This is beautiful. Right to the very end, it just gets better and better. It's what all art should do.
The Validity of a deliberate construction
What is the purpose of landscape photography? Is it the act of capturing the natural world? Or is it the act of creating art? Is it perhaps both?
I think that many of us come to landscape photography through an appreciation for the outdoors and the quality of the light we enjoy. Photography seems to be a natural progression to want to be able to capture what we saw and felt.
Some of us, like myself, come to photography through art. As a young kid, I was always drawing and painting, and when I was around eight years old, I was dabbling with charcoal pencils and paper and oil paints that my aunt Helen would send me (she married a famous painter). So for me, the art world had been part of my creative outlet from an early age and when I came to photography, it was through a love of the beautiful art that Ansel Adams created. In his pictures I saw the same application to composition as I had studied while drawing still life's and painting pictures. Photography was a new way of painting pictures. I was drawn to the interpretive side of it from the beginning.
(Close) Christmas tree, Biei, Hokkaido, January 2017
Image © Bruce Percy 2017
Even though many of us come to landscape photography through an appreciation for nature, I believe there is still space in our lives for the manufactured landscape.
Although I do love nature, and think that there is so much beauty in nature's 'randomness', I do however think that manufactured landscapes can also possess beauty. even though they are deliberate (read contrived) constructions.
In the case of my two photographs shown in today's post, there is very little about this scene that is natural. The tree has been carefully planted in a farmers field. It has been manicured to be a precise shape. I think why this location works is because of its contrived-ness rather than in spite of it. There is symmetry present, and I would go as far as to suggest that somehow, we all picture Christmas tree's as having perfectly symmetrical shapes. I think we would also like to believe that out there somewhere is the perfect Christmas tree, sitting in its own space. Well, now you know it exists: this place is indeed called the Christmas tree of Biei, Hokkaido.
But there is still one more aspect to this scene which makes it appealing. Despite it being a manufactured landscape, there is still a degree of nature at play here: the properties of light are at play here and the atmosphere of the location is wonderful as a result. It was an overcast morning with very very soft light. While I was there, I could not discern any difference between the ground and the sky as both were full of snow. With such soft wonderful light, the tree cast a diffused shadow on the ground. It was as if I was being shown the basic properties of shadow and light.
And so, I can't help but think that the reason why I love images like these, is because they are an interesting mix of the manufactured and the natural. They blur boundaries and make me look again. To the viewer who knows nothing about this location, it could simply be a rare occasion where nature has produced something so aesthetically pleasing, and I think the uncertainty of how natural a scene this is, intrigues us.
Isn't there space in our lives for images where the landscape has been constructed?
I think so.
In fact, I think that if an image is compelling in some way, perhaps because it is at odds with nature, then that can be a good thing.
( Distant ) Christmas tree, Biei, Hokkaido, January 2017
Image © Bruce Percy 2017
This week is "write a new book" week
How do you write about 40 images that have been shot over the past eight or so years? How does one begin such a task, and should there be a theme to it (yes, of course!).
Book No.3
Eight years is quite a while. For most photographers it can see the evolution of a style, or maybe just the amassing of images made to mark one's life. But what if you are doing this full time? What if you saw your own style of imagery change over so many years, fuelled on by teaching others?
I know for sure that my own style of photography has moved on a lot in the past few years particularly, and I am very aware that teaching and guiding participants in the landscape has forced me to think more about what I do and answer questions I thought I knew, only I really didn't.
I do know one thing: if I had not left IT back in 2008 to do this for a vocation, my photography wouldn't be what it is today. I feel that being a workshop teacher and tour leader has really propelled me forward in what I do.
More about this book in the coming months.
Workshop Practices: reviewing previous work vs reviewing current work
Before I begin this post today, I wish to make a distinction between workshops and tours. For me, workshops are teaching environments where the primary focus is on giving feedback and teaching people. Making great photos is of secondary importance.
Tours are on the other hand, all about getting participants to great locations, and less about teaching. Although you may learn on tours, this is not the primary objective. They are about getting you round a landscape and taking you to the best places for the best light.
I make this diasctintion, because I feel that many 'tours' masquerade as 'workshops', when in fact they are tours.
How much work was put into these images? What limitations and obstacles did I encounter? How much post editing was done, and why did I choose to do what I did? All these questions are very hard to ask a participant on a workshop when they show me work created elsewhere, at a different moment in time.
Today I was asked by a participant if they should bring along copies of their previous work for review during one of my mentoring workshops here in Scotland.
Over the years that I have been teaching in a mentoring situation, I've found very little merit in looking over what someone did before spending time with me. Instead, what I find more valuable is to spend time with the participants on the workshop. I'm able to get a clearer picture of where they are technically and artistically, and more importantly who they are.
I would like to go into in detail today on this post for my reasons why I feel reviews of past work aren't of much value. I know this may go against the grain for some of you - particularly with USA clients as I hear bringing along portfolios for review is a common component of many workshops in the states. But if you can bear with me, I'd like to spell out my views on the value of critiquing work created *during* a workshop, rather than relying on work created elsewhere.
In general, I don't find looking over past work to have much value for the following reasons:
There is no audit trail
When I mean 'no audit trail', I mean that it is very hard to get an understanding of what limitations and conditions the images were made under. Why did the participant choose a certain composition and what obstacles did they encounter at the time? If something clashes in the landscape, I do not know if this was noticed at the time of capture but was chosen because it was the only way to make the shot, or if it was chosen because the participant did not notice the error at the time of capture.
Further to this, in the case of edited (post-processed) work, it is doubly difficult to give advice because the original unedited raw material is not available for comparison. It's important to see the journey the image made from capture to final edit and if the unedited work is available I can see what choices were made, or how different the final edit is from the original capture. But this is rarely provided.
Also...
Past images show no indication of current abilities
Indeed, it is often hard when looking at the finished work to get a sense of what the participants abilities were at the time of capture, and more importantly, where they are presently. It is not uncommon for me to be shown images that were made a year or several years previously.
It is however, possible for me to draw up a rudimentary idea of the participants current ability. But only to a point. It is very easy to see if the work is accomplished, but other than that, I am left with a lot of unanswered questions, such as:
1) Was the participant shown the composition or did they choose it themselves?
2) Did they understand the value of the quality of light they shot in, or again, were they shown it?
3) Are these images the best they've made over the past few years? and do they truly represent their current ability? What a participant may think of as important work to show me may not be. I am often surprised to find out that participants have shown me work I have very little to contribute towards, only to find out later there was other work they did not show me which may have provided more value as a critique session.
4) Have these images been reviewed and edited several times before by other workshop leaders? Is what I am seeing now, an amalgamation of other people's ideas? or is this an accurate view of the participants own ideas?
I really have no idea.
So I believe that looking at previous work is of little value. I don't know what choices were made and why they were made. Which leads me on to my next point;
I was not there, I do not know the limitations the participant was under
Giving composition advice of 'if you stood two feel to the left', is invalid because I wasn't there. There may have been a pool of alligators to the left, or something distracting that the participant managed to remove. I do not understand what limitations were placed upon the participant at the time of capture.
Which is vital to know, as I can gauge what they did and why they did it if I had been there to observe. And observing is a key ingredient of a good workshop leader.
Workshop leaders should be observers
My own view of my job is this:
1) To be able to watch and study my participants and notice how they approach their work
2) To understand how they react to failure
3) To understand how open they are to working with what they are given
4) to understand what their current level of ability is
Point 4 is perhaps the most important because I've had many people downrate themselves only for me to find out they are more competent than they let on. They have talents beyond the scope of any work they may show me from previous outings. On the more negative side, I've had some people talk up what they do and before they begin I'm given a very false idea that they are more accomplished than they turn out to be.
Ultimately, reviews really require an understanding of what motivated the participant, and this can only be drawn upon if I spend time with them in the landscape. Because during this time, I'm able to observe them and notice habits, limitations and aspects of their character that either lend or detract from them making great images.
The value of critiquing present work
Which leads me to why I think turning up at a workshop with a 'clean slate', and getting critiqued on the images you shoot during the workshop is of much better value:
The audit trail exists!
I get to see first-hand what you shot. I get to see the raw data on your memory card. I get a really good picture of what your level of ability is. All this is possible by looking at the images you shoot each day.
Images shot during the workshop show current abilities
I also get to see the most up-to-date impression of your current ability.
I'm able to observe participants and work with them on location
Being there allows me to walk through the process of setting up a shot with the participants, or by stepping in at the last point to see what it is they've set up and to give guidance on what I think can be improved or to point out problems or distractions that they may not have been aware of.
But most importantly, being on location with participants allows me to get more of a direct hands-on feel for what motivates them, and to discuss potential problems at the point of capture, rather than afterwards during the critique sessions when it may be too late.
I was there and I knew the limitations participants were under
Which is kind of similar to the previous point. Simply being there and understanding the weather conditions and physical limitations of a landscape can help me get a better understanding of what was driving the participant to make the images they made.
And lastly.....
I know the person behind the camera
This is perhaps the most important aspect of on-site critiques of current work: during the week I get to know the person behind the camera.
I am able to see how they approach failure, understand their process or notice their good/bad habits. I also get a really good understanding of how much they actually 'see' and what their visual awareness ability is like . Being able to notice these kinds of things about my participants is a skill I believe that all workshop teachers should have.
Being a workshop leader is really about tuning into what each participant is trying to do. There's a fair degree of anticipation involved in trying to work out what each participant is doing and understanding their limitations. It's also about encouraging the participant and trying to be as objective about their work while remaining encouraging.
This can only happen if I am on-site with them, as I get to see them working in the field. It does not happen by reviewing images that were created elsewhere, under circumstances that I am not aware of, or motivations that are now long forgotten or past.
Looking for nuggets
I'm just home from a month away in Norway and just before I left, I had editing my recent Hokkaido work. I only had two days to do the edits before I left for Norway and I knew I had only picked off the obvious contenders for a portfolio before I left.
Now tha I'm back, I have some free time for a few weeks, to review the edits I made, and also to see what I left behind in the pile of over 50 rolls of film I shot whilst in Hokkaido.
It's always interesting revisiting my edits after some time away, and I've noticed some slight luminosity issues in the final work which I have now corrected (but can *you* spot them? Perhaps not, as I think this is the kind of issue that is only apparent to the owner of the work, as perhaps we are often more critical of our work than others would be).
Lake Kussharo
Looking at some of the remaining transparencies today, it's stuck me that I left a lot of nice images unedited.
Indeed, I often feel that the edit stage should be in iterative process. Just because I have gone through the films a few times during the few days that I concentrated my time on the edit, leaving the work for a further week or so and then coming back to the original images and looking again can yield more images that are worthy of inclusion in my portfolio.
A recently found nugget in my pile of 50 rolls of Velvia.
I can be too close to the work. Leaving it for a spell allows me to see things in it that I was perhaps blind to at the time of the edit. But it is also worth going back again and again in the coming months and even years to see if there are images that I've missed. What I find uninteresting one day may be interesting to me on another day which can tell me a lot about how my eye is changing and that my skill and perhaps tastes for certain compositions is evolving.
I increasingly feel that photography is a game of awareness. Learning to see what's there that may be hidden in plain sight. It is a constant game of review and reconsideration. Always trying to keep an open mind, always wishing to notice something that I was blind to only a few days ago. Photography is a way of challenging ourselves to opening our eyes, and the more I continue, the more I know that I am only ever seeing a tiny part of what's in front of me.
Pelican 1510 case & Think Tank Airport International bags for Airports
I've just bought a Pelican 1510 case for flying. Until now, I have used a variety of 'solution's, none of which has been full-proof when going to airports, as each carrier seems to have their own rules and it is often down to the discretion of the staff I meet at the airport on the day of check in, whether I will have to check-in my bag, or not.
Side by side comparison of both bags.
The Airport International Think Tank (Left) is wider than the Peli-Case. It allows me to carry more items but the Peli Case is more durable and still allows me to carry most of my items.
I really like the Think Tank bags. They are very durable, tough and well designed and thought out items. I also love my Think Tank Airport International bag, with one exception: it is often 'caught' at check-in. Very often I will see the attendant peer over their desk and say 'pop it on the scales'. Well, even with the bag completely empty it is around 7KG in weight. So I know as soon as this happens that my bag is going into the hold.
One of the solutions I've had for this encounter, is to take out the valuables such as laptops etc, that I think are a high risk of being stolen. I'm also of the opinion that my film cameras are deemed valueless, so I have had very little worry when checking the Think Tank Airport International in. It has happened over ten times now, and on all occasions, everything arrived safely and still in one piece. That's quite comforting to know, as the bag is quite durable, but the top lid is quite soft and wouldn't withstand someone walking over it.
The most recent solution I've had, is to not use this bag at all. I find that if you turn up with a trolley bag that is the full dimensions, it is often weighed. Whereas if I turn up with a backpack no one seems to check the weight of it. My theory is that they assume that if it's on my back, it can't be that heavy.......
But I really dislike backpacks in general, and I also hate lugging them around airports. Plus, they still get stopped from time to time and have to be checked in.
So I've come to the conclusion of late, that it's simply easier if I just check in my camera gear, minus film, minus laptop and minus anything seriously desirable. Which is why this week, I've bought a Pelican case that conforms to carry-on size regulations.
This means that I can still attempt to carry the bag onto the plane, but if they ask to weigh it, and it is now inevitably heading towards the checked-luggage area, then the bag is more robust to withstand knocks and bumps along the way.
In the images above, I show you the new Peli Case alongside the Think Tank Airport International bag I was using. The Think Tank is wider, and also has more space inside. I can get all my equipment plus laptop all in this bag, whereas I really have to squeeze everything to get it into the Peli Case, minus laptop and minus any accessories I had in the lid of the think tank case. To sum it up: the Peli Case works, but it's not as spacious as the Think Tank Airport International. But I think this is Ok, since I am finding that the Airport International is often stopped at check in and quickly becomes something I am hoping will withstand the checked-luggage area of the airport.
I have no firm idea yet whether this is a solution that will work for the long-term, as I haven't tried the Peli Case out as yet. Also, your needs may differ from mine: I travel a lot, and I've been asked repeatedly to check in my Think Tank, plus, I don't think my old film cameras are considered 'valuable' in the eyes of any potential thief. Whereas maybe your sexy new DSLR may be. But I've come to realise over the past four years, that my bag is often checked-in, and I'm becoming more relaxed at doing so, as it has survived so far and nothing has been damaged or broken. Using the Peli-case for the future just seems like the best way forward to securing the success rate that I've had to date at checking my equipment in, but also allow me to try to get the bag on as carry-on as well. We will see.
The three ingredients to composition
Composition is often thought about in terms of where to place the subject within the frame. But what if I throw the subject out of the frame, or at the most, give you a very limited set of subjects to work with? How would you compose your shots, and would you consider how each of them would fit together in a portfolio? What would be the unifying theme if you had to relate them in some way? Is it the subject, the location, or would it perhaps be the colour palette that would be a more useful way of uniting a set of images together?
Subjects are only one aspect of composition. Colour palettes and colour relationships are another, and lastly, there are also tonal responses. My own compositions are often sparse in terms of subject matter, so I think what unifies my work is either the colour palettes I play with, or the tonal responses.
In my latest Hokkaido work, I've deliberately gone for an almost black and 'light blue' tonal response to the work. The absolute blacks of the Crane birds match and unify with the dark tones of the trees of the Hokkaido landscape: this is one part of a two part ingredient list for making this portfolio work. The second part is the colour palette. Despite actually shooting a lot of 'pink sunrise' during my time on the island, I felt they were at odds with some of the stronger 'colder' colour palette images that I found lurking in my processed films.
I've realised over the past few years just how important tonal responses within a collection of images is to unifying the set. Images are really made up of three dimensions: subject, colour and tone. For me, to think of composition as being about subject only, is to ignore colour and tone at your peril.
This is why I think my work in the Digital Darkroom is a vital ingredient to what I do. Clicking the shutter is only one small part of the image creation process. Identifying themes and relationships in my work is an important part of this process and is crucial in bringing these themes tighter together.
I didn't capture the landscape, it captured me
Thoughts on impermanence
While I've been on the Norwegian island of Senja, I have been thinking a lot about the snowy weather and the wild mountain peaks that surround me.
These mountains have been here for a very long time. They have stood, facing the elements for a duration that I can only begin to imagine, let alone comprehend, and comparatively speaking, I have only been here for the shortest moment of their existence.
Coastal scene, Island of Senja, Norway
This has made me consider my own ideas about permanence, and that I have a tendency to relate to the landscape 'within my own timeline' and think of it as being part of my story, when in fact I am a tiny part of its story.
The landscape has seen more than I will ever do, it has witnessed and been part of land reforming over many millennia. To think that my images may convey this landscape and 'capture' it is quite a ridiculous notion because the landscape is more powerful and permanent than anything I will ever do, or achieve. The mountains I have walked over and the rivers I have crossed are a reminder of my own impermanence. It's a humbling thought.
It raises the question about the importance of my photographs and the illusion that my images have some form of permanence: my photographs are just as transient as I am. If I am lucky at best, my images will continue to exist for a little while longer once I am gone.
This has made me wonder if I place too much importance upon my work. I feel that I may have my views on my own work out of proportion to the bigger picture since it is the landscape that has more of a right to permanence than any photograph I will ever create.
I do not 'capture' the landscape. Instead, it is the landscape that captures me.
The lens points both ways
A good friend of mine just recently said to me 'the lens points both ways' when talking about her work. She was referring to the belief (which I also believe) that photographs tell a lot about the photographer behind their creation.
Indeed, sometimes I meet very talented people who have a good work discipline: they begin things and often keep going to see the work through to completion. I have also met people are are extremely talented, who never finish anything.
And also, I have met people who may not be as talented as the two types of people I refer to above, but they have a strong sense of 'following through' with anything they start.
This has led me to believe one thing: that being talented isn't enough. There has to be a strong work ethic to pull through and complete what you do and to keep moving forward. Good photography is a combination of ability as well as effort.
But there also has to be a sense of balance. Working too much and too hard will only cause burn out. Procrastination may be our enemy 'most' of the time, but it is not our enemy 'all' of the time. We do need to have an understanding of when it is time to not do anything, just as much as it is important to know when the time is right to work. Like a music composer who understands which notes to play next, and when to leave a pause in the music, rest as important as the work itself.
As a photographer, do you feel you have a good balance between putting the work in to create your imagery? Do you also feel you know when it is time to rest and go do something else instead? Do you never complete work? Or do you feel you have a strong sense of rhythm to your creative life and feel you know yourself well?
These are important questions, because our creative output (or lack of), often says a lot more about us than we think.
Muck Boot Arctic Sport - The Ultimate Winter Photography Boot
The choice of outdoor clothing we use is just as important as our choice of camera equipment. If I am comfortable, dry and warm while out on location, then this goes a very long way to allowing me to become absorbed by the process of making images.
Muck Boot Arctic Sport. The essential Winter Photography boot!
For many years I have used Scarpa hill walking boots for my outdoor photography pursuits because they give me great ankle support in uneven terrain. They are also made of leather and with the right waxing, are completely waterproof. They are of course a personal choice and just about any outdoor hill walking boot with sturdy ankle support, that is waterproof and has a firm sole (which will not twist and bend when walking over uneven terrain) will suffice for most of what I do.
A year ago, things changed for me. I took a chance and bought a pair of Muckboot 'Arctic Sport' boots. I have been using them in places where there is lots of snow or water. They are like a wellington boot on steroids with thermal insulation, a rigid sole and they are absolutely waterproof to just below my knees. I have found them to be extremely comfortable, warm and dry and I can even wade into water that is more than a foot deep.
When I bought the Muck Boots, I wasn't sure if they would have sufficient ankle support go give me stability while walking over uneven terrain, or navigating down rocky slopes. I have found them to be sufficient at this, although I do believe that nothing compares to the ankle support that I get from a traditional pair of hill walking leather boots.
The Muck Boot Arctic sport boot has become my favoured boot of choice for most of my photography, and I am now finding that I feel less of a need to take a traditional pair of hill walking boots with me, because I often flood them since they are only waterproof up to my ankle. I think having a boot that allows me to get access to shallow streams and to cross areas where the water is more than a foot deep is very useful.
So I would really definitely think about these boots for winter photography. I am not sure they would be suitable for summer or warmer climes as they are well insulated, so your feet may boil.
One last thing, I have also found that a pair of microspikes has become invaluable for my photography also. It would be easy to assume that micro-spikes are only required for icy conditions but I have found them very useful for slippery rocks and some beach areas where the rocks are slimy. Just this week while on the Lofoten Islands, we had no snow, but everyone was commenting on how secure they felt while using them in areas where the rocks were slippery.
kahtoola microspikes. Essential winter and beach / slippery rocks accessory.
So in a nutshell: if you do a lot of winter and beach photography, the Muck Boot Arctic sport is a very highly recommended boot by me, and I would also suggest you buy a pair of Kahtoola micro spikes and keep them packed *always* in a side pocket of your camera bag.