I started shipping my new book this week. So far, all the standard editions have been sent on their way, and next week I aim to send the special editions and black editions. Until you receive your book, I hope you enjoy this 7th instalment about my new book:
New book has arrived
Just a short note today that my new book arrived from Italy yesterday, and I’ve been busy unpacking the boxes, ready to ship next week.
It was like Christmas for me yesterday: I had not seen any advanced copies of the book until then. Wow. I was so happy with the reproductions of the images, and the quality of the printing and assembly of the book. I personally think this is my best book to date.
More later.
Hálendi book review 6/13
Although I do feel I’m giving away a surprise element as to what’s inside my new book ‘Hálendi’, I do think the discussion I had with Sam Gregory was quite fruitful. For me, I was able to get clarity on some of my motivations. It’s often when talking to others that you realise ‘you know something that you didn’t know you knew’ :-)
Chronology
I’ve just spent some time over the past week curating the images on my website. To me, my website is like a garden of images. A space in which to let things grow over time.
I have just re-introduced a few portfolios that I couldn’t find space for. There are a few reasons why I take some of the portfolios off-line for a while, but mainly it is due to layout concerns:
1) I may have a portfolio that does not fit with the rest, maybe due to the tonal palette or subject matter.
2) I may have too many portfolios of the same region shot over many years, and in order to give the site some kind of clarity, will remove portfolios which I feel aren’t necessary to convey where my style is going.
3) I think my website is also a place where you can see the adaption or change in my style over time.
4) I am maybe unsatisfied with some of the work, so it gets shelved. Over the years, I have found it increasingly difficult to keep my older work on the site, because it feels too far removed from where I am now. Or I am now quite embarrassed by the work (which in my view is an indication of growth).
I thought it would be good to show the new sections of the site, and perhaps describe how I have chosen to lay them out.
The page above is my most recent work. As a beginner photographer I am convinced I would have considered this work to have no colour whatsoever. But just for comparison, I show you the images below converted to black and white. You can now see that there is indeed colour in the work above. But I am sure for many they may perceive it as having none.
It’s interesting to find that looking at my older work from eight years ago and beyond, the colours feel too strong, too obvious and the older work speaks of trying too hard. It is my own view that muted colour comes from an understanding that you don’t need to shout to get your point across. I’d of course love to think that it comes from a place of maturity (hee hee hee), but I do wonder in all seriousness, that once you get past the need to impress others with your work, you settle into a place where you are comfortable doing what you do, and feel that you’ve figured out just how much contrast and colour is required to make your point.
I’d like to point out that none of this has been done with any premeditated intent. It’s just been an evolution of sorts and I’m never too clear as to whether this is just a case that my tastes have changed over the years, or whether it’s more a case that I’m seeing and noticing things more. I’d of course love to think it’s the latter ;-)
In the page above, if I were to look at this in isolation, I’d maybe assume that my work hasn’t changed much since 2017. It’s only when I do a direct comparison with my more recent work that I can see that the more recent work is taking the colour reduction and subject reduction further. A fine-tuning perhaps? (I’d love to think so!)
But you can see there’s still a bit more colour in this collection of image. I think the muting down of colour has been a learned experience for me. Going to the Fjallabak region of Iceland in winter time (bottom right), where there was almost no colour - I was shooting black and white scenes with colour film, I learned so much from this.
I have often said that certain landscapes, if you meet them at the right time in your own photographic development - can move your photography along in leaps and bounds. I am convinced that had I stayed in IT, and never been able to shoot so much, and go to so many of these winter places over the past 10 years, that my style maybe wouldn’t have moved on so much, if at all. I’m convinced that working in the Interior of Iceland, reducing things down to their utmost basic elements, gave me the permission to attempt to do the same with less empty landscapes.
I’m pleased to re-introduce my Romania, Harris and some of the more minimal Fjallabak portfolios. I’d almost forgotten about them :-) But now that I’ve re-introduced them on my site, I think there’s a more completed story of my own progress (for me at least).
In the page above, you can see there’s a mix of more ‘traditional’ looking landscapes with the graphic elements that I like to play with. At the time of making these, I was thinking that I’d maybe gone as far as I could with simplification. Not that I was consciously trying to strive towards it. Everything I’ve done has been purely emotional, despite others thinking that I deconstruct landscapes. I don’t. I just shoot what appeals to me.
But looking at these, that cone shape in Argentina (top left), taught me so much about the graphic nature of composition. That sometimes shape, is all that’s needed to make a powerful image. I’d certainly say for me, there are a few epiphanies in this collection of work from 2016 to 2017. Working with the Fjallabak region of Iceland allowed me to start to subtract colour, to embrace blacks as negative space. I also find it telling that personally for me, the Altiplano shots here, are not my strongest. I feel that by this point, I had ‘mined’ as much as I could out of the Bolivian altiplano and this was at the tail-end of my work there. I knew my book about Altiplano was almost ready because I was starting to run out of ideas and to see new things in this landscape. I think this is perfectly natural and it either signals that your work in a region has come to an end, or your current level of style and ability can’t go much further in it at present. Perhaps if I return in 10 years time, I may find that I am able to see new things in a old friend?
In the page above, I’ve been able to re-introduce some early work from Iceland’s coastline from 2012, and also some earlier work from the Bolivian altiplano from 2012 (last two portfolios).
By contrasting this page to my more recent work, it’s evident that I’ve been subconsciously on a colour-reduction quest, as well as tonal-distraction-reduction quest also. As I say, none of this was consciously any decision on my part. I just think my style has evolved.
What is interesting to me, is that these images are just on the periphery of what I feel is acceptable to show you. Older work from 2011 back to when I started out - does not work for me at all any more. I find the colours too gaudy and the contrasts too hard, and I feel that in my much older work there was a need to get my point across, perhaps too much.
I do feel that all the landscapes I’ve shot over the years have been great teachers. There are many places that I went to that never amounted to anything (Yosemite valley springs to mind) where I could do nothing with the subject matter, or where I found the location too hard, too difficult to work with (I still think Scotland is like that - there is just too much chaos in the landscape, too much tonal distractions for example). I tend to go back to landscapes that allow me to grow and I think I’m good at figuring out when a landscape allows me to do that.
I have often said that many photographers try to shoot landscapes that are too difficult for their current level of ability. It is much better to focus on the landscapes where you feel you are getting somewhere with. I am convinced that they are growing places for you. It is my view therefore that returning to a key number of places over the years, as I have done, allows for more intimate study and growth of one’s own style. The subject matter to a degree informs the style, and the style to a degree informs what you choose to shoot.
As I said at the beginning of this post today, I look at my website as a garden. I am often able to see where my style has evolved over time, and also how my images in certain landscapes have changed over the years.
Halendi Image Reviews | Video 5/13
The 5th instalment of my talk with Sam Gregory from TheTogCast has been published. Although I’m discussing the book layout, I do cover a few aspects of the image making process.
What is outside the frame is just as important as what is inside
For most of my early photography - perhaps the first ten years - I seldom used any telephotos. I was a wide angle (24mm equiv) nut with occasional 50mm shots. I think this is very normal, and I would urge everyone to start with a few focal lengths than buy loads of lenses.
My camera bag these days has around five lenses plus an assortment of teleconverters. I now shoot in all different focal lengths but it took me a while to get there.
I've learned so much by going to the lesser 'obvious' landscapes. In landscapes that may appear to hold very little appeal due to there being too many distractions, there may be something wonderful to shoot if you can isolate it with a telephoto.
Hokkaido for instance has so much infrastructure and machinery everywhere, it takes effort to find those good compositions without some unwanted object creeping into the frame.
While I was in Romania, I had the same issues. It is a complex landscape, but I actually take a lot of delight in finding those more simpler shots amongst the noise.
I think it’s all about practice, and exercising your ‘visual awareness’. If you can pin-point an isolated group of objects out of the noise, the way that someone can maybe pull out a separate conversation from a crowd, then this is good ‘visualisation’. I’d urge doing this all the time, even when you’re not taking photos. It’s all good practice.
Reconnecting
I made it to the isle of Harris this week. What was originally planned as a workshop (and cancelled a few months ago) has become a holiday break for me. I have for company my dad. whom I have been looking after for the past few months. Since I get on really well with him (he’s such a push over :-) it’s nice to be able to make photos with someone who’s quite happy to sit in the car and enjoy the scenery.
It has been six months now since I last used my camera. Before you assume that I must have been frustrated not having the time to shoot, I have to confess that this wasn’t the case. I realise for most, there is very little time each year to make photos, and most are often dreaming about being away somewhere. For the past several years, I’ve had no problem segregating my photography time and other time into compartments. When I am not making photos - I give myself permission to enjoy other things and look at it as much needed time away from it. And when I am making photos, I’m focussed.
I do think ‘time away’ from any passion / hobby is important. I’ve had periods where I was stale and I didn’t know it. I only noticed it once I had some forced time away from it, and realised how ‘fresh’ and ‘new’ it felt once I returned to it.
But today was the first day I have been out with my camera at sunrise in a very long time. It is also the first time I have made photos on my own in many years. I am either on workshops, or when photographing privately I often invite some photography friends along for the company.
It has just been such a thrill today, to be outside on my own. I had forgotten how much I enjoy it, and a few thoughts came to mind while I was outside;
First, it dawned on me that photography is my life. I could not live my life without being a creative person, and when I was reaching for my light meter, or working out my reciprocity exposures, it all felt like a hand going inside a comfortable glove. I don’t think I could do anything else.
Second, I have not enjoyed beautiful light in six months. Just standing on the beach I realised that getting any new photos would just be a bonus, and it really didn’t matter if I got any new photos at all. What I was there for, was to feel present. To feel the wind on my face, to watch the waves move in and out, and to just enjoy being. Taking pleasure in the present moment. It was wonderful.
Third, I gave myself permission to take the pressure off. The past week I had been wondering if I would get anything new on Harris. I have photographed it so many times over the years, and I so sometimes feel that some of the locations I have become close to over the past decade, are old friends now. But today while I was out, all pressures disappeared. I just realised ‘what will be will be’, and ‘it’s just wonderful to be here’.
I must admit that when I first arrived a few days ago, I suffered from procrastination. This is different from the slow-start that many photographers tell me about. I never have problems with ‘getting into the zone’. But I do have problems at times just starting at all. Just getting in the car with the gear and going somewhere to do something.
I felt a sense of pressure. Since I had not photographed in several months, I was beginning to wonder if I would feel anything if I went out to make photos. The way round this is to just start. Doesn’t matter how good the work is - just start.
As Ernest Hemingway once said “The first draft of anything is shit.”
It’s about letting go. Creativity should be about that anyway. Leave the judgement aside for a while.
I do hope you can get some time to make photos. Perhaps a park nearby, a river that you like, or some familiar coast line. Even a place that you know well and have photographed so many times in the past that you feel you are tired of. I’d urge you to go.
If you haven’t made photos in a long while, go. It will do you good.
Hálendi Book discussion 4/13
Sorry for the hold up with these. They were supposed to be published every week but Sam from the TogCast got caught up with other stuff. So they’ve resumed, and they are coming out every Wednesday now.
I hope you might find some good information in this one. I discuss tripods and composition, and also gear. Yes, gear !
Why grads are still required, even now
This is an old post from Jul 2016. But it still holds true. I thought it might be good to re-post some of my earlier entries as there is a lot of still valid information hiding in my blog.
I hope you enjoy this article, and it makes sense,
Bruce
—
Why grads are still required
I find it very interesting that it's completely impossible for us as a species, to see true dynamic range. We don't actually see the world the way it really is - our eyes compress luminosity so that everything in the upper regions all looks the same:
The human eye compresses luminosity. In other words, we are unable to see true dynamic range. It is a physical impossibility. Digital cameras can however see the true dynamic range. Even so, just because they can, does not mean they render images the way we see them. We need to use grads to do that.
We are in fact, all blind to true luminosity in the real world. Whereas digital cameras aren't: they are able to see that the sky is 4 stops brighter than the ground. But just because they can see it - it doesn’t mean digital cameras are giving us what we want. It just means that digital cameras don’t see the way we see. And that’s the important bit.
We tend to view everything we look at, as a mid-exposure. When I look at the sky, in my mind I see a mid-exposure of it. And when I look at the ground, I see a mid-exposure of it also. As my eye scans around, I build up an internal representation of the world - a collage or collection of mid-exposures.
This is why I don't agree with the concept that 'if a scene can fit inside the entire histogram, then we don't need grads'. This belief, lacks understanding of what it is we are trying to do with grads in the first place and also what a histogram represents.
Image shot without a grad. Sky is overexposed while ground is underexposed. Although it is contained within the histogram, and is a true representation of what is there, it does not match how the eye perceives the scene (the human eye compresses dynamic range whereas digital cameras do not),
With a grad in place, the dynamic range of the scene is reduced - but not only that - the ground values move towards the mid-tone area (right) of the histogram, while the sky tones move towards the left (mid-tone) area of the histogram. Giving an image that is closer to how our eye sees.
In the images above, the left-hand one is an example of what happens when I don't use grads. The image may well 'fit into the histogram', but the ground is underexposed and the sky is overexposed:
The left-hand side of the histogram represents dark tones while the right-hand side represents bright tones. I now have a muddy underexposed ground (left-hand side of the histogram) and overexposed sky (right-hand side of the histogram).
So everything fits, but the image sucks.
And the thing about histograms is: Just because you have the space - it doesn't mean you have to fill it.
The problem is, my eye doesn't see the ground as a dark area, nor the sky as a bright area. My eye tends to perceive them both as similar to each other and as a mid-tone. So if I wanted my histogram to represent what I saw, I would expect to see a 'single humper' histogram like this one:
One where the ground is a mid-tone and the sky is a mid-tone too. In effect, the ground and sky would share the same area of the histogram.
And that's where grads come in, because they do this for us. They not only push the sky from the right side of the histogram to the middle tone, they also move the ground from the left side of the histogram towards the middle tone. Yep, grads not only darken the sky - they also brighten the ground because they reduce the dynamic range or width of the histogram. Since your camera is always aiming for an 18% mid-tone, everything moves towards the middle: sky goes left and ground goes right.
Again: just because you have the space - it doesn't mean you have to fill it :-)
If you do choose to use grads, there are a couple of benefits to using them:
1) You will have more space in the left-hand side for more shadow tonal information. When you don't use grads and squeeze everything into the histogram you push the ground to the left - and underexpose it. And when underexposing - you tend to compress (or quantise) different lower tones into fewer tones. Twenty discreet tones are summed into one or two tones. However, If you use grads, you open up the shadows by moving the ground towards the middle area of the histogram and this compression becomes less of an issue.
2) Conversely, the same is true for the sky. You have more space on the right for more tonal gradations and you record more tonal graduations. If you didn't use grads - many of the brighter tones are squeezed together or quantised - several tones become one in an attempt to fit it all into the dynamic range of the camera.
3) If you use grads the RAW image doesn't suck so much to look at.
Point 3 is perhaps the most important one for me. If we put all the science to one side, I'd much rather come home with something that already looks inspiring to work with. A more balanced exposure through the use of grads will do that for me. I wish to be engaged when I review the RAW files, I don't wish to have to think about jumping through some additional hoops before I can figure out if there is anything of value there. If I don't use grads, I may let a few images fall between the cracks if I have to do additional processing before I can visualise if the image holds promise.
So for me, coming home with a more pleasing balanced image that requires less work to see if there is potential, is the most important aspect for using grads.
But that's just me. Which of the two images above would you choose to come home with?
Working beyond the obvious
In 2018 I visited South Korea by invitation from my good friend Kidoo. I think we spent around six days in total shooting, with a whole lot of driving thrown in. When I first arrived in South Korea I remember thinking how amazingly modern Seoul is, and I had wondered if I might find anything to shoot at all. As we ventured out of the capital I never ever felt that there was a clear demarcation point between urban and the rural landscapes. Kidoo assured me there are national parks in South Korea but for most of my journey I was greeted with a similar infrastructure to the one in Japan: lots of industrial areas, built up places, and any free land was used for farming.
I never make casual images. I never take the camera out of the bag to make images I’m not intending on keeping. I think I passed the point many years ago of knowing when a composition is worth shooting or not. In my earlier years I would just shoot something even if I knew it wasn’t any good. That seldom happens now, and it’s not because of the cost of film or the cost of anything. It’s just that I think I know when I’m mostly wasting my time on a place.
So it was a great surprise at the end of the six full days of shooting that I found I had around twenty rolls of film exposed. I remember saying to Kidoo ‘I found the landscape quite hard to shoot, and I didn't feel at the time that I was getting much, but I’m surprised to find I’ve shot twenty rolls of film, so there must be something in them!’. My South Korea portfolio is now one of my favourites. It was a surprise to both Kidoo and myself how nicely they turned out.
It is often a reminder to me that like compound interest in a bank, image acquisition is a slow accumulative process. It is very easy to think you are getting nowhere but one should cast those kinds of thoughts from their mind. We are not in the business of trying to accumulate successful shots. We should just shoot when we like something and avoid shooting if we’re not feeling it.
I have had many journeys over the past decade where I have found myself creating work I could not have imagined a year before. It is always of great delight to me to feel that there are always surprises and unexpected fortunes up ahead with image making.
It is not supposed to be rote. It is completely fluid, and with that, we need to learn to let go, and see where it takes us.