Puna de Atacama 2022 portfolio

We shot a lot more locations than the ones illustrated here, but I think that a tight portfolio of images should be a distillation, a quantisation of what you saw. I suppose, since most folks have labeled me a ‘minimalist’ (although this is now how I see it myself), you could argue that the minimalism approach is worked on, not just on a per image basis, but on a collection basis. Reducing down your collection of images into a tight cohesive set is an exercise in impact through economy and strength of illustration. If the images are supportive of each other, they strengthen the set. And if the collection is cohesive, and small in number, then it stands to reason that a smaller set will convey more.

Working on portfolios is a process of discovery. Well, everything is. The assumption that I know what I’m doing during the process of creation is a wild assumption to make. I let myself go, because I’ve learned that there really isn’t any other way. The work has a tendency to tell me what it wants, and it reveals its own wishes as I work along with it. Each action I take, is like peeling back a layer of a puzzle, only to discover there is another layer lurking underneath.

I have made the point many times on this blog, that too many of us are looking for answers before we’ve begun. We wish to hit the finish line sooner than possible. Being a bit lost is not only a good thing: it’s part of the creative process. I seldom know where the work is going to end up, but I do get hunches as the work progresses. Each time I add another edited image to the collection, the collection takes on a new shape. Its mood and what it’s saying becomes either more complex or more distilled. It is in the distilled areas of the collection that I see patterns emerge, and it is up to me to choose whether to follow them.

Emergence, of things surfacing as you continue to sculpt your work is perhaps the best indication you have that the work is progressing to a natural conclusion. If the work continually feels fraught and unsure of itself, then this is an indication that things are not going well. Good work tends to surface, as if it’s got it’s own momentum. Like a good song tends to write itself, you should be acting as a conduit, letting the work flow through you, not from you.

Too many photographers stop at the individual image, and do not see the connections and themes within a collection, or perhaps all of their past work. I’d really love to start to offer my Digital Darkroom class again, as this is where this work on portfolios would be achieved, but I have had to shelve it through lack of interest since Covid.

If you think you’d like to come on my digital darkroom class - it is a mostly ‘editing / review / portfolio technique class’ with some shooting added to break up the class time, perhaps you could let me know.

Right now, I am busy working on a few more portfolios of work to add to this very website. I feel I need to complete them all, and also ensure that they sit well as a group of portfolios on a new web page.

I have been, and I think I always will be, in love with making images into a cohesive set. I think building portfolios is where it’s at, and the best form of action anyone can take up, to see if they have a ‘style’. Because ‘style’ only surfaces once you are able to join the dots, and see relationships in all of your work.

Studies of a singular shape

I love the Cono de Artia. Ever since it peered back at me from the pages of a high-end travel magazine in my dentist’s office back in 2015, I’ve been mesmerised by it.

When I visited the Puna region (a high altitude region of Argentina’s Atacama desert) last April for my fourth time, I was feeling so glad to see the Cono de Arita for another time.

So many feelings and thoughts were running through my mind. The tour had been cancelled around twice at least during the whole pandemic response, and I had even wondered if I’d ever come back again. I’d even wondered if i’d ever travel again.

But here I was, staring at the Cone at sunset and enjoying the hues that were happening.

I did something I had not done on previous visits: I chose to shoot the cone with a telephoto up close. I think my reasons for doing this was purely because I had found there was not much of a chance to alter the composition. Despite one thinking that it would be a short journey to the cone from where we were positioned, I think the walk would have taken at least a couple of hours. Distances are vast here, and scale is lost. It is a deceptive landscape. So moving to make different compositions yields very little change.

So I chose to shoot the scene a few times at different focal lengths. But first I chose to shoot the cone from the surface of the ground. The first image above was shot this way. My cameras has a 45º viewfinder so I can place the camera literally on the ground and still compose. Shooting from the ground can add a certain dynamic to images. Tripod height is a vital component to composition that I sometimes feel is underutilised by some of my workshop participants: some never change height, or set up the camera at eye level and leave it there.

By shooting with the camera lying on the ground, It is an intentional side effect that the foreground becomes extremely blurred. So it’s perhaps best to not fight it, and run with it. I shot the scene with the aperture wide open at 2.8 to maximise the blurring of the foreground. I also made some alternative shots at different apertures to ensure that I didn’t ‘overdo’ or more worryingly ‘under-do’ the blur in the foreground. Get it right and it can feel very dynamic.

I love graphic subjects. The Cono de Arita is one of the most ‘otherworldly’ subjects I’ve ever made photographs of. When the sun starts to go down, depending on where you are situated, it can turn into a triangular silhouette. There is something abstract and ghostly to it.

I’m delighted and also relieved that I chose to make some telephoto images of it. They were kind of a ‘throw away’ effort on my behalf, and even whilst editing the work I passed over them several times before considering them for inclusion. I think my hesitancy to use them was because it is not my MO to make telephoto shots this close up. They have now turned out to be some of the more graphic shots of the shoot from last year and this has encouraged me to buy another telephoto for my Hasselblad 503CW camera.

Should you use Linear Profiles?

I really don’t know, is the quick answer. I think you need to find out for yourself.

But before you go along with adopting linear profiles like you are reading about on many websites and videos now, let’s consider the tonal response that happens when you apply a gamma curve, or leave the tonal range linear:

You can see that with Gamma corrected distribution the tonal range is evenly spread. With Linear, all the shadows and mid-tones are all compressed to the far left.

Since I am not a digital shooter, and have no living experience of working with linear files, I cannot advise you on what to use. But just looking at these graphs would indicate that working with linear profiles is not the way to go. You need to do some research because I don’t have the experience to let you know what is right. And the best research you can do is to experiment, rather than reading other people’s points of view.

My workflow

I’ll let you into what I do though. I am looking for the flattest, low contrast file I can get. Because I am not a digital shooter, I use a film scanner to capture my transparencies digitally. What I do is make sure that the shadows and highlights are pulled right out at either end. This smoothens out the tonal scale, and also avoids clipping anything. Most importantly it produces a very soft tonal range. I also set the mid tone exposure towards the right to get the overall exposure of the picture where I need it. I end up with a very bright super soft scan of my transparency. Everything looks a bit washed out, but I have lots of shadow information and smooth tones. If you like the look of my work, this is what I do to achieve smooth tonal scales across the image.

I then ‘add contrast’ and I do it ‘locally’ to selected areas. Just by adding depth to one or two areas of the frame - the image begins to look very punchy, but in actuality, it is still mostly a very soft file. It is the ‘perceived’ contrast of going from these super soft areas of the frame to darker tones that I’ve punched in that gives the the image depth. Note that I said ‘perception’. The image still retains smooth gradations throughout, whilst also being punchy. This is impossible to do if you just add a contrast curve to the entire picture: everything may look deep and interesting, but you’ve applied hard tonality globally to the picture. This is not good.

So, what should you do?

Well, again, I am not a digital shooter and I do not have the experience of working with digital files. If it were me, I think I would work with a gamma corrected profile - such as Adobe ‘Neutral’ as a starting point, and even then: I would reduce the contrast a bit globally in RAW, before I begin work in Photoshop.

For more information on Gamma & Linear profiles

If you’d like to read more about gamma corrected profiles, and why they are used, then this article should do it.

You may also wish to read Alex Kunz passionate article about why he thinks linear profiles are not the way to go, and gamma corrected ones are still the right choice.

Parting thoughts

I am hesitant to publish this post, as I feel this is perhaps walking into sensitive territory with divided camps about which is best : linear or gamma-corrected profiles. Again, I am no digital shooter, but I hope that my explanation of what I do with my film scanning should give you an idea of how you should do the same thing in your RAW conversions.

My aim is to get a file that has very soft gradations throughout it, and has gamma corrected tonality throughout. This allows me to maintain the smooth gradations while I punch in depth to selected areas of the file.

Linear Profile Post removed

Tonight I got some feedback that linear profiles may not be the way to go, in the digital photography domain, to achieve what I do with my film scans.

So I’ve removed the article until such time as I can do further research on this.

A trillion Trees

“In much of the world,
the loss of the moisture recycling from deforestation
is a more imminent threat than global warming”

I think most photographers are inquisitive by nature. There seems to be something in those of us who like to roam with a camera to have broad interests. That is certainly the case for myself. I often read nature books (not really environmental ones), but really just books about being outside, adventures in some natural habitat. That sort of thing. But I came across this book in the Ceilidh Place book shop in Ullapool a few days ago.

‘A Trillion Trees’ is an interesting study of the benefits of trees. It appears that we are still learning much about what trees actually do for our environment other than my simple understanding that they breathe in carbon dioxide, and expel oxygen. They are also weather makers:

“before the existence of forests, the atmosphere on Earth was baking hot, bone dry, short of oxygen and thick with carbon dioxide. Today, three trillion trees keep us cool and watered, by soaking up the carbon dioxide and by sweating moisture to sustain ‘flying rivers’ that deliver rain across the world. They breath alters atmospheric chemistry too, making clouds and even generating the winds. Trees, in short, create and sustain the life-supporting climate of our planet”

I was very interested to find on pages 34 and 35 that the author states that studies have proven that trees are responsible for ‘flying rivers’ of moisture and that they contribute around 40% of the moisture that turns into rain fall.

More interestingly, the author states that deforestation in one place in the world can be responsible for droughts experienced in another. I learned that coastal cities do not receive all of their rainfall from the sea, and due to ‘flying rivers’ of moisture generated by forests thousands of miles away, a city in China for instance, may receive its rainfall from the forests of Scandinavia.

On page 35 the author states “In much of the world, the loss of the moisture recycling from deforestation is a more imminent threat than global warming”.

We are also learning through studies in Equador, that trees also emit more than just oxygen into our environment. Gasses, that (to my basic understanding) aid the movement of air currents. There’s a lot to learn it seems.

Pearce also states that we do not need to ‘re-wild’, but simply allow the custodians of our forests to do their work.

If you’re a nature lover, like to read about the outdoors, enjoy learning as well, then this is a good book.


Tending your garden

In this day and age, there is still much value in having your own website. But maybe not for the reasons one might think.

Since I put together my very first website in 2001, it has been a place where I have been able to curate my work. Instead of thinking of it as a place to showcase your work, and an outdated mode of presenting one’s work, because everyone is sitting in Instagram these days, it worth reconsidering a personal website as personalised space in which you can play. A sand box if you will.

For me personally though, I consider my website as ‘my garden’. It is a place where I can tend to my photography, sort, curate, try out different presentations of the work, and ultimately, is a place where I can store my current ‘state of being’ as an artist.

I am delighted to find that some of my workshop friends have taken my advice and decided to create their own websites for this very reason. Initially hesitant or against the idea because they thought a website was an aim to either promote or sell their work, they have come round to realising that a website is a great ‘sketching area’ or ‘garden’ in which to tend their craft. One of my workshop friends has gotten on so well with her website that she has found she is also enjoying writing about her work. In a way, her website has become a journal of sorts for her thoughts and current work.

I have enjoyed enormously having a website for the past twenty years. It has helped me see relationships in my work, understand the underlying themes in what I’m doing, and has also provided focus for me in where I need to go next, or where my work is taking me.

If you wish to work on your photography, improve your style, find out more about what you’re doing as a creative person, then putting a website together and tending it like one does a garden, is one of the best things you can do.

In learning to trust oneself

“Comparison is the thief of joy.”
- Theodore Roosevelt

-

“Be yourself; everyone else is already taken.”
- Oscar Wilde

I sometimes wish I could provide a workshop in ‘learning to trust oneself’, or ‘developing your inner voice’ or something of that ilk. In my view, far too many people are too busy either worrying about what others think about their work, or feeling insecure about their work, or not trusting themselves enough. This is in my view, why most of us look for feedback from others.


In my view, most folks suck at giving feedback. Even the so called experts.

But most folks also suck at receiving feedback, and don’t know how to deal with any kind of feedback at all. We’re all under-qualified. We either take it all too much to heart, or haven’t developed the skills with which to be discerning enough - to separate the valuable stuff from the noise.

So it’s my contention that rather than looking for feedback, we need to learn to listen to our inner selves. To learn to trust our own instincts and hunches about what we’re doing.

So here’s my take on learning to trust oneself:

1. Most feedback should be treated as frivolous, no matter who it’s from, unless it hits you in some way. Valuable feedback is the stuff that brings inner clarity, where you reach your own conclusions. Otherwise it’s just not for you. It’s hard sometimes to figure out if feedback is noise or of value, until you learn to trust yourself and know inside what is true when you hear it.

2. Valuable feedback often happens when least expected.  This means we have to become critical listeners and critical thinkers to everything we hear around us. Feedback can come at us in many shapes and forms, and from anywhere at anytime. It’s up to us to know when to tune in, and also to know when to tune out.

3. We have to choose wisely what to agree with and what to discard. I’ve heard so much crap over the years. Like the saying goes ‘opinions are like assholes - everyone has one’. If it’s useful feedback - it tends to resonate with you in some way. A light bulb moment. An epiphany. A realisation. A crystallisation. An observation that you realise to be true. Otherwise, it’s noise and best forgotten.

4. Learning to trust one’s own inner voice is key, and is the skill that we need to develop more than relying on other’s feedback. Like Apple said (and I paraphrase here, as I cannot remember the source of this):

‘if we’d designed the iPhone based on customer requests,
it would have had a physical keyboard attached to it’.

More specifically :

‘customers don’t know what they want until you show it to them’.

If most folks don’t know what they want themselves, then how can they give you a constructive review about what you want?

5. Anyone giving you feedback is doing it from their own history / experience. Take that into consideration when figuring out how much of what they’re saying applies to you. If you love their work, and wish to emulate parts of it, then they’re probably a great fit for feedback. If I wanted to get feedback on long exposure work, I would look for someone I like the long exposure work from.

If you’re doing something outwith their experience, then their feedback may not be be as relevant or valuable as you hoped it might. Or on the contrary, it might be so lateral that it results in you having an epiphany. You need to apply critical thinking to any feedback you get. Work into the mix where it’s coming from, and any factors that you think might influence the opinion you are hearing.

In Summary

I believe that folks hold too much value in what others think, and haven't developed the correct skills to filter and interpret / use what they are hearing.

Additionally, most opinions and feedback are poorly formed. So it’s up to yourself to apply some critical thinking, and to be more discerning as to what you choose to take on board. That means learning to trust one’s own instinct or inner voice.

Feedback is only valuable, if you’re able to recognise that it’s valuable.

In my view, spending time developing one’s own awareness and use of critical thinking, is more valuable than someone else’s feedback. Because the most valuable skill one can possess, is to know oneself.

If creating art does one thing well, it allows us the opportunity to explore ourselves, and to learn to trust our inner voice. If you can learn to listen to yourself more, then someone else’s feedback is, at best, a supplement to what you already know to be true.



South Korea 2022

I’m not really a fan of groins, poles, or Tori gates in water. It isn’t my thing.

But I did find these pillars a little out of the ordinary. The rust colour was also unusually appealing. Which is why I think I followed through to actually finishing the work and presenting it here.

These were the only photographs that I made whilst in South Korea last October that I am happy with. They also feel sufficiently strong enough for me to include them on this blog. I see photography as a diary of my life, and my blog is a mirror of that. So here they are.

The follow through test

To me, there are several stages in the birth of images where the process can come to an abrupt end, or to put it another way, becomes still born, and if I manage to get through to editing the work and presenting it, then it has had to stand up to several tests. Here are my thoughts on what they are:

I have to be interested enough to shoot it

Judgement on whether something is of worth has to be present from the very beginning. I don’t just shoot anything, and I’ve found that I’ve become more selective over time (this does not mean it’s a good thing - as I think being overly selective can result in myself missing out on potential images). But I have come to realise that if I’ve shot the scene, I think there is some merit to it.

I have to be interested enough to scan and edit it

I have found myself reject the work when it comes to scanning it.

I have to be interested enough to actually publish it

I sometimes get to the end, and just don’t feel the work is strong enough. I think this has taught me that I often feel that hunch pretty much right through the process and I need to trust it more.

I have to live with it for a few months or maybe even a year

Sometimes our best work only becomes evident with time. Conversely, more often, I find work that I liked at the beginning, can become tiring or I just feel I see it for what it truly is much later: it’s not as good as I had hoped. So it is removed.

I feel connected to the work

I just have to find something about the work that pushes me forward to work on it. If I’m not engaged enough in it, then I think it will become evident during one or a few of the phases mentioned. I do sometimes find I pursue weak work right through to the very end, and still manage to publish it.

As it stands at the moment, I’m really not sure what I think of this work from South Korea. I can’t figure out if I just had to finish it, and publish it, because it was the only thing I found while I was there? Or is my uncertainty because it’s not within my usual style of subjects? I really don’t know. So I really need to live with it for now.

Finding the right colour palette / tonal response

I struggled a bit when I started work on editing the Jujuy images. I often find the start of some new work to be the most precarious part of the process. If I start on the wrong tack, I can head off in the wrong direction. Which is why I do a few things:

  1. give myself permission to change the work at any given time.

  2. edit a few images in the set to see what the overall ‘tone’ or ‘mood’ is. This may instruct that I go back to point 1 with images I edited at the very beginning.

Edit Mk1

Edit Mk2

Before I left for my Norway trip, I had a go at editing this image of Salinas Grandes salt flat in Argentina. The left-hand image is the original. I found I couldn’t settle into where I should go with it. The hue changed a lot during the Mk1 edit, and I settled for the water in the trench being the same as the sky colour. But I felt troubled by the dark horizon. It was far too dominant for me. Which leads me to my third point:

3. If something isn’t feeling right: it isn’t right.

I just didn’t feel right about this edit. I couldn’t put my finger on it, and so I decided to shelve it until I had completed more images from the set. You’ll note from my post from yesterday that I settled on a darker / more saturated feel to the work, and once I had done that, going back to re-edit the image above became much clearer which way I should go about it.

This leads me to my point today: sometimes the answer takes time to arrive at and perhaps more importantly, that accepting that everything is in a state of flux and could easily change is freeing. If you are the kind of person who needs to know now, or likes to regiment their life, then working on art may be extremely frustrating. If you can live with knowing that you may not know the answer to any artistic issues you have, then you’ll do a lot better.

Our biggest limitation is: ourselves. We are often the stumbling block in our own creativity.

I often get in my way.

I find that when I am uncertain of which route to take, it’s best to shelve it and go and work on something else. The answer will come in its own way when the time is right.

Jujuy

The birth of new images, is something that always makes me feel happy deep inside. It is as though they always existed, but were hidden out of sight behind a curtain, waiting for that moment when they would make their entrance.

From that moment onwards, it is as though they have always been part of me.

It is perhaps one of the greatest misunderstandings in photography that we create the work. I have been aware for many years that it is often the work that creates itself. It tells us what it wants to be, and where it needs to go, and if we are good artists, we respond to it and work with it, rather than try to control it.

If we don’t listen, and don’t respond to the work’s natural calling, then a sense of frustration and disenchantment will ensue.

I am aware that my work of late has returned to deeper tones and an increase in colour. I have not tried to steer it this way: I have just tried to respond to where the work feels like it needs to go. But I am left asking myself: why now? Why after so many years of wishing to return to exploring the lower tonal registers is it happening now?

I do not have any concrete answer, but I am wondering if the hiatus of the past three years, the pause in my creativity has been a form of some kind of reset?

With regards to this new work, I am also aware that as much as I am enjoying creating things again, and am happy that I have fresh new work to enjoy, I do not feel there is any progression in style. As mentioned in a previous post: I am giving myself a free pass on this one. I just feel lucky at the moment to be able to create new work at all, so to judge it and put it up for inspection would be detrimental.

In a way, this work from Jujuy is like a regression in style to my earlier work of the Altiplano. I feel a cementing of style, and a continuation of themes once learned and played with many years ago.

And that is fine.

I learned many years ago that progress is not linear, and it is best to work through what you’re creating, rather than to set high expectations of it being something more than it is. This work wanted to go for a more saturated, darker toned look, and so, in the spirit of following its intentions, I obliged.

It’s just nice to be creating new work, and as much as we often leap to a quick judgement of how good it is, perhaps it’s best to put any notions of evaluating the work to one side, and move on to what’s coming next.

I’m all up for keeping on going. I’m keen to build the momentum after several years of stagnation.