Photographs
Ann and I like to travel. Well, we do when we’re traveling the way we like to travel. But let’s face it, our travel is for photography, and that’s what we really like to do. Like most of our trips, our trip to England and Scotland was a photography trip and that was the focus of most of our days - looking for photographs. The best part of it is, even if we don’t see any images to be made, we still get to see a lot of beautiful landscapes - which happened far too often this trip - but the goal is always to make a good photograph (whatever that really means).
As the lead-in to the blog post suggested, this trip was a bit different than others. Usually it takes me several weeks before I feel I’m able to really look at and evaluate the photographic qualities of the images I’ve made on a trip. That’s why I often do blog posts that describe the trip first and through telling that narrative and looking at the images to support that narrative, I am able to start judging the photographic quality of the images. Then I spend time further developing those images I think merit the effort. This time though, I immediately felt attracted to quite a few of the images as photographs, not simply as illustrations to stories. I’m not sure why that is. Perhaps the two earlier photography trips this year (to the Kellerwald-Edersee in Germany and to Sweden) warmed me up this year, or the fact that one of the weeks included a workshop (where I wasn’t responsible for finding sites, driving, etc. and could focus on making images and deciding what I wanted for breakfast and dinner), or even that the workshop leaders asked us to select 3 images we’d made for a potential slide show during the workshop (which didn’t happen). Regardless of the reason, I’ve decided to go with the flow and to work on the photographs first. My initial cull included way more images than I’d anticipated, and I’ve only worked on about half of those for this post. Who knows how many will stand the test of time, but here they are. You might want to click on the image to expand them to full size to get a better look at them.
I had thought that I was going to just lay them out chronologically, but then later decided (while I was developing them) that I’d group them into general themes. So the first theme is water. That theme started early and continued throughout the trip. I had been anticipating the opportunity to photograph rough flowing water (not much of that in flat Netherlands) and had planned to photograph a lot of waterfalls early in the trip. Unfortunately, the heavy rains from the weeks before our trip meant waterfalls were torrents and, to be kind, were generally not very attractive to photograph. Things were a bit different in Scotland though and eventually, even the streams in England calmed down by the time of the workshop. So water, in its many states, appears throughout the photographs I made.
For the first image, Ann and I spent a lovely afternoon working our way down a stream in Glencoe, with the sky periodically teasing us that it would open up (it never did for more than a moment or two, and never fully - better than rain I guess). I think I made three, maybe four decent images along that stretch (another appears below), us taking our time doing what we love to do. On the last shot of the afternoon, one of those clearing spots opened up overhead casting a yellow glow on part of the valley. I quickly recomposed the image I had framed to include it to help accentuate the coldness of the valley and the momentary pleasures that periodically appear at Glencoe.
We were fortunate to have found a couple of nice streams (or stretches of the same stream/river) we could photograph along. I immersed myself in finding not only interesting photographs to make, but also identifying the right shutter speed to render the water just so. That is what I so love about flowing water - each waterfall has a character and flowing water has a range of personalities. It’s a process of not only seeing it, but experimenting (and decision-making) to find the right shutter speed to create the image.
We were fortunate to have more than just fast running water. You’ve seen a version of the image below, but not this version. I tend to make way more images of the same photograph when water is involved than with regular landscapes. Often I make 2 or maybe 3 exposures of landscape images (as a safe-keeping backup - a holdover from my film days), but multiple versions of water. With running water, even at the same shutter speed the water patterns vary greatly. But even with still water, each image seems significantly different. The image below was the only one where the water reflected a hole in the clouds (outside the frame of the image) to reveal a blue sky. That was enough for me to select this image over the other exposures to fully develop.
One of the things I did during this trip, much more than I have in the past, was experiment with the different aspect ratios (3:4, 1:1, 4:5, 6:19, etc) that are built into the camera. As a practical matter I often did it to avoid bland skies, or to avoid obtrusive features in the landscape (think roadside guard rails). But sometimes it was a very creative choice and once I started doing it, it became an integral part of my photographing process. Previously I’ve written about the importance, for me, of the frame in photography. That importance exists even (rather, I should say particularly) during the act of photographing. There is a big difference between me looking at a subject, deciding that a certain aspect ratio is appropriate for that subject, and then setting that aspect ratio in the camera to use while composing an image versus just taking a picture and then cropping it during the development process to include only the interesting part. I know I certainly “see” differently when my camera presents me with a square image to look at versus a rectangle. During this trip I realized that the same thing occurs when there is an extreme aspect ratio involved like with this image below. I simply “see” the world differently.
On one of our workshop excursions, I came across a phenomenon I’d not ever seen (or appreciated if I did see it) before. We made a “short” stop at a location, and while everyone went walking down the road to get to where they could photograph an island in a lake, I bushwhacked through bracken fern up the hill to gain elevation so that the trees on the island would not intersect the far shoreline (little did I realize that there was a path that easily went up the hill to a spot even higher than where I first stopped to make an image - which I discovered when I realized, 10 minutes after I’d bushwhacked, that Alister was about 20 feet behind me). The light, wind and cloud conditions were changing rapidly and I noticed an odd mixing of wind patterns that disturbed the water to create bright reflections of the sky and still areas that remained dark. So I composed my image and evaluated shutter speeds to capture that quality of the water’s surface. A few minutes later, after I’d gotten to Alister’s higher (and better) elevation, the wind patterns had changed to cover the entire lake and never returned to the effect shown below. It once again reinforced the adage, “photograph it while you can because you never know if it will stay or return.”
Many of our locations were bleak, and sometimes I told myself that’s what I was going to try and photograph (for lack of any other compelling subject). One late afternoon session (a “sunset” session) left some excited for a potential brilliant sky (yes, one hole in the could would have painted the sky in incredible, textured reds), but I was less optimistic. I wandered the shoreline until I found some larger rocks and, in a particular direction, the windswept water had an eerie sheen to it. I decided to play with that sheen to see if I could get an image that conveys a sense of eerie mystery to the water in addition to the haunting skies. It took me a while, finding a couple of cobblestones to stand on in the lake, and quite a bit of experimentation with framing, but I finally produced an image I was satisfied with. Certainly not a warm and fuzzy image.
Of course my subject matter extended well beyond just water. Unlike the trip to Sweden and Germany, this time my attention frequently fell upon compositions and more intimate subjects. In fact, that was what our workshop with Simon Booth largely focused on, although I rarely get as close as he does to a subject. I made one of my compositions at a mining pit where Simon was walking Ann through making a lovely image of fern tips. I had stayed back to make an (unsuccessful - due to a power line) image of a back-lit tree. As I approached their location and stepped down into the pit, I noticed this composition on the wall opposite from where they were photographing. I climbed up a boulder to set up my tripod, and made the image below. This is my kind of “composition.”
I have to thank Ann for another composition. On the very tail end of one of our longer hikes, when we were both exhausted, Ann looked off to the left and noticed a wall in yet another small quarry and said, “Hey Dan, look at those plants and the wall - that looks just like your kind of subject.” I was bushed, looked over and said, “Yes it does.” A few paces farther, I looked over again, took a few more paces, and looked over again. Third time was a charm and I said, “Ok, I’d better go check it out.” It was an agonizing 50 yards up slope (so said my feet, knees, legs and back). I looked around, pulled out the camera to try and frame a couple of different possibilities and rejected each as to busy and not quite right (or was that tiredness speaking to me). I walked around a bit more, rejecting each possibility. I finally packed my camera and as I hoisted my backpack onto my back (with an old man’s grunt nonetheless) I realized I was facing a small detail of one of the bushes that was against a wall. There was my image. And with another grunt, I released my waist straps and lowered the bag to the ground.
Other compositions weren’t so grueling. At one location Ann asked my opinion about a landscape composition. As I was talking with her about the image, I noticed a leaf within the frame of her image that appeared to have beads of water on it. After she was done, I walked around the shoreline and sure enough, there was my composition.
I can’t really explain why, but this trip I seemed to be seeing them regardless of where I was at. I’d be talking with someone about something, notice a composition and either pull out the point-and-shoot (like in the example below), or my big camera, and make the image. It’s nice being in a photographing mind-set, where at any moment something can catch your eye and give you something to work with.
Regardless of why that was so, it was certainly enjoyable expanding and then shrinking the scale of what I was looking at. And when I found something I thought might make an effective image, working through all of the issues that arise to make it so. It really was the best of what photography has to offer as an experience.
Then, of course, there were landscapes. I don’t necessarily call myself a landscape photographer, but I predominantly photograph in the landscape and do not shy away from a grander scale of image making if I see it.
As I’ve mentioned in an earlier post, this trip didn’t offer the best of conditions for landscape photography, certainly not of the grander landscape. So when conditions were right, like the first half-day in Glencoe, we tried to make the best of it.
That meant finding as many images as one could at each location to take advantage of the light, because you never knew if it would last (which it didn’t). I made 4 different images at this location, to include the hand-held one below (standing on a rock with my arms extended over my head to reach over some river-side brush and to get the trees tops below the mountain’s edges - thank goodness for in-camera stabilization). Not all were successful and by the end of our time at this location, the clouds rolled in . . . permanently.
The English landscape had much to offer, particularly the woodland landscape. An interesting mix of trees, and not all windswept of leaves. It was what I had hoped for, even if the imagery was more modest on occasion. If there were problems with making an image at one location, walking further down a trail could reveal something even better.
And sometimes landscape photographs come out of nowhere. During our frustrations on the Isle of Skye, when our GPS told us we couldn’t go the route we wanted to and had to circle around the peninsula to get to our intended destination, I rounded a curve in the road only to see Uig Bay in brilliant light. Smart photographer that I am, I pulled off on the rapidly approaching pull out (thank goodness the bimobil has decent brakes), took a few test images with the point-and-shoot, and determined it merited the big camera, tripod and all. Ann joined in on the fun and we spent the better part of an hour photographing from this pull-out/viewpoint while cars stopped, took a quick snap, and headed onwards.
Again, when the light is amazing at a location, photograph it while you can, until you’re sure you’re done because it won’t last. It was nothing like this when we passed by later that afternoon on the way back to camp.
And pay attention, because the conditions will change, often subtly, so that you’re suddenly looking at a whole new landscape. Sometimes only for a moment, as when the sky suddenly turned a light rose color, only to revert back to blue a minute or so later. I think this one stop might make for its own blog post - I certainly have enough different photos from this location to do that.
But that’s how it went throughout the trip. It always seems to be that way with landscape photography. You’re around a lovely landscape, but not necessarily ones that photograph well. But explore enough, look enough, actually see, and suddenly you’re off to the races, trying to make an effective composition that reveals something about the place. Maybe magical light appears, maybe not. If you don’t enjoy the process of visually exploring the environment, landscape photography is not for you.
So, yes, this trip provided us plenty of opportunities to photograph the landscape. A landscape that is rich in variety in terms of plant life, geology and man-made structures.
And then there are the Photographs. Photographs with a capital “P”. Images that are somehow more than their subjects and that you see as photographs instead of images of the subject. You often know when you’re making them, like the image below. The scene was nothing spectacular, nor were the trees themselves for that matter. But my eye focused on the dead tree branches, then the yellow and then the red, and I knew something was there. I pulled out the baby Leica and set it in its most extreme crop mode. Yes, something was definitely there. And then I pulled out my artist’s viewfinder, a plastic frame with an adjustable slider to change aspect ratios, and made an even more extreme crop. Definitely worth setting up the camera for, so that’s what I did, knowing I would have to crop the image even further. Is it a good image? The test of time will tell me. But it is a Photograph.
Other images I’m sure will stand the test of time. You’ve seen an earlier, much more crassly developed version (developed on my laptop) of the image below. This is what this image felt like when I was making it. To the eye, there were only hints of warm, cloud-subdued sunlight on the landscape and the clouds were not quite as ominous. But I pulled out my graduated filters, in part to resolve the blown-out sky to the left, in part to add to the mood of the image, waited for the ever so soft glow to appear on the falling creek, and made the long exposure, with me hand-holding the grad and moving it around to hide any edge effects. This image was made to reproduce what I perceived in the landscape. I saw what was there and what was happening with the light, and did what I could to create what I felt of the location. It is a photograph.
And one final image that I think will endure. One of our workshop colleagues commented, “Wow, that image is complex” when he saw it. Yes it is. I was off by myself when I saw the potential of this image. I took my time wandering around this location to find the right spot to place my tripod. As St. Ansel said, A good photograph is knowing where to stand.” Then I spent quite a bit more time trying to get the crop and this framing (and the height of the tripod) just right. It was born of a process I so enjoy, seeing something and working the subject until the framing just feels right. Sometimes I do not understand (then, or even now) why it is so appealing to me. But it is. That’s what I love about photography - moments like this, and the images those moments can create.
In the end, I have to say this was a successful photography trip. In many ways, much more successful than I’d thought at the time. It’s strange how it can be that way, but it can. Just as one can return from a trip with high hopes . . . and wind up quite a bit disappointed. I know that feeling too. So when I download and look at trip images and get excited by them, it’s best to work on them sooner rather than later and enjoy it while I can.
I hope you enjoyed these as well.
I guess it’s time to start putting together trip stories!