Pareidolia during the act of image creation

Pareidolia:

"a psychological phenomenon involving a vague and random stimulus (often an image or sound) being perceived as significant"

- Wikipedia.

Following on my post a few days ago, where I described how I like to abstract a scene into some meaningful story (in this case, I let my imagination interpret a piece of ice on the shore as an animal that was attempting to reach the water), I'd like to discuss another image I shot whilst in Iceland this January.

I'm always seeing faces in clouds, in stones or in abstract patterns. It actually has a name - pareidolia. Pareidolia is slightly different from anthropomorphism (my friend Mike Green wrote a really nice article about it on his blog, which you might care to read).  Pareidolia is described in wikipedia as 'a psychological phenomenon involving a vague and random stimulus (often an image or sound) being perceived as significant'.

I think most of my image making I would identify with as a reaction to  'perceiving something as significant'.

I'm sure on a subconscious level, I see shapes and patterns that work to make good compositions, and I also see the shapes of animals in static objects such as stones, clouds on in the case of the image above - ice. When I made the image above, I wasn't really aware of the ice-walrus playing with the ice-beach-ball. I was just attracted to the scene as 'something significant', and it's that essence I feel, that is at the heart of most image making. We have to feel that what we are shooting has resonance .

Again, I'm wondering how much psychology is involved as a deep undercurrent to my image making decisions. Am I directing the camera, or is there something deep within my mind, directing me?

As I said a few days ago, I like to make up little stories about objects I find in a landscape. by doing so, I'm able to work with them more closely and understand how they live within the landscape. I don't simply choose any old rock, because 'it will do', I choose one, because it has a character - because it has directed me to do so.

I think that this is all very obvious, but through my workshops, I'm aware that others simply don't feel these things or see them.

By being able to feel something significant in the landscape, and let it take on a persona that we can relate to, I think we are practicing a form of pareidolia. We must be able to lose ourselves in a dream world and let things be conveyed in a less than literal way. It is part of the creative path.

Near Leknes

Do you ever have those moments, when you see something from your car window and you go 'ooh, that looks good', but for some unknown reason, you decide against stopping?

I often find myself doing just that, and on the occasions when I force myself to stop, I very rarely actually carry out the entire motivation. There seems to be some form of weighing up the effort of stopping the car, walking back to the location that grabbed my eye, against the effortless motive to keep on going.....

I could perhaps turn this question around and ask - how many photos are made near the roadside? Should we not call landscape photography 'car boot photography' or 'lay by photography'?

The image above, taken just outside Leknes, in Lofoten was one of those occasions where I saw something, and thought it looked like a great photo, but passed on by. I did it several times, and each time I did it, I wondered why I did, and why I was also, each time, attracted to the location.

I have a theory. Some places are very magnetic. You can't stay away from them. They tend to be iconic, and require very little effort in recognising that there is something of value there. Other places, like my little photo above, are anonymous. They don't register in the same way that iconic places do. But they're beautiful in their own, understated way.

I loved the collection of little red buildings on the far left shore, and there was some minimalism evident to me in the space the sky and water provided. I needed to experience this for myself, and so I parked the car down a side road on a sheet of ice, walked precariously back onto the main road and set up my camera on a steep embankment overlooking the bay. I get myself out there by telling myself that it's beautiful to just sit and watch the landscape, even if there's no stunner of a photography behind the motivation.

And once I was there, I just grew into the moment.

Dyrhólaey

Today, I've finished up editing my Norway images - to the first stage at least. I have made a rough selection of around 22 images that I like, and I feel it's now time to park them to one side, and let my mind forget them for a while or so. The intention being that I can come back to them in a week or a few weeks time, and I won't be so close to them....

I should be able to see any issues or problems that I didn't see at the times of the edits. The thing is, that sometimes I don't see a colour cast, or perhaps a dominant tone that needs to be corrected, to bring the entire scene back into balance..... these things take time.

So today I've begun work on scanning my Iceland images from December/January. Here's one of the first ones.

I made a terrible mistake of looking through all the images when I got them back from the lab... I had to - as I found I couldn't work on images from Iceland and Norway simultaneously.... which is something I've just discovered about myself and I'll need to reflect upon this and ask myself why that is so.

Anyway Dyrhólaey, what can I tell you about this place? It's stunning! And of course doubly so in Winter because the entire place is turned into a frozen paradise of subtle shade in the winter sky mixing with a dramatic black sand beach. I'm a big user of the Photographer's Ephemeris, but have to confess that I didn't use it to determine if the moon would be out, and whether it would be positioned so beautifully above the basalt sea columns of Reynisdrangar that you can see in the distant horizon.

I came back here a few times, and on the second occasion we had a lot of sea fog at the base of Reynisdrangar - another time, another shot, and most likely, buried somewhere in the mound of images waiting to be scanned over the next few days :-)

In the arts - opinions don't count

The past few months, ever since I released my first book, I've received a lot of really nice correspondence about it. I've also been informed of reviews of the book from time to time, some of which, I've read. They've been very interesting to read for one reason: I've been able to understand a little better how others perceive me. Certainly most of the reviews have been very positive, but some of the points of view of the reviewer have left me wondering if they really understand what it is that I do. One particular point in case, is that my book contains not only landscapes, but also portraits. One review suggested that it was surprising to see a book with a mixture of landscapes and portraits, as I was known as a landscape photographer. Well, I've always thought of myself as a travel photographer, if I consider myself a photographer at all. I don't really have a 'badge' for it at the moment, and I guess I would just say to folks that I'm a creative person, who makes his living running photographic workshops - but ultimately, I like to create things. So mixing landscapes and portraits together doesn't seem so radical to me after all.

I never really understood it, when I heard that many actors seldom read reviews of their performances, or musicians don't read reviews of their albums. But I do understand now.

If you are a creative person, you have to be true to yourself and go with your own gut feeling about your own work. You have to do it for yourself, and nobody else. Creating art should not be done to please others, or in the hope that a critic or reviewer will like it. The creative path should not be steered by external committee, nor should it be swayed by doubt cast upon what you do by someone else's point of view.

Your creativity is your voice, so you should spend the time to get to know it, build up your confidence in what your inner you is telling yourself, and learn to trust it. Certainly you can, and should, listen to others that you respect - because you admire their work. Just make sure that it's you who chooses what to take on board. Discard the rest, because if it does not resonate with you it can't help you on your creative journey.

So from that point of view, I won't be reading reviews in future, and if I do spy one now and again, I'll have to tell myself to take it with a pinch of salt, because it is only the point of view of someone else. They don't know me and they shouldn't influence what I do.

I've had a few friends in the past, tell me that I'm very focussed. I'm never too sure how projects will turn out until they are finished (if anything can ever be finished), but I think that's a great attribute to have - to have a strong sense of self vision and know what you want. I hope that if you are in doubt, you will soon find your own voice, and if you are already traveling on your creative journey, stay true to what it is that makes you - you.

It's the only way to lead a fulfilling life of self exploration.

Carefree

I’m in Marrakech this week, on a holiday. I know, I’m sure some of the readers of my blog assume that my life is one big photo trip after another, and that I lead a charmed life. I’ve certainly had quite an amazing past two or three years since I went full time doing what I do, but it has come at a cost. Let me explain.

I came to Marrakech 4 years ago for a photographic holiday. At the time, I was still gainfully employed as an IT professional, and my holiday time each year was always consumed with the lure of travel to far off places to make photographs. I would burn myself out over the course of a holiday, working very, very hard to capture the images I sought. It was always good fun and a very enjoyable way to de-stress from my life in IT.

But I haven’t been aware that there has been a change in me over the past four years, and it’s only become apparent to me, now that I am back in Marrakech for a holiday. Everywhere I look, I have memories staring right back at me, reminding me of the person I was four years ago - a carefree IT professional who used his holidays to get his photography bug out of his system. I had very little to worry about at the time. My income was secure and I was so used to being established in what I did (I was an experienced Java / OO programmer with a good working knowledge and experience of being a head DBA for lots of blue chip companies). In short, I had a very recognisable skill set that was in demand and I felt I knew what my future was.

Fast forward to the present, and I’m a much more different person. Running my own photographic workshop business, and being a ‘pro photographer’ has lots of pressures that are different from what I’m used to. For example, I’m now fully responsible for my whole income, and I have to ensure that each year, I can make enough money to keep myself afloat. I can’t afford to take the foot of the accelerator pedal, or to become complacent.

The first few years have been quite a challenge. Setting up a business and ensuring that my house did not get repossessed put me under a lot of stress. I think this is why, when asked, most photographers will tell stary eyed dreamers not to give up the day job.

In my own case, I didn’t give up the day job - it gave me up, in the form of redundancy, and at the time, things were so bad here in the UK, that I had no other alternative but to run with the workshop idea because that was the only form of financial income I was getting at the time. IT Recruitment agencies would not return my calls, because I was just one of the many thousands of IT people who had been put out of work.

I’m entirely grateful that I had the photographic workshops to fall back on. I’m very grateful for what I do now, and I wouldn’t want to change it for the world. I’ve become a very focussed individual, who has to keep thinking ahead, working out new ways to stay in what I do, and because I’m driven by what interests me, I feel that things are going from strength to strength.

Today however, arriving back in Marrakech, has allowed me the luxury of being able to remember who I was 4 years ago, and compare that person to who I am now. I feel a sense of loss in some ways - that carefree aspect of me is hardly there at the moment, and I think this is telling me that I need to have more time out, for myself to relax and just enjoy life - without a camera.

As in everything, balance is what’s required, and I think my trip to Marrakech has acted as a catalyst for me to review where I am at in my life, and more specifically, what I wish to get out of it, and that can only be a good thing.

As creative people, we should take time out to review not only who we are, or where we are going, but also to consider if we’ve lost or regained something about ourselves over the review period. It’s really vital to recognise changes in yourself and re-address them if you feel that you are becoming weighted down with the burden of an overly serious life.

One last thing, if you wish to have a career in photography, I wouldn’t say ‘don’t do it’. I would just stress to you that, like all self employment, it requires a lot more work than a normal job. It can be immensely satisfying because everything you do, you do it for you and not for someone else. But there are pressures involved. Making sure you can earn enough is a very hard thing to pull off - you may be a great photographer, but a lousy business person. You may be a dreamer, who can’t add up. You may be unrealistic about how your business can grow. It’s not easy.

If you love taking pictures, then you can enjoy that, without the burden of trying to make a living from it. If you love running a business, and enjoy all the business related activities involved in it, then I would say - go for it. But if not, then I would say, keep it as a serious hobby, and appreciate that your hobby has no pressures involved in it, apart from the ones you force upon yourself. In short, enjoy what you do, and appreciate that doing it for a full time occupation may not give you that sense of satisfaction you think it will. Running a business is hard. Do it, only if you feel driven to go that way.

I’m off now, for a Moroccan coffee in the old square of Marrakech, and to enjoy just being here. I’ve got a lot to be grateful for, and I’ve learned a lot about business, and myself over the past few years, but it’s perhaps time to take some time out.

Wish you were here,

Bruce.

An odd request

Tonight I'm in a humorous mood, and feel I want to share something with you all. Over the past few years, I've received a lot of correspondence from people. The majority of the unsolicited emails I get are very lovely - words of kindness, of really beautiful wishes, some telling me they love what I do, some telling me how I've helped inspire them and bring them on in their photography - amazing things really. And they go a long way to show that most people are very nice, want to see you succeed in what you do, and want to wish the best in others.

But as with anything, there's always a very small percentage of people out there who are a bit odd, lack etiquette, or lack.... something!

So tonight, for a bit of humour, I felt inclined to give you an example of one of the stranger e-mails I get from time to time. The following e-mail came into my mailbox this morning, from a complete stranger, who seems to think I have nothing better to do with my time, than go and photograph her boat! Ha ha ha ha !

I used to be rather perplexed by these strange e-mails.... but I've grown to love them. They always surprise me, and remind me that the human race is a funny lot really. Enjoy!

Hi Bruce

This is a very cheeky request but we're in Lofoten on:

22 February (Svolvær, ms. Marco Polo) 21 March (Svolvær, ms. Marco Polo) 04 April (Stamsund & Svolvær, ms. Finnmarken) 09/10 April (Stamsund & Svolvær, ms. Finnmarken)

I think you're also there on 21 March? If you happen to catch sight of either ship, could you possibly take a photograph? It might be the only photographs we'd see of the ships sailing and would be useful for future ships cruises if my Husband is lecturing on them.

--

Now that I've set a bench mark - please don't email me to ask if I will photograph your boat/car/cat/horse/sheep/whatever... I won't have time..... I'll be too busy trying to photograph the rather cheeky R McVicar's boat!

ps. I've just drafted up a reply:

Dear R McVicar,

Many thanks for your enquiry.

I'd be only too happy to oblige.

Bit of a cheeky request from me. I've been wanting to make some of the horizons in my coastal photographs a bit more interesting. If I told you where I was going to be over the next year, could you sail your boat to those locations so it can be used as a nice prop on the horizon?

Bruce

Temperature Problems in Iceland

This week I'm in Iceland, and it's gorgeous here right now. Plenty of snow, and today we have a clear sky.

I'm writing this post about my equipment, and just how terrible things are working out for me right now. I brought two camera systems with me - my trusty Mamiya 7II camera, and also a rather mint Hasselblad 503CX which is an addition to my existing Hasselblad 500CM (that I bought from my good friend Lynda over a year ago). I've fallen in love with the Hasselblad system and it's been a real joy working in square format - I think the change from thinking in 5:4 is as good as a rest for me.

But I have to say, that if you're considering taking any camera equipment into some extremely cold landscape for extended periods of time, you might want to get it serviced or checked out first. I've had both cameras completely freeze up in -2ºc conditions, which I don't think is too much to ask of the equipment. The biggest hassle, has been the entire Hasselblad outfit.

It seems that the film backs are not working properly. They don't wind the film on evenly in the cold, and my 50mm wide angle lens seems to cause the body to jam, and I have to push the lens onto the body to make the mirror go up. A second film back advances properly, but in the cold, it does not stop at frame 1, instead, it doesn't indicate anything as to the current position, and before I knew it, I had wound on a fresh roll right to the end!

From reading forums on the Hass system, it seems a regular maintenance plan is what's required. I have to admit though, that using camera equipment in cold conditions can exacerbate a condition that wasn't so obvious when working under normal temperatures.

I managed to slip on some solid ice (hidden by a dusting of snow), and so my Hasselblad Lee adaptor ring (which got my vote for most rubbish piece of equipment I've ever bought) bit the dust and shattered into several pieces. I really love the Lee filter system, but their standard 'plastic' adaptor rings are really awful and they should be ashamed selling something that does not let the holder system go on (without the use of a pen knife to reshape the adaptor ring).... it doesn't work, and they charge you £40 for the privilege too. I would love to buy a wide angle adaptor ring for the Hasselblad, but they don't make them (all wide angle adaptor rings are precision made, and made of metal - so they do the job they're intended for).

And then there's my new Gitzo tripod. Two legs are jammed solid, and trying to unscrew them just makes the rubber grip slide around the leg. I'm sure what's happened is that the grease inside the collar has leaked onto the legs, and the temperature has made the grease thick and unmoving. So I have the tripod lying right next to a radiator at present.

All this is making me feel rather frustrated and defeated in a way, that is similar to how I felt when I came to Iceland in Summer. I remember feeling that things weren't going well, and that I'd have nothing to show for my efforts. So I'm just wondering if my films will prove me wrong when I get them processed.

One thing is for certain. Both cameras as going to the Hospital for a check up, servicing. As for my tripod, well.... we will see. I think yet another tripod purchase is on the cards.

Thank You!

I'm just home from my book signing, where I was surrounded by lots of friends, who came for support, and my mum came through too. It felt like a nice friend/family affair, and my talk went really well. I was asked my young Lucas (age 9, I think), if I intend to fall off a waterfall or crack into the ice on one of my ventures. I told him - yes, I expect it will happen some day (probably soon!). I'd just like to say how nice it was, tonight, to be surrounded by people who know me, and were there to support me. Thanks also, to those of you who have bought my book. It's been quite a journey, and I didn't plan any of it (being pro, doing a book, even making images).

I'm off to Norway this Thursday to shoot some of my own images for a week or so, and meet up with my Lofoten friends. I missed a flight during the summer and my friend Lilian sent me this email tonight to remind me to turn up at the airport this time on the right day:

Hi Bruce,

Just a short note to remind you to grab your bags and run to the airport on THURSDAY, THE 1st OF DECEMBER. This will eventually take you away, northeast from Scotland and to the country of the vikings or 'norse men'. Keep following your flightplan and you will eventually (2nd of December) end up on a big rock out in the ocean where it smells of fish all year round, where there is plenty of crazy weather and where a bunch of really nice people are waiting for you.

Says it all. I'm really looking forward to it, and I'll be there for a little while before Christmas.

I'd like to wish you all good plans for Christmas, and the coming festive season.

Once again, thanks so much for the kind words, encouragement, and the beautiful sentiments I've received over the past year.

Book Launch & Signing

Just a wee reminder about my book signing and launch in a week's time - 28th of November at the McDonald Road Library (just off Leith Walk), Edinburgh. 6:30pm to 8pm. There will be a talk by myself from 7pm to 7:30pm, and of course, a chance to talk to me and even buy a copy of the book and get it signed too!

The validity of reviewing art

Last night, on my way home from my Harris workshop, I had to drive through Skye and then through Glencoe. In an attempt to reduce the strain of the journey in my car, I listened to an hours debate about cinema, music and arts on BBC Radio 2. I found the review in many ways rather interesting, and in other ways, I couldn't wait to find the reviewers and hit them over their heads for being.... reviewers.

The reason for this was the review of Kate Bush's new album 50 words for snow, due for release on Monday, but for some reason, Amazon have delivered to my home this Friday. Last night, after the rather cack review of 50 words for snow, where the reviewers found the album dull and not as precent as some of Kate's earlier work, I found myself listening to her new album and from the first song, being entirely drawn in, to a world of snow, snowflakes, and a landscape in my mind filled with deep tones of piano and mature vocals ushered by Kate. Yep, you can tell I love Kate's new album.

I bring this up as a topic for discussion, because I find most of Kate Bush's work takes a lot of time to appreciate. I find that her albums, particularly Ariel and the new one, seem to get better with every listen, and certainly, they become part of my life over several years, and seem to accompany me on many of my photographic journeys.

I don't normally listen to reviews, or critics on TV or Radio. Often they lack objectivity. They should consider where the artist has been, where they're going, and inform the public of how they feel their new work relates to what they've done in the past. Anything else is of little consequence, because art in general, needs time to be appreciated, understood, and find its place in our culture.

Surely this is the same as any art?

In the case of making photographs, some of my own have had to 'earn' their place in my own heart. Some were considered throw away efforts at the time, only to become ones that I now feel were pivotal in the direction I took in what I was doing, or maybe I feel they showed me a new door in my efforts. Some are appreciated over time, more for what they became through familiarity, rather than what I thought they should be (and failed to be) at the time of exposure.

Surely, if we are to be objective about what we do, we must give our art space to be what it is. Let it live, even as a failure? There have been plenty of pieces of art created that were considered uninteresting, average, or plain failures at the time they were created, but have, over time, become classics. Maybe this is more to do with era, and the change in tastes that happen over time. Some things fit 'now' and are instant hits, and will, as time progresses, become very dated, other art objects gain a slow appreciation, and others are discovered much later when the time is right for them to be appreciated.

If it were me, I wouldn't have been so hasty with the review of Kate's new album. I would give it a chance to show us just what it truly is.

Maybe we should all do that with our photographic efforts too?