Making of 40 Photographs #23

This is #23 in my series ‘Making of 40 Photographs’. I spent just over two weeks in Cambodia based in Siem Reap, just outside the Angkor Wat temple complex. As much as I like to tell folk to explore the immediate landscape whilst on a shoot, I’m not one for doing a whistle stop tour of a country.

I think one of he biggest mistakes a new photographer can make is to keep moving and not spend enough time in one location.

It’s very tempting to think that because you’ve been down a street once, that it will not hold any further surprises on a repeat visit. It simply isn’t true!

I like to base myself in one location, or a few concentrated spots for a long period of time because I feel I will get to know the geography and the people a bit better and as I’ve already said throughout this series - each day always holds its own new surprises for me - even in a familiar environment.

This picture is one such example. Each day after the monsoon had hit, Deap, my motto driver would take me out to his little village just outside of the town. It was always a fascinating adventure and the quality of the light at this time of day was just superb. Overcast skies with dark thunderous clouds would hang in the air and cast a beautiful soft light over the landscape and the people within it.

We were traveling along the road which had now become a mud slurry, when I saw this woman and her son depart from the edge of the road and down into the paddy fields. I could already see the image in my mind - a shot of them walking into the distance. So I was quick to tap Deap on the shoulder and hop off the back of the bike.

There’s no time for manual metering or changing lenses - I was lucky that I had my longest lens on - a 150mm medium format lens (equiv to 75mm) and also I had a two stop hard grad in my pocket too.

I ran back to where they had just left the side of the road and felt that I was too late. But I know from previous shoots that you should still take the image - I’m always fighting what my vision wants and what reality presents to me. So I took it anyway, and for the rest of the trip wondered just what I’d managed to capture.

I used the line of the waterway as a device to lead the viewers eye in. I don’t often think of this in a conscious way - I guess I just know from experience what works (most of the time!).

Timing is often critical at these moments.  I was aware of DOF issues and settled on an aperture I felt would work and focused between mother and son.

It feels like a shot about dislocation. She’s also looking wistfully away to the side, while we’re right behind him, and he’s obviously looking towards his mother. 

But the point about this shot is that I went down this road each day after monsoon and never saw this image before or after I took it. repeatability is important (and there’s been plenty of that in what I’ve been telling you over this series too). The light also helped. I’d planned to come here during monsoon because the light would be less harsh and more forgiving.

Making of 40 Photographs #22

This is #22 in my series ‘Making of 40 Photographs’. I think too much equipment is a bad thing and I’ve often found that having less, is actually more.

I shot this on a workshop in 2009 in Torres del Paine national park in Chilean Patagonia. The reason I bring this up is that others on the tour had access to some telephoto zooms while I did not. My Mamiya 7 system is very basic - a 50mm (wide angle), 80mm (standard lens) and 150 (75mm lens). I find the system simple, but ultimately restrictive at times, especially compared to SLR systems which have so much more scope.

Or do they?

I had my 80mm standard lens on at the time when I was composing a very basic landscape shot - the Fox hadn’t arrived yet so when he actually did pop up - I was torn. To shoot at 75mm wasn’t that powerful enough to get closer to the fox, and I would have ended up being in the middle of nowhere - not wide enough to capture the entire vista, and not close enough to isolate the fox either. Plus, it isn’t quick to change lenses and I felt that doing so would jeopardize the potential that was rapidly unfolding in front of me. So I decided to stay with what I had on the camera and work with that.

I felt at the time frustrated because my instinct was to get close in on the Fox, yet I’m now glad that the limitations of the system I was using meant that I had to work with what I had and I think the resulting image benefitted from that. It has that nice landscape vista, and simply by adding the fox into the foreground, as small as he is, gives a sense of context and scale that wouldn’t have been present if he wasn’t there. Plus, I feel it has turned what would have been a boring landscape image into something a little bit more interesting.

Had I access to a range of focal lengths, I feel I would have not opted for this composition and I personally feel that the image would have suffered. So like I say - having less equipment can be less of a hindrance and more of a benefit.

Most objects in a scene should be there as supporting actors to the main point of interest. A bad photograph often has objects competing for attention. This image perhaps breaks that rule because I’m not entirely clear if the Fox is there to add support to the mountain vista in the background, or whether the landscape is there to support and give context to the Fox. I guess you’ll have to decide for me.

Workshop Image

On each workshop I do, we tend to spend some time doing a critique on the images made during our time together. A few weekends ago, I spent some time with a group in Glencoe and there was one image from the entire weekend that really stood out for me.

This image was shot by Kieron Monahan - a photographer from London. He shot this on a morning where there was a temperature inversion - the part of the moor we were standing in was in a dip where fog had collected... and unbeknown to us all,  we were just a few hundred meters away from sun light!

I've been in touch with Kieron for over a year now and so it was really nice that he felt that he wanted to come up and spend time on the trip with me and the others. His images are very different from what I do as you will see from his website www.kieronmonahan.com.

Photography has many surprises in store for us all, and certainly, conducting workshops - can often find me as surprised as anyone else on the trip at seeing something new.

I always learn something, or come away from the trip feeling I've had a different perspective on how a scene should be shot, and Kieron's image of the lochan at the base of Blackmount on Rannoch Moor is perhaps one of the most unusual shots I've ever seen of it.

Making of 40 Photographs #21

This is #21 in my series ‘Making of 40 Photographs’. A lot of images work because there is a repeating theme within. Often I feel, composition is about breaking down a scene into the simplest components available. Like I’ve said before - it’s more often about what you omit from the scene than leave in that’s important.

Simple is good. Simple is effective.

I’d wanted to come to the Angkor Wat temple complex ever since I first saw Steve McCurry’s work here. But I just hadn’t expected the thronging crowds that gather there each morning at 5am to watch the sunrise. So powerful is the tourist brochures, that the place is swamped with over 1,000 people each morning.

So I was looking to exclude them. Would you know that this shot was actually taken in a packed place? If I’d shot 90 degrees to my left or right, you would have seen a row of wannabe National Geographic photographers - photo vests adorned, Canon L series glass at the ready for this sunrise shot.

But what I was attracted to was the crescent moon shape in the sky. If we think about this image, it’s not really about Angkor wat. It’s really about that sky, reflected in the small moat within the Angkor grounds, and that crescent moon shape - created by mirroring the top half of the frame.

Positioning myself at the very edge of the moat allowed me to extract all the other tourists out of the shot. I’m always looking at the bigger picture too so I couldn’t help but take in the expanse of the sky and the textures going on in it. Angkor was far too dark to use as a main subject so I resigned it to becoming a silhouette - breaking down the scene into a collection of simple shapes and forms is an effective approach. But don’t forget the quality of that monsoon light too. Shot in the early hours, I knew the dynamic range was narrow (once I’d accepted that the temple would be almost black), so it was now just down to figuring out how best to represent the sky, and I did that by utilising the mirror effect and that crescent moon shape too.... simple forms, simple repeating patterns and great light are often all that’s required to create a new reality that’s pretty effective.

Making of 40 Photographs #20

This is #20 in my series ‘Making of 40 Photographs’. Don’t you just love the mystery of photography?

For me, I like to conjure up a story, imagine what was really happening when I make an image. I think that’s part of the ‘dream state’ that is part of making an image. When I visualise a scene, I conjure up a feeling and sometimes a story to back it up.

So what is ‘my’ story for this image? Well to me, it’s like she’s heading off to get married, a young bride, perhaps getting married to her religion. Of course, I could be completely wrong, but that’s the attraction for me.

And then there is the interaction. It’s not often we get a chance to get involved with others that are passing by. Some people are more intriguing than others and with street photography, I get a chance to enter into their life, albeit for a brief moment.

I just love that.

I often get up really early in the morning when I’m in a foreign city. There is a calmness and a different face to a city that you don’t see later on in the day. I guess you could argue that there are similarities to shooting a city in the morning and shooting a rural landscape in the morning. The city is still waking up and I have time as well as peace in which to roam.

And that’s what I often do is just roam, and see where my wandering will take me and what images are waiting for me round the next corner.

I shot this image on a newly acquired Contax 645 camera and standard 80mm lens. I think it was shot at around f2 - it’s the ideal way to isolate the foreground and diffuse the background. There’s an overall pink tone to the image which I find rather pleasing, but I thing for me, it’s the expression on her face that works for me, as well as the timelessness quality that film presents.

Her mother was really pleased that I wanted to take her little daughters photo. I often find in developing countries that parents are very happy for their children to be photographed. There is a different culture to photo-making in each country I’ve visited. Morocco is bordering on it being a crime, until there is some history or meaning to the shot. Perhaps you buy something from a shop holder - asking for their image makes much more sense, but in general, most people don’t understand why a stranger would want to take their picture. We’re a strange breed - us westerners.

Making of 40 Photographs #19

This is #19 in my series ‘Making of 40 Photographs’. Jokulsarlon lagoon is perhaps one of the most accessible and overly photographed landscapes that Iceland has to offer once you’re left the confines of Reykjavik and its surrounds behind you.

Just a tiny part of Vatnajokul - a massive ice cap that dominates the south east side of the island, Jokulsarlon has been created in the last 100 years from glacial retreat. What used to be a glacial tongue has slowly receded to leave behind the lagoon.

I came here in 2004 for a month of concentrated photography and spent around 4 days at Jokulsarlon. It was hard not to although from most tourists perspective, visiting the lagoon is normally a couple of hours visit with a boat trip thrown in.

That’s what distinguishes us photographers from tourists. Tourists follow the verbatim. They see the landscape in midday light, stripped of all the subtlety that an early morning or late evening shoot present. They may buy the postcards of the lagoon shrouded in an endless midsummer dawn light, but they seldom experience this for themselves.

I like to factor in a lot of time to my trips for each location I visit. Having a lot of time means I have a better chance of capturing the landscape at its most engaging. Each day at the same location is different, the light is different, the weather is different and all these aspects tend to make me feel different about the place too. Photography is not just about seeing - it’s about feeling as well. Getting beneath the skin of a place and learning to understand it.

I shot many images of Jokulsarlon. The first one here was shot on my first day there. The place was shrouded in fog and I knew that as the morning continued, the bergs would become visible as the sun would burn off the fog. Studying the landscape and being aware of that gradual change is paramount.

But unless you feel something about the subject you’re shooting, you won’t get anywhere, and if you do feel something for it - then you’re in a better position to understand it and to photograph it at its most compelling. You need to have patience, to wait it out, to recognise that today is special for being today and tomorrow will present something new.

My favourite time for shooting the lagoon tended to be during the nocturnal hours. In the middle of summer there is no night - just a set of eye patches to help you sleep and an endless desire to get out there and shoot when the lagoon is still.

I shot this image under those circumstances. You can feel the stillness of the place. It’s like time has stood still for a moment and for me that’s priceless. To have that contemplation and space in my life. 

As the earth temperature drops in the evening, it releases the heat that its stored throughout the day. This affects the weather and for that reason, is why I often prefer mornings. By the small hours of the morning the earth has cooled and stabilized and the weather has calmed as a result. Stillness pervades and it’s often the most intimate time for me to be out in the landscape.

South America Safaris 2010

I'm pleased to announce that I'm going back to Bolivia, Easter Island and also Patagonia next year to conduct some photographic safaris. These trips are being run in conjunction with Andean Trails, one of the UK's leading South America travel companies.

Bolivia - March 24 to 29

I loved the Bolivian Aliplano, It's certainly one of the strangest and captivating landscapes I've witnessed to date, so I'm really excited about going back in 2010 to do this trip.

We will have our own private 4WD Jeep and guide to take us around some of the most remote regions of southern Bolivia.

This trip is priced at USD 2200 / £1,466 per person, twin room occupancy.

For more information please see the bolivia safari page on my site.

Autumn in Patagonia - April 3 - 10

Spring in Patagonia - October 2 - 9

What can I say? Torres del Paine is one of my favourite places in the world, and I'm always looking for an excuse to go back ;-)

This years trip was a blast. I had such a great bunch of people on the trip and it was full of non-stop-laughter and photo-taking.

I have two trips lined up for this - April which is Autumn time in the park, and October which is early Spring time. Both of these trips will offer a different view of the park and so I can only really suggest you pick which one takes your fancy. The weather is often unpredictable at any time of the year, and this is one of the reasons why shooting in Torres del Paine can be a compelling experience.

This trip is priced at $4410.00 USD / £2954.70

Price based on a group of four participants. If there are more than this then the price will drop accordingly. Price based on two sharing a room. Single rooms available for a supplement price.

For more information, please go to the following pages:

Patagonia Autumn safari Trip Patagonia Spring safari Trip

Easter Island

This one is in the pipe-line, but it is expected to coincide with the Patagonian Spring Safari in October 2010. I don't have any firm dates or prices for this one at the moment, but will publish dates when it's finalised.

Making of 40 Photographs #18

This is #18 in my series ‘Making of 40 Photographs’. I love new adventures. Setting yourself a new project is a great way to further your photography and for me, I love nothing better than falling in love with a new region of the world, researching it, and then planning on how I will tackle it from a photography point of view.

Not all locations are created equal. Some of them need to be treated with more care than others while some I love to discover by just turning up and seeing what happens. The southern patagonia Ice Field falls into the former camp. It is a harsh, unforgiving, dangerous place which requires a lot of investment in yourself before you go there.

I trekked on the ice field for 5 days, in which time I had to carry an 80 litre back pack full of my camping gear and also a full Mamiya 7 outfit comprising the 50, 80, 150 and 210 lenses. An outdoor trainer friend of mine had told me I needed to get fit for the journey as it would make it enjoyable, rather than a painful 5 day existence. I’m so glad I listened to her about this because I did find the trip demanding.

This is the Marconi pass. The foreground is littered with erratics - boulders that have been left behind by a retreating glacier, and in the mid-ground is the Marconi glacier. We arrived here after my first day of walking for 7 hours with a fully laiden backpack. Just before we arrived at this location where we would spend the night in tents, I’d had to ascend the face of the Marconi glacier and this is where my winter-skills course in ice-axe arrest and traversing gradients with crampons on had come into good use. It’s very easy to impale yourself with the teeth of a crampon boot and so learning to walk like a crab, up hill seems to be a mandatory task.

I shot the Marconi pass in the late evening light. I was just drawn by the grooves of crevasses in the glacier’s face. Each one of them several hundred meters long and possibly just as deep.

But at 180 degrees to this shot we had a view of Fitzroy, Cerro Polone, Torre pier Giorgio and also a hint of Cerro Torre (far right white tip)..... while below you can see the valley we had just ascended.

I used a 3 stop hard grad for this shot, and metered for the granite, as I believed this to be around 18% grey.

Certainly, our first camping night gave commanding views in two directions. I think that’s the beauty of travel. It opens up new doors for you in more ways than I can think of. There is the natural escape from your little bubble that you live in back at home, and the feeling that home is but a distant memory, almost dream like. And then there is the wonder of experiencing something new each day. I often find it surprising how quickly I settle into my new surroundings and they become my norm.... It is only when I am entrenched back home in the humdrum of a normal existence that I’m capable of truly appreciating just how rare a place like the southern patagonian icecap is and I often have to pinch myself to believe I really was there.

Making of 40 Photographs #17

This is #17 in my series ‘Making of 40 Photographs’. An alternative view is often all that's required.

How often do you observe, study even, the location or the subject you want to photograph? I feel it's all about 'understanding' the subject and I find that when I'm drawn to someone or something I want to photograph - time seems to slow down, and the location empties of everything else except my subject. I feel I'm involved in a one-to-one exchange. And in order for the exchange to work well (the photograph), I've got to get to know my subject well.

I'm not talking about getting to know the monk in the picture - such as his name or anything like that, I'm talking about understanding the space he's situated in. Learning what will work from a compositional point of view.

I don't just assume that the first composition I see is the one that works. As you can see here, I've got two shots that I want to share with you. Both I feel work, but perhaps the first one is the most intimate while the second one shows a little more context - there's a monk praying in the distance which gives the shot a little more meaning. But for me I guess, it's the first shot that works the most. I love how I can see his eyes are shut and he's very concentrated on his praying. It's just him and the tree, and if I were bold, I'd say I'm involved too.

I shot these on a Contax 645 film camera using Kodak's Portra 160NC on a standard lens. I favour standard lenses because of their intimacy.... if they're too far away, it's because I'm not close enough. I do have a 140mm lens - the equivalent of a 70mm lens in 35mm terms, but I find I don't use it.

Making of 40 Photographs #16

This is #16 in my series ‘Making of 40 Photographs’. Sometimes you’re constrained and you know it.

Every scene we encounter presents something of value and often something that is of no value, and it’s up to us as photographers to extract out of it what we want. This can be easy on occasions because of the way the subject matter is laid out - and also perhaps it fits the vision we have in our head. These kinds of images come easily, but there are those images which we have to work at because we either don’t really understand what it is we’re photographing, or because there are obstacles in the scene which prevent it from being as perfect as we want it to be.

I often think that photography is not about what we want in the shot, but what we want to edit out of it. When making compositions, it’s as important to decide what to exclude as well as what to include. I just don’t think we really ever consider this.

Take this shot of Rannoch moor. I’d been studying the web cams up in Glencoe for some time during a variable February - hoping to get some real winter light, and it came for a brief day - just as I had a space in my diary to head up to the coe for an evening and one morning shooting there.

The shot has a lot going for it, but for me, what I remember the most as being problematic was the ‘weight’ of the stones in the foreground. Don’t you feel the stone on the far right is a little too close to the right hand edge of the frame? I do. I remember being aware of this, and the fact that there was too much space on the far left of the frame too.... but I was constrained by the physical limits of the edge of the lochan. Yes, the flat surface you see in the shot is actually the frozen surface of a small loch, and where I was positioned, allowed me no room to move to the left. In doing so, I would have been able to balance out the two foreground rocks with the background horizon of the hill.

It was a frustrating moment for me because I loved the quality of the light (the sun is rising right in the middle of the frame, but the cloud cover creates a very diffused light over it).

So I took it anyway. I’ve never been entirely happy with this shot because of the inbalance in the foreground composition, but I’m able to recognise that it’s still a nice shot and has something that a lot of people appreciate. But what I find surprising is that over time, I’ve found myself becoming so used to it, that it’s almost as if I can’t imagine it being shot any other way. Some images tend to grow on you and etch a place in your being and this, for me, is one of them.

On a technical note, it was shot again on my Mamiya 7. My first Mamiya 7 to be exact because I’m now onto my second one. The first one suffered a lot of use and rapidly started to fall apart. It’s not a well made camera by any means, but it makes up for this by being very light and portable for a 6x7 film camera. 

I used a 3 stop hard grad on the sky, and the rest was down to the quality of the light, which you only get like this on a fine winters morning on Rannoch moor.