In Argentina now

I'm almost finishing up my Patagonia Safari in a few days time, and we've seen quite a few memorable images over the past week and a half. Torres del Paine national park was a winter wonderland and each morning we had excellent, atmospheric views at Pehoe. We also had a successful sunrise view of the towers through low cloud. It was really beautiful to witness.

My Hasselblad continues to stun me with yet more failures. A spare body has jammed and now a film back continues to pump film through it without ever getting to the first frame. I've also had the wind catch my Mamiya 7II camera and toss it onto the beach. The camera still works, but the rangefinder feature is broken and there's a massive hole in the top of the body. So It will be going back for repair when I get home and I've just bought a Mamiya 7 Mk1 body tonight to help me out as I'm away to Iceland a week after I get home. I've got a month of personal photography time in the centre of the island and also have to meet up with Ragnar Axelsson too, which I'm looking forward to.

Tomorrow morning we are all heading out for sunrise to visit the glorious Perito Moreno glacier - perhaps one of South America's highlights. It is a living, breathing mass of ice that creaks and groans. Large sections of the face of it come off and hit the surrounding water on a frequent basis, often with a deafening crash.

I first visited this glacier in 2003, and made the above image. It's actually a stitched composite of several images (I don't normally do this kind of thing, but in this instance had to, because the glacier is 4 miles wide, and easily takes up over 180º of field of view).

Venturing here for sunrise is great. Tourists don't arrive here until 10am at the earliest, so you have the whole place to yourself. It's winter here, and as it turns out, sunrise is at 10am tomorrow morning, so we will be there for the start of civil twilight. It's a great time to be there as the glacier faces east and it slowly reveals itself to you as the light comes up. At first you can only hear it and that is spooky in itself. As the minutes pass you become aware of the faint glow of the glacier and then as the sun comes up the face of the glacier shifts through the cool colour spectrum and seems to convey many different colours. It's simply wonderful to witness.

We will be heading back to Punta Arenas in a days time, where some of us will say goodbye while four of us continue on to San Pedro de Atacama for a few days before we venture onto the Bolivian Altiplano for a week's worth of photography. I'm having so much fun on this trip I don't want it to end.

Wish you were here!

HiTec 10 stop ND filter

I had a Lee Big-Stopper filter, which I don't use much, as my film cameras go into seriously long exposures due to reciprocity effect, but I do use the 10 stop now and then. Well, I used to, because mine shattered to pieces. I love the Lee filter system. It's extremely high quality, but I've always gotten along fine with the resin filters they do, so I don't own any glass ones now (broke them all), whereas my resin 3 stop is still going strong after many years of service.

I just learned today that HiTec do a 10 stop filter made of resin, that you can buy (in two variants - one for the HiTec holder and the other for use with a Lee filter holder). I've just ordered one and hope it will have many years of service (for the rare times I intend to use it).  The good news is that it's also cheaper than the Lee Big-Stopper too, and it's widely available. I was able to place an order on Teamwork Photo's website today for two of them and they're dispatching tomorrow!

If your Lee Big Stopper is still in one piece, may I suggest you get some hard case for it, to protect it. Mine broke simply because it was in the pouch that Lee provided it in, tucked inside my camera bag. I've heard similar stories from others too.

Good luck!

Patagonia Calling

I'm in Punta Arenas, the gateway city to Chilean Patagonia. Tomorrow I head up to Torres del Paine national park for the next two weeks of a safari based in this beautiful part of the world.

I'm very pleased to be back here. It is winter time in the southern hemisphere, but despite this, it is very mild here in Punta Arenas. I've just met up with my guide for the week and she has told me there was plenty of snow a few weeks ago, but that the wind has taken it all away. She showed me some of her photos and It was amazing to see how much snow there had been.

The best thing about being here in June though, is that the sunrise and sunset times are very sociable - sunrise is at 9am (bliss - I don't have to get up so early - yes I'll admit - I'm not a morning person - probably much to your surprise). And sunset is just before 5pm, so the day is nice and short with a low lying sun.

It's been five years since I was last here. I can't believe it's been that long for me, and it's only become possible to return due to client demand. I've had so many clients over the past three years of running workshops in Scotland ask me when I was hoping to go back that I knew I'd have enough interest to run the trip.

So thanks Jez, Adrian, Leslie, Polly, Bo and James for wanting to come with me.

Easter Island, 2nd time round

Way back in 2003, I visited Easter Island. It had been some place I'd wanted to go for as long as I remember. As a child, I had a small globe of the world in my bedroom, and I often used to look at the tiny dot of Easter Island on it, and wonder what it was like to be there.

I'm now back there this week. It's my second trip to the Island. It's a beautiful island, and quite strange too. It also has some of the most challenging photographic light with which to work.

Firstly, I felt way back in 2003 that the entire place should really be photographed in black and white, not colour. The subject matter looks very displeasing in colour, simply because stone and grass aren't that interesting to look at. I found my initial attempts at colour images of Easter Island somewhat lacking. It was hard for me at the time to consider taking all my velvia images and converting them into black and white, but that's exactly what I did with them, and after a lot of wrestling, felt that the entire project had been a disaster for me.

Roll forward to 2012, and I've been back on Easter Island for the past two days and I don't think my judgement was all together constructive. I felt that if I returned, I'd know how best to shoot the locations now, and would approach them from a 'black and white' perspective from the onset, rather than considering taking colour photos and trying to 'will' them into being something else (black and white) later on.

So it's been very liberating knowing that I can shoot it more extreme light, and not care too much about colour, just thinking more about form and tonality. I've discovered that I didn't get things so badly wrong on my first visit: this is a very hard place to photograph. The light is harsh and intense for most of the day, and when the light does become soft, often the statues are so dark that it's not possible to render any detail on them while holding the values in the sky too.

This has led me to go back to looking at my earlier work and reconsider that maybe what is required is a more deft hand at the darkroom end of the process. To be blunt - I didn't really know much about tone and form in 2003. I had only been shooting for a few years, so when I was faced with working on my images in black and white - it was a form I knew very little about in terms of manipulation to the picture to bring out what I was trying to say. In other words, I lacked the skill and experience to do the images justice.

So I'm now very keen to return home and go back to the original negatives that I made on my first visit. Some of the problems I had at the time, are still evident in the locations now: statues have no discernible features until the sun is up, and when that happens, there is so much contrast, that there are blocked shadows everywhere.

But I'm happy I came back to Easter Island. I do feel I've been capturing new images, and along with fresh memories of familiar locations, I've been able to reinterpret the scenery in a new way. The light is still harsh for most of the day, but on this trip I'm seeing a lot of rain in the mornings, which is helping diffuse and bounce the light around the landscape a bit more.

On a different note, the island hasn't changed much in almost 10 years. There's little in the way of development which is just great to see, but if I were to criticise anything, it would be CONAF's treatment of the historic locations. Many now have really ugly wooden fence posts around them, which make for difficulty in shooting, and they don't discourage people from going in and touching the relics either. So nobody wins. That nice shot of the stone circle you see in this very post is now no longer possible because of some wooden fence that looks like it was put up by my neighbour after a visit to Homebase.

A few days a go, I wrote on this post some misleading information about the access rights to Rano Raraku. I said:

"The other thing that is really quite upsetting about this, is restrictions now to Rano Raraku (where all the stone heads were carved and many are still to be found). To get in here, it is now a $60 USD entry fee. That is fair I feel. I think it's good that they charge a price for the upkeep of these historic areas, and the ticket does last for 5 days. But what I really object to is that the ticket is only valid for one entry only. If you want to go back again, it will cost a further $60 USD, which feels as if someone at CONAF was in a very petty mood at the time of the ticket price and rules review."

It turns out that this is not correct - access is for multiple times over a 5 day period, so I think the price of the ticket is very reasonable indeed. CONAF told me today that the price of the ticket was $10 USD for around 20 years, so they needed to upgrade the price, which is understandable, but the main argument I had was access only once. It isn't true, and seems to be a story that is propagated on websites and also through word of mouth via tourists on the island.

Exhibition

I will be holding an exhibition of my Iceland images this October, in Edinburgh. This exhibition will run to coincide with the launch of my second book - "Iceland, a journal of nocturnes".

I'll post more about the firmer details as I find out more myself, but felt I should let you know about these dates as you may wish to keep them clear if youd like to come and see the set of prints in Edinburgh.

On the subject of doing exhibtitions, I would like to ask you if you have considered doing one? If you have done one, how did you feel about it? and what did you learn about yourself in the process?

My own experiences of holding exhibitions is that it is a very rewarding process in many ways. On the surface it may appear that most of what goes into putting an exhibition together is all about the choosing of images and getting them printed - possibly for the first time. But that's only a tiny part of what an Exhibition is all about.

You learn a lot about yourself in the process. In my own case, for a long while I never felt ready to do an exhibition, until I discovered that it seemed to be a trait of my own personality to 'never feel ready to do anything'. My photography has taught me to be 'bold and brave'  and just go ahead and do it. I've had to overcome feelings that my work isn't good enough, or that I didn't have enough good images. I think these feelings are common and unfounded. They stem from a form of self-protection that tries to keep you in your comfort zone, but at the disadvantage of not letting you try things out and grow as a person.

It may feel rather daunting at first, but once you start to get things rolling, it takes on a life of its own, and you start to discover that there's a sense of direction and focus to your work, and that you're really looking forward to showing your work to others.

And that's possibly the biggest satisfaction one can get from an exhibition of your own work. Friends and family, often unsuspecting that you had it in you, are surprised, supportive and it creates a bit of a buzz because you're doing something out of the ordinary. You are also exposing yourself to others in a much more intimate way. A website is very easy to create and show your work on, but by holding an exhibition, you invite others to have a more personal dialog with your work and with yourself. So there is an element of putting yourself on the line and pushing through your own comfort zone.

I think that's why exhibitions are so important for personal growth. We learn a lot about ourselves and what we're capable of by setting up an display of our work. Just the simple fact that you do an exhibition can be a massive stone-turner for you - you've achieved something - put a thought into motion and that thought has become reality.

Over the past decade, I've had many of my 'dreams' turn real. Doing my first exhibition in 2002 showed me that if I have a thought - I can put it into practice and make things happen. This has given me a template with which to approach everything else I do in my photographic (and non photographic) life. I no longer think that dreams are dreams. They are the igniter for showing me the way forward with what I do.

Running an exibition is a very liberating experience. They bring friends and family together. You get to see the people around you support you. You get to know that people care about you. You also get a lot of confidence and a high from doing the entire thing.

So have you thought about setting up an exhibition of your work?

Banana Keyboard

I saw this on the BBC news site a few days ago, and wanted to post about it. It's got nothing to do with photography (as far as I can see, so far), but it's inspiring anyway. I love the Banana keyboard the best:

It's done with a device called Makey Makey, which looks like it's not available yet, but they have a pledge area to make the project viable. If you'd like to contribute, or find out more about it, go here:

http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/joylabs/makey-makey-an-invention-kit-for-everyone

On my travels

Today I'm heading off for about a month. During the coming time away I will be heading off to Easter Island, Patagonia and Bolivia. It looks all set to be an interesting month ahead for me doing some personal photography on Easter Island, and then running photographic safaris in Patagonia and the Bolivian Altiplano.

It's been a while since I was back in Torres del Paine national park in Chile. It is without doubt one of my favourite places on Earth. I've been busy packing for the trip for about a week now - I always seem to forget something, so in a vain attempt to not leave home without something important, I start to pile up a small mountain of equipment to take on the trip.

I've got two camera bags to take with me. I love the ThinkTank Airport International and Take-Off bags - you can see the content of my bag here:

I've got my Mamiya 7II plus three lenses, and a Hasselblad kit too in this bag, along with all the Lee filters and light meter that I use. This bag is purely used to get me through the airport-circus and around most of the heavy traveling I'll be doing.

Once on location, I prefer to go out shooting with a smaller bag and one outfit only - doing this makes me more focussed on working on the landscape and less on thinking of which system to use. I use a small shoulder bag for the outfit I use on location, because quite frankly - I detest backpacks - if I can get away without  using them - I will. Backpacks mean I have to stop, take the bag off my back and lay it on the ground. I prefer a bag that I can access things from the top without everything spilling out everywhere and a smaller bag means I take less, and if I take less, I'm more mobile, and less burdened down by the weight and choice of what to use once I've found my spot.

I'll try to post some things on the blog over the coming month, but I'm not so sure I'll be able to do that, as we will be in remote regions with little or no communication.

Iceland book update

I've just created a dedicated Facebook page for my forthcoming book 'Iceland - A journal of Nocturnes'. You can view it here and there is more information on the intro by Ragnar Axelsson as well as the image selection in the book. Last week, the art work for my Iceland book was finalised.

There's been a bit of adjustment to the entire content from its inception which has been fascinating for me to observe. Any creative project seems to take on a life of its own and this book has taken shape in a way I wasn't expecting. What was going to be a simple monograph has turned into a journey through Iceland's landscape - as my friend Mike Green (who has helped review the content) says - it's like a photographic day, taken over several years.

Now that the art work and content of the book is now complete, I should feel as though the book is finished, but I know from experience that nothing is ever finished. The book is a stepping stone of sorts - maybe a document of my experiences to date venturing around the Icelandic landscape.... let me explain.

When working on new images, I don't often see that they will become part of something later on. I could easily have assumed that once I'd been to Iceland, there was little point in returning again. But I have done, on four occasions and created new work on most of those trips. Each time I've returned, I feel I've learned a little bit more about the Icelandic landscape, and also myself as a photographer. I also discover that my previous images of Iceland seem to take on a new meaning for me. It's like I'm able to look at them a little differently, all because I've had a new experience. The newer work seems to affect my impressions of what I think of my older work.

Everything is fluid and always in a state of 'transition'.

It is only as time passes, that we can review what we've done and see parallels, or themes that cross several bodies of work. As much as I feel that my Iceland book is simply a document of my experiences to date, I know that it has come together over almost a decade. By looking back I can see there was a clear path that led from my first Icelandic outing to where I am now. I wish it was so clear to see the path ahead.... and wonder what the final book will be the catalyst for?

I'm extremely excited about this as I hadn't envisioned creating a first book, let alone a second book. Things just seem to take their own course, and when you figure out how to do something first time round, it's much easier the second time.

I'll be announcing a release date, and also a very strictly limited edition of the book that will come with three prints (to make up a beautiful triptych) in a few months from now. The edition will be limited to 45 copies only and the prints will not be available as single prints with other editions of the book, so stay tuned to my monthly newsletter for the first word on this.

I should also mention that there is also going to be a book-launch & print exhibition to coincide with the release of book. More to follow on the dates and venue (in Edinburgh) for this soon.

Photographs not taken

A degree of restraint is what's required, I feel. This week I bought a copy of Will Steacy's 'Photographs not taken', which promises to be an interesting account of images that photographers chose not to take.

Like music where the space between the notes is just as important as the notes, the space between taking images is just as important as the making of an image.

With so much image proliferation happening right now, I have a wonder if what we're doing is polluting our visual existence with too much sensory overload?

I know for myself, I need space between shooting because in the quiet moments, when images aren't being created, I can reflect, consider and simply enjoy what is around me - I have to live in the moment just as much as I may feel I wish to document it.

An image should exist because it has a reason. In the film Amadeus, the King says to Motzart that he didn't care for his opera because 'it has too many notes', while Motzart responds with 'but I used as many notes as it required'. Our own work should be similar - we should create what we need to create to tell our story, and no more. Having a sense of restraint is a quality rather than a hinderance to our own development as photographers, so long as we're in control of it and can moderate it.

But I often wonder if what I'm doing is going down a path of less creativity. As beginners, we tend to photograph everything, and anything. As our craft develops, we start to become more aware of what we're doing, and inevitably more selective. We focus more on certain things and discard others. I feel that sometimes I restrict myself too much; I have built up a lot of experience of what I feel does not work, so I don't shoot it - which in itself is limiting as I may find new opportunities if I did.

As time goes by, I become more and more restrictive - the number of images is reduced down and down, while I seek something that is really worth telling.

But as much as this is a process of pushing myself forward, aiming to create more finely-tuned, stylistic work, I'm not entirely sure of where it's heading. Maybe all that will happen is that I will create less and less, until ultimately, I create nothing at all?

I degree of balance is required.

We need to monitor ourselves and our behaviour, know when we are simply shooting too much garbage - and it is garbage, because it's produced with less consideration and less thought behind it (and we know it too - don't we?), and know when we are not shooting enough because we're putting up barriers that stop us from being creative at all.

I think Will Steacy's book is about this, but much more too. I think it's really an interesting view on what made photographers - and she interviews plenty - decide not to shoot something. It isn't always down to 'because I didn't like it'. There are more reasons to this I'm sure.

But I think for me, it's a chance to reflect on my own motivations and to question why I choose not to make images.

I'll let you know what I think of Will Steacy's book once I'm finished with it, but if you'd like to buy a copy, it's pretty inexpensive at just £11.25 from Beyond Words

Between Maple and Chesnut

Today I received some foil-stamping samples for the 2nd book. Again, I feel that things are progressing, and one 'idea' is slowing morphing into something more 'real'. Whether it's making images, and having visualisations of what it is you want to create, or whether it's visualising the choice of wall paper for your home, we all have to dream in order to see where it is we're going.

But with anything you're working on, you have to keep on the ball about the entire process. Creating a book is a long, long process and there has been so many emails between Darren - who's creating the press ready file, and myself. And the printer hasn't been involved so much as yet, but I've maybe emailed them so much now, I'm losing track!

But today I posted off sample Inkjet prints for each of the images in the book to the printer. Darren had advised this for the first book - his reasoning being that although everyone may be colour managed, you really need to send of hard copy prints - it's the only real way to make sure the printer sees what you're seeing.

Anyway, I'll be heading off to South America in a week or so's time. Plenty of time to get lost doing photos, conducting photo safaris, and meeting Easter Island statues. But little time for work on the book. So I'm hoping to have everything wrapped up on the book front next week.