Sorry for being so quiet

Just wanted to write tonight to say that I know I’ve been quiet.

I’d much rather write when I have something to say, rather than writing for the sake of it.

Right now, I’m taking some time out. I’ve been super busy this year : Hokkaido, Romania, Iceland, Chile, Brazil and soon Bolivia.

Even though I love photography and feel I found my true vocation in life with it, I still feel I need time away. I have other interests such as music writing / production.

We all need to step back and take a rest from whatever it is we love. It allows us to return fresh and with excitement.

I will be back in touch in a short while. I have some new images and some other things I want to share.

Right now, I’m just enjoying working in my home studio. It’s a lot of fun !

Thank You

A few nights ago, I put out a mini-newsletter, advertising that I had some soiled stock remaining from the print run of my Altiplano book. And also, that I had found some copies of my Iceland and Art of Adventure book.

I just want to thank everybody who bought a copy.

Upon reading the ‘comments’ section of the orders I found the following wonderful words:

“Thank you for making this available!”

and

“Thank you! I so admire your work.”

and also

“Hi Bruce, it will be just wonderful to own one of your stunning Iceland books. Thanks so much for the opportunity!”

Apart from comments like this stroking my own ego (something I keep denying that I have), It was simply just so nice to feel appreciated.

Because feeling appreciated means a lot. And I think that’s why we all look for compliments in what we do, whether it’s seeking approval through being commended in a competition, or simply someone saying to you ‘your image touches me in some way’.

But this is only the tip of the iceberg.

You see, the truth is, although we all love photography, and admire people’s talents for creating wonderful work, most of us seldom patronise it.

A little digression: the word patronise has several meanings. One of them is this:

“to give encouragement and financial support to (a person, especially an artist, or a cause): local churches and voluntary organisations were patronised by the family. “

That’s the kind of patronage I’m talking about here.

As a working ‘artist’ (I find that term rather pompous, but I don’t feel I’m a photographer), the fact is: earning a living at what you do is tough. And if someone puts their hand in their pocket for you - that’s a pretty big thing. Whether it’s them coming on a workshop or tour with you, or buying your books - it means they are supporting you.

I would therefore like to extend my thanks beyond those of you who have bought my books. I wish to also thank those of you who have chosen to come on my workshops and tours over the years. I realise that for all of you, you had to take a leap of faith and hope that I would be either a good teacher, or that I could at least offer something worth going home with. I am fully aware of the risk it has been for all of you to commit, and I thank you.

To all of you who have helped contribute to me doing what I do, I can only thank you all from the bottom of my heart.

Bruce.

Uncovering the story in my work

Working on an image by image basis is what most of us do. Indeed, I think any other way is hardly ever considered. We tend to think of images as stories in their own right, and collections of our work tend to be location based : 20 images from Iceland, 34 images from China, etc, etc.

I’ve been more interested in the sum of the parts of a collection of work, than in individual images for a while now. I think I can find more about who I am as a photographer, when I put sets of images together.

I find several benefits of working on portfolios, or collections:

1. By placing the images side by side, I find that the edits of one image inform another.

2. Some images push others further on in their development. I realise that some images are under-produced and need further work to bring them up to the same level as others.

3. I see my style of photography become more evident through this process.

Point 3 is the most important for me.

Most workshop participants who are wondering if they have a style often say something along the lines of ‘I don’t know if I have a style’. I know I have a style in my work, because I have found portfolio development instrumental into forcing me to see where the relationships and themes are in what I do.

There is an underlying story to our work. It’s sitting there in plain sight of us, but it just needs us to look at our work in a different way. Rather than working on images on an image by image basis, I’d recommend trying to find collections that sit together well. They tend to inform me about where my recurring themes are, what I tend to do a lot of, and how I use tone and form. Portfolios are teachers. It just takes us a little effort to put together work in such a way where it flows. We can learn so much about who we are as creative artists, and where our strengths and weaknesses are.

Uncovering the story of my work has been hugely instrumental in pushing my own development forward. Few of us enquire, reflect upon our work in a collective way. We tend to look at images one at a time, and to me, this is like looking at single words at a time. By putting the work together we form paragraphs and by collecting portfolios we put chapters together. This form of assemblage, after some time, begins to write a story of who we are and what we’re trying to say with our photographs.

Photo tourist or photo artist? Which are you?

I think there are two kinds of landscape photographer:

1. The photo artist

2. the photo tourist

The photo artist is someone who wants to show others their view. They are looking to find their own voice, to show others what they saw and felt.

The photo tourist loves to visit really beautiful places and come home with mementos. They are happy to go to a well known location and make their own version of a well known composition. They enjoy being outdoors, seeing these rare and special places and wish to capture a good photograph, even if it may be a ‘cover’ of a well known composition.

eight different photographers, eight different ‘cover’s of a well known composition.
All valid, all beautiful efforts in their own right.

In the past decade, I’ve seen a massive rise in photo-tourism. Indeed, some of the photographic-tours I have run in the past have now become overrun with photographer-tourists. Take for instance the set of photos above. Eight photographs by eight photographers. All are a ‘cover’ of a well known view of the town of Hamnøy in the Lofoten islands. All are very nice images in their own right. The view is from a bridge and each morning during the months of February and March the bridge is often crowded with photographers - all making their version of a well known composition.

For many of us, reproducing a well known composition is a lot of fun. It’s simply enjoyable to be out there, and to come home with some nice images from our travels is great.

But, I am left wondering if when we take photos of a well known location, particularly a well known composition, whether we really understand that the only reason why we are able to capture these scenes, is because someone else found them for us? If you had been living under a rock for most of your life, and someone took you to Lofoten, would you naturally gravitate to a well known composition unaided by someone else’s photographs?

I don’t think so.

So which are you? Are you a photographic-tourist, or a photographic artist? Are you more interested in just coming home with beautiful, if unoriginal photographs of a well known place, or are you more interested in trying to find your own point of view, of trying to show others what you saw and felt?

I realise that it’s really really hard to find original compositions. It’s also much much easier to follow others. But when we follow others too much, we lose the chance to find out who we are and to show others what we saw and felt. This of course, may not be everyone’s motivation in making photographs: many of us just simply enjoy being there, and making images. It’s irrelevant to some of us whether the work is original or whether we are making our own version of a well known scene. If we enjoy it, then that’s just great.

We all get something out of the photographic experience and indeed, we can all learn a lot by copying well known compositions. They often teach us so much, that I think there is great value in imitating the things that inspire us. It’s just that we all need to be honest with ourselves when we’re relying too much on someone else’s ability to see a composition, and just how much further we have to go to find our own view.

Finding our own view has never been an easy task. Indeed, good photography isn’t easy. Nor is it something we master in a short while. Good photography is about being an individual, of being independent, of showing others how you see the world. Good photography is a life-long endeavour of self improvement, of development. Sure, go ahead and copy well known compositions if they make you happy and you learn a lot from the experience, but at some point, we should try to leave the well beaten path and start to show others what we saw and felt. That is why we should all photograph: to show others what we see.

Being original is hard work. The things that really matter in life often are.

Enjoy your journey :-)

Going Backwards

Somehow, sometimes, I feel as if I’m going backwards.

I take this as a message. A marker, a notice: “Do not pass this way again" - this is old ground.

We all know when we’re repeating ourselves, or when we’ve outgrown something. I think that feeling one is going backwards is a perfectly normal part of creative progress. To move forward we have to feel that where we are right now, isn’t good enough any more.

In Patagonia

I’ve just finished a tour of Torres del Paine national park in Chilean Patagonia. Thanks so much to everyone who came and shared some time with me :-)

Image courtesy of Mark McClure, tour participant 2019.

I’ve been coming here since 2003. It is my favourite national park by far, simply because I feel I have history with it. Some places get under your skin and become part of who you are, and I think shape you as a person through the experiences you have with them.

So many wonderful encounters ranging from Sabine, my guide who is such a lovely person, to seeing Puma’s on just about every tour I’ve done here in the past 5 years.

The park is changing quite a lot now. As is the case with everywhere else : things are busy. Too busy.

So many photographers now, and tourists. We are living in a smaller world.

I’ve been running tours now for 10 years and I’ve seen so much change in that time. Airports have expanded, tourist numbers have gotten larger, and there are more photographers. It is becoming harder to have a solitary experience in the world’s famous places.

Scotland is overrun with tourists. Lofoten is overrun with photographers in the winter. Iceland is the same. Everywhere that has a magnetic pull, is now no longer the idea of the sole traveller but the idea of the many. Having that solitary experience is becoming less and less a possibility.

Image courtesy of Mark McClure, tour participant 2019.

Much like the hiking community, a set of principles, a code of conduct would be very welcome. I feel that things are changing and park guidelines are becoming more and more restrictive.

I’d love the national parks to consider the dreams and wishes of all landscape photographers, but at present many of the rules and regulations are going in the opposite direction: things are becoming more restrictive. This is of course to save these places from the increasing footfall they’re experiencing.

If we want to get the photos we want, we have to cooperate as best as we can: we all have to be the best ambassador we can for the photographic community. I don’t know what that might entail and far be it for me to suggest, or put some thoughts forward on this.

In the meantime, all I can do is go out into the world and care for it: realise that it is a precious thing and that I represent the photography community at large with my actions. Act responsibly and try not to put the pursuit of my photography above everything else.

I wish for all of us to consider that regulations are becoming much tighter, and if we want to continue to photograph these special places without too much restrictions, we need to go lightly, and with much care into the world.

Wood block painting, Romania 2019

A dear friend has just mentioned that this photo looks like a wood block painting. That makes me very happy as I love to abstract in my photography.

Most of my images from this year were shot with a 250mm lens and a 2x converter. This one was more - it was a 250mm lens with 2x converter and also a 1.4 x converter. I often saw groups of objects together that only worked from where I was standing: get closer and the group would disperse or something would get in the way of the shot.

Many thanks to Florin Patras for being my guide this February. Such kindness, and I can’t thank hm enough.

I just started work on my new Romania images, but I’ve run out of time. Off to Patagonia tomorrow. Hope to resume the Romanian journey once I get home.

Vestmannaeyjar

The Vestmannaeyjar (westman islands), Iceland. As part of my central highlands of Iceland tour this year, we ended up at the coast on the last day. What felt like a rather incidental shot taken to fill up the time before we headed back to Reykjavik turned into something a little bit more than that. I’ve always wanted to shoot the Vestmannaeyjar, but I didn’t anticipate that it would happen as an add-on to a trip into the interior.

Stephen in the landscape

tonight I’m working on my images for this year’s central highlands Iceland tour. This is the trip where we work with as little as possible. Ultimate minimalism !

Occasionally one of my group members would pop into the frame of my camera. We are all spread out as explorers in this vast canvas of white. My good friend Stephen Naor came over the brow of a hill, and I chose to include him in the photograph. I think it adds some nice scale to show how minimal this landscape can be.

What I love about the central highlands in winter time, is that the wind often blows the snow off the crest of hills leaving them exposed. The black desert below peaks through the snow and provides the illusion of black brush strokes on a white canvas.

The first two images will feature in my finalised portfolio. I include the image below, just to prove to those who know Stephen that it is indeed him :-)

Euclidean geometry, Lençóis Maranhenses, Brazil

I’ve been reviewing my images from Lençóis Maranhenses tonight, as I will be visiting this fabulous place in a few weeks time for my second visit.

Why is it, that most photographers try to shoot the entirety of a lake or lagoon? Rather than using a section of it, which I think provides a more focussed composition, most are tempted to get the wide angle out and shoot its entire circumference. It just smacks of trying too hard to spell a message out that most viewers already understand.

All I’ve learned is that less is often more.

Try to fit an entire lake into the frame and all that happens is the picture become weak as a lack of presence ensues. All because one is trying too hard to convey too much.

Rather than trying to squeeze a whole lake into the frame of your camera, I would suggest you focus on a small region of the lake. Preferably an area that offers some kind of elegant shape to keep the viewer interested.

The viewer will fill in the missing gaps. As is the case with my photograph. For most viewers the lagoon doesn't stop at the edge of the frame: it continues beyond, and the viewer delights in filling in the missing gaps.