Near Leknes
Do you ever have those moments, when you see something from your car window and you go ‘ooh, that looks good’, but for some unknown reason, you decide against stopping?
I often find myself doing just that, and on the occasions when I force myself to stop, I very rarely actually carry out the entire motivation. There seems to be some form of weighing up the effort of stopping the car, walking back to the location that grabbed my eye, against the effortless motive to keep on going…..
I could perhaps turn this question around and ask – how many photos are made near the roadside? Should we not call landscape photography ‘car boot photography’ or ‘lay by photography’?
The image above, taken just outside Leknes, in Lofoten was one of those occasions where I saw something, and thought it looked like a great photo, but passed on by. I did it several times, and each time I did it, I wondered why I did, and why I was also, each time, attracted to the location.
I have a theory. Some places are very magnetic. You can’t stay away from them. They tend to be iconic, and require very little effort in recognising that there is something of value there. Other places, like my little photo above, are anonymous. They don’t register in the same way that iconic places do. But they’re beautiful in their own, understated way.
I loved the collection of little red buildings on the far left shore, and there was some minimalism evident to me in the space the sky and water provided. I needed to experience this for myself, and so I parked the car down a side road on a sheet of ice, walked precariously back onto the main road and set up my camera on a steep embankment overlooking the bay. I get myself out there by telling myself that it’s beautiful to just sit and watch the landscape, even if there’s no stunner of a photography behind the motivation.
And once I was there, I just grew into the moment.
You describe these feelings and situations perfectly.
What makes it even harder is travelling with other people and thinking, “I can’t stop now, but I’ll come back here tomorrow on my own” – by which time the light is different, something in the scene has moved, or whatever – the magic that attracted you in the first place has gone. (The only way to overcome this is to travel with another photographer and not be in a hurry – “did you see THAT? We should go back……..”)
Comment by Michael Marten — 2 February, 2012 @ 10:31 am
Hi Michael,
Yes, that’s another point isn’t it – the lone-photographer!
Photography is, I believe, a solitary act. I tend to find it very hard to be on my own for weeks upon end, with no other social contact during the down time when I’m not making images. But when I am making them, having a non-photographer friend along can be fraught, unless they’re someone you know you get along with in those circumstances.
When I’m with friends, I put the photography hat to one side, and I’m able to switch off. In fact, I have no trouble switching my photography mind on/off depending on what I’m doing, and I think that’s the only way to handle when you’re traveling with someone, somewhere, and you see something of interest.
I came to terms, years ago, with the knowledge that there is always something worth photographing, yet I won’t be able to record everything I see…..
I’m still waiting for the next ultimate photography accessory – that of omnipresence.
Comment by Bruce Percy — 2 February, 2012 @ 10:54 am
It’s a very good point about not being able to photograph every scene. No one ever cares how hard you had to work to take a photo, and no one will ever see a shot you didn’t take. It’s a bit like the tree falling in the forest.
Comment by ColinCroke — 4 February, 2012 @ 6:29 am
Hi Colin,
That’s a really interesting topic, and one that I’m sure could fill a book.
I think it’s only artists who find the creative process interesting – that journey you took, the decisions you made that decided upon the final outcome. The things you decided not to do, are just as important, or perhaps more so, than what you did do.
I’ve said for a while, that while we’re out making images, we are also editing on the fly. No only do we choose what should be inside the frame, but we also choose what is not. My compositions have become very simple, and I think that’s because I take a lot of care choosing what is not in the frame. I think a lot of newbies see what they want in the frame, but get the whole kitchen sink included too.
It would be so interesting to write a book, showing all the images you thought about taking, but didn’t. Like an iceberg, the final work is really the tip of the iceberg. There is often a lot more work that goes on behind the final images that’s never talked about.
I’m finding that quite a topic and I’m going to have to give it more thought.
Thanks!
Comment by Bruce Percy — 4 February, 2012 @ 9:36 am
Your welcome, feel free to send me some royalties from the sale of that book!
When I started taking photography seriously, which was only 3 years ago, I used to get stressed out whenever I was in work and saw an amazing sunset out the window, or sitting in the passenger seat of my girlfriend’s car as rustic village in Korea just passed by. I used to believe that I had just missed a great photo, as if the photo preexisted a priori, and all I had to do was to reveal it with a lens and shutter release. Sounds silly, but I felt that when I released that shutter I was, literally, capturing a moment and that every time I passed one up that moment was gone, consigned to “what if”. It actually bothered me, but it made me get out my camera and shoot 5 days a week. I learned a lot during that period, including that no matter how often I brought my camera out, or how hard great the light was, there was always another viewpoint from a different mountain top that captured an equally subjective moment that was just as valiant as the one I had hiked 3 hours to get. Once I had learned that lesson, I started to enjoy photography more than ever, and I began to see each scene as a smorgasbord of raw material for me to play with, and that there was no “one” moment there that I had to find. Sounds blatantly obvious now, don’t know why I struggled with it for so long!
P.S. My people will be in touch with your people regarding the royalties about the book ;)
Comment by ColinCroke — 5 February, 2012 @ 3:19 pm
The urge to photograph everything that is visually pleasing can lead to obsessive behaviour and stands in the way of just enjoying the moment of a beautful landscape. I have this problem too, but ultimately we should be able to see and appreciate the world around us, thanks to enhanced perception coming from years of photography. This would allow us to drive on and enjoy what is there, but I agree, sometimes you have to capture the moment by turning around and get that photo. It is an effort and a bit disruptive, but that is the way that leads to a good result. You probably have to find the right balance.
Comment by pboehi — 10 February, 2012 @ 10:31 am