, I studied engineering and did my PhD in control and dynamical systems applied to understand insect behaviour and neurobiology. I am currently a post-doc in biology, data science, and applied math, at the University of Washington, and will be starting as an assistant professor in Mechanical Engineering at the University of Nevada, Reno, next year.
How did you first become interested in photography and what kind of images did you initially set out to make?
I started out with an interest in photographing birds, but quickly gained an interest in a broader range of images like landscapes and abstracts.
I like the stark simplicity, geometric patterns, and strange rock formations of the deserts, and the wilderness feeling of the mountains.
Who (photographers, artists or individuals) or what has most inspired you, or driven you forward in your own development as an artist and photographer?
There are too many to name, but two that do stand out are Guy Tal and Marc Adamus, both of whom I’ve been lucky to spend some time with.
I’m also inspired every year by the images in the BBC Wildlife Photographer of the Year, and the European Photographer of the Year awards. Many of the most creative images seem to come out of Europe – they don’t get caught up in big majestic landscapes like we Americans tend to.
Tell us a little more about your local area and the places that you are drawn back to?
I grew up in California and spent winters camping in the deserts (Death Valley), and summers backpacking in the Sierra. These two climates – the deserts and the mountains – have been my favourites that I keep coming back to. I like the stark simplicity, geometric patterns, and strange rock formations of the deserts, and the wilderness feeling of the mountains.
Are you able to devote time to photography on a regular basis or do you mostly make images when you travel or plan longer camping trips?
I wish it were more regular. I mostly make images when I travel or go on longer trips. I have on occasion made images I like near my home, but I usually find it hard to get in the right frame of mind unless I’m out in the wilderness somewhere.
What is, for you, the appeal of landscape photography? How much is down to the outcome (the image) and how much to the experience of wilderness and the sense of adventure?
I like photography in general because it gives me a chance to make art while exploring nature outside. I’ve gravitated mostly towards landscape photography because it doesn’t require as much patience as wildlife photography. I spend a lot of my time exploring – wondering what the view would look like from over there, then going there, getting distracted by something along the way, etc. I find that having a goal of making some kind of image helps motivate me to get out and explore, but once I’m actively out there, I find all sorts of other things that interest me.
There’s often a story behind your images and you often give details about the flora or allude to the science involved. To what extent – and how – does your knowledge and experience as a scientist inform your photography?
I try to combine my photography and scientific background as much as I can. For trips to new places, it means that I am motivated to learn about what I have seen and photographed. Then, when I return, I have new knowledge to help me inspire ideas for new images.
I try to combine my photography and scientific background as much as I can. For trips to new places, it means that I am motivated to learn about what I have seen and photographed. Then, when I return, I have new knowledge to help me inspire ideas for new images.
That way I’m not stuck making the same images as myself, or everyone else, every time. Last year I finished up a scientific research project about the alkali flies of Mono Lake and took some time to build a photography portfolio to tell the story, which helped me see Mono Lake in a new way few others have thought about (you can see many of those images here https://www.biographic.com/posts/sto/scuba-flies).
I find the attention you give to the biodiversity of a place particularly interesting. We’re used to seeing the landscapes but it’s wonderful to get a feeling for the richness of flora and fauna, and the way that this changes with the season. What impact do you hope that this will have on the viewer?
I always like to include ephemeral accents to my images, like flowers, spring greenery, morning dew, autumn foliage, fresh snowfall, or wildlife. I like the challenge of finding such accents, and I think it lets me show the complex relationships of natural systems.
Aside from the physicality of your adventures, you also suffer from a pollen allergy so I guess it could be said that you really do suffer for your art?
I suppose that’s true. However, I actually find it obnoxious when photographers focus on the suffering they endure. Whenever I feel like I’m suffering, I just think about some of the great historical explorers, like Ernest Shackleton and his crew aboard the Endurance who spent two years self-rescuing from Antarctica. Nothing I, or any photographer I have ever known, has experiences that compare in any way. So, let’s just focus on the beauty and wonder instead.
You often include some small plant in the foreground to emphasise the scale of the mountains (Early Bloomers) or the breadth of the view. It’s a very effective compositional tool and gives the impression that even if you’re not shooting an intimate or abstract view, detail remains important to you. Can you talk 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 have a Canon 5D Mark IV, and an assortment of Canon lenses. I mostly use zooms (16-35mm, 24-105mm, 70-200mm, 100-400mm), and also have a few primes (15mm fisheye, 100mm macro, 500mm). My most used lens is probably the 16-35, as it lets me compose wide angle views to incorporate small accents like flowers in the image, but it’s also long enough to work as a somewhat “normal” lens. I try not to let my lens dictate the image – when I see a scene, I choose the lens to fit the scene.
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?
It’s very hard to choose favourites! I like a lot of my images for very different reasons. But, I’ll choose three that illustrate some of the components I strive for in my images.
This is one of my oldest photographs, from Sequoia National Park in the spring of 2008. These trees are so incredibly huge it’s impossible to describe the experience of being among them, and getting the scale to come across in a flat image is very hard. I was really lucky on this afternoon to capture two mule deer in the meadow. That fact that the deer are so small and inconsequential really makes the image for me. In addition to the deer, I really like the warm afternoon sunshine, which adds a lot of depth. Making effective images with direct sunlight, especially in a forest, is challenging, but I find that when it works, it works so much better than flat light. There is just more life, depth, and colour.
I love photographing strange things and patterns that make you wonder and question what it is that you’re looking at. These flowers are one example of such a scene. The density of flowers was just perfect, and the contrast between the yellow stalks, purple flower tips, and white buds, keeps me coming back time and time again.
I think this snow storm scene might be one of my most creative images, and it highlights how I really enjoy playing with light to create a dynamic image. Here I used my headlamp to illuminate the snow forest and falling snowflakes for a few minutes. I haven’t done much light painting like this recently… I should give it another go sometime!
What part does processing/editing play in realising your vision? Can you give readers an insight into your workflow?
Processing is certainly a big part of making my images come to life. It’s gotten a lot easier over the past decade, and now I can get 90% of the way there just processing the raw image in Adobe Camera Raw. The main adjustments I’ll make are balancing the shadows and highlights and getting the colours to where I want them. Then I’ll make some localised adjustments in Photoshop. I really like adding some extra warmth to the highlights of my images, especially ones that feature direct sunshine. I find this adds a little extra depth.
Processing is certainly a big part of making my images come to life. It’s gotten a lot easier over the past decade, and now I can get 90% of the way there just processing the raw image in Adobe Camera Raw.
How important a part of the process for you is printing an image and what, for you, makes a good print?
I spent a lot of time learning to print early on and used to have my own printer for making prints. But, as life got busier, I decided that printing was not as important to me as making images and processing them. Since I know what paper I like, and I use a calibrated workflow, I trust others with calibrated printers to do a good job. I do still have a small printer and will sometimes make a test print if I’m not quite sure how something will come out.
Do you have any particular projects or ambitions for the future or themes that you would like to explore further?
Many years ago I photographed the synchronous fireflies in Tennessee, and I would love to revisit that both photographically and scientifically. In general, non-traditional light sources like that are really intriguing to me.
I read that you’ll be moving from Seattle to Reno next year – how might this alter things for you photographically in terms of the places that you’ll have access to or the amount of time you’ll be able to devote to your interests?
In terms of locations, I can’t think of a much better spot for my interests, so I consider myself lucky to end up there. I’ll be right next to the Sierra Nevada and the Eastern deserts, two of my favourite places. Plus, I’ll still be within a long but reasonable drive from the southwest and northwest. I will miss the wild coastlines of the Olympic Peninsula, and the ruggedness of the Cascades, but it’s a sacrifice I’m okay with. As far as time, unfortunately, I will probably have less time as a new faculty member at the university, but I hope to continue finding ways to combine my research with photography as a tool for outreach.
If you had to take a break from all things photographic for a week, what would you end up doing? (i.e. do you have other hobbies or interests)
Recently I’ve gotten interested in woodworking. I’m currently finishing my 3rd piece, a live edge coffee table made from four slabs of black walnut. It’s nice to learn something completely different, very practical, and that I can work on without having to drive a few hours.
What was the last image (by another photographer) that stopped you in your tracks?
Is there someone whose photography you especially admire that we may not have heard of and whose work you would like to see featured in a future issue?
Theo Bosboom consistently produces create images of scenes many of us would walk right past.
Thanks very much, Floris – I’m sure readers will enjoy looking through your images which benefit from being seen large as there’s a wonderful emphasis on light, season and texture. You can find more of Floris’ photography on his website https://www.artinnaturephotography.com/
In 2005, with my immigration from China to the UK, I committed to my wildest dream - to change my career from an anaesthetist to a photographer. I still remember the accelerating excitement at the time as well as the disbelief when someone referred me as a photographer. I was doing my first-ever assignment, shooting photos of four beautiful horses on the moors near Oldham.
Thirteen years on, my life now is certainly evolving around photography - projects, shows, publications and commissions. Out of the many projects I tried, most were abandoned for one reason or another. But some stuck around and demanded everything from me. For example, between 2010 and 2014, for my ‘Mother River’ project, I photographed the entire 6,211km Yangtze River in China at precise 100 intervals with a large-format film camera. From 2010 to 2017, I investigated urban replantation and ecology recovery in China by photographing transplanted old trees. This year, I’m publishing both projects with Hatje Cantz. Meanwhile, it is time to reflect. Why projects?
Mother River shooting plan - 63 Y Points across the entire 6,211km river at 100km intervals.
Although I never asked the question, now it seems a fitting time to answer it. Projects, for me, are long-term engagement with a given subject. It is a project because it can’t be worked out in one go. There is something complicated enough that it needs to be explored from all angles. Only then can I draw an understanding which will then direct my photography (shooting, editing or presenting). Let’s take Mother River as an example — one would not easily commit to such a punishing project without thinking about it a lot.
Y2 100km from the river source. 16 Nov 2013. From Mother River series (2010-2014) by Yan Wang Preston.
The Yangtze River is seen as the Mother River in China. It is the absolute national icon, with its images printed on our money, written in poems, sung in songs, and built-in as part of the enduring folklore, myths, legends and television adverts. As a native Chinese person, I regarded it as my own Mother River and the symbol of my motherland. It is part of my national and personal identity.
In 2009, after four years living in the UK, I was going through a kind of identity crisis. I needed to go back to China and to re-connect. The Yangtze was a popular topic then, with its Three Gorges Dam being filled up. A wave of photographers went to make work about the dam, the river and China. I remember seeing images by Edward Burtynsky and Nadav Kander. Rather than impressed, I felt confused. Why were they so different from the Mother River images that I had in my mind? Meanwhile, why only the Three Gorges? They are less than 200km long and the Yangtze River is over 6,000 kilometres. If someone really claims to have portrayed China through photographing the Yangtze River, surely he/she needs to go a bit further than that? I started brewing a tiny idea in my mind: what about going back to photograph the Yangtze, the whole of it? Since everyone was going to the hot spots on the river, shall I try something different, for example, photographing the entire river with some kind of equal intervals so I could avoid all those popular destinations?
This idea was exciting but also scary. The Yangtze is big. So I started preparing for it. I photographed our sweet River Ribble with a trial Point System. Having divided the 121.6km river into eight 15.2km sections on Ordnance Survey map, I found and photographed each point. It was a very interesting experience! I came to an understanding that this way of photographing was very fun. It was like playing a hide-and-seek game with the river. I also realised that this system was not about being ‘objective’. After all, there was no ‘exact’ location to find since all data precision was relative. Meanwhile, my interpretation of both the location and the view was by default subjective.
River Ribble Point 7 91.2km from the river source. From River Ribble series (2009-2010) by Yan Wang Preston.
The Ribble is about one fiftieth of the Yangtze in terms of length. In order to lock myself into a system, I got my family’s support and enrolled on a PhD in Photography course at the end of 2010. My proposal was to photograph the Yangtze River with equal intervals. But I couldn’t answer exactly why, how, or what it would mean to do so. Little did I know how epic the next few years would be. I would have to do experiments and research.
In November 2010 I made my first trip to the Three Gorges on the Yangtze. I found the area a world of destruction, just as how Burtynsky had photographed it. This was devastating. Remember, the Yangtze was more than just a river to me. It was a symbol of my perfect motherland. I could not understand the world in front of me, and I felt that I could not see the river. This was absurd, since the river was right there! Consequently, this trip provided one of the most crucial questions for the next few years. Why is there such a big difference between the Mother River in my mind and the reality? And crucially, where did I get all those ideas of the Mother River from? What does the Yangtze mean to me? Why did I refuse to accept it as merely an environmental victim?
Wuhan New Town, Chongqing, China. Nov 2010. From Forest series (2010-2017) by Yan Wang Preston.
In March 2011 for my second trip, I spent one month doing a residency in Chongqing, a mega city sitting on the Yangtze with 30 million people. I had time to visit the river casually everyday. Despite the banal riverscape and the overpowering skyscrapers along its banks, a world of life began to emerge. There was fisherman, vegetable farms, tadpoles, swallows, butterflies and families. Perhaps the river was not as dead as how they were saying. But I still was not satisfied. I decided to do an expedition. To go to the source of the Yangtze River. Hopefully over there, 5,400 meters above the sea level deep into the Tibetan Plateau, I would have no distraction but only the Mother River. On the 16th November 2011, after an exhausting and painful expedition, I finally reached the home of the Yangtze. It was white out. So bright that I could barely open my eyes. But the view was so perfect for the Mother River in my mind. Pure. Grand. I made several pictures of only one view. That was enough.
Approaching one of the glaciers at the source of the Yangtze River. Nov 2011.
Y1 The Yangtze River source. 16 Nov 2011. From Mother River series (2010-2014) by Yan Wang Preston.
On my way back I indulged more action. Seeing the river was not enough. I wanted to touch it. So I found a perfect spot (in terms of the landscape backdrop) and made a stone circle on the frozen river. River stones are symbolic in China, representing the gentle but persistent power of water. I held the stones for 10 seconds each in order to symbolically connect with the river’s power. I then made a landscape picture on my large-format camera. I went even further to make a red circle on the river, with my bare hands. That was an immersive experience!
Making a red circle on the frozen Yangtze River headwater. 19 Nov 2011. From Yuan series (2011) by Yan Wang Preston.
A red, hand-drawn circle on the frozen Yangtze River headwater. 19 Nov 2011. From Yuan series (2011) by Yan Wang Preston.
In August 2012, for my fourth field trip, I decided to push further with this idea of having an embodied engagement with the river. But instead of holding and cherishing stones, I wanted to ‘destroy’ them. I went to Yushu, a Tibetan town, and carved 127 stones before leaving in the rive forever. The chosen location was very different this time —-a completely banal and industrial spot.
Carving 127 stones by a Yangtze tributary. August 2012. From Yuan series (2011) by Yan Wang Preston.
In the same month, I did the final ‘embodiment’——to swim in the river. Then I came home to West Yorkshire and reflected hard. I digested my own experiences, but also read and researched a lot. An important question was the environmental concerns about the Yangtze. So many people saw it as a victim and saw modern China as a traitor towards its traditional values. However, environmental historians provided another vision of traditional China. For example, according to Elvin (2006), the 18th century China’s environmental degradation was far worse than western Europe at the time! This discovery had a direct impact on my pictorial strategy. I decided not to make misty mounatin-and-water type of pictures. I did not want to fall into the trap to place modern and traditional China in binary.
Meanwhile, I looked at many photographers work, such as Thomas Joshua Cooper, Kate Mellor, Jem Southam, Stephen Shore, Joel Sternfeld, Ai Weiwei, Xu Bing and Zhuanghui. I remember one day I came to a sudden realisation while writing about Sternfeld’s work. Yangtze, as The Mother River, was mythic! In China, it was routinely represented by celebratory images of very few selected places, such as the Three Gorges. Outside of China, it had the added critical representation, but still centred around the Three Gorges. But the river, as how I had found it in my last four trips covering many locations, was far more complex than these two opposing views. It was about life and the ordinary, multilayered landscape created by us and the river together. That was what I was going to photograph!
In 2013, I committed to the idea of photographing the entire 6,211km Yangtze River at precise 100km intervals. In March, I made the major pilot trip and photographed from Y9 to Y25. In June, Y25 to Y38. From September to October I travelled from Y39 to Y62, only to discover that I loaded the films back to front in the whole of these two months! I reshot from Y52 to Y62 immediately before going back to the Tibetan Plateau to photograph from Y4 to Y8. (I already photographed Y1, Y2 and Y3 in 2011.) Then on the 16th November 2013, exactly two years after I reached the source of the river, I stood in the water at the river mouth and made the last shot. But the game was not over yet. In May 2014, while being 5 months pregnant with my daughter, I made one last trip to re-shoot from Y39 to Y51. Meanwhile, for many reasons, I missed two Y15 and Y16, so we now have two blank pages in the picture sequence.
The Y Points as how they were marked on Google Earth. These provided the initial GPS coordinates and locations maps for my following trips.
Y8 700km from the river source. 11 Nov 2011. From Mother River series (2010-2014) by Yan Wang Preston.
Y25 2,400km from the river source. 5 Jun 2013. From Mother River series (2010-2014) by Yan Wang Preston.
Y32 3,100km from the river source. 16 Jun 2013. From Mother River series (2010-2014) by Yan Wang Preston.
The trips were designed according to seasons, geology, and the safety of travels. For example, the headwater area is a whole bogland in the summer, impossible to travel by car. It would have been extremely difficult to reach my first 10 Y Points in the summer. November is the window season, when the land is just frozen enough to travel with relative ease (well, it’s suffering really, with low oxygen, low temperature, sandstorm, snow, ice and a lot of anxiety). In deep winter, the land would be covered in thick snow, making travel impossible too. The next thirty Y Points go through gorges as deep as 3,000 meters, so I needed a dry season to avoid any wet and slippery condition. After Y38 in Chongqing, the Yangtze enters the Three Gorges with dense population, the travel gets easier but photography gets harder. Too many elements!
The road after we reached Y24 for my Mother River series (2010-2014)
Y41 4,000km from the river source. 16 Jun 2013. Film loaded back-to-front by accident. From Mother River series (2010-2014) by Yan Wang Preston.
Mother River was completed in 2014. Since then it has won awards and been shown in many venues such as the 56th Venice Biennale, Chongqing China Three Gorges Museum, Gallery of Photography Ireland and Impressions Gallery. (You can visit my website www.yanwangpreston.com to see all the pictures and exhibition installation images). But the game is not over yet. I’m still yet to publish the book as the ultimate legacy of the project. This is again a monumental effort. For the quality and size of the book that I want to make, a lot of money is needed. I decided to launch a Kickstarter campaign, partly to raise funds, partly to offer this amazing journey to my backers. There is still time to pledge (until 30th June) and the link is here: http://kck.st/2L8WCyM
Y63 6,200km from the river source. The river mouth. 16 Nov 2013. From Mother River series (2010-2014) by Yan Wang Preston.
I’m pretty certain that not all projects are as hard as Mother River. Looking back, it was questions, curiosity, and obsession that took me through the process. The actual doing was more to do with pain, tears, dust, sweat, and the occasional blood. But I have learnt so much from doing it. It was like jumping into an ocean and try to swim towards an unknown shore on the other side. If you’re open-minded and give yourself to it, there will be reward. But ultimately, the reward is the experience, knowledge and skills that you gain in the process.
Thanks to Yan Preston for this look into her Mother River project and the thinking behind the work. You can read more about Yan's work in the interview we made with her last year (here) and we look forward to seeing the final result from Hatje Kantz!
I recently read an essay by Luciano Concheiro, called "Contra el Tiempo" (Against time), where he mentions something we all know, but that needs to be put under the limelight from time to time:
If I were forced to identify one feature that defines the age, I wouldn’t hesitate for a second: I would choose ‘acceleration’. That is the phenomenon that largely governs how economics, politics, social relationships, our bodies and minds now work. The increase in speed is the prism through which, without relying on reductionist perspectives, we can see —and maybe understand– better the world in which we live in today.
This text reminded me of the theories developed by the Polish sociologist Zygmunt Bauman, and particularly about his concept of "liquid modernity", that he coined to define the new constant and incessant changes taking place nowadays in the major foundations of society, traditions, economy and politics. What he saw as the major trait of our modern times (or post-modernity) was the quick, incessant and accelerating change taking place all around, that demolished, without proposing solid alternatives, the pillars that for centuries had helped us create a sense of order and the moral, intellectual and spiritual foundations on which to build our own identity. With the quick dissolution of long established solid values into a shapeless bubbling soup, "constructing a durable identity that coheres over time and space becomes increasingly impossible". According to Bauman, "we have moved from a period where we understood ourselves as “pilgrims” in search of deeper meaning to one where we act as “tourists” in search of multiple but fleeting social experiences".
I could not avoid making a direct connection with landscape photography when reading this last sentence, particularly when tourism nowadays frequently translates into the realization of a series of selfies in a number of prescribed locations and their distribution in so-called "social" channels. Indeed, when it comes to photography, this same fast paced culture of immediacy, speed and acceleration have also shaped not only the way we photograph but also the way we consume photography and the motivations and aspirations we have of the medium when we embrace it. In a way, the liquid modernity seems to also have attained photography, making it as liquid as a bath of Rodinal, and this, at different levels.
Norfolk and parts of Suffolk have been my home for periods totalling over thirty years. In that time, the population has risen dramatically as the popularity of both has grown. There were times when there were beaches and parts of the countryside that were empty of all, bar those who were ‘in the know’. Despite this growth, there are still areas where you can wander, be alone with your camera to find some solitude. It is these areas that I try and photograph.
The essence of landscape photography in these areas, and in particular Norfolk, for me is waiting for light that transforms these particular landscapes throughout the seasons. Many people associate Norfolk with a boring flatness, quaint old windmills and big skies. This view usually derives from a limited understanding of this large county situated in the east of England. The landscapes are in fact much more varied and much more exciting for any landscape photographer who takes the time to look and explore and who doesn't just want the classic wind pump shot with the sun setting behind it.
The Norfolk coastline is dynamic, changing slowly over time but also sometimes very dramatically and quickly. The cliffs at Hemsby on the north-east coast are a prime example of rapid change as large sections have completely fallen into the sea almost overnight. The Broads, by contrast, formed by the flooding of peat pits, joined by intersecting and meandering rivers, provide a gentle under-stated atmosphere.
The quality of the light can change dramatically depending on weather conditions and seasons. Autumn, spring and summer mists frequently cloak the Broadland rivers. These provide for some transient and quite magical landscape photography opportunities which require gentle and subtle processing in order to capture the real feel of the landscape. Bordering these slow flowing rivers are habitats of reeds and grasses which sink their roots into the peat below. From a distance, these look fragile and brittle which belies the hidden strength of this vegetation. There’s a reason that Norfolk thatch for roofs is still being made from Norfolk reed. In the very early dawns of June, before the pleasure boats begin to travel up and down the rivers, this habitat is also abundant with silver thread spider webs glistening with dew coating the spider silk.
Beaches such as at Overstrand and at Mundesley beach with its distinctive timber groins reaching far out into the sea provide many opportunities to experiment with different captures of the sea complemented by the sometimes pastel, or more dramatic colours of dawn skies.
For photographers who don't want to carry a huge pack of equipment, a good 24-70mm lens or equivalent with a few key filters such as a medium 0.9 Lee grad and a 0.45 hard grad can capture a variety of scenes along the broads with ease. I use a Nikon 810 and a Fuji XT2 with a 16-55 mm lens. Both equally do a great job.
The often over-looked north-east coast is ideal for capturing dawn’s first rays as these beaches are some of the most easterly in England. Beaches such as at Overstrand and at Mundesley beach with its distinctive timber groins reaching far out into the sea provide many opportunities to experiment with different captures of the sea complemented by the sometimes pastel, or more dramatic colours of dawn skies. Long exposures can be particularly effective in this situation. The cliffs along this northeast coast, made up of glacial silts, sands, clays and gravels are highly vulnerable to coastal erosion by the North Sea. Nevertheless, these provide the photographer with a range of textures, patterns and forms to work within a landscape composition. You will probably also find that along this area of the coast, you are less likely to have to fight your corner with another ten photographers, unlike at some other iconic locations in the UK. Areas such as these do make the photographer work hard and sometimes break the ‘rules’ of photography to create an individualistic shot. It takes planning and sometimes a few return visits to get the shot as there are no dramatic mountains or valleys waiting for you. It is, however, worth the time and the experience of being often alone, and is something I cherish. When I am out here, I look for patterns and textures in the skies which will complement the simplicity of aspects like groins and shingle beaches.
The North Norfolk coast, by contrast, is well known and well shot, often in locations that require only a short walk from your parked car, for example, Burnham Overy, Brancaster Staithe and Thornham. These are beautiful locations and well worth a visit if you haven't been. However, there is a lot more to the North Norfolk coast than just a sailing boat in a muddy creek. It is worth making the moderate to long walks out to the coastline which has remained unspoilt because of sand and shingle beaches separated by intertidal mud flats and salt marshes- so no building possible on here to date! The coastal marshes have been described as the finest coastal marshes in Britain. These change in terms of height, colour and texture and are interspersed with creaks and salt pans giving a variety of tone and character. This provides the photographer with a plethora of opportunities to photograph minimalistic detail, abstract impressions and large open vistas.
For those who want to capture some vivid colour in their landscape then make sure to visit in July when the sea lavender is a haze of purples and mauves. The miles of sand dunes after the salt marshes are home to marram grasses which again can be a real playground for any landscape photographer as they can be the foreground, the centre or the backdrop for your coastal shot. Occasionally you may be lucky enough to catch some of the very high tides along this coast which literally flood the carparks and roads that you drove on the day before. When this happens, the area is transformed and is reminiscent of 17th century Flemish landscape paintings full of small wooden jetties and fishing boats underneath textured skies.
Occasionally you may be lucky enough to catch some of the very high tides along this coast which literally flood the carparks and roads that you drove on the day before. When this happens, the area is transformed and is reminiscent of 17th century Flemish landscape paintings
More than ever before, everyone is able to take a photograph. Social media sites literally overflow with millions of photos posted daily. I am not going to criticise those that want to record and maybe revisit places they have been and share these with others. But I do think that the essence of an engaging landscape photo and what sets serious landscape photography apart from ‘snaps’, is a photo that makes the viewer look again, examine in detail and more importantly conveys an emotive element within the photo. Many of the photos I have shot in Norfolk are simply composed and contain a limited range of colours and hues (apart from the full-on sea lavender sunset ones which there is a place for, even though perhaps at present not fashionable!). This I believe conveys the outstanding elemental beauty of Norfolk. The photos I have included in this article have been shot inland, on The Broads and on the North East and North Norfolk coast throughout the year.
Later this year my work will be exhibited at Aldeburgh Gallery http://aldeburghgallery.co.uk/ Suffolk where I will be focusing on the ‘elemental’ in the landscape.
Explaining the light is always the hardest thing to teach as a workshop leader. Interpreting it as a photographer is even more difficult. But there’s safety in numbers. There’s strength in unity, and depth can be achieved if we commit to an idea. If we bind together and unite behind a concept, the sum of the parts is always much greater.
Cooperation, commitment, reaching out to a wider community is what drives the IrishLight Collection concept. The setting is the Irish landscape, but we very much consider this an international idea inspired by the worldwide community we see on our workshops, in magazines, online and at exhibitions.
From a personal perspective, I am an artist, a photographer, an organiser within the community, and a workshop leader. I run the IrishLight photography festival amongst other photography related activities.
As a workshops leader, I have been exposed to the amazing talent and dedication that exists in the landscape photography community. I always felt there was something that could be harnessed. Raw energy, commitment, obsession. IrishLight draws on these ideas, bringing workshop outcomes and images to a wider audience, for a wider purpose.
Teams of photographers attend various workshops located around Ireland, led by Ireland’s foremost landscape professionals, shooting different locations simultaneously under one unifying theme.
The aim, a beautifully crafted hardback book plus exhibition showing the light unfold. A genuine timeline and unique collection of images created by the workshop participants. Profits from the book sale and exhibition in aid of charity.
The first time we brought this concept to fruition was in 2016. We started big and decided to tap into Ireland’s most recognizable landscape resource, ‘The Wild Atlantic Way’. A stretch of road that runs along Ireland’s west coast taking in some of the most dramatic scenery Ireland has to offer.
We ran simultaneous workshops with 32 participants stretching all the way from Donegal in the North, to Cork in the South. It was fascinating to see the results. Being able to actually measure and observe how different the light could be in locations just 100 miles apart. There’s a reason for the ‘Wild’ in “Wild Atlantic Way’. The weather is unpredictable, varied and often dramatic. Just how us landscape snappers like it. Anyone for clear blue skies? No Thanks!
West Cork Workshop Atlantic Reach Concept 2016 – Workshop Participant – Tony Creedon
Front Cover of the First IrishLight Collection
2017 – Making it Happen
Since 2017 we have successfully published the first IrishLight collection in book and exhibition format, raising vital money for our charity partner the Samaritans, we have shot ‘The Island’, where our participants we’re located on remote islands off the Irish coast, to be published September 2018, and we have brought out a brand new concept for the IrishLight programme 2018. Phew, that’s it, it’s been busy!
Sherkin Island Workshop ‘The Island’ Concept 2017 – Workshop Participant – John Maher
2018 – Whats Happening This Year!
Roll on 2018 we will once again have all participating photographers
out shooting different landscapes simultaneously under one unifying theme.
The theme for this year's workshops/exhibition/book is:
Rebels and Kings - September 27th - 30th
All workshops will be based in Cork and Kerry. The Rebel County and the Kingdom. Some of the finest scenery in Ireland seems to warrant a detailed study and we think it will make for a fantastic project. Signing off with some images from our workshop leaders from locations that will be visited as part of this year's event.
Critics of landscape photography, and there are many, argue that it romantically pedals a dangerous myth that the natural environment is an unspoilt, Garden of Eden and that it adheres to outdated philosophical and aesthetic models such as The Sublime and The Picturesque. Undoubtedly this can indeed be found in some ways of working, but it is a gross simplification to assume that all landscape work is rooted in these traditions.
In 1966 John Szarkowski Director of Photography at the Museum of Modern Art in New York, made a significant contribution to the critical discussion of photography in general, with the publication of the book entitled The Photographers Eye.
Writing at a time when the medium was still struggling to be taken seriously within the art world, Szarkowski hoped that the book would “…contribute to the formulation of a vocabulary and a critical perspective more fully responsive to the unique phenomena of photography”.
Having recently visited the Andreas Gursky retrospective exhibition at the Hayward Gallery, in London, it occurred to me that viewers could be left with no doubt whatsoever that photography as a medium has come a very long way indeed since the publication of Szarkowski’s book. In addition, anyone that scratches the surface of contemporary photographic criticism in an attempt to learn more about this fascinating medium could be forgiven for thinking that perhaps less ‘vocabulary’ might now be something of an issue.
In The Photographers Eye, Szarkowski outlines what are for him, five key characteristics of photography, that mark it out as being unique among media; these are The Thing Itself, The Detail, The Frame, Time and Vantage Point. Clearly all of these key characteristics are worthy of much consideration, however, it is perhaps The Thing Itself that might be of particular interest to the landscape photographer.
This, of course, can be said of all photography – as we need ‘things’ to photograph, whereas musicians and painters can conjure up images and evocations of both places and events without the need to travel any further than their studios.
By this I mean that unlike other ways of making images, photography has an umbilical link to the real world; to ‘The Thing Itself’, to that river, that tree, to that sky at that moment, on that day; Without the landscape itself, the landscape photographer is nothing. Szarkowski is right when he says that “Photography deals with the actual; the photographer must not only accept this fact but treasure it; unless he does, photography will defeat him.’
This, of course, can be said of all photography – as we need ‘things’ to photograph, whereas musicians and painters can conjure up images and evocations of both places and events without the need to travel any further than their studios. This is, thankfully, beyond photography, and is, therefore, a defining aspect of this fascinating and often frustrating medium of ours; in short, we need to get out!
The term landscape photography is broad, and once we begin to explore it, we find there are many different approaches:
For many, the aim is the description. Indeed, the camera has multiple functions in our everyday lives that go far beyond the boundaries of art, from NASA satellites to police speed cameras, from what we buy and sell online to our passports and family albums etc. All of these things testify to photography’s unsurpassed and extremely accurate ability to describe the world. The often favoured large format film camera provides detail (another of Szarkowski’s key characteristics) in abundance, as does any decent RAW file, and this technical clarity of vision for many never fails to fascinate.
However, while it is true to say that for some photographers it is enough to produce a clear and accurate description of a place visited, and to enjoy developing the associated technical skills in order to achieve this, I believe that for most landscape photographers, description is not the only aim. I suspect that the majority of landscape photographers attempt to communicate something of the subjective, lived experience, or encounter with a place.
With my own work, I am less concerned with description. My current projects LOCUS and Elsewhere form an ongoing exploration of both the solitude and sense of intoxication experienced when time is spent alone in a rural environment. All of the images use multiple exposure to sidestep what I call the blunt instrument of description, to create a more complex, visual experience that evokes the curious and visceral sensation of being alone. Perhaps the word synergy opens up a way of articulating this idea:
Synergy: The interaction or cooperation of two or more organisations, substances, or other agents [exposures] to produce a combined effect greater than the sum of their separate effects.
Synergy: The interaction or cooperation of two or more organisations, substances, or other agents [exposures] to produce a combined effect greater than the sum of their separate effects.
There are two separate lives to a photographic image, the time that the exposure is made, and the time that the print is made. Both are vital, yet very different. For me, as described above, the former can be an overwhelmingly sensual and intoxicating experience. The land (and the necessary camera equipment) can be physically demanding; My blood rushes a little quicker; I look and listen keenly to everything around me; I smell the land changing through the seasons. I find myself totally absorbed in the moment, often losing track of time completely. Analogue, rather than digital helps here because there is no screen on the back of the camera to immediately review an image once it has been made, allowing me to remain in the present, and sustain what are often intense experiential encounters with the land.
The process of reviewing images that have been made in this way is a completely different thing altogether. Using film to create multiple exposures produces images that don’t exist in the ‘real world’. The technique often generates very busy and complex images that have a large element of chance: one exposure sutures with another, highlights filling in shadows, obscuring details, colliding to create new places. What I look for when reviewing the images is for something that resonates with or evokes something of the sense of ‘being there’, of being alone for a long time, quiet, and utterly lost in thought.
Whichever type of landscape photography you favour, understanding what you like about the medium and the process and what it can achieve will enhance your understanding and your pictures and appreciating that there is more than one way to approach landscape can only add to our understanding and appreciation of this genre.
In our second and third instalments of our Capture One for Landscape series, Joe looks at a few of his images from a recent trip to the Isle of Eigg in the Scottish Inner Hebrides. Along the way, he will be demonstrating some of the steps in his typical workflow and also his approach to post-processing images. (Watch Episode One here)
If you have any questions about the video or general questions about Capture One, please add them in the comments below.
There are not many photos that will make you look so stunned that you remain in mute amusement and you have to keep coming back to them even after a long time. Something like that happened to me at the photograph from Genesis's book by Brazilian photographer Sebastiao Salgado.
Salgado was born in Aimorés, 1944, in the state of Minas Gerais, Brazil. He began to work as an economist, often travelling to Africa on missions for the World Bank. He switched to photography in 1973 and in 1979 he joined the international cooperative of photographers in Magnum Photos. He is particularly noted for his social documentary photography of workers in less developed nations and he has been a UNICEF Goodwill Ambassador since 2001. Salgado works on long term, self-assigned projects many of which have been published as books – at least that describes Wikipedia.
His story touches me personally and I find many parallels for him. I also got to photography as a second subject, and I work on my defined and long-term projects. In my photographic beginnings, most of my photos have been shot in black and white, and I have stayed there for some time after switching to digital photography. Black and white photography has enormous charm and is not as loud as colour photographs. The spectator can concentrate better on the shot. Missing colourfulness enhances the viewer's imagination, and if the shot succeeds, the resulting work is a thrilling experience - not just because of the technique and processing of the shot, but also because it has a huge imaginative potential inside of it.
His project Genesis consists of a series of photographs of landscapes and wildlife, as well as of human communities that continue to live in accordance with their ancestral traditions and cultures. The project is conceived as a potential path to humanity’s rediscovery of itself in nature. While looking at this picture you have exactly this deep feeling. A deep valley, where the river is cut into the bottom and flows somewhere in the distance where awake elements are waiting for it. You can feel the depth and breadth of the valley, its old age as if it were from time immemorial as if we were looking at the moment of the birth of our planet. It is as if the ancient and mighty forces of nature still prevailed in their original form. The whole book of Genesis will give you such feelings. The visitor's feelings in the huge gallery of nature. You are looking at the works of the greatest masters, admiring the gentle yet energetic brush strokes or sculptures created by wind, frost and water.
You can feel the depth and breadth of the valley, its old age as if it were from time immemorial as if we were looking at the moment of the birth of our planet.
Having dedicated so much time, energy, and passion to the making of this work, Salgado calls GENESIS “my love letter to the planet.”
And what is the outcome from it for me or for the other photographers?
Salgado worked on his project for 8 years - this is pretty long, isn’t it? But isn’t it also right? Ansel Adams once said it was important to return to one place repeatedly. For me, I would add that this is true not only physically but also virtually. It is important to return not only to the same place but to persist in one topic for as long as it is finished. Whether it's a big project like Genesis or perhaps a landscape around a small lake. This also includes the subject of the project as such. Much has been said and written about the photo being created in the photographer's head long before the camera trigger is pushed. It does not mean just how I think of a specific shot, but also what experiences, models, and stimuli we are gradually collecting. Salgado has been working on projects that have been related to the environment and the human community for years. There is nothing more beautiful and uplifting than when I can gradually fulfil the chosen theme with my work.
Salgado’s work for me is not only a show of amazing talent for scene selection and general processing of a large topic into one project, but also a demonstration of great technical work, simply a photographic craft. Whenever I look at his book in peace and with a glass of good wine I realise that nothing is free and that I must never forget the hours of work on self-improvement of my own skills. Who would not want to achieve similar artistic and technical self-esteem and lightness? And all at once underlined by the pure rendering of shapes, contrasts and the story in black and white. Simply beautiful!
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. You can view previous 4x4 portfolios here.
Submit Your 4x4 Portfolio
We're on the lookout for new portfolios for the next few issues, so please do get in touch!
If you would like to submit your 4x4 portfolio, please visit this page for submission information.
Having a walk in the heights of the Swiss Riviera and taking pictures of the lake, boats, clouds and sky. Trying to give back this soothing air in my photographs.
The Norfolk coastal landscape stretches for 90 miles (93 when the tide's out!) Standing on Norfolk’s beaches more often than not, we find space, freedom, autonomy. These images were all taken in one weekend in May 2018 at Brancaster Staithe. Sunrises and Sea Mist.
I chose these 4 images as woodland is my favourite subject to shoot. I love the diversity it gives and how massively different a scene can look from one month to another.
The different seasons give woodland a whole new lease of life. You could visit the same woodland over and over again and find something new to photograph each time.
I like the idea of taking a 'straight' Landscape image and imbuing it with something more essential, also from the landscape from which I shot the wide shot. I do this using in-camera Multiple Exposure settings....sometimes they work (more often they don't) but its the idiosyncrasy and randomness that brings back to digital photography that which went before in the days of the darkroom - sudden, unadulterated joy....with little to no premeditations.
Vision 9, at the J-shaped Oxo gallery in London, showed the work of nine photographers, each having their own unique style, some concentrating on what came out of the camera, others using that original image as the base from which to arrive at a very different end-product. This is not to judge one as being better than the other, they are just different forms of photographic art.
Although I had previously seen several of the exhibits around the Web, there is no doubt in my mind that a well-presented print is far more effective than a virtual image on a screen, bringing the image to life and making it much more tangible. The framed images on the wall were grouped by artist, which allowed the viewers to see variations in each artist's vision while at the same time clearly showing the differences between them.
On coming into the gallery the first images I saw were by Beata Moore and Rachael Talibart. Ms. Talibart writes that her inspiration comes from a childhood spent at sea and her well-known Sirens series was well represented here. On display were some wonderful large prints of very dramatic stormy seas, the angry waves taking on the shapes of mythical gods and monsters. Although this type of subject works well in both colour and b&w, the mono processing possibly helps the viewer to more quickly see the shape and form of the waves.
Ms. Moore displayed images presenting the power of the sea and as she writes “the eternal struggle of man trying to subjugate it”. Her prints have a strong sense of the dynamic nature of water, some being carefully composed abstracts bringing colour and form together to create a very pleasing effect. She also showed delightful monoprints from Venice at night, with a full range of tones imparting a wonderful mood to each scene. There is a "classic" feel about these, reminding me of the best of 1960's and 1970's darkroom prints. In her words, they “echo the glorious past of this place and a lingering sense of sadness in front of its slow decline”.
Moving into the next section, the bottom of the J, the exhibits were from three very different photographers: Astrid McGehan showed a few prints from her very pleasing work in the Lake District which she explains considers “the relationships of shapes and colours within classic representations of the landscape”. In complete contrast, she also showed a large print 'W1' of a building in Central London. What struck me about the latter was the mix of straight lines and rectangles with curves. The stark regimented lines of windows work well with the limited colour palette: white wall and blue sky.
On the opposite wall, we had Linda Wevill FRPS. Ms. Wevill's prints here were soft, with predominantly pastel colours, utilising both in-camera creativity as well as carefully considered post-processing. The effect is far from the oft-encountered screaming saturation and wild contrast, instead, the resulting prints are delicate and subtle with a watercolour feel, yet full of detail that invites closer inspection. I particularly liked a print of regimented very straight trees presented in pastel magenta and a soft cream, which she obtained by inverting the colours in post-processing.
The last exhibit of this section was by Valda Bailey, known for her in-camera movement as well as multiple exposure techniques. This display is totally different from the other artists' work, using photographs as the starting point of a complex process which includes applying gold leaf. The result is a set of images that I thought have an intriguing Asiatic feel; I was rather pleased that on reading Ms. Bailey's statement I learnt that she had taken the initial photographs in Sri Lanka. My impression of the Asiatic look was along the right track! The colours are dark blues, magentas and shades of brown-red providing good contrast with the bright patches of gold. Ms Bailey explains that her photography is greatly informed by her background in painting, with artists influencing her as much as photographers. She aims to use colour and form bringing tension and dynamism to her images.
We then come into the long arm of the J-shape and the first print was by Paul Sanders. This is a huge black-and-white panoramic print of a dark, moody hilly landscape. It is a very imposing scene almost forcing the viewer to ask questions (why? what?...), but would have benefited from not being framed behind reflective glass – I understand that would have been Mr. Sanders' preference too but that he was advised to protect the print. Unframed matt paper would have allowed the viewer to better appreciate the darker tones in what is an evocative and mysterious scene. Mr Sanders also showed some of his softer minimalist b&w work, which includes using long exposures to achieve a dreamy look.
Two female photographers followed on along the wall: Marianthi Lainas showed a very appealing set of prints from the Outer Hebrides; she writes that this is part of a larger body of work inspired by the changing weather conditions on the same Atlantic-facing beach over a two-day period. Ms. Lainas has caught lovely lines and forms in the sand as well as the sky, also the colour contrasts and juxtapositions work well together to bring out the look for which these islands are famed. In an interesting touch, image titles incorporate part of each day's shipping forecast for Hebridean waters.
Cheryl Hamer has a somewhat different style yet with similar subject matter. She uses a mix of multiple exposure and ICM techniques, at times in the same final out-of-camera file, to produce very effective images, some with a strong painterly effect yet with a restrained colour palette. I found it very easy to connect with both Ms Lainas’ and Ms Hamer’s sets of prints, they show the sort of subjects that I too like to shoot and seeing these prints inspires me to try and learn some of these techniques.
Finally, the far wall of the gallery was given over to a dramatic set of predominantly red prints from Doug Chinnery. He too uses photographs as a starting point, applying in-camera techniques to arrive at abstract images which demand some time of the viewer to appreciate properly. He explains that the images shown were created during a time of sadness and loss, yet the bright colours reflect the positive side of how people can overcome difficult times with resolve, resilience and even a dash of humour. Interesting work.
Overall I thoroughly enjoyed the exhibition and look forward to seeing more from the artists. There was a sufficiently wide range of styles to please most viewers though personally I was most drawn to the softer colours and more painterly prints of recognisably landscape scenes. Photography allows us to work with the widest range of subjects and employ a tremendous variety of techniques to reflect our way of seeing and the feelings we had when releasing the shutter. Visiting an exhibition such as this is very enjoyable and time well spent; it helps me to think about my own work, how I process my photographs and what I am trying to show in the final print.
There is no doubt that the landscape is shaped by man himself, physically but also conceptually by his perception, his gaze. There is also time, linked with space, places. The landscape - or the territory, the country- where we used to live, that impacted us in terms of agricultural cycle and work is seen today under the linear and calibrated scale of our contemporary societies. We don't live the landscape today in the same way we used to yesterday.
The landscape we could observe yesterday has obviously changed with man and their needs; their conceptions, their religious beliefs or practices, and with their own presence inside the landscape: living and working mostly.
These photo series consists of these juxtaposed elements, may they are physical (the landscape, the habitat), time-related (ancient, new) or symbolic (sacred, profane).
These places may look natural but they are not really anymore, for the most they became parks, national and natural parks, nature reserves. Man's hand preserved them from the outside, from himself and from time by freezing them. But at the same time, these natural places became artificial, temporary, and don't exist outside our gaze. Despite the initial intent, they are caught in the process of transformation and at the same time, they have lost their own temporality.
This photo series consists of these juxtaposed elements, may they are physical (the landscape, the habitat), time-related (ancient, new) or symbolic (sacred, profane). It's in a space between the emphasis of these dualities and the observation that I envisaged the creation of this sequence of images, between a historical heritage and things to come, a moving rurality and the cycles of the elements, the sacred and the profane. One being the echo of the other, one including the other.
My photographic approach might be influenced by the New Topographics, my gaze by my professional background as a graphic designer, and the fact that I conducted this project as a local resident, confronting the elements that I have before me. I have to say that although it's a process that takes its roots locally, I thought it was like an oscillation between the remaining small traces of a still melancholic yesterday and an anxious today that keeps away from his natural roots. This is a photo series that can be read by pairs, like an echo, a mirror.
Man does leave traces in the wake of their passage, and there are all sorts of agricultural constructions, roads, paths, lonely trees, crops, among these traces. There are also places that are said to be sacred, like small rural chapels: I reduce these religious entities to their archetypal shape, white, and their forced integration in the landscape. Sometimes time and landscape take back these small buildings or people forgot. I confront them with other profane entities, that are also integrated by force in the landscape and forgotten. I underline that they both have an acquired, common, presence; one and the other can be reduced to a formal entity with given values, that can change from their initial landscape integration, may they are intentional or not.
Theses sacred entities were built by certain means and the connection with individuals and spaces no more exists in the way it was. The question I wish to ask is if these places - that we could say anthropological, historical and that defined identity - are becoming 'non-places'? They might already be non-places, just like highways, transit points, or supermarkets: what relationship do we have with these places if it's not that most peoples are only going through, commuting.
Theses sacred entities were built by certain means and the connection with individuals and spaces no more exists in the way it was.
The landscape is seen from distance by the roads that are crossing him, and the one living in it -who has his daily life- feels on hold, trapped, oppressed. Is it this in-between temporality, in the middle of two perceptions, that gave birth to that feeling? The sense of identity comes from the place, but the place became a passing through. May we still write history, identity, relations in these places?
Lately, touristic guides, advertising and even the images we produce only highlight the contemplative aspect of the landscape, that can be reduced to the only gaze of the individual. Do we really see the landscape as it really is? Values make their way, evolve, affect, change. What's behind this horizon where the ground (profane) seems to touch the sky (sacred)? Or behind the lack of horizon, behind a door that leads to nowhere, a wall, a thick fog hiding a landscape ready to be born, a fence, a road where we stopped. Do we hope to find a promise of tomorrow or is it the yesterday that engulfs space? Two paths in a short space where we can feel a frozen temporality, in a setting yet to become and where the different layers overlap. You can keep up to date with Pascal on his lnstagram account.
Notes
Read "Non-places: Introduction to an Anthropology of Supermodernity" (Marc Augé),
The Decay Of The Angel -The Sea of Fertility IV (Yukio Mishima)
See Raymond Depardon, New topographics (Robert Adams, Lewis Baltz...)
There’s been a resurgence in interest in artists’ books among landscape photographers recently – witness the popularity of bookmaking and sequencing workshops by John Blakemore and Joseph Wright among others. Along with the satisfaction of making something yourself, they offer a tangible output for a collection of images or a photographic series. Beyond the decisions to be made on image selection and sequencing, there is a multiplicity of papers, methods and materials. There is too the possibility that the book itself can become a thing of beauty and it’s been a pleasure to see the images that Shona Grant has been sharing of her creations. As well as developing her interest in photography she has been looking for ways to output this and mixing art and lettering with printed image.
Would you like to tell readers a little about yourself – your education, early interests and career?
I was lucky enough to grow up on the island of South Uist in the Outer Hebrides where my dad worked as a general surgeon/ G.P. in the small Sacred Heart hospital in Daliburgh for 25 years.
I went to Lochboisdale Primary School on the island until the age of 11 when I was punted off to boarding school in Edinburgh. As a child I was very much into the outdoors and I used to head off on my bike to the beach or muck about at the local canal. I golfed a bit; did some fly fishing on the lochs; played with friends at the local dump; all very idyllic really. I wasn’t particularly academic so the fancy Edinburgh school was a bit wasted on me with one school report for maths saying ‘Shona has been working steadily but with progressively less understanding’. I was good at sport and art. I studied Audio Visual Aids Technology at Napier College in Edinburgh. I could have gone to art school but I didn’t fancy 4 years studying anything at the time and the A.V.A course was 2 years, with my attendance being part time! Part of the course involved film production and photography which I liked a lot but the rest of it was pretty dull.
After toying with a few jobs in Edinburgh when I left college, I headed to London working at Hammersmith and St Mary’s Hospitals producing teaching aids for medical students and nurses for 4 years before getting a portfolio of artwork together. I trawled round publishing houses until I started picking up commissions to illustrate books and produce artwork for advertising agencies.
A move to Glasgow followed (husband relocated there with work) and I supplemented my income as an illustrator working as a tennis coach after qualifying as a coach with the Lawn Tennis Association. Then I had my daughter Cathy, dropped the coaching, but continued working from home as a freelance illustrator and looked after Cathy full time. Photography came later.
Artists' books for Stills Gallery
The most inspiring thing for me is the British landscape. Its wonderful seasons and skies and trees and coasts and islands and moors and uplands. Trying to do it justice photographically is a constant and enjoyable challenge.
Who (photographers, artists or individuals) or what has most inspired you, or driven you forward in your own development as an artist and photographer?
The most inspiring thing for me is the British landscape. Its wonderful seasons and skies and trees and coasts and islands and moors and uplands and…and…and… Trying to do it justice photographically is a constant and enjoyable challenge.
Next up for inspiration are painters and printmakers. I really like the work of Joseph Crawhall and James Guthrie, two of The Glasgow Boys who were a group of about 20 artists working in Glasgow (oddly enough) in the early 1880s. It’s lovely stuff. Crawhall used to work with gouache – a sort of professional poster paint – on linen which is quite an unusual technique, and one that I’ve used for some of my paintings. Nowhere nearly as accomplished as his though. Another painter whose work has inspired me is Walter Sickert: his colour palette and technique with oil paints is fabulous. The wood engraver and illustrator Charles Tunnicliffe is another whose work has influenced my own as is the artist and printmaker Norman Ackroyd. His etchings from his visit to St Kilda in the Outer Hebrides are wonderful and very evocative of the place.
Venation book
Although Paul Strand’s book of South Uist “Tir a’Mhurain” had great impact on you, you credit your father as being one of your biggest photographic influences?
Solitude is the human condition in which I keep myself company. ~Hannah Arendt
A magazine editor I started working with recently inquired about images for a piece about outdoor adventures. “Why are there no people in your photographs?” he asked. “Because,” I answered, “there aren’t that many people in my life and certainly not when I photograph; and those that are, like me, don’t usually care to be photographed.”
I am an introvert and a recluse—traits I have come to believe are neither fully understood nor generally respected among those who do not possess them. In that, introversion is in the good company of such things as inspiration, grief, rapture, depression, awe, the thrill of discovery, or the sense of profound revelation. Those who have not experienced such things may perhaps be able to grasp them as concepts, but not fully appreciate them as powerful forces in the shaping of one’s personality, demeanour, choices, and ultimately life.
I am an introvert and a recluse—traits I have come to believe are neither fully understood nor generally respected among those who do not possess them.
Whether you are an introvert or not, I believe that understanding the introvert mindset is important not only in the sense of allowing others the personal space they need, and that may be broader than your own, but also because introversion is very prevalent among creative people, and it is likely that a considerable number of your fellow photographers fall into that category. It is important also to distinguish between introversion and shyness. One can be an exuberant, self-confident, “Type-A” person and still be an introvert.
For an introvert, it is likely that the quality and experience of photography may be impeded by the not-uncommon tendency to practice photography in groups, or in places where escaping the presence, chatter, and behaviour of others is difficult. It is why I almost always decline invitations to “go shooting.” My introversion is such that photography (or any creative endeavour) and socializing do not—cannot—mix. It is also part of the reason that I don’t photograph when leading workshops, and cannot answer such questions as “how would you photograph this?” I don’t know. I would need to commune with it, alone, for some time, perhaps several times, to have an answer.
A new semi-permanent display opens this Friday in Richmond Park featuring 18 of my landscape photographs. This is the most prominent exhibition of my Richmond pictures so far and after almost 5 years of work on this huge park, I’ve very pleased to have something to show for it in one of its busiest spots.
The pictures range from depictions of the park’s important acid grassland and woodland habitats to seasonal change and phenomena of atmospheric optics in the natural world. Some of the spectacles I’ve witnessed and attempted to convey are beyond anything most daytime visitors to the park are likely to see or indeed believe (quite a few marvels of the 5am world), but I hope that if nothing else, this display will inspire people to venture further and look deeper into the great landscapes we have here in London.
For any fellow photographers who happen to see it (and who aren’t too disappointed that none of the pictures has any deer in, other than by accident in the far distance) I like to think that these pictures are little triumphs of determination over visions nature would apparently rather not let us share – moments of dazzling light in dense fog, howling blizzards and spectacular flowers in mosquito-ridden bogs.
Over the last few years, I’ve developed my own personal techniques of “large format” digital photography, enabling, albeit awkwardly, hugely detailed images to be made with quite compact equipment. This is the first time I’ve had a chance to print these images at a significant size, and I hope the visitors to the exhibition will enjoy finding the tiny slugs and spiders as much as I have.
The pictures will be on display in the Pembroke Rooms, Pembroke Lodge, Richmond Park, TW10 5HX (restaurant, wedding venue and an architectural landmark set in its own grounds, open to the public from 9am-5.30pm) alongside an existing collection of historical illustrations of the park and a display of wildlife images.
This article is inspired by Peter Stevens writing about Honey Pots in issue 140, one paragraph resonated with me particularly:
The challenge to the photographer is to visit these iconic locations and try to add their own style or interpretation, whatever this might mean. This is difficult to do in any genre, but especially difficult for landscape. It is also very personal to the photographer. What is creative and full of meaning to one person might leave another person cold.
This got me thinking about taking the interpretation of a place in the direction of abstraction, using techniques like Intentional Camera Movement (ICM), Multiple Exposures and Long Exposures (read more on these techniques) among others to create images that are not concrete images of a place but attempt to convey a feeling or a mood.
Fotospeed’s inaugural Foto Fest Central plays host to five of the best British photographers who will share their experiences, knowledge and journeys in photography. Ahead of his talk on 15th July, landscape photographer Mark Littlejohn shares his thoughts on ‘atmosphere’ and how a little bit of thought can go a long way.
I suppose I should start by saying I’m not a faithful servant of the truth. Neither am I interested in going out in flat light and using Photoshop to dodge and burn varying areas of light and dark into an image.
For myself, I consider landscape photography to be a thrill-seeking adrenalin rush. I want to be out in the gorgeous countryside, watching the light change, seeing how that light changes the mundane into the sublime. I have always been a fan of the ‘little’ picture as opposed to the grand vista. I don’t think we need to see herds of wildebeests galloping majestically across the plain to make an impressive picture.
I’ve often guarded against the clichéd view i.e. Stob Dearg, Durdle Door, The Duke of Portland boathouse etc. as it can sometimes lead to us being blinkered against all those wonderful wee views in between. The great thing about these ‘wonderful wee views’ is that they are ours to interpret as we wish. They are, in the main, unknown and unseen. The scene is fresh to the viewer. We can choose how much of the scene to show them. We can choose what to hide. We can play with their imaginations. In such circumstances, I often think what we leave out is far more important than what we put in. Always remember to be yourself – take the images you want to take and process and present them the way you want to.
There is a temptation for landscape photographers to try and capture too much. The wide-angle lens comes out and we set it to 24mm, then we think, “if I move it to 20mm I can get that rock in”, and then we think “it might be nice to get that tree in” and before we know it, we are at 16mm and doing pretty much a screen snap of everything in front of us. By the time we’ve finished, we’ve completely missed what it was we were trying to photograph in the first place. And more to the point, the viewer has no idea what we were trying to achieve either.
We don’t need to show everyone everything all the time. I’d far rather pick out the sections that I want them to see, the parts that caught my eye. Sometimes that might involve a certain ambiguity of scale that makes the viewer think even more about what is outside the frame – what is it exactly that they are looking at. It might make for a slightly more abstract image, which is something I quite enjoy. I like capturing naturally abstract images without using in-camera techniques such as ICM or multiple exposures.
Split toning in colour allows you to make subtle changes to the feeling in an image. I’ve been doing this for several years in a way that I believe enhances what I perceive to be the mood inherent in the scene. It might not be to everyone’s taste but this is not really a concern of mine. Mood and atmosphere have always been of paramount importance in my images, no matter what the subject matter.
An image doesn’t need to have to be world-class scenery to capture our hearts and our minds. It just needs us to think a little bit about how much we choose to show the viewer and how we process it and present it first. A little bit of thought can go a long way.
Mark Littlejohn will be delivering his full presentation, ‘Atmosphere’ at Foto Fest Central, Patchings Art Centre, Nottingham on 15th July 2018 at 10am. Other speakers include Tom Way, Ted Leeming and Morag Paterson and Charlie Waite. Click here for more details.
Fotospeed is offering On Landscape readers 10% discount on tickets with code PAGB10
Today we are totally flooded with photos from all over the world and from the most iconic places. Splendour sunsets and sunrises. Dramatic sky with amazing cloud formations. We can rather easily travel to the middle of nowhere - places like Iceland, Greenland, Antarctica, Norwegian fjords, deserts in America. Almost all of our globes magnificent places are reachable for almost all of us.
It is great to follow other photographers when they show wonderful photos from all those exotic places - but sometimes a saturation occurs. I can get blasé by all those lovely sunsets in so many colour combinations - mountains dressed in snow and mysterious fog.
Surely you many times get excited and you just love to travel - get away from your daily grey boring life - get a chance to meet the adventure with your best friend, the camera. To get a chance to take just that perfect picture.
But sometimes I think for myself - can it be that granted all those trips we missed what we have here at home. In Swedish we call it ”home blind” - we just think that here in my boring backyard you never will find anything beautiful or any unique motives. And do you really think you will be able to catch a scene just a 100 meters from your motorway, where you each day travel home and to work.
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. You can view previous 4x4 portfolios here.
Submit Your 4x4 Portfolio
We're on the lookout for new portfolios for the next few issues, so please do get in touch!
If you would like to submit your 4x4 portfolio, please visit this page for submission information.
Waking to a foggy day in Western Massachusetts is a cause to celebrate. You can feel the stillness. The scenery is enveloped and caressed by the mist while at the same time it brings a sense of peace and serenity to the photographer. Be there early, as you know the fog is fleeting.
Every second of every day, something of great beauty and mystery appears and then disappears. We often miss these events because we are lost in thought or maybe focused on photographing that “great shot” and we don’t see something that is right there. For the image taken at Lassen National Park, I was busy adjusting the settings on my camera to experiment with different shots of the water. A small bird kept getting in the shots. I finally realized that it was an ouezel feeding her babies in a nest built on the waterfall. The mother was so fast, that I was never able to photograph both the mother and the babies at the same time, but it was an incredible gift to experience what was happening over the waterfall.
Avebury is famous for its Neolithic site. A bank, ditch and stone circle some 350m in diameter. It's not too far from home and so sometimes I find myself amongst its stones. For a while, I'd had the idea of some snowy, winter photographs and when a Sunday at the end of April 2018 dawned suitably cold and snowy I grasped the opportunity. Avebury normally has throngs of tourists milling around its stones but the cold and snow kept them away - even the National Trust representative selling memberships in the car park!
As I stood in front of that pock-marked standing stone, wrapped-up warm in boots, gloves, hat and big duvet jacket I couldn't help feel the enormity of time wash over me. That stone has stood there for millennia enduring every freezing winter and there, in front of it, was little me, all dressed-up in modern clothing taking its picture! If only it could speak - what stories could it tell!
Two weeks ago I was sat huddled behind a 4x4 in a sandstorm 100 miles from the nearest road having the time of my life. Looking across to one of my best friends and longtime workshop participant, we shared a smile and knew, with certainty, that we were exactly where we wanted to be at that given moment.
Over the course of the two weeks we travelled together in Western China, we talked at great length about philosophy, photography, meanings, motives, expression and our place in it all. I’m forever in his debt for his insightful, gentle and thoughtful input, and the enduring friendship.
Since writing Desert Epiphanies for On Landscape back in April 2017, I’ve returned to the Gobi a further four times. Each visit brings up more revelations, challenges me in ways I never dreamed of, and as I return to our little Glen on the Isle of Skye I am not the same person I was. I’ve written before about our willingness for change, evolution and development, and my work as a landscape photographer is all of those things; it mirrors my life, expression, fears and hopes with crystal clear precision.
Before my first desert trip I had been feeling increasingly down about the whole industry; trudging through a dreary Highland Glen in a sleet storm, seeing some glimmer of a photographic idea and thinking “What’s the point?” “Does this serve any purpose what so ever?” Of course, being an optimist, I’d see through my gloom and the first big epiphany was: “If an image is shared and there’s nobody liking it, does it still have value!?” I smiled at the play on the old tree in the woods philosophy but realised just as quickly that it was important to me, therefore it had huge value - to me.
Hot on the heels of this came my first desert trip and the game changed. I’ve written my psycho-babble for this magazine at length; consciousness cycling, flow states, visual harmonics and the psychological impact of underlying geometry (Read the article Flow States and the Art of Consciousness Cycling). Last year was a roller-coaster of emotional and physical challenges, each week delivering fresh perspectives, renewed vitality and enthusiasm for this glorious art form and my quest to deepen my immersion in it. Then, in August 2017 I hit another wall. The balloon of my awareness began to leak and my emotional state deflated.
Our Autumn workshop season came to my rescue and I was so involved it took me out of myself again and interacting with our clients was as fun and exciting as ever. It’s now clearer to me that as I keep pushing myself to these challenges, eventually I have to stop, allow myself to consolidate and just “be” for a while. Surely even drone honeybees get a day off occasionally!
On a wet Scottish afternoon in November, I was having another deep conversation with the same friend I mentioned in the first paragraph. The mate he’d brought with him was showing me some of his images on an iPad and was talking me through the meaning of all these abstracts from a graveyard. The images were super and I was engaged, but there was a clear difference between what I was seeing/feeling and his ongoing narrative. I recall saying to him “You know I don’t get any of that from these images - the majority of your internal metaphors are lost on me.” At that moment, to the sound of neurones rewiring, I realised that the vocabulary we have to play within photography is extremely limited.
A few weeks ago, Simon Baxter and his dog Meg joined us in the Highlands to sample some of the delights that the Atlantic rainforest of Ardnamurchan has to offer. Simon is one of a new breed of communicator called a 'vlogger'. All this means is that he's using regular video content to inspire an audience that uses YouTube instead of Google to find content (and as a little aside, did you know that YouTube is the second most popular search engine after Google!)
The day after he arrived, we had a very enjoyable walk around one of my favourite oak woods, although the weather was wall to wall blue skies which made photography challenging. Simon returned the following day to create an episode of video content that he has shared exclusively with us and also answered a few of our questions about his use of video content.
What started your own path into creating video content?
I was talking to a fellow local photographer and friend who said, "You remind me of Thomas Heaton". I had no idea who he was talking about but I looked him up, found about six videos on YouTube and sent him an email to show my appreciation for his work. We then ended up meeting in my local stomping ground, enjoyed a winter's morning shoot and we stayed in touch from that point. Ultimately, he encouraged me to start my own YouTube channel and it seemed like the right thing to do because I was keen to see how my work would be accepted by a (potentially) wider audience. Having being forced to give up mountain biking and losing a lot of confidence in the process, it seemed like a daunting but worthwhile challenge. I also had some experience in creating mountain biking videos before the days of YouTube, so it was fun to rekindle that interest. I didn't jump in feet first though, I spent a few months pondering the prospect of putting myself out there in such a personal way. In the same way I approach photography, I was patient and waited until I could capture one of my favourite local woodlands on a moody morning. It was a huge surprise when my first video gained traction and set the foundations for growth. My photography is about therapy and pain management, so I've always wanted a feeling of relaxation and the joys of being a dog owner to comes across in my videos.
The still point in the turning world ~ T. S. Eliot, Burnt Norton, 1935
Twitter doesn’t really do justice to Guy’s richly complex images, but that’s where I came across his work. For something that’s supposed to be about words I’ve been finding it a good source of inspiring art in all media – more so than some of the other platforms which only show you what you already like and interact with - unless it’s paid for ;-) But back to Guy.
Can you tell readers a little about yourself – your education, early interests and career?
I grew up in Thirsk, North Yorkshire; a small market town nestled between the Dales and the Moors. The small woods and streams, within walking distance of our family home, were my playground; explored alone or with friends. We had a lot more freedom back then, flitting from the innocent to the dangerous. Those days of discovery, venturing further and further into the unknown, were no doubt where my appetite for the great outdoors originated.
Growing up in a small town can be suffocating. Triggered by my parent’s separation, I rebelled. Deracinated, I followed New Model Army up and down the country, hitching and living out of a kit bag; that experience definitely fuelled my interest in wayfaring. Yorkshire’s industrial heritage was collapsing everywhere and sources of income were drying up. It was a desperate situation, mass youth unemployment and a real sense of disenfranchisement. Paid fees and a maintenance grant provided me with the opportunity to move on through study.
I left Yorkshire at 18 for London where I obtained a First Class BA (Hons) Degree in Architecture at the University of Greenwich and a post-graduate Diploma at the Bartlett, UCL. My architectural education was fascinating. I don’t think I produced a single building, or what most would consider a building, in my 5 years of study. I will probably refer back to architecture a lot during this interview; it’s such an integral part of who I am, the way I see.
Living in Hertfordshire, finding the sort of landscape photography locations I enjoy usually means travelling long distances to the Lakes or Scotland. Nearer to home, the Suffolk coast is an area I’ve made short visits to in the past, and I decided I would spend a few days there in February. This area seems to be very much ‘under the radar’ for landscape photography, unlike the somewhat further away from North Norfolk coast and Norfolk Broads.
Why this should be I’m not sure, as I have often felt there is great potential in the Suffolk coastline, with its constant erosion by the North Sea, as well as the inlets, creeks and harbours. Some spots, such as Southwold pier and the nearby beach huts, are frequently photographed – I remember a few years ago seeing in the cabin of British Airways aircraft photos of Southwold beach huts, perhaps displayed as some sort of quintessentially English representation. But travel a few miles away from the well-known Southwold pier or Aldeburgh beach in February and not a photographer is to be seen.
Walberswick, only a short distance from Southwold, has enough wooden jetties and boats to keep a photographer occupied for some time, especially at low tide when the boats, mud and dark glowering skies can be seen together. For those who like details, these are in abundance – mooring ropes, rusty posts, and close-ups of muddy channels winding down towards the river Blyth.
During the second half of the 1960s, I saw a few 30 minutes TV programs on Swedish television. As I watched them a dream was born – a dream of someday being able to visit this archipelago myself. The dream became a reality in November 2016 after 18 months of planning. It was finally time for an adventure to South America with the Galápagos’ Islands as the highlight for me.
When we think about the Galápagos Islands we envision encounters with birds, sealion, iguanas, etc. Animals that aren’t shy or reserved which gives you the opportunity to get really close to them. But when I finally got there I realized that the scenery was an equally good experience. November means drought season - on the volcanic islands - during which the landscape is characterized by trees and bushes that are withered and therefore appear to be dead. The use of this bare landscape when I created my images was really interesting. Even the colour pallet that the landscape present feels really special. This contributed to offer us an exciting and magical light setting on many of our landings.
We lived on a cruise ship that had 15 international guests representing many parts of the world. I have found by experience that a group of this size is ideal for explorations like this. Our cruise started around the southern islands and then continued north. During the trip, we had the privilege of crossing the equator in both directions. Each day we made a couple of landings and at least one snorkelling session in water that was around 25 degrees Celsius.
When the landings took place on sandy beaches we sometimes combined it with snorkelling. The shores varied from white sandy beaches to steep rock walls. The landscape also varies between the islands – some of them with ridges and mountaintops and others more or less flat. Aside from the topography the vegetation also differs from island to island. On some of them, there are cactuses growing. These are fascinating to us northerners in many ways; they are exotic since we’re not used to seeing them in the wild but also their size and that they only grow about 6 mm per year. This makes many of the largest specimens several hundred years old. The cactus leaves contain a lot of water and make up the only source of food for the land iguanas. So each land iguana has a cactus that they guard and stands ready for a leave to fall to the ground. As you can imagine that doesn’t happen every week. Some birds also collect their nutrition and liquids from the cactus leaves.
Depiction of landing on one of the Islands
I boarded the rubber boat and made the short journey to a sandy beach. Landing on beaches meant that I had to jump into the water and wade the final stretch onto the beach. The water was; by Swedish standards; warm and the colour was a beautiful and inviting turquoise. The sand beaches where rarely more than 25 to 50 meters wide and where made up by nice soft sand. When I reached the beach I sat down on some driftwood to change my shoes. When I lifted my eyes I saw a Galapagos hawk calmly regarding me from some shrubbery about 7 meters from where I was.
The path I followed was made up of maroon sand. Some of the bushes near the beach had some green leaves but the further from the water I came the dryer they looked. The path led me up along a slope and ended on a plateau surrounded by cactuses. On the ground, the land iguanas resided and the sky was full of finches and other small birds flying around. Some birds rested on a cactus and picked at it to get some nutrition and water.
The whole scene felt magical; a landscape like nothing I had experienced before and at the same time animals that were unmoved by my presence. The clouds in the sky created a pleasant temperature and captivating light for photography. The colour palette went into pastels; green from the cactuses, brown from the cactus strains and maroon from the sand. There were no sounds aside from nature’s own. It felt so soothing to be free from the normal day to day background noise of traffic.
The return to Sweden
A few days after my return to Sweden; after a month of travel in South America; I had the idea to search for programs from the Galápagos Islands in the archives on “Sveriges Televisions” webpage. There I found one of Sven Gillsäters 30 minutes programs from the 1960s. I instantly watched it and had flashbacks to when I watched it the first time and remembered my experience in real life.
The circle was closed and the dream had become reality.
Facts about The Galápagos Islands
The Galápagos Islands in the Pacific Ocean consists of 15-20 larger islands 906 km (563 mi) west of continental Ecuador.
The volcano Wulf is the highest peak at 1707 meters.
The islands are part of the Republic of Ecuador and it’s been a National park since 1959. In 1986 the surrounding waters were recognized as a maritime nature reserve. The archipelago is part of Unesco's Heritage list. The management of the National park controls the life of the local population and the tourist with a firm hand. The population is scattered over 5 islands and amounts to about 20 000 inhabitants.
Many of the plants, birds and other animals are endemic, i.e. the species is only available on the Galápagos Islands.
There are 2 airports on the archipelago. There are several tour operators that are active on the islands. Most of them offer cruises but there are also some land-based offerings. The opportunities for exciting snorkelling are great.
Three weeks ago, I crossed the Trenton Bridge onto Mount Desert Island in mid-coast Maine and greeted what I call “my photographic home” the same way I always did: by rolling the windows down in my rental car and hollering a boisterous “Whoohoo! I’m back!”
After spending over 400 days exploring this 108-square-mile (280-square-kilometers) island since November 2009—thanks to serving three stints as an Acadia Artist-in-Residence, leading numerous photography workshops, and enjoying personal time have come to know these surroundings, as well as a doting mother, knows her own child. I know the contour of the granite ledges dipping into the ocean to kiss the waves along every foot of Ocean Drive. I know how the fog caresses the shoulders of Penobscot Mountain. I know the angles at which the birches reflect into Eagle Lake as the sun moves across the sky.
You’d think that perhaps familiarity would breed contempt. In 2013, it almost did. I had a moment during my third residency where I was completely bored out of my mind while photographing the same types of wide-angle frames over and over again. I wondered if I had photographed “everything” the park had to offer (as I described in my last article, “Finding Your Creative Voice"). After tossing expectations aside and incorporating curiosity into my approach, though, I discovered I was more in love with the park than ever. In addition, I had obviously not photographed “everything.” (How audacious and laughable that idea was!). I had barely scratched the surface of understanding the depths of the park. “The more I know, the more I know I don’t know,” as the idiom goes.
Why do you remember some photographs? At what level of mind do they etch? We, humans, move in a world full of impressions and in some way the information is stored in our brains. I think it's like Photoshop Lightroom's cataloguing, memories get colours, flags, points and they end up in folders and are systematized to be picked up later. Some impression is far into the system, others sink away and are forgotten. Maybe not because they were bad, but maybe because the impression did not get caught. Most of the photographs I remember are from famous places I've seen countless times.
I could probably draw the photo from memory. But despite that, they mean nothing to me. They do not get stuck properly. On Instagram, we find a huge flow of amazing photos. You can dream away in the big landscapes for a while, travel for a moment, all with a cup of tea to sip, a perfect armchair adventure. But very few pictures get stuck in my soul. But there are some photographs that grab me and do not seem to lose their status. Most are pictures of people, but also landscapes of course. When I got the question of writing "Endfmrame", Initially it bothered me. Like all readers of ”On Landscape”, I also wondered what image I would choose if I got the question. So I made a plan, one that would limit me to my task. I decided to read through my photographic books and just choose from them. That means that about 100 books would be browsed and I would come to regret that decision. You can get too much of a good thing.
But, of course, I found the photo. It was like the sound of a bell within me when I browsed the page. I knew I did not have to look any further. Jan Töve's photograph has been with me since the book came out in 2001 and I realised that I have made many attempts at similar photos all with Töve as inspiration. But today, the image on the messy swamp forest would not give many likes on Instagram. It's not a place you want to travel to. Nobody will ever be able to sell a single photo trip to a marshland in the middle of Sweden. And yet it has sat in my photo memory.
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. You can view previous 4x4 portfolios here.
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The Atacama desert in Argentina is an incredible place to shoot, matching Iceland in its variety of landscapes. The curves and colours of these ancient pools provided some wonderful photographic opportunities, especially in the calm twilight before dawn when they became perfectly still, allowing the colours of the water to be seen.
On October 15th, 2017 I left England with my girlfriend Kelly and we began our adventure. First of all, we headed to Phuket, Thailand for only a week just to break up the flight and tick off Thailand from the bucket list!
Once we have finished our Australia road trip we are then heading to a couple more country's on the way home including Thailand, other destinations are yet to be decided!
The images are really a documentation of the journey that we are currently living, the road trip! The goal for all the images was to showcase the beautiful National Parks that this country has to offer and show how peaceful it is to visit such isolated and natural places!
The images of the trees from below are in Nightcap National Park and the others all are in Springbrook National Park!
