I’ve just finished editing my images from the Bolivian altiplano and here is a contact sheet of the final 40 images I’m happy with.

I was thinking today about how I love the entire creative process: you start with nothing and even trying to visualise what you may come home with is often nowhere close to what you end up with. There’s that element of the unknown about the creative process that is intriguing.

contact

But there are some factors which can heavily influence the outcome of a body of work. I don’t have a ‘formula’ as such and tend to like just ‘going with the flow’ and seeing where my editing will take me. But here is a rough outline of what happens for me:

1. I get home with a massive pile of films processed. I don’t look at all of the sheets in one sitting because I’ll be overloaded with the need to work on too many images.

2. I’m patient. Good work is not rushed and rome wasn’t built in a day. So I just consider that each image takes time to be born correctly, and if there are golden nuggets in the pile of transparencies I have, then I will find them : at the right time, when I’m in the right mood to approach them correctly.

3. Sometimes I’m not sure how to approach an image, how to edit and this can be when I’m tired, done too much editing, or I’m simply not feeling inspired enough. Taking a break, heading outside for a walk, a cycle, or doing something else with my life completely seperated from my photography is the only way of approaching my images with a fresh and keen eye.

4. I work on a sheet at a time. I don’t peek to see what else I have. I take each contact sheet on it’s own merit and work on the best images from that sheet. This allows me to find images that I’d easily forget about if I found something better underneath.

5. I ruthlessly throw images away. For instance, on a contact sheet all the shots of the same location may be excellent, but there may be one or two that stand above the rest. Those are the two images I will work on. The others are stored away, but not used. If an image is not working, and I’ve tried a few things, given it some space, etc, then it will be discarded. If there is a glaring problem with focus for instance, then it is discarded. If the composition just isn’t working, and no amount of cropping helps – then it’s discarded. Sometimes I have a nice image, but something causes it to be discarded because it’s simply too much effort to get it right. Good images should not take a long time to edit. They should just come together smoothly.

6. Quality Control. Ok, so I have say 40 rolls of film, each with 10 images on them – that’s 400 images. I’ll edit it down to around 80 images. Those that are really standing out mixed with those that are nice. Some may stay because I want to show an aspect of a location that is not already covered by the proposed final portfolio. But I will keep editing down, until I have a smaller number of images. If you want to be a good photographer, you have to be objective about your work and maintain a certain level of quality. Only release what you are truly happy with (unless you suffer from very high expectations in which case you are in trouble).

7. Be kind to your mistakes, try to see the images as someone else would. Some flaws are acceptible, and if the image still conveys a spirit or ‘feeling’ that you like, even though it’s slightly blurred due to camera shake – then it’s an image that still works. Images should be read on face value. Pixel peeping is not a productive activity. See the wood, not the trees.

8. Live with the images for a while. You get a sense of distance from the whole process and can then be more objective about your work.

I’ve taken around three weeks to produce 40 images. To some digital shooters, this is not a way forward, but for me : it IS the way forward. Good images, ones that I can live with and feel close too, can only be born correctly if I am receptive and nurtiring with what I do.

On the Bolivian Altiplano, I photographed El Arbol de Piedra (the stone tree) around 6am.

el-arbol-de-piedra

I had to retreat to the 4WD and sit in the warmth because my hands had gone so cold that they had become unresponsive. I couldn’t operate my camera. It was a stunning revelation because I wasn’t aware of it being cold. I’m not sure if this was because I was suffering slight altitude sickness problems anyway, but at the time I thought it was just that temperatures at higher altitudes just ‘felt different’ from the cold I know so well in a Scottish winter.

I dug out the contact sheet of film yesterday and this was the one that really stood out. It was shot a little bit earler than the rest and the light was just a bit more magical. Wish I’d laid off on the polariser though, but all the same, I’m happy with this shot.

Dali was apparently inspired by this very location and now that I’ve been there, I can exactly see how.

I shot this with a Mamiya 7 and I can’t remember if it was wide angle (50mm) or standard (80mm). But I do remember not using a Grad filter because I found that the landscapes in Bolivia seemed to have the same luminance as the skies did. I don’t know why that should be.

Just one of the many strange things I found different about shooting this landscape, compared to any other I’ve done so far.

One of my most favourite things to do with landscapes is to collapse many moments in time into one frame. In other words, do long exposures. I use several techniques for this, but I thought it would be good to upload a reciprocity table for Fuji’s Velvia 50 RVP.

Long exposure of the Pap of Glen Coe, Scottish Highlands

Just in case you don’t know what reciprocity is, I’ll explain. When shooting film, most folk think that the relationship between the shutter and aperture are always linked. They’re not. As you get down to longer exposures, film loses it’s sensitivity; the relationship between the shutter speed and aperture fall apart, typically once you get past 2 seconds with Velvia. Which means that if you rely on your meter, you’re going to underexpose your images. So you need to compensate.

Now, you might wonder how on earth it’s possible to generate an exposure that requires more than 2 seconds to expose. Even during sunrise when the light level is low, and you’re shooting at f22, the meter may only say 2 seconds at the lowest range. So how is it possible to shoot for longer? Simple, I use full ND filters – often stacking up to 5 stops of ND in front of the lens, so that I end up with exposures around 30 seconds or perhaps a minute of two. Coupled with a compensation factor to make sure the exposure isn’t underexposed, the exposure times will be often double that.

Click on the chart for a larger, printable version

The chart has three columns. The first shows the indicated exposure time – what the camera meter may say. The second column shows what you should actually expose at. For instance, if the meter says you should expose for 10 seconds, you should actually shot for 16 seconds. Film has lost it’s sensitivity, so you are basically adding a little bit extra on top to correct for this. There is also a third column – ‘Magenta CC Filter’. Velvia apparently goes a little green the longer you expose it, and the suggested way to correct this is to use a magenta filter. They come in different strengths as you can see on the graph. To be honest though – I’ve never seen the green cast that people talk about, so I simply don’t use this column, but it’s there if you feel you need it. Who knows, perhaps I’m green-blind!

So why do I want to shoot long exposures? For mystery, in order to create a scene that is a departure from reality. I love surreal images, and if I find a good landscape where the clouds are moving fast for instance, a long exposure allows the movement of the sky to be recorded. It can add a sense of movement or drama to an image. There are any other reasons, but generally, I tend to find the blurring of moving water, moving sky can radically change the experience of how we view the image.