Tag Archives: sunset

Sunsets and clichés

I’ve just had two weeks on the Isle of Mull, an island that I know pretty well from many years of visiting and time living on the neighbouring island of Iona, and I love the light on these islands: fragile and delicate. Scotland’s east cost (or at least, Edinburgh, Fife, East Lothian, that I all know well) has quite a different quality of light: beautiful in its own way, but harsher and more demanding on the eyes. I can sit and watch the light changing in these islands at all times of the day, and it fascinates me.

On our second evening on Mull, the sunset was spectacular. Almost involuntarily, I took my mobile telephone outside the cottage we were staying in and made an image. I confess to a slight tinge of self-disgust immediately afterwards! I’m sure I’m not alone in having a number of horrifically over-colourful sunsets in my early archives, but sunsets are generally regarded as the photographic cliché par excellence… more of which at the end of this page. However, I then I began to wonder if this couldn’t be turned into something more positive, and thought I should explore sunsets a little more, within certain basic parameters:

  1. all images would be just ‘snapshots’ from the garden in front of the house or the beach at the bottom of the track from the house;
  2. I would use just the camera in my mobile telephone (an iPhone 4) and use it handheld (no tripod etc.);
  3. whilst I would use no post-processing on the computer, I would allow myself to use something better than the basic camera app that comes with the iPhone: 645 Pro Mk II.

645 Pro Mk II is available on Apple’s app store, and is an app I’d recommend to anyone fed up with the limitations of the camera app Apple supply (it works on various Apple devices, not just the iPhone). 645 Pro is modelled on a classical film medium format camera system, and allows the user to choose different ‘film backs’ based on a variety of popular colour and black-and-white films. It also allows the use of a single filter, and different crop sizes, including, square, 4×3, 6×7, 6×17 and more. It has locks for white balance, exposure and focus, and a number of other useful features. So I was using a certain degree of ‘in-camera’ processing, but at the price of the app (£2.49 at the moment), this is eminently affordable to anyone who can afford the luxury of an iPhone.

So on to the images. I’ve noted the different camera settings for each one, as given by the 645 Pro app. All are at ISO80 and the fixed aperture of f2.8, and added a short explanatory comment after each image, including the time it was taken. The point of these images is to try and capture something about sunsets away from clichés simply because they are pretty boring after a while. Maybe other ways of seeing sunsets can help to recapture something of the richness many of us see in such settings?

8. July 2013

Seven Sunsets, Mull (1/230s, 6x6, KII film back)

Seven Sunsets, Mull (1/230s, 6×6, KII film back)

22:13 This is the first image that led me to think about ways of imagining other ways of photographing sunsets. The sun is just about visible - interesting to compare this with the 10.7. image.

9. July 2013

Seven Sunsets, Mull (1/7500s, 6x7+, H5 film back, 25% red filter)

Seven Sunsets, Mull (1/7500s, 6×7+, H5 film back, 25% red filter)

19:09 An attempt to capture early evening tones: the shapes of the land against the water are much more pronounced here than in any of the colour images, and I like the feeling of wildness that the clouds create.

10. July 2013

Seven Sunsets, Mull (1/480s, 6x7+, V50 film back)

Seven Sunsets, Mull (1/480s, 6×7+, V50 film back)

22:00 The sun has already disappeared (compare it to the image from a couple of days ago), but this is still a fairly standard kind of sunset image.

11. July 2013

Seven Sunsets, Mull (1/17s, 6x7, K25 film back)

Seven Sunsets, Mull (1/17s, 6×7, K25 film back)

22:22 Almost all the reds and oranges have disappeared, but the clouds are still lit up by the sun, forming interesting patterns.

13. July 2013

Seven Sunsets, Mull (1/15s, 6x17, V50 film back)

Seven Sunsets, Mull (1/15s, 6×17, V50 film back)

22:49 Staying with a clouds theme, I panned across the sky to blur the clouds, smudging any detail there might be; the darker ambient light brought with it slower shutter speeds enabling panning to have an effect.

14. July 2013

Seven Sunsets, Mull (1/20s, 6x4.5, P41 film back)

Seven Sunsets, Mull (1/20s, 6×4.5, P41 film back)

21:58 No sun, but lovely cloud patterns in the fading light. This image is more evocative to me than the first one: I clearly don’t need to see a setting sun to be awed by the end of the day’s light.

18. July 2013

Seven Sunsets, Mull (1/310s, 6x17, V50 film back)

Seven Sunsets, Mull (1/310s, 6×17, V50 film back)

21:53 Many sunset images use landscape panoramic formats, which epitomise the sunset cliché for me - whereas this feels more like a ‘slice’ from something else, enabling a focus on one particular aspect of the sunset.

Seven Sunsets, Mull (1/100s, 6x6, V50 film back)

Seven Sunsets, Mull (1/100s, 6×6, V50 film back)

21:57 Looking away from the setting sun, interesting things are happening with light patterns.

Seven Sunsets, Mull (1/15s, 6x12, V50 film back)

Seven Sunsets, Mull (1/15s, 6×12, V50 film back)

22:47 A different ‘slice’ of the skies, with the rich blues of later evening being given their due.

19. July 2013

Seven Sunsets, Mull (1/5000s, 6x4.5, H5 film back)

Seven Sunsets, Mull (1/5000s, 6×4.5, H5 film back)

20:53 In colour this is absolutely horrible, but the black-and-white version highlights the shapes and tones of the land, water, the tree, and the reflections of the sun on the water in a way that enables me to appreciate the beauty of the surroundings far more.

Seven Sunsets, Mull (1/320s, 6x12, V50 film back)

Seven Sunsets, Mull (1/320s, 6×12, V50 film back)

21:26 A way of using lens flare and pattern to produce what is effectively almost a monochrome image, albeit one in red-and-white rather than black-and-white. Despite the deliberately blown-out highlights, I again like the silhouettes of shapes that are the main feature here.

Seven Sunsets, Mull (1/320s, 6x12, V50 film back)

Seven Sunsets, Mull (1/320s, 6×12, V50 film back)

21:27 A bit of a cliché, and I didn’t get it quite straight (oops!) but the kitchen window and the patterns on the white walls offer a slightly different way of seeing the sunset.

Seven Sunsets, Mull (1/290s, 6x17, V50 film back)

Seven Sunsets, Mull (1/290s, 6×17, V50 film back)

21:55 At the end of my time on Mull, I thought I’d try one more ‘standard’ sunset image. Perhaps it’s possible to appreciate landscape panoramas of sunsets after all, if it’s possible to also re-imagine ways of interpreting and seeing sunsets as described in the images above?

However, although the sunset on 19. July was beautiful, I have to say that I still don’t like this last image very much, even after exploring other ways of seeing the sunsets. Perhaps there is no escaping the over-riding sense of boring cliché when ‘snapping’ a sunset in this kind of way? Certainly, it’s less interesting to me than, for example, the black-and-white images, or the vertical ‘slices’, or the panned clouds… all of which are also sunsets, though not of the ‘picture postcard’ kind. With this little exercise, I can prove to myself that for me, at least, the standard sunset image is pretty much irredeemable. Perhaps this is because it purports to capture something of the wonder of the light that we see, but by the very nature of it being a still photograph, it cannot do that properly. For me, sunsets live in the changing of light, not in a capture of a fraction of a second that simply shows multiple colours and cloud shapes. A sunset is moving, changing, developing over time - after all, we say ‘the sun is setting‘ and that is a verb construction - I don’t see how this kind of still photography can capture that adequately.

I’m also ambivalent about whether cine film/video could do this any better, since I probably wouldn’t want to watch a video of a sunset for an hour or two - all that breadth and space compressed into one small screen? No thanks! I think many film-makers know this, given how frequently sunsets are speeded up, whether in feature films or wildlife documentaries or dramas. It is far better to sit and watch a sunset unfold and simply enjoy it without a camera. If you miss today’s, there’ll be another one along tomorrow…

This is why I am going to do my best to resist any future temptation there might be to go out and photograph anything like the first and last images here. If other opportunities arise to make more interesting images, with a bit more time and reflection and engagement than the snapshots between the first and last images here allow, then I’ll maybe risk it. ;)

Further reading…

In the middle of my time on Mull, without knowing that I was photographing sunsets, Rob Hudson tweeted me a link to an article by Annebella Pollen about sunset clichés that I read upon returning home (poor internet connection on Mull!) - I’d highly recommend reading this article after seeing these images, as she addresses other interesting aspects of sunset photographs.

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Sometimes, a cliché is a must…

Back last night from three weeks in Germany, I’ve been sorting through some of my digital photographs (the film - a mixture of Fuji Velvia, Ilford Delta and Kodak Portra! - needs to go to the lab to be processed…). On our way back to the UK via Hoek van Holland, we stopped off on a beach for a couple of hours just north of the port. As we were sitting on the sand watching the sun go down over the North Sea, the perfect romantic cliché appeared right before my eyes: a pretty woman riding her horse on the shore line was stopped by a guy who came across as a bit of a poser, and who appeared to be trying to flirt with her. I just had to throw myself down in the sand and photograph them… sometimes, a cliché presents itself and is just irresistible!

Flirting on the beach

Flirting on the beach

I should add that I couldn’t hear their dialogue properly, so even if my Dutch had been up to scratch, I don’t know what was said (I can read obscure church texts in Dutch, but whether I’d understand pickup lines is another matter). But even without words, her lack of interest was apparent!

P.S. if you haven’t seen my collection of road signs in Kronsgaard in Germany that I posted on my Posterous blog site last night, you might like to take a look…

‘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

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

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

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!

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)

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

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

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

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

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…

Long exposures and the problem of noise

One of the big problems with digital cameras and long exposures is noise: in long exposures, for example at sunrise or sunset, the shutter often needs to be open for lengthy periods of time. This can be 15, 30 seconds, or many minutes. What happens then, however, is that the camera sensor begins to introduce noise into images - it seems to me that this is often especially visible on “flat” or even surfaces, such as still water (and water then loses the glassy look that makes such images work so well). This noise can look a little bit like grain on traditional fast film. Most digital cameras have a noise reduction “feature”, but it is best left turned off, I think: these usually work by mushing up the pixels to reduce noise. What you get is an image that looks poorly focused - which just defeats the object of taking the photograph in the first place.

So what to do?

I’ve been going through a number of the images that I took on Mull this summer using Fuji Velvia 50 slide film (I plan to add some of them to my website soon; all the Mull ones that are online just now are from the digital camera). Many are taken using longer exposures and there is - of course! - no noticeable noise/grain, even on the longest exposures. So rather than worrying about how to solve the noise problem on my digital camera, for now at least, I think I’ll just stick to Velvia and my old film camera for the long exposures.

(Note that this post doesn’t even attempt to touch on all the other issues that relate to image quality when discussing the digital/film issue, I’m just focusing on noise… clearly, Velvia, properly used, is immeasurably superior to most digital cameras)

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”.

——-

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