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.

Like an animal

I love abstraction in images. When there is an underlying skeleton or framework that suggests a fine composition that your concious mind is not aware of - is just great, but sometimes it's just nice to be a little more forward and be very literal: I found an ice-animal on the beach at Jökulsárlón. It was trying to walk its way back towards the shore, and for some reason, had been left behind by the other tiny, translucent animals that were further on towards their ultimate destination of the sea.

He didn't appear to have a head as such, but I knew he was looking out towards the other little bergs, and wondering if he'd catch up.

I tend to find I can make up stories like that about the objects I'm shooting. They're not just objects, but instead, they have something about them that triggers my imagination.

My little ice animal was very beautiful all the same. He had such a vibrant coat of glass ripples that I knew I had to spend some time with him.

So there I was, lying on my tummy on the sand with my wonky Hasselblad camera, figuring out just how to tell a story about him. His siblings were the perfect back drop for him, so I shot the entire picture on a shallow depth of field (why is it that so much landscape material is always sharp from near to far? Surely shallow depth of field can also help draw the eye towards and also away from subjects within the frame). I deliberately ensured his siblings were out of focus.

Square format seems to be happy to have objects placed in the middle of the frame too.

I'm enjoying very much the freedom to break some self imposed rules to my compositions by using the square aspect ratio. But I feel it's not a replacement for my trusty 6x7 and 5x4 aspect ratios. It's simply just another string to my bow, and by using square at the time of capture (rather than cropping later), I feel I'm forced to look at my surroundings in a different way.

As I've said in the past, and particularly in my Aspect Ratios e-book, the shape of the frame you compose with, really does have a massive impact on your choice of composition. For me, the aspect ratio of the camera is an often overlooked, fundamental influence on your picture making abilities. Buy a camera with an aspect ratio that you do not understand, or have no eye for, and you're goosed.

Back to my ice-animal.

Like so many bergs at Jökulsárlón, he was simply just one of many casualties that had been thrown up onto the black sand beach. Strung out to dry and postponed from the inevitable, I knew that one day he would eventually become, just another part of the sea.

Adrift - 2 variations, 2 studies

You may have noticed the banner change to the blog, and also the banner change to the main web page. If not, then do a refresh or reset the cache of your browser. The banners have been updated with images from Iceland this December.

I'm currently in Bodø, on the mainland of Norway, getting ready to take the 5am post flight tomorrow morning to Lofoten. It is -15 outside, and that's before you add the wind chill factor. It was painfully cold outside tonight!

Anyway, I thought I'd share these three images with you, taken on my wonky Hasselblad this December/January in Iceland. I like the first out of the first two the best, but I think it just goes to show that taking the same shot twice, and considering the timing of waves, can reap dividends. I'm not saying one is better than the other, but certainly each one of them has a different character. The first image in this posting has more movement to me, and that really does justify the title of 'adrift' here.  The second image less so, because there's no wash around the ice bergs. However, in the 2nd image those sweeping curvy lines in the composition are just *wonderful* in my book.

I'm very much in love with this location. It has the most amazing, stark contrast between light and darkness.

Anyway, here's the third image, shot at the same location, which also suggests the notion of being adrift too. In fact, with this one, the ice berg almost looks as though it's floating on top of the sea, being carried away. I think this is also further compounded by the ice berg being very craft-like in shape too. It almost looks like a vessel that can indeed float on top of the water.

I think this one happens to look this way because the ice berg is actually sitting on black sand, but I caught it just as the water was flowing back towards the sea (I often prefer to wait until the tide is all the way in, as the receding movement is usually of a more ordered nature, providing simpler lines during a long exposure).

Anyway, I'll be announcing news of an Icelandic photographic safari by the end of the week through my newsletter first, so keep your ears pinned back (and if that looks too silly, then just check your inbox for a newsletter from me).

Not subscribed to my newsletter? Then do it here.

Cold & Warm

Sometimes it's simply all about observing the quality of the light. Whilst in Lofoten last December, I remember standing on the frozen beach at Flakstad, and watching the mountain you see in the distance being illuminated in the twilight. The mountain had a ghostly effect to the upper ridges of it, which I feel, I haven't really managed to convey in this edit so far.

But I think one of the aspects about image making, is to not be too possessive of it. Let it be what it is. I don't consider images failures, just different personalities from the ones I'd hoped for. You can't force your children to be something they're not. I did however, find during the editing of this collection of images, that I seemed to go for a more uplifting, brighter feeling. I think this has a lot to do with how I felt on the days during the editing, and my general frame of mind. There was the occasional image though, that didn't really fit uplifting, and required a darker mood to it, to convey what I felt at the time - that of deep crimson tones in the sky and landscape, as you can see here in this photo of Oldstind mountain.

The edits are nice, and I'm happy with them. But comparing them to the images I shot last March is interesting. I've noticed that there is much more drama in the edits from last March, and that is down to the fact that the weather was completely wild back then. I was getting snow and sleet thrown at my lens and I often had to run for cover during the shoots. You can't force your images to be moody and dramatic if the subject wasn't. As much as I love the edit of Oldstind above, it's still a rather pleasing, calm photograph.

So I'll be back in Lofoten this week for a personal shoot, before I meet my clients for the trip I'm doing with them. I'm curious to see just how different the light will be.

As photographers, we respond, first and foremost to light, and that is purely dependent on the elements around us.

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.

Return to Norway

I'll be heading back to Norway - the Lofoten islands specifically, this coming Sunday for a two week trip. I'll be running my first photographic safari out there - that's right - a safari. Don't worry, I won't be wearing any khaki outfits, shorts, with a net to catch some wild hippos, I'll just be giving an excited group of four, a whirlwind tour of the parts I love to photograph in the Lofoten. I do however, have a week before the group arrive, in which to make my own images. I was in Lofoten last March and December and both yielded very different kinds of images. I'm told by my friends in Lofoten (who make up an unlikely bunch - Australian, Polish, Swedish, Dutch, Russian), that each month the light there is so different. So I'm looking forward to that.

I'll also be visiting a polar centre, that specialises in tours around the Aurora. It would be great to finally see it in all it's glory, but well... that is down to the fate of the lucky stars I'm afraid.

Sonja Grubenmann Exhibition

My good friend Sonja Grubenmann, will be holding her very first photographic exibition in Schlieren, Switzerland this February. There is a launch party on the first night. Sonja started making images seriously a few years ago, mainly with digital SLR's and I've seen her move from digital to film very quickly and stick with it. Doing the migration to film is not an easy path, and many fail because of the level of commitment involved. I'm really pleased to hear Sonja write to me recently and state 'despite of the failure rate and the cost involved for film, developing and scanning - I can't think of going back right now.' Regardless of the medium chosen, Sonja is continuing with a medium she finds gives her the most pleasing results, despite the added efforts and failures incurred. That to me, is someone who is following their own eye and path of development.

This is the second time I've had the pleasure to mention an exhibition by a friend who started off as a workshop participant. I get to meet lots of people through my workshops, and I've met so many special people because of what I do - which is definitely one of the perks of the job :-)

Anyway, if you live in Switzerland, and not too far away - might be nice to pop in and say hello.

Hasselblad Lens Question

Recently, I've started to use Hasselblad cameras quite a bit. It all stemmed from a feeling that I wanted to shake up my process a bit. I normally use a Mamiya 7II camera and as much as I love it very much and it works so well for me, I felt I'd like to work in square aspect ratio and see how that would affect my judgement and compositions. It's been a very quick adaption for me, and I've found I'm really enjoying the square format quite a lot. I'm also enjoying seeing through the lens too, something I did not do with the Mamiya camera (and that's a beautiful process in a way as well - having to conjure in my mind how the final image will be, by using an approximate viewfinder - is a great tool for strengthening your sense of vision and compositional muscle). Anyway, i'm writing this post today, because I've noticed that the resolution I'm seeing coming out the 50mm CF f4 lens I have, although is nice, it is nowhere as detailed compared to the Mamiya 7 50mm lens. I know the Mamiya lenses are in a league of their own, so in many ways, it's no surprise that I feel the Hasselblad 50mm lens is less of a stelar performer when compared with the Mamiya's wide angle competitor.

What I would like to ask though is, if you are a Hasselblad shooter of the 5xx series, can you tell me if the FLE version is much more detailed than the standard CF in terms of resolution? I've been shooting mine around f11, and it's not as sharp as the Mamiya's 50mm at f22! I'd like to consider moving to the FLE version, but only if it's waranted. I see no MTF information on the web, so would be interested to hear your point of view.

Of course, the real proof is for me to go out and get one and try it for myself. That's ultimately the only way I'll know for sure. But I'd be interested in hearing from you anyway.

Patagonia - now sold out.

Update: this trip is now sold out! Last week I had a cancellation for my Skye workshop, which was filled straight away, so the Skye trip is now sold out, for those of you who were considering it.

As is the nature of having bookings taken so far in advance, things change in people's lives and suddenly, they can't make a trip any more. One of my participants for the Patagonia workshop can't make it now due to a family member's graduation, so there is now a freed up space on the Patagonia workshop.

If you'd missed booking the trip when it sold out, then now is your chance to come along. It's been a very popular trip so far, so if you want to come, have a look at the details here. It has all the information on the trip, and also the booking form should you decide to come.

First come, first served.

King Creosote & Jon Hopkins

A few of you know by now, that I get a lot of inspiration from music. Well, last night I went to Glasgow to see King Creosote and Jon Hopkins perform their amazing album 'Diamond Mine'. From the onset, everything was perfect. Jon Hopkins, who wrote the sound track for 'Monsters' and also the intro to ColdPlay's X&Y album, added the perfect balance of audio 'ambience'.

I don't know how Creosote and Hopkins got together in the first place - the partnership seems on paper to be an unlikely one - one is a folk singer while the other creates moody and produces ambient music such as Eno's latest album..... well, the songs are very beautiful and this little video is good too.