I've chosen to donate to the British Red Cross.
Nepal Red Cross volunteers are searching for survivors, providing first aid to the wounded and running blood banks.
Please donate now to save lives.
click on the image to be taken to the British Red Cross web site.
If you would like to help the people of Nepal, then you can donate below. This is the official website of the Red Cross.
I'm very sad to read the news today of an earthquake that has hit Nepal. I just returned from Kathmandu a week ago, so it's very strange for me to learn of all the injuries and many dead.
The Nepali people are a very nice people, and my thoughts go out to them at this moment.
Bodhua Stupa, which has unfortunately been damaged in the earthquake.
I'm in Nepal just now, just passing through Kathmandu on my way to Bhutan. It's a 'family' trip this time - with my dad and brother, but I've brought my cameras along, hopefully to make some new images of the people of Bhutan while I am here.
A very rare and special encounter in the UNESCO town of Baktapur in the Kathmandu valley yielded this image for me in 2009.
I spent today going back to some old haunts. One in particular - the Boudha Stupa in the Tibetan area of Kathmandu was a special place for me back in 2009. So much has changed in the past six years for me since that trip that I couldn't help being a little reflective today about it. I found myself remembering who I was at that time, and what I was looking for as a photographer.
I've always felt there is a great deal of value to be found in returning to a location more than once. In fact, many of the landscapes I have photographed, I have gotten to know over many years and by returning many times. Some offer up their secrets upon the first visit. I may find that the first encounter is so special that an impression remains indelibly marked on my psyche for many years to come and seems to be the benchmark for all further visits. Most of the time though, I feel that each visit allows me to learn a bit more about a place, and understand it better. I also find that each new encounter yields different images.
The adage that you can't repeat what you did is often true, and going back somewhere to try to reproduce a certain look, mood or feeling just doesn't happen. You change. The location changes. And new things are brought forward as a result.
A woman I encountered many times at Boudha Stupa in Kathmandu in 2009, but it took me about six days to work up the courage to get in close and make this photo of her.
Being here today, I noticed that the Boudha Stupa has not changed, and it is still a remarkable site to encounter, particularly in the morning when it is covered in birds and all the local Tibetan's come to do their early morning prayers. But what has changed is that there are fewer Buddhists / Tibetans and Hindu's in traditional dress. In fact, the majority of the people I saw this time round were dressed in western style clothing. I am reminded today that the old pass away and the young replace them. The only thing constant in life it seems, is change.
I didn't feel like making pictures today though, despite the Stupa being very beautiful, I felt I had more or less 'said it' back in 2009 and today has reminded me that what I managed to capture back then, was the product of about 12 mornings of repeated visits, hoping to find a new nugget that I had not been presented with on previous days. In short, what I got, was the product of hard work.
I feel today that I've been given the rare gift of being allowed to appreciate my work in a new way. At the time of making these photographs I felt I could have done better. But returning today, I now see that the place is hard to photograph. The people who come here to pray do not wish to deal with a photographer asking them for images.
The Boudha stupa at dawn. Many birds frequent the place in the morning during prayers. A more traditional dress sense was evident back in 2009, and seems to be more 'rare' now in 2015.
But I also feel that I have no desire to photograph this place any more. I just feel I am content with what I got back in 2009 and there's no need to try and add to it.
So if I have any specific point to make today, it is perhaps that returning to a location can sometimes make you reflect, and give you the opportunity to notice how you've changed as a photographer. I feel I am looking back at who I was in 2009 and noticing where I am now.
Maybe some places need to be returned to only a few times. Like a special event in life, that one cannot repeat again, it's perhaps best to just remember it and cherish it for what it gave you at that moment in your photographic development.
My original images of the Kathmandu valley mean more to me now, since I have returned. My shoot in 2009 was a special moment in my own photography-life and I'm grateful to have had the opportunity to reconnect with it and reflect on how hard I had worked to create it.
And that's just great :-)
As my own photography continues to develop, I'm noticing that the portfolio as a whole is becoming more important than the sum of its parts.
I find these days, that my edits are not done on an image by image basis, but instead with more thought about how an image may sit alongside its partners in the collection. I find that although I edit each image on an individual basis and apply what I feel is relevant for its own benefit, I also do a second stage edit whereby I try to find the image's place within the portfolio. This may for instance require me to tune the colour palette of an image to fit more in-line with its brothers, or it may require me to weed out images that don't fit because they don't share an 'aesthetic consistency'.
Aesthetic consistency is perhaps another way of saying 'style'. I'm never too sure what style actually is: is it just a way of saying that images conform to a set of rules, or is it a way of saying that images fit what we know or have come to expect from a photographer? I really don't know. But I do know what I like and I tend to gravitate to those images that I find aesthetically pleasing.
In the collection you see above, I think there is a theme at play. Not just in subject matter, but also in form and tone. On the one hand you may say the images are related by the black sand beaches, or the white ice (which is deliberately on the blue/cool side). You may however say the images are related by the use of strong diagonals throughout most of the pictures, or you may say they are related due to the same aspect ratio (shot in portrait mode). One may say they are related because they are from the same photographer, and as such, show his own style.
Either way, images have to be strong on their own, but it's also of great benefit if they can strengthen the portfolio as a whole. Your work has to represent you as a photographer, so only showing your best work, and presenting it in the strongest way is of vital importance.
I never underestimate the importance of this. Quality control is vitally important in conveying who and what you are. By showing your best work and presenting it well (in the form of a strong portfolio) should never be underestimated. That's why I'm always striving for a sense of 'aesthetic consistency' in what I do.
For a long while now, I've been fascinated by the power of suggestion over a more literal interpretation. I was initially attracted to this aspect of photography through the work of Michael Kenna in the late 80's. His use of shadows and night often convey a sense of mystery or at the very least mood to his imagery.
Just recently, I found out about Ray Metzker, who passed away last year. His work conveys similar concepts to Kenna's. He was interested in suggestion rather than a literal translation. His use of sunlight and shadow to conceal his subjects often lent his work a sense of mystery.
Solitary pedestrians and urban spaces transformed by sunlight and shadow. Image © Ray Metzker
Suggestion is a powerful tool to possess as a photographer - because being able to get your audience to stop and listen to what you are doing often happens through the art of suggestion.
In Ray Metzker's images, he shows tremendous skill in using sunlight and shadow to convey mystery. What may have otherwise been an ordinary scene becomes more interesting and thought provoking when shade is used to conceal or reveal.
Ray would produce portfolios based on these tonal suggestions rather than by subject matter. This resonates with me because I feel I have been doing something similar; for a while now, I have been choosing images where they are related either by tonal response or by colour palette.
Ray Metzker's use of sunlight and shadow was masterful. Image © Ray Metzker
To explain further, I find Iceland to be a monochromatic place: black sand and white ice. Bolivia is about blues and reds: the lagoons of red sediments and the salt flats at twilight intertwine to offer up a particular colour palette. So I tend to go looking for subjects that fit together tonally or by colour - as a collection. These two places are responsible alone for me branching out into monochrome work. They have taught me that the portfolio - the whole is greater than the sum of its parts.
I see a similarity in Ray Meskier's work where he chooses subjects that are collected together by tonal similarities. People in the city often photographed as silhouettes, or with their identities concealed by use of shadow strengthen his portfolio as well as lend a very decisive look.
Images don't always have to utilise the full tonal range. Here Ray Metzker uses mostly shadow to mid-tones only. I find the deliberate concealment of the people's faces adds further mystery to the image. Image © Ray Metzker
His work has a style - something that we are all trying to develop or bring forward in our own work. And this is perhaps the most important lesson from looking at this work: it's clear that Mezkier has thought about the aesthetic qualities of his final selection of images and also the subject matter in such a way that we are clear each photograph is by the same author.
I learn a lot by looking at work that I find inspiring. It doesn't have to be landscape related for me to 'get it'. I just have to find a connection in the work - to see something that I find intriguing, or that makes sense to me in some way that I hadn't thought of. With Ray Metzker's work, I do exactly that. I learn about image selection based on using tonal responses but I also learn that his choice to make people very anonymous or to conceal their identities through his use of shadow and sunlight can lend the work a thematic quality which goes a long way in conveying a photographic style.
And sometimes it's the sudden split between shadow and sunlight that throws a contrast; like two images spliced together, providing a sense of tension between the two subjects in the frame. Image © Ray Metzker
And then there are his choices in composition. I've always thought that street photography has less to do with aesthetics and more to do with narrative. But in Ray's work the story is missing. He has deliberately chosen to conceal most of his subjects so we know very little about them. Instead we are presented with compositions constructed through form and tone only. They are like landscape studies about the people in a city.
A study of graphic qualities. Image © Ray Metzker
If you feel I'm not on here much, or not writing as frequently, it's simply because of two things:
1) work commitments
2) only wanting to write when I have something to say
In the age of 'social networking', I'm aware that many people expect a constant, frequent update on what I'm doing.
I'd just like to point out that when I'm running workshops / tours, I usually have very little free time to myself. I love my workshops and tours, enjoy the participants company, but it's a very intense period of time - often getting up at 5am and not finishing until 9pm. So I have very little free time to blog.
Also, I don't wish to pollute my site, or your free time with noise.
So just to let you know - I do intend to keep on Blogging and I do intend to keep filling this blog with my thoughts on photography. I just want to make sure that what I post, is of value.
So please do keep checking in from time to time :-)
Just wanted to share with those of you who don't read my newsletter. I had a nice time with Michael Kenna in the landscape for 4 days this March. He's a lot of fun and hope to see him again some time when / if he can fit it into his schedule.
Michael Kenna & Me, March 2015. It was a lot of fun MK - thanks for the visit !
He has been a terrific influence on my own work, so it was a real pleasure and honour to spend time with him. Best of all, he such an unassuming, fun person to be around :-)
Tonight I'm busy editing a lot of new images from Iceland and also Lofoten and I can't help be reflective about what I've captured this year so far.
There was so much snow in Lofoten that I didn't know where to take my group, until one of them said 'are there any beautiful tree's we can photograph?'
As much as I might want to plan a shoot, decide on what I want to capture, things never turn out the way I expect them to, and that is alright with me. In fact, that is very good indeed.
In last month's newsletter, I discussed the need to not pre-visualise before turning up to a location. We all do it - we've seen countless photos of places, so much so, that it's practically hard to see them any other way. And yet the art of a good photographer is to work with what he's given, and not lament what we didn't get. This means turning off any pre-visualised ideas of what you want your trip to be, because photography is a journey.
I never know where I will be taken. I never know what I might see, and even though I go back to many locations each year in similar seasons, I still find new things.
There was so much snow in Lofoten that I didn't know where to take my group, until one of them said 'are there any beautiful tree's we can photograph?' I knew of a place, but it has never been too successful for me in the past, because the background behind the trees is always too visible. This time it worked because there was no background. It also worked because there was so much snow in the sky and it was so similar in tone to the earth.
Perhaps I'll see this scene again next year when I'm back in Lofoten, but I'm not counting on it. In fact, it's better to just go along for the ride and see what happens and where the light and the atmospheric conditions take me.
I'm just home from Iceland, and I just got word today that an interview that was conducted with me many months ago has finally appeared in the UK magazine 'Black+White Photography'.
Front cover of Black+White Photography magazine.
Interviews are funny things and in particular, the written word can be so 'final' at times - what I may say in passing, becomes a more fixed and immutable statement in print. Whereas, I find real conversations have more fluidity to them - they are always unfinished and there's more give and take as a result.
Mark Bentley, who conducted the interview, has decided to focus on my thoughts and feelings on doing photography for oneself. I would just like to cover with you why I feel it's important that we create our work for ourselves.
I believe there comes a point in our development that we go beyond seeking others approval of what we do. We reach a place where we realise that no amount of praise or criticism from others will make any difference to how we feel about our own work. I'm not entirely sure if it's a confidence thing, or just that over time we develop a sense of trust in our own abilities. Regardless, after a while of hearing other people's opinions, you realise that the only opinion that really matters is your own. The whole exercise becomes a form of meditation. There is no drive to impress, no hunger for affirmation from others. Just your own need to meditate and do the work as a form of therapy.
I might have touched upon this in previous posts with the aim of describing one's own style. But I think that in order to get to a place where you feel you have found your voice, you need to be able to let go of others opinions and just trust yourself to feel what you feel and do what you do. I can't say it any simpler than that.
I’m in Iceland right now. Everyone is saying the weather has been very challenging since December. With one storm front after another sweeping the country every four days or so, it’s been quite an adventure to be here.
And today they say we have the worst storm this winter (see weather chart below). The cabin I am in is shaking with the wind :-)
Big storm today (Saturday 14th March) means we're staying indoors :-)
I’ve had a few equipment failures in the past two weeks during my travels. One of my Mamiya 7 cameras was pushed over by the extreme winds and the outer casing of the body literally shattered in two. It’s now being held together by some duct tape which I always bring with me. I’m convinced it still works, but it’s been put away in my bag while I use a spare body that I always carry with me now.
Years ago, when I was a hobbyist, I had one of everything: one camera, one tripod, one light meter. I could keep these items for many years and see little wear and tear on them. But over the past few years of being out on location more often than not, I’ve been finding that I seem to be going through tripods every few years, Lee filters every six months and sometimes Sekonic light meters every year or so too - my second failure in equipment this week has been a Sekonic 758DR light meter which had been working perfectly fine all the duration of the trip but didn’t come on one morning after being stowed away in a cold camera bag for a few days.
I’ve been thinking about how my backup strategy is just getting more involved. I now travel with two of everything and I think I will be changing my plan to travel with three copies of the vital things in future (camera bodies and light meters and ball-heads).
I have two sets of clothing: two sets of gloves, two sets of waterproof shells, several hats (I keep losing them), and now I will be travelling with at least two camera bodies, and at least two light meters.
I love to look after my equipment and I like to have nice copies of everything I own. Mostly it’s because I treasure my equipment, but there is also a more practical side to this: if I have equipment that is well looked after, it will be less likely to fail. So although I use my equipment a lot, and it is used in sometimes very challenging weather conditions, I don’t abuse it either.
I’m not sore or sorry for the failures in the equipment I’ve brought with me. I’m quite philosophical about it, as the way I see it, the equipment you buy is meant to be used. It's not meant to be coveted or kept out of the rain or snow. It's there to be used to photograph the things you see and experience. If you use your equipment a lot in challenging situations, failures from time to time are going to happen and they should be expected also.
Photography is about getting out there. If we restrict ourselves to being fair-weather shooters only, then our photography will be restricted to a very small avenue of possibilities also.
Equipment is there to be used. It it gets used a lot, it will get damaged and fail from time to time. I have accepted that this is part of the price for getting out there and making images.
And image making is after all, what we are here for :-)
