Orkney

I went to the Orkneys during the summer. I'd never been before so I was really keen to try to photograph there. But it's a difficult group of Islands to photograph. On one hand it has some really stunning archeological remains and some of the most impressive stone circles, but it also has some of the most barren, bare, windy landscapes I've experienced. It was often a test to see if I could stand upright, let alone even set up the camera. Many of the locations were shut due to the extreme winds too.

But I did manage to make a couple of shots I'm pleased with. I got to the island of Hoy, where the 'Old man of Hoy' is. I did venture out there to make a picture of this sea stack, but again the weather was against me. So I settled back in Rackwick bay and shot this beautiful coast line. Some of the stones here are very beautiful.

Procrastination?

Do you suffer from Procrastination with regards to your photography?

It's not something that hampers me at all : I can always make images and feel I'm pretty driven to do so. But there's just so much more to being a Photographer than making images, and it's in 'that' region of my work, that I have issues with procrastination.

I still have around 25 images left to write about under my 'making of 40 images'. I just don't have much time at the moment as I'm gearing up for some more workshops this month : Glen Coe this coming weekend and also Torridon in two weeks time. I've also got some further research to do for some new trips I'm lining up. Like I said : there's more to being a photographer than making images. I only wish I knew where the time went.....

So I hope you enjoy the little video above. I think it sums up beautifully procrastination.

Eigg Workshop Images

I had a great time conducting a workshop on the Isle of Eigg mid September. It's always a very social time for me - there's nothing better than spending a week engrossed in photography with a bunch of like-minded individuals. I always come home from the experience feeling that I've made new friends. The only downside I can see to conducting a workshop is not having enough time to make my own images. This is understandable because the point about the workshop is that I spend time with the participants. However, it often works that many of the guys on the trip get so engrossed in what they're doing, that I have to take a step back and disappear for a while and let them get on with being creative. That's when I'm able to make my own images.

So here are a few examples from my recent trip on Eigg. I hope you enjoy them. I'm going back to Eigg next April for a workshop there. Perhaps you might be tempted? ;-)

Making of 40 Photographs #15

This is #15 in my series ‘Making of 40 Photographs’. I love the highlands of Scotland. I've come to think of them as some of the most dramatic landscapes in the world, even though the mountains are relatively small (the highest mountain - Ben Nevis is 1,244 metres). But the light is fascinating, often a complex melting pot of optimism and despair.

You see, being situated in the northern hemisphere, right at the edge of the gulf stream, and some of the first land mass to be met across the Atlantic ocean, we get a fair share of rain and low fronts that come swirling in, one after the other. Compounding this, Scotland is very mountainous on the west coast - similar to the south island of New Zealand, which has been christened the 'wet coast'.

Anyway, the reason why I bring all this up is because of the photo I'd like to discuss here. I shot this in Glen Coe, perhaps the most photographed region of Scotland. It was taken in the depths of winter, during a snow storm.  I'm always keen to head into the highlands during winter, because the light is at it's most dramatic - hence why most of my workshops are based at this time of year. The sun is often low in the sky, even at midday which means that shadows are long and the tones produced through the atmosphere are rather beautiful too.

I'd spent a few days up in Glen Coe and had finished for the morning by 9am when I came round this bend near the Buchalle Etive Mor. The Scottish Mountaineering Hut is in the frame here, and I saw the snow blank out the sun in the sky. All I could see was the colours of the sun behind the clouds and that was enough for me to set up my Ebony 45SU large format camera.

In an attempt to save money and allow me to use the Ebony more freely, I'd adopted using a 6x12 roll film back with it, which worked to good effect on this image. I do remember feeling I'd set the camera up a little too late for the intended 'vision' I had in my head, but took the shot all the same. Often I find that my expectations can mar the full possibility of an image and this will hinder me from actually making the shot in the first place, or rejecting it when I see it. I'm glad I gave myself a few weeks before developing the roll because I couldn't have been any happier at the result.

In terms of technical details, I can tell you it was shot on Velvia 50, with an ND Grad on the top half of the image. Everything else is a blur and I'm not one for making up aperture and shutter speeds, nor for recording them at the time.

Making of 40 Photographs #14

This is #14 in my series ‘Making of 40 Photographs’. Mount Fitzroy in the far north region of Los Glaciares national park, is a mountaineering mecca. For me, it is a place to test the soul and I've often found myself questioning 'why' I do photography when I'm here.

The weather is so unpredictable, regardless of season. Situated on the very edge of the southern Patagonian ice cap (the third largest body of ice in the world), it has its fair share of inclement weather, storms and sometimes, just sometimes, stunning light.

You may have already heard my account of making an image of Cerro Torre. This is all part of the same landscape and one which I am truly in love with, but it has cost me in frustration and poor health when I return home. You see for me, I don't know quite when to stop when I'm trying to make certain images. I'd so wanted to shoot this and get that run red glow. You see it on all the tourist brochures and it does happen here from time to time, but for me - it was elusive.

So on my fourth trip to this part of the world, I had to stick it out and wait. This view point is called 'Laguna de los Tres', and it's at the top of a strenuous 1 hour hike. I don't mind the hiking, but from previous experiences I'd known that this trip can be a little daunting in the dark, even with a head torch on. So thie time I came prepared with a pretty big head torch. The last time I'd been here, my companion who was from the US had completely freaked me out about 'mountain lions', otherwise known as 'Puma' here in Los Glaciares. They are here, but they're endangered. Even so, my last effort at climbing this hill in the dark had been troubled by thoughts of the nocturnal Puma lying in the scrub. Needless to say, my companion had put the wind up me, and I never made it through the forest at the base of the climb.

So this time I was determined that if I got a clear morning, I was going to do the climb. But when I got there, a lot of snow had been dumped a few days beforehand and many tourists had (stupidly) climbed the hill with unsuitable shoes. The path was now very slippery and even with my head torch on, I felt that it was madness to carry on.

The one thing that did help me this time was my choice of companion. Just before setting off in the morning, I heard an alarm clock going off in the adjacent tent and realised that I would not be alone on the ascent. My companion - Bartos, a much younger man than myself, an enthusiastic Pole, encouraged me to start climbing and he said he'd catch me up.Which is exactly what he did do. We both got there well before sunrise and I was never so happy to have company. Bartos brought up a flask and breakfast as well as a picnic mat.

While we were waiting for the light to hit the eastern face of Fitzroy we debated whether sunrise had passed or not. I was sure we'd missed it but he was adamant that it was still to come. I'm glad he was there to keep me straight as this shot happened almost 1 hour later than I'd anticipated.

Thank you Bartos.

Making of 40 Photographs #13

This is #13 in my series ‘Making of 40 Photographs’. Dramatic light should be on everyone's list for photo making. It's often tempting to put the camera away when it's raining or when a storm is coming. But for me, it's the exact opposite.

I spent a month in Iceland, and before I went, I had done a lot of research on the places I wanted to visit. So here I was in the highlands of Iceland at a place called Landmannalaugar. It's only reachable by a very shaky bus trip over very rough ground and crossing a few rivers too during the short summer months, or by foot on the very rewarding Landmannalaugar to Porsmork trek.

I spent a few days here scouting out the location and waiting for some good light. On my fourth night here, it started to look pretty stormy, so I headed for the top of Mt Blahnukur with my Mamiya 7 and pile of lenses. I shot this using the 150mm lens (equivalent to a 75mm lens in 35mm land). It is one of the sharpest lenses in the Mamiya 7 line up. I love the graduations of tones on the hills and the sky.

I remember spending time up on the hill, watching the storm come in and just enjoying the peace while I watched events unfold before me. Sometimes, even if I don't get a picture, just the experience of being there is enough. In this instance, I did feel I got something quite memorable, which only heightens the experience for me.