Article
Outdoor Photography March 2006
As a student of photography, one of my heroes was Henri Cartier-Bresson. I was always enchanted by the illusion of unexpected discovery that his pictures suggest. Looking at a photograph such as his Picnickers by the Seine I imagined he had just stumbled across the scene in question, framed his beautiful composition, and having made one 'snap', would have simply moved on.
As I start my 25th year in photography I now understand the reality, that photojournalists including Cartier-Bresson work a situation, and typically shoot a number of exposures. Authentic human interaction can only be choreographed photographically-speaking by acute observation and precise timing. Rarely would the picture have simply been stumbled upon, for the photojournalist is a professional storyteller who puts his/her skills to a particular agenda. And even more rarely could a journalistic masterpiece be made in just one exposure. The illusion comes about because we the public are only privy to the finest, most-telling image made on a particular assignment. We don't see the also-rans, or rejects, or indeed those pictures that show the developing idea, which led to the decisive moment. I take some solace from knowing that Henri Cartier-Bresson did in fact take images that were not perfect, and like us lesser mortals no doubt he too had his off-days. Not that this diminishes his work in my eyes, but it is worth remembering that his reputation is still dependent on good editing.
Since I regard myself as a photographer who also works in the documentary tradition, I too hope to tell stories, but mine are usually concerned with landscape. Although I go out with my camera in search of that indefinable quality, inspiration, I also usually have a plan or agenda I wish to fulfil. More often than not, inspiration proves elusive and I come home having made no pictures at all, or perhaps just one or two which will serve as no more than future reference shots. The weather conditions and how they reveal the location are crucial. But this is also partly a question of mood, or attitude. A balance is required, a plan to give the day direction, but also an open state of mind, and a positive attitude. Luck too plays a part, coming across a unique confluence of events and light that could not be predicted. One day I hope to photograph my own Picnickers by the Seine, metaphorically-speaking!
These days I lead quite a few workshops, and the pursuit of inspiration is but one of the many themes that a leader must illuminate. In colour landscape photography especially, the role of light cannot be overestimated. Explaining light is not easy. The science part is tricky, while the emotional and aesthetic part is nothing short of a lifetime of study, not easily disseminated in a discussion. Nevertheless, I find one useful way to look at light in the landscape is through the eyes of an ex-studio photographer, which I once was. The studio photographer must adopt a rigorous and analytical technique, while being sensitive to inspiration. I have described before in this column the idea of 'sky studio', with the sun as our light source, and the clouds as our light shapers, reflectors and diffusers. While the studio photographer can turn lights on and off, and manipulate the setup, the landscape photographer must use timing. With an awareness of how lighting and backdrops work, and an understanding of filters, a surprising degree of control can be achieved. Allow me to illustrate.
When tackling famous subjects particularly, a fresh or innovative approach is needed to avoid a clichéd result. Clear thinking and planning are essential, and a few insights from the studio can come in handy. My example is Middlesbrough's Transporter Bridge, the best-known architectural structure on Teesside. I have photographed it many times, but had never quite done it full justice. My favourite view is from the south bank of the River Tees, and requires a super wide-angle lens. From here the boat Northumberland, almost always moored here, can be composed into the scene where it provides a useful balance to the steeply converging perspective of the bridge.
The studio photographer sees the Transporter Bridge as a piece of meccano, only on a very large scale. The perfect lighting conditions for this particular still life required a specific type of weather window. The angle of the sun would be right only in late afternoon, preferably in the equinox months of the year. Light winds were essential, to preserve the reflection. And most importantly, dark cloud would be needed behind the bridge, equivalent to the studio photographer's dark canvas or paper backdrop, allowing the subject to stand forward in dramatic relief.
The BBC's (originally much maligned) new weather forecasting graphics encouraged me to head out one overcast afternoon in October last year. At lunchtime their website predicted clearer skies arriving as a cloud blanket edged east, an hour or so before sunset. In early afternoon I set off in light drizzle, but as I approached the Tees the sky had already started to lighten in the west. The forecast was spot-on. The conditions I had hoped for were combining perfectly.
As the sun emerged below the cloud it was as if a spotlight had been turned on. The reflection remained, and periodically the bridge's suspended platform trundled across the river, its yellow paintwork catching the late sunlight. I made eleven exposures. Unlike a photojournalist who might make a similar number of handheld pictures in an unfolding situation, the composition in each of mine is identical, but the lighting is subtly different, with the last versions ablaze with the pink of the setting sun. Although this shoot depended much more on planning than on luck, the actual impact of the light still surprised me, and inspired me to make such a large number of photographs. I got the exposure right on every sheet, but in the bottom left corner of the image a railing appears, which I failed to spot on the ground glass screen, and so appears on every sheet. The light may have been perfect; my technique, sadly, was not!
Caption
Transporter Bridge, Middlesbrough. Ebony 45SU, Schneider Super-Angulon XL 58mm f/5.6 lens, Fuji Velvia 50.
Only my 58mm lens was wide enough. I needed the centre filter to avoid a 'hot-spot', and as it turned out, a 0.6ND grad as well over the top half of the picture to allow enough light into the lower half. I aimed for moments when the suspended platform of the bridge made an interesting feature. The Northumbria did move during some exposures.
