Micro Four Thirds Purchases

Dear all, Those of you who have been following my blog for some time, or have been on workshops with me, will know that I'm a film shooter only. All of the work you see in my portfolio on this web site was created with a Mamiya 7II system, Hasselblad 500 / 503 system, or a Contax 645 system. I love these medium format systems very much and they all have their own strengths (and weaknesses - which I love, too).

I've owned a micro-four thirds system for some time, but I've never really given it much of a real try out. I tend to use it on my workshops to illustrate compositions, but until recently, I've not had much in the way of decent lenses for it.

So this week, I've purchased quite a few items for my Micro Four Thirds camera:

Panasonic 12-35 f2.8 zoom lens Panasonic 25mm f1.4 lens Panasonic / Leica 45mm f2.8 macro lens Lee Seven5 micro format filter system - hard grads, full ND's, big stopper

It's been a lot of fun, choosing the lenses, because there are so many now to choose from, for this really excellent compact system.

I thought I would go through my reasons for the choices, and also, to bring to light that I feel the days of big SLR's being the king of the photography market is changing. We live in a multi-format society and there is no reason to stick to such a format these days, other than backward compatibility with old 35mm film systems, or lenses.

On a slightly related note: I have been asking that camera manufacturers move away from the 3:2 aspect ratio (it's historical - designed for a film format), and towards systems that can be programmed for different aspect ratios. My preferences are for ratios such as 1:1 (square), 4:5 (rectangle) or 6:7 (a rectangle that is moving towards square).

Camera systems should be getting smaller, and more compact. What I love about the MFT (micro four thirds) format is that the sensor size is just a little bit smaller than APS-C. For such a compact camera, it means the quality of the images is pretty close to 35mm. The only thing that seems to be missing from the MFT format right now, is improved dynamic range and high ISO noise capability like the pro-end SLR's (unless I'm not so informed or up to date on the matter).

Anyway, here's my reasoning for the lenses:

Panasonic 12-35 f2.8 zoom lens

As much as I prefer primes, because primes make you fit the camera to the landscape, and not the other way around, I wanted a general purpose lens for my workshops. One that is on the camera at all times, and that goes all the way down to 24mm (12mm in MFT terms). The cost of buying the little Olympus 12mm was just a little bit cheaper, but reviews suggested it's not such a good performer as the 12-35 zoom. I also feel that primes are great  because they force you to hunt the landscape and work with what you're given, rather than just standing on the spot and zooming in and out until things seem to fit. I would have preferred to have a few smaller lenses than a zoom if I were using this system as a serious contender for my own work, but I'm not. I'm really using it for workshop, and most of the time, I just want to be out on location with one lens on the kit so I can illustrate things to participants.

I didn't really need the lenses I'm going to mention now.... these were perhaps just things I desired, rather than needed for my workshops.

Panasonic 25mm f1.4 lens

If I'm going to buy a dedicated prime for the system, I'd like it to be really fast. The MFT system suffers from too much depth of field because of its smaller focal lengths. A standard lens is 25mm on this system. That means it has the same DOF characteristics of a 25mm lens on any camera system - in other words - it's pretty wide, even wide open at f5.6. As much as I think the Pancake lens is a superb lens and fast, this lens is just a little bit faster. I may still buy the pancake at some point, because it's ideal for leaving on the camera when you just want to put the entire thing in your pocket. The f1.4 is not a pocketable lens.

Panasonic / Leica 45mm f2.8 macro lens

It sounds like a pretty stunning lens. There's not really any other reason for buying this, but maybe in time, I'll be able to share some thoughts with you on this one.

Lee Seven5 micro format filter system

The grads for this system have extremely hard transitions. It's really a must for any system where the lenses are small. Hard grad transitions become very soft when put up close in front of a lens. I often get asked how I'm able to place the grads for my Mamiya 7II rangefinder system - well the truth of the matter is - it's not important to be so precise with this system because the focal lengths are greater than a 35mm system. Hard grads are visible down at wide angle focal lengths, but as you move up the focal lengths, the transition in the grade becomes more diffused as you 'zoom in'. When moving form 35mm to medium format, you more or less double the focal length. What was 24mm for you, is now 50mm. This means that the hard grads become more diffused and therefore less problematic with accurate placement.

Now go down the formats. As you go to MFT format, the focal lengths get smaller, but so do the diameters of the lenses. The optics are really small, so that means a normal hard grad will be too soft.

The seven5 (weird marketing name) should be ideal for this kind of system.

I don't intend to move away from film and I've never understood the phrase 'going digital'. Film and digital are different mediums. They look different, and offer different things. I think it's fun to be able to mess about with both, but I can't see myself being able to focus seriously on both at the same time. I think my little MFT system is really for use during my workshops for illustrative purposes and to allow me to have fun as well (I don't often shoot much myself on my workshops), but time will tell if this system grows into something new for me.

I'm looking forward to trying out the MFT system in a more 'professional' way, but above all, I just think it will be a lot of fun too.

Iceland September trip - 1 space free due to cancellation

Dear all, I'm traveling in Bolivia right now. I've been on the altiplano for about a week, and my Hasselblad cameras have been behaving really well since I got them serviced :-)

I just thought I would write today about a recent cancellation I've received for my Iceland trip this September. This means there is now 1 space free for anyone who has been wanting to come this September. The dates are September the 23rd to October the 1st. If you wish to find out more, or even book, you can do so here.

I hope to write more over the next few days about my trip's progress in Bolivia. Speak soon, Bruce

Linked-In - an apology

Dear all, A few weeks ago, we had an internet advisor come to visit our office. She was terrific, and gave me and my colleagues so much valuable information with regards to social media and marketing on the internet.

Unfortunately, one of the bits of advice I was given was to join Linked-In. I was told that Linked-In has changed a lot over the past few years and has become more like a facebook experience for professionals. So without giving it much though about the implications, I signed up.

I really wish I hadn't.

Within a matter of minutes, my mailbox was being inundated with suggestions and notifications about people who have corresponded with me over the years, and I know for a fact - that my signing up to Linked-In, caused a lot of pain for many of you, due to the incessant emails to tell you to sign up to Linked-In.

I'm an IT guy from a previous life, so I did some research, found out that many folks hit their heads against the wall because Linked-In is so invasive. I researched how to switch off all the notifications. I even switched everything I could find - off. And yet the emails still kept coming. Hundreds of notifications per day.

I can only apologise for this. If I'd know how murky the waters are with Linked-In - I sincerely would not have bothered.

I have now deleted all my contacts from it, and removed all 'invitations', because they just keep on going out until you accept.

It's a crap piece of software. I mean that in the kindest way. No honestly, it's crap. It doesn't do what you want it to. It takes over your contact, your inbox, and despite you telling it otherwise, it keeps emailing you. I have now created a google mail filter to delete anything that comes in that is associated to Linked in.

It seems that Linked-In have a world-domination policy. Or maybe it's just poor programming. I suspect it's both.

I just wish to say big apologies to you all, and I hope that you are no longer receiving their crap. I'm not responsible. I trusted Linked-In, but they let me down.

Moonlight as inspiration

I've been buying a load of photography books of late. And one of them that I've just placed an order for is Darren Almond's Nocturne. Darren seems to be obsessed with making images during the full moon phase.

It's no secret that I'm much more interested in images that convey an otherworldly feel. But it's not simply because I think they have a different aesthetic to images that were made during the more normal social limits of our human existence, but more because I feel images shot outside these boundaries touch upon the unknown.

Darkness has always been a mystery to man. It's a place where perception and reality become distorted and dreams or imaginings occur. And for photographers who deal in the nocturne, there is a fascination with capturing what we cannot see with the naked eye, but feel within our souls.

What has been hidden is of great fascination to me. Cameras can peer into the darkness for minutes or hours and render the most invisible things visible. I think that's why I love these images by Almond: they touch upon what we feel when we're outside on a moonlit night.

A moon-bow seems to be such a beautiful thing, that I would love to witness one. I'm sure that moon-bows happen a lot, and yet, I've never seen one. Rather than hunting down the spectacular - such as the aurora borealis, I'm sure we could become just as inspired by making images of places that have been touched by moonlight alone. Surely this is just as fascinating an area to work in?

I like Darren's work very much. It has a naturalness to it that I can believe in, while at the same time, it takes me to another place in my mind. I hope his book lives up to the anticipation that I have for it.

Through my own sense of inquisitiveness, I'm much more interested in the unseen and what might be lurking therein.  It seems that a moonlit landscape has that aspect to it, and for this and many other reasons - is a wonderful thing.

Do Children make more truthful images?

It's been four years now, that I've been self-employed as a full-time photographer. In that time, I've made the transition from looking upon my own photography as a passion / hobby to something that is at the core of my identity and is also my work.

I was told by a few friends who are photographers, that there is always the danger that turning any passion into a job, can kill that passion. It's true, this is a real possibility and I've had periods over the past four years when I've felt as if I'd hit rock bottom in terms of inspiration, simply because I was working too hard, making sure I was making a living, and spending most of my time teaching others, but not making many images myself. There has to be a dividing line and if you are to venture into something you love doing as a job, you need to make a distinction between 'work' and 'hobby'. It's taken me a while to get there, and part of that process has been to realise that each year, I need to set time aside for myself, for my own photography. It's a hard balancing act to do, when you're always thinking about ensuring you keep making a living, and is not, as I'm sure others assume, an easy life.

So I've been on the lookout for some inspiration. I'd dearly love to put my landscape work to one side for a while, and focus more on making images of people. The last time I did this was in 2011 in Ethiopia, and my real 'blaze' at making people images happened in India and Nepal in 2009.

A good friend of mine mentioned that there is a children's charity called Amantani, based in Peru, who's primary aim is to help Quechua children with their education. Often walking miles each day to get to school, Amantani have been looking for funds so they can house and educate the local Quechua children and prevent them from walking many many miles each day to and from their school.

I decided to look into Amantani a bit more, and I stumbled upon a little photographic gallery (which they have kindly allowed me to reproduce here). The work was really beautiful. I thought, wow - I'd love to go there and work with these children if I could get images like these. They are fly on the wall documentary images. But what struck me most, was that they were taken by the children themselves.

I find it truly inspiring to think that little girls and boys made these images. It's made me wonder - do children in general make more truthful images?

I think they do. Or at least, they must do. I can hardly imagine a child being full of pre-conceptions, and if anything, their eye's must be closer to their hearts and to what they feel, than the average adult.

And the thing is, I really want to get involved. I just don't know in what way as yet, or indeed, if it's a possibility, but it's given me inspiration, and any creative person should follow what inspires them.

One thing is clear to me though, the images captured here were made in the least self-conscious way. I'm fully aware that anything I could do, to document what these children experience each day as part of their Quechua lives, would only capture the surface. For one, I'm not a child (well, I do have some friends who would dispute this) - it takes a lot of effort to blend in, to become invisible. I'm so envious.... if only I were 7 years old again, maybe I could create images as honest as these are.

If you'd like to see the children's original photographs, or find out more about Amantani, then please go here.

And if you would like to donate, please go here.

Baffin Island

A few days ago, a friend of mine showed me this video. [vimeo 33516816]

What a spectacular place Baffin Island is. Remote, wild, I'd love to traverse the frozen sea just like these guys have done. It reminds me so much of my time on the southern patagonian ice field.

But I'm also struck by the high production values that go in to making a movie like this.

I dislike the term 'post-processing'

It's like saying you're doing your washing. It lends nothing to the respect that any good image deserves after the shutter has been clicked. The term 'post-processing' could just as well be a way of doing a tax return on an incomplete image. It's a truly horrible phrase, and one that I feel should be removed from the dictionary of any self-respecting photographer who cares about his art.

The birth of an image requires care and attention. It is a long process - one with no defined beginnings or endings.

The conception of an image may start the moment you set foot out of your car, put your wellies on, begin that hike into the moors. It may have begun much earler - while you were dreaming the night before the shoot you eagerly anticipated. And let's not forget the point at when an image is complete. This step too, is ambiguous at best: I've never really known when my work is done on many of my images. It may be at the point of the shutter being clicked, or it  may be after a week or so of living with it in my digital-darkroom. Sometimes, I realise months later, it was nowhere near complete and is still unfinished.

I make this point because I don't think we should make a distinction between our time out in the field, and our time behind our computers. I think the word 'post-processing' helps create a divide, and it's unhealthy. It encourages the idea that any work done after the shoot, is an after thought. For some, it instills the attitude that their approach out in the field *should* be different from their approach once home behind their computer. But most importantly, it encourages one to separate the creation of an image out in the field, from the work that is done once the image is back in the studio.

I see no separation.

Image creation and manipulation are one and the same. I compose in the field; I recompose (by cropping) in the digital darkroom. I think about shapes and tones in the digital darkroom; I do the same whilst out in the field too. I think about the scene in 2D in the digital darkroom;  I've taught myself to look at a scene in 2D whilst out in the field. There is no separation. In fact, I'd say that there is a symbiotic relationship between my time out in the field and my time behind my computer. Things I learn behind my computer screen, feed back into my time in the field, and my time in the field influences the time I have behind my computer screen. Again, there is no separation.

While I am out in the field making images, I'm thinking about images. I have learned to abstract scenery into a photograph while I am on location. I have also learned what I can do with certain tones, contrasts I encounter out in the field during the digital-darkroom work. I see textures and tones in the landscape and I think about how they can be transformed, brought out, enhanced or subdued in my digital-darkroom. I do this on location. And because all of this is happening at the same time, there's never any post-anything to be done. It's just a continuous flow of creativity.

My main reason for bringing this up, is not because I feel it the term 'post-xxx' encourages us to become emotionally distant to our work (it does), nor the fact that it makes us think of photography as two different approaches (it does), but mainly, because I think a lot of photographers think about 'scenery' whilst out in the field, and they think about 'images' once back at home: there is an unhealthy contextual shift in attitude to ones work the moment we move from location to computer. Our approach and attitude to our work should not change, regardless to where we are or what we are doing, if we wish to be better photographers.

There should never be any dividing lines in art - images evolve. To assume that our time out in the field is one of two clearly defined steps, encourages ourselves to put limits on what each of those stages involves. It's creative pigeon-holing. Images are born and grow in the most surprising of ways, and by keeping an open mind, we let them go where they want to go.

Let your creativity flow by removing confining terms such as 'post-processing' from your artistic vocabulary.

Silver & Light - Collodion wet plate process

I've been interested in the Collodion wet plate process since I was introduced to it by a client last year whilst on the isle of Harris running a workshop. If you've not heard about this process, then I strongly urge you to watch this video to the very end. What appears to start off with someone making crystal-meth, is in fact the intro to a beautiful video about someone who is so passionate about creating images, he has converted a van into a massive camera. Each image he makes with the Collodian wet plate process costs him around $500 USD. Yep, that's right $500 USD.

[vimeo 39578584]

I would dearly like to thank Alex Learmont, who came on my Eigg workshop this April, for bringing this video to my attention. Alex is an artist himself, and it was so great to share some thoughts on photography with him and the group I had on Eigg.

I'm so keen to try out this process myself.

I think there is something inherently beautiful about an image that is captured once: when the negative and the image are one.

Ian Ruhter, who is featured in this video, defines himself as an alchemist.

Well, isn't that what all photographers really are?

Aren't we really magicians, creating an illusion? I think so - an alchemist uses chemicals to change the appearance of a substance.

Ian Ruhter shows the majesty and mystique of the photographic process to the full. In the good old days of silver halides, we were all alchemists, turning light into shapes and tones on paper. Only, with the Collodion process, Ruhter and others are doing it with metal and glass.

Before I end this posting, I would like to say that there are many photographic workshops here in the UK that deal with the Collodion wet plate process. From what I understand (very little to be honest), the plate has to be wet for it to work, so the materials have to be taken out into the field (which is partially why Ruhter takes a van out into the wilderness with him - the main reason is scale). Anyway, Alex Boyd, who is currently residing on the isle of Skye, is offering Collodion wet plate workshops. My dear client Anne Thompson has been on one of Alex's workshops and highly recommends it. Worth checking out.

Think long and hard before changing your workflow

A few weeks back, I bought £1,000 worth of Fuji Velvia RVP 50 film. My reasons for the purchase were not only due to the price increase that has just been announced for all of Fuji's films, but more importantly, to know that my workflow is not interrupted over the next few years.

Before I get on to the main topic of this post, I'd like to let you in on a little secret: I'm not a prolific shooter. It has taken me about three years to get through 200 rolls of film.

Anyway, back to the main point of this post: Workflow.

Workflow is important.

My own workflow has been developed over a 20 year period, and I'm fully aware that buying anything new, changing software, doing something different to my workflow, can and will influence how my final images look. I have something good going on with my current workflow, that I'm unwilling to change it, and that of course means, not changing film stock.

And this is the core of this posting today: I think we should take time to reflect and consider any new acquisitions or changes that we take on board with our existing workflow. This I feel, should start with the kind of film / sensor / lenses - right through to the screen calibrator, film scanner / editing software that we choose. Small changes can have massive impact to how the final results can turn out. Change too many things in one go, and it can lead to creative frustration (as well as long learning curves ), when all that really matters is being free to create new work. After all, this is what we are here for. So the most fundamental thing for us, is to have a workflow that enables the creation of new work, rather than inhibiting it. I can't think of a more effective way of stifling my creativity than introducing something new into the equation with little thought or knowledge as to how it may change things for me.

So I would argue; if you are getting results that you are very happy with, and you have confidence that it's as good as it can get for you, then don't be swayed to introduce something new without much consideration as to what it might do to the look and feel of your existing style. I'm not advocating that you should stand still and never change, but instead, consider the impact of any alteration to your workflow, during the introduction, and also for some time to come.

I'm very happy with my workflow. It has become transparent (invisible) to me now. I seldom have to think about anything to do with the tools I use, because I know them so well. I may not have much new to learn from using the same tools, but I still have a lot of growing to do. There's a subtle but very big difference in that. If you know your tools well, you can continue to grow and evolve with your own style of work, because you're working in an environment that you feel comfortable and safe in.

I have two particular examples in mind that I would like to tell you about. Firstly, I found that my film scanner software is no longer supported and has problems running on my computer. After some battles, I decided I needed to change software. Well, it was perhaps a good year or more before I felt I was getting scans that matched what I had come to expect from my old software. I had to go through a long learning curve to get back to where I was a few years before. Some things of course are inevitable. Software becomes end of life, operating systems move on and drivers for hardware no longer work. I despise the term 'upgrade', as it often means 'headache' when all you really want to do, is get on and work with the tools you know so well, because they don't inhibit what you do. They are simply an interface between you and your vision. I was worried for a long while as to whether I'd reach the look and feel I was used to, from using the new software. I'm lucky that it was really just down to learning the nuances of the software, but some things aren't as simple as that. They can radically change your style and there's no going back.

About 2 years ago I bought a Hasselblad 500CM camera from a dear friend. I knew at the time that:

a) It would take at least a year or so to get used to it. This included being familiar with the actual mechanics, but also, getting used to composing in square. b) By using a new system, my style may change, for the better or for the worse. I really like shooting 6x7 or 4x5, so I wasn't sure if 6x6 was a way forward for me, or a dead end. I was also worried that I might not be able to go back to rectangles and if that happened - my older style would have vanished.

I had an awareness that by reaching out and trying something new, something that I may cherish about my current style may be lost in the process. Just having that awareness is important.

I'm happy to report that after a few years of using the Hasselblad, I now see it as an extension to what I do. I've found I can move between the Mamiya 7's 6x7 aspect ratio and the hasselblad's 6x6 aspect ratio when I feel I wish to. But It's taken a few years to get to this, and I was always thinking about the consequences of my choices when I did decide to give it a go.

Yep, I love equipment, and I'm a bit of a gear head at heart, but I also know that the final work is what's most important. I also recognise that by changing, or introducing something, or too many things in one go, what I may like about my current work may be lost. But it also may be enhanced in some way I never imagined. Change is good, but without time to master new things, and time to reflect as to how it is impacting your existing style, it's an unnavigable landscape we're working in. And for my own creativity's sake, I'd much rather be somewhere where the terrain is familiar, and isn't going to lead to any creative frustrations. Think long and hard before changing your workflow.

Mountain Light - 25th Anniversary Edition

I only found out this week, that ‘Mountain Light’ - a must read for any landscape photographer or adventure photographer, was re-released in 2011.

For a long time, this book was out of print and I know many friends and workshop participants who had to scour second hand book stores on the internet to secure a second hand copy of it. So I’m pleased to see it’s been reprinted and available again.

The new edition is exactly like the first one in all respects, with one change - the introduction is written by David Muench.

This is a very important book for me, as it gave me a lot of enthusiasm and inspiration to go out there and make photographs in the wilderness. Mountain Light freed my thoughts from equipment and steered me towards the art of seeing, the art of being inspired and of finding my own sense of vision. Galen Rowell is an excellent writer and in this book, he covers the essentials of what a landscape photographer is, and he does it without much mention of technology, or equipment.

As David Muench states in the apt introduction, Galen’s photography ‘lies in the art of seeing, in the awareness that light ultimately dictates art in making photographs. This book is a classic because that truth never changes’.

I would wholeheartedly agree with David’s observation. Mountain Light is a classic book. It’s very true that the art of making good images has always lain with the eye of an artist - in the art of seeing. Technology may have changed, but the ingredients of good landscape photography have not.

As Galen says in his preface ‘if we limit our vision to the real world, we will forever be fighting on the minus side of things, working only to make our photographs equal to what we see out there, but no better’. This has been something I took very much to heart upon reading it in these very pages. I feel that when we start off making images, we almost need someone to give us license to do what we please. Galen told me it was alright for my images to have no close relation to reality and that I should strive to look for myself in what I created with my camera.

'In search of the dynamic landscape', was phrase I also took very much to heart. Galen states that the 'dynamic landscapes are photographs that combine a personal vision with splendid natural events'. I've always thought that with my own photography, just creating a pretty picture isn't good enough. It has to have soul as well. There has to be that extra something special about it, that sets it above just being a photograph.

I've found re-reading this book, has helped me enormously. I've been able to reconnect to who I was when I first started out my photographic journey, and to remind myself of the passion that I have for it. This book isn't about bagging shots, or treating photography as a trophy sport, but instead, it takes me back to the more traditional values that I still very much subscribe to and care deeply about.

The first chapter starts with 'Magic Hour', which is in a nutshell, where all landscape photographers should begin their journey. To make great pictures, you need great light and as Galen states 'most landscape photographers think of landscapes simply as objects to be photographed. They tend to forget that they are never photographing an object, but rather light itself. Where there is no light, they will have no picture; where there is remarkable light, they may have a remarkable picture'.

Three chapters in, Galen discusses soft light which is something I spent a good few years learning about. Once we've mastered the Magic Hour, it's perhaps time to turn our thoughts to other light qualities and soft light is the most important one. It allows us to capture great detail and subtle tones and it is available throughout the day when the sun is hidden behind a cloud. As Galen says, many photographers tend to put away their cameras when the sun disappears behind a cloud. I find these days that I'm pleased if the weather is overcast and if the light appears flat and boring to the human eye. Because this means there are no hard shadows as the light is bounced around the landscape like a big soft light box.

This book then, is a bible for me. It inspires me in ways that reading a book about Lightroom does not, it also inspires me to forget about the pressures that are placed upon us all to keep up with the technological race that is out there. I don't have a digital SLR and sometimes I feel I should. I don't know all the features of Lightroom or Photoshop, but then I don't really need to know. I do care however, very much about the spirit of an image and finding my soul out there in the landscape. This book teaches me that I have to find inspiration and be inspired if I am to develop my own voice.

If you can connect to yourself and be inspired, then your work will illustrate that, and good work never needs to be explained. It speaks for itself.

I've just looked around to see where you can buy this, and for once, Amazon.co.uk don't have it for a reasonable price - they are selling items for over £100 ! So if you want to buy it, my good friend Neil from Beyond Words book store here in the UK is selling it for £21.99.