Tag Archives: light

On the beach with the Rolleiflex

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What is there not to like about winter? I fell out of bed at 7:15 and was on the beach at the bottom of the road twenty minutes later – marvellous! In the summer, I’d have to be up at some horrific time to do the same thing (and the light isn’t so good…).

It was lovely to watch and photograph (sort of) the sunrise, seeing the light change and transform the shapes on the beach. I wasn’t too interested in the sun itself, of course, but the patterns of the beach and the water on black and white film will hopefully work.

I wasn’t the only one out there: apart from the perennial dog-walkers, two other folks with cameras and tripods were on the beach. Of course, I felt terribly superior: they had some new-fangled digital camera-thingy, whereas I was using my 60-year old Rolleiflex TLR… and now I’m off home to breakfast (whisper it: and to my digital camera for some family photos later on!).

Recommended site

Being a cheapskate and fairly broke (these two are inexplicably related, though I don’t want to go into that just now!), I was very happy to stumble across this site: DIYPhotography.  The first page I came across was a posting from a little while ago on making your own softbox:

Image © DIYPhotography home-made softbox (click image to go to the Flickr page)

Image © DIYPhotography home-made softbox (click image to go to the Flickr page)

This is just great: I love the improvisational and creative elements to this, and the diversity of comments offering all sorts of advice and improvements.  There is something very communitarian about all this that really speaks to me!  I’m excited about photographing a couple of new models soon, but before I do that I’m going to print this out and make myself a softbox or two to go with the umbrellas I already have…

The wonder of film

This evening I needed to be in nearby Musselburgh, where I would be waiting for half-an-hour at the harbour. Musselburgh has a lovely small harbour, and at the moment all the sailing boats are ‘parked’ in the car park round the harbour (in spaces that are marked ‘dinghy parking’!).

Stephanie, photographed on Ilford FP4 plus (ISO125)

Stephanie, photographed on Ilford FP4 plus (ISO125)

On the way out of the house, I took my camera, tripod, spirit level, filters, a 28mm and a 50mm lens – and looked forward to capturing some of these boats and the harbour scenes. I took my favourite film camera, the old Nikon FM2, with one of the last three rolls of Fuji Sensia that I have: this is a bit of a trip down memory lane for me, since I used to use Sensia a lot before switching to Fuji Velvia for colour landscapes; Fuji have recently announced they are stopping the production of Sensia so I have just bought three rolls of it to play with for the last time. It was fairly dark when I arrived in the harbour, and as I took my bag out of the car and began to set up, I realised that I had left my light meter at home – since the FM2′s slowest shutter speed before getting to the bulb setting is 1 second, the camera’s meter would be useless and I would have had to more or less guess all my exposures… so, sadly, I packed everything away again and went to buy a newspaper instead. Next week, when I expect to be there again, I’ll remember the meter!

I’ve read two nice postings on other people’s websites recently about using film. The first one was from the great Bruce Percy, who discussed how much he enjoyed using a particular kind of Kodak Portra film for a recent trip he made to Ethiopia and then, referring to Canon’s 5D digital camera, noted:

I get a lot of correspondence from people wanting to know how to get the same look with their 5D. You can’t.

If you want the look of film, then shoot film.

It doesn’t get much simpler than that! The other piece I’ve come across is more of a short essay by the wonderful Max Marinucci (though the second part describes how he develops film, so you may want to skim read that bit if you just want to pick up on his philosophy about film):

…patience and parsimony are virtues to be cultivated and nourished. When shooting film, you immediately accept the fact that it may be a little while before you see the fruits of your work and, by living with this, you will become a more disciplined shooter, which will in turn carry on to your digital side as well. It also means that shooting everything in sight without any thought into basics like light and composition is out of the question since you only have 24-36 shots in a roll of 35mm and it makes no sense in spending time/money developing simple, careless snapshots. This is a valuable exercise in restraint and it brings us to actually THINK before we shoot. Would you have taken a picture of your toes with film just because you can? I sincerely doubt it.

Although I use my Nikon D90 digital camera a lot, there is something wonderful about film that cannot be beaten by the more ‘clinical’ nature of digital… and it has to do with all these key components of photography that often go missing in the techno-madness that camera manufacturers obscure from us as they add ever more silly functions to their cameras: patience, composition, light, perspective… I’m not a dogmatic film shooter: of course digital cameras have their place (I couldn’t be involved in the same way in the African film festival if I wasn’t using digital, and I do like my D90). I think it is just a question of being reminded of that at times, of using film and digital in different circumstances as appropriate, and above all, appreciating film for all the wonder it can bring to the craft of photography.

The beauty of autumn

The beauty of autumn

The beauty of autumn

I love the autumn – the clouds that fill the skies, and the soft gentle light that allows for a different kind of photograph to be taken from the harshness of summer light.  So whereas other members of the family, and colleagues at work are sorry to see the summer days going and resent the autumnal weather and nights drawing in, like a little child I’m getting rather excited at the opportunities that lie before me with the soft diffused light that is the hallmark of this season.  Of course, all the seasons offer something different, but autumn and spring are perhaps the two I prefer, at least in terms of light.

I’m planning a few short trips over the winter into the Scottish hills so that I can benefit from this light in a variety of landscapes, and am also intending to try a variety of film types (b/w print film in particular) as well as the usual digital images.  So interesting times ahead…

Cityscapes and landscapes

As a historian by day and a photographer by night (as it were), I find I am fortunate enough to have two very different creative outlets: archival and writing work, and the making of images. And later today I am off to Germany for a week and will be able to indulge in both: I’m going to a private archive in Düsseldorf for a few short days, and then – via a circuitous train journey through half of Germany in order to include a meeting with a colleague – going on to visit family in the north. The archive is very close to the Rhine and so I’m hoping for some evening or night opportunities there, and my family live in a small town called Ratzeburg, which is on an island surrounded by three lakes; I’m hoping to catch the sunrise at least once across one of the lakes.

It all sounds like a near-perfect week, combining enjoyable work and pleasurable past-time… especially after the long and exhausting semester I’ve had…

A wedding and a baby

I’ve been very privileged to be asked to photograph at a wedding of some close friends in May, and this week I photographed friends with their beautiful new baby. I was somewhat nervous about both of these tasks, but have enjoyed them tremendously, each in their own way. The wedding involved minimal formal direction and a lot of casual/candid shots, and the baby shots involved the first proper usage of my new studio lights (though I just used the one light with a white umbrella, as there wouldn’t have been space for two more lights, and the living room of their flat had a lot of lovely natural light). I still need to process all of these, but will do so very soon, and I’ll then post a couple of images here too.

A slight sense of desperation

I haven’t been able to make time for myself to get out and take any photographs for what seems like weeks and weeks now. This is undoubtedly down to the day job and the fact that this is just an incredibly busy time for me, but it it is nonetheless deeply frustrating – the need to get out there is really overwhelming! Even around Edinburgh where I live, the spring light has been lovely in recent times, and I’ve longed to get into the Pentland Hills to the south of the city for some early mornings. Flying into Edinburgh recently after a short holiday in Germany, I loved the views of the hills from above, and felt a strong urge to get out there and spend some time in the landscape. But I don’t expect it to be happening this weekend, this week, or even next weekend.

Apart from anything else, I know that I need to do this for my own well-being, but my 5-in-the-morning starts have been about finishing lectures and marking essays, not about seeing the dawn light through a lens!

Photographing in the snow…

Snow has finally reached my part of Edinburgh – quite unusual in that I live close to the North Sea.  I’ve been asked how to photograph in this, so here are some bullet points to help (everything here is for digital cameras, if you’re using film with a camera that has a full matrix exposure meter – you’ll probably know if you do! – you just need to change the exposure compensation):

  • change your white balance: every digital camera, no matter how basic, will let you change the white balance (even my cheap mobile phone does this!).  It tells the camera what you think is really white.  Try using the cloudy or shade setting – take a few pictures and see what you think works best.  You can always change this later on the computer (easier if you’re shooting RAW not JPG), but why give yourself that extra step? – and this way you know you’ve got some good photos (you can, of course, always change your white balance manually, but if you know how or why you’d want to do this, why are sitting at your computer reading this instead of photographing the snow?!);
  • exposure compensation: you’ll need to adjust exposure compensation by anything between +2/3 or +1 stops or more depending on how bright it is… this helps the camera expose properly, and allows you to rely on your camera’s meter.  Every DSLR will let you do this, and most point-and-shoot cameras will do it too.  If using film start with +2/3, then try +1, or if it’s very bright, go straight for +2.

If it’s good weather outside, stop reading about making pictures in the snow and get out there – the rest of this post is just niceties:

  • use a slow shutter speed to capture falling snowflakes, though if this looks too blurred, you might want to use a flash as well;
  • rather than just lots of white, try including something with colour in it – a red car parked in the snow or a black lake or a half-covered tree can make the image more than just a boring white surface;
  • if you have one, you might find a lens hood reduces glare in really bright light;
  • if you can, get out in the late afternoon when the sun is setting – the golden light will transform your white into spectacular shades of golden yellow tones merging into white.

The obvious:

  • dress really warmly (you’ll be standing about a lot!), but wear thin gloves so you can adjust your camera;
  • don’t breath out onto your camera, or it’ll be covered in condensation – snow in that kind of ‘fog’ doesn’t look as good! :)
  • protect your camera from too much dampness, but don’t worry overly about this: most cameras won’t mind a bit of snow falling on them;
  • when you come back in, let your camera warm up very slowly (perhaps on a window sill), with the zoom fully extended if you can – this stops compensation building up;
  • if you have changed settings as described above, remember to change them back, or your Christmas dinner photos of your family will look very odd!!

Above all – HAVE FUN!

‘Postcards’ and the aspiration to create beautiful images

One of the things that never ceases to amaze me is the aspiration that people have to make beautiful images, coupled with a complete lack of realism about how to go about doing that, or more specifically, when to go about doing that.

There is absolutely no need to have a really expensive camera to be able to make spectacular images.  This photograph of Stirling train station was taken using a cheap 4 (or 5?) year-old 4.1 megapixel point-and-shoot no-brand digital camera with dodgy red-rendition.

Stirling train station

Stirling train station

I love it.  It’s not the greatest image ever, but for me it communicates a city’s winter evening: magical skies over a new and interesting piece of architecture (the bridge, although lit up, was not yet open).  I was in the right place at the right time, and just happened to have a camera to hand (actually, that’s meant to be funny: I rarely even go to the supermarket without a camera of some kind in my pocket/bag, even if it’s a Fuji single-use camera!).

Wherever we go, whether to a secluded spot or to a warehouse store, there are interesting things to photograph.  But the time of day is crucial.  Here is an image from my recent trip to the Lake of Menteith, where I went with my colleague Antonio to photograph the dawn:

Lake of Menteith

Lake of Menteith

And here is pretty much the same scene an hour later:

Lake of Menteith

Lake of Menteith

Although the framing is different, the dramatic changes in light and colour are all nature’s doing – I have done almost nothing to these images in Photoshop.  If I had tried to make such dramatic changes on the computer, the resulting images would undoubtedly look AWFUL (incidentally, both of these images are also available to buy as prints on my RedBubble page; it’s also interesting to see which of these two generates more comments from the RB community!).

After making these images, I went to the Lake of Menteith hotel (just to the left of the church) for a departmental staff awayday.  Colleagues were amazed at the photographs Antonio and I showed them, even on the rubbish little screens on our cameras, and several people said things like ‘those photos look like postcards!  My pictures never turn out like that!’  The main reason for that, of course, is that most people don’t get up at a sensible time in order to see this light in the first place!  Joe Cornish, Bruce Percy, Martin Guppy and all the other greats don’t stay in bed until 8:30, stagger down to their hotel breakfast at 9:30, look blearily out of the window and finally get themselves out the door at 11h to wander round to the jetty for 11:30… and then see bland, washed-out midday skies.  They do exactly what Antonio and I did: get up at 5:15, arrive on location at 7:15 (almost half-an-hour before dawn, and in fact a bit later than I would have liked), capture the rising sun and the magical light – and then go to the hotel for breakfast and lots of hot coffee to warm up just after 9h!

All that a bigger/better camera does is help to ease the process of making photographs, but even using a cheap digital point-and-shoot would allow some amazing images to be made… if you can be bothered to get out of bed in time to see the fantastic morning light!

Coping with the rain

(Stefanie, this one’s for you!)

It rained a lot over the weekend in Torridon.  A LOT.  Even by damp Scottish standards, there was an excessive amount of rain, and rain in Scotland, as I suggested in my second post about the weekend, has magical properties.  Waterproof raincoats are sometimes tested to their limits in Scotland (perhaps it ought to be a legal requirement that all jackets sold as ‘waterproof’ need to have spent at least a couple of days in a proper Scottish downpour before they’re allowed to be described as ‘waterproof jackets’!).  But even if you have a jacket that is waterproof, eventually, water still manages to get everywhere – if it’s not rain, it’s rain and sweat!  This summer I walked up Ben More on Mull, and it rained almost continuously all the way up and all the way down – about 5 or 6 really miserable hours.  I was quite literally soaked through to the skin, to the extent that after I drove back to the house, the car seat ended up being rather damp (but most importantly, both my cameras were safe… I had them wrapped in plastic bags!).  Whenever I felt the downpour ease off a bit, I opened my jacket to take a camera out and catch a photo (none of which were any good!).  This naturally let in rain, and combined with sweat, the waterproof jacket really couldn’t help me.  In Torridon at the end of October, I found that my jacket was ok, but water ran up my sleeves every time I reached out to adjust camera settings – despite the jacket’s elasticated lining on the wrists.  And water came in through the pocket area of my waterproof trousers (ha! damp-proof trousers would be a more accurate description!), and and and… like I said, magical properties!

But one of the things that the weekend confirmed for me about cameras in the rain is that rain really shouldn’t be something to stop you creating photographs: although there are special waterproof camera housings that allow easy access to the camera controls whilst allowing the lens free access to the open air, I have found over the years that for most circumstances, a completely clear plastic bag and some strong elastic bands also works: put the camera inside the bag, put the elastic bands round the front of the lens just behind any filters that you’re using, if necessary tear a small hole in the bag to allow the tripod mount to be used (I can just jam my tripod head into the camera holder without doing that – it tears the bag by itself), and you’re done!  If you are using a zoom lens, make sure it can move forwards far enough, and you can then take your photographs (if your lens doesn’t have internal focusing, the front of the lens will probably turn when you focus – make sure your elastic bands don’t prevent this, especially if you’re relying on the delicate autofocus motors).  The viewfinder will be blurred by the bag, but you’re mostly using it for rough composition in such circumstances: precise cropping can be done later.  Take care when removing the bag after the rain – you don’t want to spill water from it onto the camera, defeating the object of protecting the camera in the first place!

The other thing you will need is very absorbent soft tissue for wiping down filters/lenses.  Using very soft paper towels from a hotel bathroom works well, or try very soft kitchen roll (the key thing is that you need to avoid using anything that might scratch the delicate glass).  I find that if the rain is heavy, I wipe down the filter and – using my remote control – immediately take the photograph.  If you haven’t got a remote control, get one – my Nikon one was about £10 and it is invaluable; I’m sure Canon offers something similar.

Why bother with all this?  Very simple: when it’s raining the light is often really soft and gentle, with lots of gradual changes in tone and colouration.  I think it is such a shame to miss it that for a long time now I have always had a clear plastic bag and elastic bands with me in my camera bag.  Especially useful in Scotland…

Torridon – the art of adventure photography part 3

We were out again early this morning.  The day looked like this:

  • 6:30 meet in hotel lobby, out to location
  • 9h return for breakfast
  • we then had time for washing/packing up (we needed to check out of the hotel room)
  • 11h image critique
  • followed by lunch and departure.

Bruce took us to a new location, near Shieldaig (upper Loch Torridon), overlooking water, with quite a steep hill rising up from the shoreline of Loch Torridon.  My first reaction was to think: ‘Why did he take us here?  Those trees are in the way!’  I realised I was a bit disgruntled about this, and wandered around at first not finding anything I could imagine as an image.  I find I often do this: pace up and down looking for an angle, a view, something that is unusual and stimulating that will grab me.  But I wasn’t finding it on this occasion.  I went down the hill and to the right to avoid the trees, but the view just felt bland – another set of grey mountains with water in front, so very typically postcard Scottish, and at that moment for me, completely boring.  So I headed left, nearer to the shore, and this brought me closer to the trees.  I was trying to look through them at the view behind, to see if there was any point in climbing up the hill again and looking over the trees.  Nothing.  As I was stumbling about looking through the trees and muttering away to myself in frustration, I suddenly realised that looking through the trees was just what I ought to be doing.  I found myself facing two trees that were distinct and separate from the rest (i.e. the branches were not intertwined).  They were also leaning left, which I liked: we often think that moving right ‘leads the eye in’ (see for example, Ken Rockwell’s stair images entitled ‘McCloud, California’ about 3/4 down the page; he shows the image facing both ways), and many of my photographs reflect this.  But I think the orientation to the right only works because we read left to right, whereas for readers of, for example, Hebrew and Arabic, this doesn’t necessarily make sense, and given my academic research topics, I felt this spoke to me on that level too.  The mountains across the loch formed a ‘v’ just in the middle of the image, balancing the ‘v’ formed by the tips of the trees in the foreground – and so this is the image that I came up with (note that, following yesterday’s post about cropping, this is very slightly cropped at the sides, but otherwise works in the 35mm format):

Torridon

Torridon

This was my second image of the day, and after taking it I thought, ‘well, it won’t get any better than this, I should stop now…’ – but I didn’t!  After my initial disgruntlement and frustration, I felt tremendously moved by the beauty of the light, and began to see all sorts of other patterns:

Torridon

Torridon

The trees on either side seem to me to be reaching towards each other, forming an upside-down ‘v’, almost like a classic child’s drawing of a house.  The other trees in the centre are smaller, almost as if they are in the ‘house’.  Bruce later pointed to the four ‘quarters’ in the image that balance each other – I hadn’t consciously seen this, but he’s right, of course. By this stage, I was elated – I realised that even if the images on the tiny screen on the camera had been out-of-focus, I had seen something I thought was special.  It’s an interesting issue: here I was, trying to capture an image on a camera not knowing if it would work, but knowing also that even if it didn’t, I would remember this image without the camera’s help.  It’s a way of internal visualisation that I will want to explore further at some point, perhaps here.

Bruce came over to me a while later, once I was on the shore line, wrestling with another image, of which more in a moment.  He looked at the first of these two images on my screen, and was delighted for me, exclaiming: ‘This is the kind of photograph I always want to take and I never manage it.’  Now although I’m sure that’s not really true, it gives me the opportunity to reiterate something about Bruce: I hope I’ve already communicated something of Bruce’s genius with imagery – but he’s also a genuinely warm and generous person.  This is something I felt again and again over the weekend, and although I point to this in a context of his praising my image, I don’t do so to show off (well, ok, maybe I do just a little bit…!), but to say that I saw this repeatedly in his interactions with all the other participants.  If you’re thinking of going on a course like this, Bruce will make you feel really welcome, and it will be an affirming and uplifting experience – guaranteed!

The image I was struggling with when Bruce came over to me is this one:

Torridon

Torridon

Or rather, this is what it became.  I felt I wasn’t capturing the mountain behind the first one, which, especially on the right side, looked in part as if it was a shadow of the foreground mountain, but Bruce assured me I was on the right lines.  I was sure this could be cropped – it had lots of sky that wasn’t ‘doing’ anything, but I felt I wasn’t really getting the detail in the more distant mountains that I wanted.  I knew I wanted this to be black and white, but needed somehow to make that ‘shadow’ appear in order to provide the continuous line of the second mountain that I could so clearly see.  Once back at the hotel, I offered this along with the previous two images for critique.  From this session, and Bruce’s earlier comments, I was reminded of the complete inadequacy of the screen on the back of the camera, even when zooming in on the image, because the shadow is clearly there, but was barely visible on the camera’s screen.  And the lesson is: trust that most of what you can see in the landscape can be seen by the camera, even if it sees it quite differently (note to self: I never doubted this kind of thing with film, so the screen is actually hindering me here!  In a different context over the weekend, Bruce mentioned photographers he knows who tape over the screen on their digital cameras and just trust their instincts).  In Photoshop, I cropped this down, developed the tones just a fraction, and turned it into a black and white image.

After lunch, we all got ready to depart.  Before we did, Bruce gave each of us a large brown envelope – without saying more than that ‘it doesn’t contain banknotes’, he just made sure everyone had one.  It was only when I arrived home that I found out what was in it… but I’ll leave the discussion of that for the fourth post about this trip, which I intend to write in a couple of days time, after I’ve had a little more mental space to digest what I’ve learnt, what the experience did for me, and so on.  However, I hope you’ve gathered that I have had a magical weekend, in the company of and under the guidance of a tremendously creative, passionate and generous teacher and fellow traveller, and accompanied by five other participants who brought light (in all ways!), energy and laughter to the creative process.  Many of their images were fantastic too, and I found myself thinking tonight how nice it would be to have a little online gallery somewhere with one of each of our images, even if that is somewhat impractical.

P.S. I did, of course, have a film camera with me (guess which one!), but found that I only used it a couple of times.  I think I was concentrating too much on using the digital camera in order to make images that could be critiqued.  Insha’allah I’ll be back to Torridon with a film camera to make many more images.

Torridon – the art of adventure photography part 2

Day two of our course began very early.  Here’s an approximate breakdown of my day:

  • get up 5:30
  • out 6h (rain)
  • ca. 6:20 arrive on location (a LOT of rain) – we are at Loch Clare
  • waiting in the van
  • rain clears a bit, returning intermittently; we’re out, taking photographs
  • back to the hotel and breakfast for 9h
  • out to another location shortly after 10h – this time Loch Torridon
  • more photos, more rain – then lots more rain (run back to minibus)
  • new location (no rain)
  • ca. 13h rain
  • at Bruce’s suggestion, we decide to return to the hotel and have lunch
  • 14h everyone chooses two photos to critique
  • 15:30 out for sunset
  • periods of heavy rain, and beautiful calm
  • moon photographs (visible for exactly 25 seconds – see below!) and more
  • return to hotel
  • 18:30 in the bar
  • 19h dinner
  • and then blog writing and bed!

An excellent day, though a long one… and I think all six of us felt that.

When out, we all wandered off in our own direction, photographing what we saw.  Bruce knows the area, and chose locations that he had either photographed in the past, or that he knew would offer something tangible for us to photograph (after all, this weekend is about learning techniques etc., not about photographing something that has never been photographed before – though, of course, each of us returned with very different images from each location).  He then made a point of going to each person and reviewing some of their photographs (we’re all on digital this weekend to help with the teaching process, though I am not the only film shooter here), talking through how they were approaching their imaging, what might work differently, ways to deal with particular compositional or lighting problems, suggesting alternative perspectives, exposures and so on.  For example, I have often felt that the metering on my Nikon D40 was out, and have therefore almost always had the exposure compensation set at -2/3.  Bruce discussed this with me at length and demonstrated, even on the crappy wee screen at the back of the camera, that this resulted in problems with my shadow detail (lesson: there is a difference between dark and moody… and just dark).  I realise that this is also partly Bruce’s style – I sometimes think that although he describes himself as a landscape photographer, I wonder if this not more of a convenient label: his images are often not really landscapes, but images of light that is transformed in some way through reflection, absorption etc. in the encounter with the land.  That is what attracted me so much to his art in the first place, and so I have no objection if even a tiny fraction of this sensibility rubs off on me.

I want to describe some images.  After breakfast we went to Loch Torridon.  Bruce drove us quite high up, and we took photographs overlooking the loch, towards the mountains around the water.  In the foreground, there were substantial erratics (a new term I learnt: these are the rocks that have been brought to their present location by glaciers that have long since vanished, leaving just the rocks in their incongruous locations), and Bruce wanted us to try and think about the use of foreground detail as well as background material.  The wind was strong, it was raining, but despite water droplets dribbling down both sides of the filter, we managed some spectacular images.  When Bruce came over to me, we talked about what I had been trying to do, and he asked me if I had turned and seen a particular tree; I hadn’t.  He borrowed my camera, and took three or four photographs.  He showed me the last one, pointing out the simplicity of the image, and the ways in which the mist isolated the tree from the mountain in the background, making for a very simple, but very powerful image of the tree.  This is his photograph (which I post here and on my website with his permission):

Tree and mountain (Bruce Percy)

Tree and mountain (Bruce Percy)

I liked this immediately, but also wondered about other ways of taking this photograph.  I took several photographs, and ended up with this one:

Mountains and tree

Mountains and tree

Bruce’s photograph is undoubtedly fantastic (though he said he thought it was a little underexposed; without wanting to sound presumptuous, I’d agree – and also add that mine was underexposed too; I’ve corrected this a little here, but didn’t feel I should manipulate his photograph!).  But I also like mine, bringing in more of the mountain outlines, setting a wider context, and offering a different role for the tree.  In my image, I realised later, the tree almost serves as an anchor for the mountains, rather than the mountains doing that for the tree.  It’s as if the majesty and grandeur of these incredible hills is given additional meaning by the tree’s inclusion in the image – although several times as tall as me, it is quite tiny in comparison to the massive mountains in the background – and thereby it perhaps helps to give a sense of the amazing landscape we were in.  I also converted this to black and white, and cannot quite decide which I prefer – the subtle tones of the colours in the original, or the even more simple tones of the black and white (comments on this are very welcome!):

Mountains and tree

Mountains and tree

As we were driving back in really hard rain, Bruce slowed the minibus and pointed out the view.  He asked if anyone wanted to photograph this, and two of us leapt out of the bus, getting ourselves and our dried off cameras wet all over again.  This is the image I came up with:

Mountains, Torridon

Mountains, Torridon

I post it here as a kind of contrast to the tree/moutain images.  Although I think this is beautiful, the large white expanse (that’s the mist…) in the bottom left corner decontextualises the mountains, making them almost more of an abstract series of lines than a mountain range.  Although these are pretty much the same mountains as in the tree photograph, in this photograph there is nothing much that anchors them to the earth, and so the photograph becomes something quite different.

Undoubtedly the most useful part of the day was the critical review.  We had very little time, but we each had to choose two photographs we had taken, and offer them for review (not easy to choose, when you have just a few minutes and are scanning 150 images!).  Bruce had brought a projector and showed us our images on a large screen.  We then explained what we had been trying to do, why the image was important to us, what we felt about how it had turned out, and so on.  Other participants then offered comment, as did Bruce.  This was in all cases incredibly positive and helpful criticism.  Bruce then went through the images in Photoshop, and showed us simple and effective ways of manipulating them in order to bring out contrasts, highlights etc.  There are many many ‘small’ things that I took from this, but the really major one that I took away was a reflection on image size: even when I crop my images, I tend to leave them in the original aspect ratio (i.e. based on a 35mm film image – perhaps this is a subcounscious desire to ‘retain’ something of the ‘original’? even though I know this is a nonsense), even though most images benefit from different shapes.  I’ve often felt my images were too ‘long’, and this session radically opened my eyes to the more pleasing ratios of 4×5, 6×7, or 1×1 as well as arbitrary crops – you’ll see that nearly all the images from today on my website are now cropped in such a way, almost as if to make a point to me, never mind anyone else.

In the late afternoon, we went to another loch, Bruce hoping to offer us a location and a sunset for trying out some of the techniques we had talked about in the critique and other locations.  It was very wet.  Not just the loch from below, but also the clouds from above.  I sometimes think that rain in Scotland must have magical molecular properties that other rain does not have… but more on that later!  I went down to the edge of the loch, and also into the loch (very slight shoreline, so that wellies were more than adequate).  It was cloudy and overcast, making for very soft light.  No real sign of a sunset, but despite this, some of the resulting images were great.  I was very pleased with my foregrounding of stones, for example, and the capture of the moonlight, which appeared once, for about 10 seconds, and I missed it; but I saw the clouds moving in such a way that it might reappear.  It did, for precisely 25 seconds (I know this, because I took five images at 5 seconds each – and it was gone!).  The image originally has the moonlight curving, which I think might be the lens’ barrel distortion (I’ll perhaps get around to correcting this at some point…):

Moonlight, Torridon

Moonlight, Torridon

Bruce then took us all back to the hotel – and our first shower of the day!  The dinner discussion in the evening was stimulating, covering the purpose of this kind of photography (one participant argued that it is to document reality/something ‘real’; Bruce asked if that was so, why was this person using a wide-angle lens?!), the processing stage (are images ‘doctored’ if they’re manipulated in Photoshop to bring out the highlights etc.?), Vettriano (is it art?), the BNP on BBC Question Time (should they have done/should they not have done?), free speech in a democracy, the Iraq invasion/war, the significance of 11.9.2001…

Excitement…

I am very excited at the prospect of going away this weekend with Bruce Percy!  I am going on his Torridon workshop.  If there is internet access at the hotel we’re staying in, I’ll try and add comments and reports here – and perhaps even photographs!

The magic of the right light

Most photographers know that the best light for photographing landscapes is usually found at sunrise and sunset. Taking photographs in the middle of the day is rarely a good idea, unless there’s a way of mitigating the glare of the midday sun, or it’s intended to be an integral part of the photograph. It’s easy, of course, to find out sunrise and sunset times online (all decent weather sites offer that information for most common locations). But I’ve also just found a great little application for identifying these times that is available (free!) for the iPod touch/iPhone. I don’t know how to post a link to it, but a search for “Daylight” in the “Apps” section of iTunes should work. Not only does it show sunrise and sunset times, but also dawn and dusk. This makes it even easier to plan ahead and catch the magical light that can transform the landscape at those times.

If you live near the sea, you might also want to know about tides.  I can recommend a free App called “Marine Day Tides”.

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December: I’ve also added ‘MoonPhase’… which does exactly what it says: tells you when the moon is doing what!