Adrian Scholes

Showcase Sunday – Joe Cornish

If I had to name one photographer who has taught me more about understanding and working the light, it would have to be British landscape photographer Joe Cornish. His landscapes and the books he writes about them are guaranteed to get me dreaming about setting my alarm, getting outside, and working to master the craft. It’s safe to say he’s been a huge influence on my photographic style. We also share a fascination with rocks and geology, which cannot help but creep into many of the images we create.

To quote from one of his books; “While landscape provides the subject matter, it is light we record and interpret. Light defines space, reveals texture, sculpts form, controls color, and above all ignites an emotional response. The sky is our studio, our theatre, and we must learn to act upon its gifts of light”.

Yes we must, and thanks to Joe Cornish I’ve been slowly learning to act upon it for the past decade. I was lucky enough to visit his studio gallery in North Yorkshire a few years back, and lost myself in the incredible light and almost spiritual level of detail he captures in every photograph. Take a look at his online portfolio, and I’m sure you’ll do the same.

(Practically) Foolproof Picture Taking

I’ve just finished reading an excellent little book; ‘A Definitive Study of Your Future in Photography’, by the late Victor Keppler. Published in 1965, it’s a fascinating read.

From the very beginning, Mr. Keppler draws a clear distinction between the camera as a piece of technology and the camera as a catalyst for art.  

“In the next decade” we are warned, “Cameras will be used as widely and casually as fountain pens” and, more ominously, “Continuing improvements in the design of low-cost automatic camera equipment will enable the average man and woman to take excellent pictures. Picture taking will be practically foolproof.” Frightening stuff!

He discusses what it will mean to be a photographer “in a world where the beginner can take images that compare favorably in technical quality with those of the skilled professional”, and predicts that “the coming technical marvels will make the demand for creativity in photography even greater than it is today.”

This theme is repeated throughout the book. We are continually reminded that an ability to see creatively, rather than mere technical proficiency, will be all that separates average photographers from great ones. The better we are at seeing, the more our pictures will stir the minds and emotions of others, and Mr. Keppler offers all kinds of wise advice on how to look for mood, detail, composition and message before clicking the shutter.

It’s a marvelous book, full of memorable quotes and anecdotes – some of which are naturally amusing when read from the perspective of 2010. Child photography, for example, should never be attempted “unless you have the patience to get what you want”. As the Father of a 7-year old, I can tell you that kind of patience does not exist :o)

Refreshingly, there isn’t a single discussion of camera equipment on any of the 150 pages. We learn how and what to teach ourselves, all about the different fields of photography, and some important rules to live by, but nowhere does he dictate to us the lenses we must own or why we need a camera with a certain ISO capability.

Take a moment to browse the photography books at your local Borders, and try to find something similar. Go on, I dare you. Nowadays, it’s almost impossible for a photographer to produce a book without explaining the equipment you need to emulate his or her fabulousness.

Looking Through the Camera

I’ve been lucky enough to get out and photograph on a regular basis these past few weeks, and I’ve noticed an interesting development in the way I photograph; or, more specifically, in the way I use my camera.

I’ve known for a while that I never produce my best work in the first few minutes of photographing a location. I need to give myself time to settle down and think about the images I want to capture. That doesn’t mean I ignore the camera. Quite the contrary. I tend to snap away, knowing I’ll almost certainly disappointed with those first photos, but also knowing it’s essential for me to get into a rhythm.

Now that I’m photographing a few times a week, I’ve noticed this ‘settling down’ process is getting shorter, and this morning I realized why this is happening.

There’s a lot to think about with a digital SLR; from setting the right aperture to making sure the ISO is appropriate, and a bunch of other decisions in between. When I haven’t picked up the camera in a while, I find myself thinking through these decisions. I have to get comfortable with the ‘tools’ again, and remind myself where things are. I’m looking at the camera not through the camera. It’s a subtle distinction that makes a big difference.

I’ve read of photographers who regularly practice at home, so they can ensure success in the field. I used to think that was taking things a little too far, but I now appreciate the benefits this can bring.

For now, though, I’ll be using these regular photography trips to practice looking through the camera.

Staying Local

I was in the field for sunrise again this morning, visiting the Ordway Reservation in West Newbury. This remarkable ECGA property is adjacent to I95, but the roar of traffic immediately fades as you step into 55 acres of open fields and upland forest. This is the New England of an earlier age, with classic stone walls marking the boundaries of once-cleared land.

As I walked the trails, I thought of the similarities between this place and other locations I’ve photographed; many of which involved an obscenely early start and a long journey to my destination. In comparison, this morning’s drive was less than 20 minutes. I arrived in time for that golden transition of twilight to sunrise, enjoyed a productive hour of photography, and was home to begin a normal day by 8:30am.

Over the years, I’ve read numerous variations of a learning assignment that recommends spending some time limiting your photography to a confined space – such as no farther than 50 feet from your door. The intent of these exercises is to enhance our ability to see. On the other hand, photography magazines and books constantly wow us with images of majestic mountains reflecting in glass-smooth glacial lakes. These grandiose photographs are often what drive us to purchase our first camera and spend hours attempting to recreate the something similar.

The images I’m seeking nowadays are very different. I’m not sure if what I’m experiencing is a kind of photographic maturity, but the idea of thinking in terms of a project - revisiting a place, exploring every corner, and returning in different conditions - has been a sort of photography rebirth for me. Rather than the one-hit wonder, I’m there to document a location's character, and communicate a sense of place to my viewers. My hope is they will be inspired to visit and explore these wonderful locations themselves.

And best of all, I’m learning I can do all this by staying local.

Curiosity and Conservation

One of the many pleasures of photography is the search for new and distinct photographs, which naturally leads to the discovery of new and distinct locations. Curiosity lies at the very heart of photography. It drives our 360 degree vision as we hike trails. It encourages us to return to the same location at different times of day and in a variety of weather conditions until we get the images we see in our minds eye. It inspires us to learn more about our subjects. What was that flower? Who lived above those ruined foundations? Where is the source of that river?

Visiting an interesting locale for the first time is a fabulous experience, especially when it’s on our proverbial doorstep.  I called on the good people at Essex County Greenbelt Association (ECGA) today, and learned of a few such places; all of which are less than 25 minutes from the house. I’ll be exploring every one of them in the coming weeks.

I began this evening, with a visit to the ‘Riverbend Conservation Area’ in West Newbury. Not marked on any map I own, I’ve driven past the area many times. An abandoned and much deteriorated town road has recently been cleared by volunteers, and now provides access to more than 4 miles of trails. Following one of these trails alongside the Merrimack River and through woodlands sprinkled with the crimson and gold of a New England Fall, I was reminded once again of the vital work carried out by conservation groups around the region. This trail system is a particularly good example, resulting from the combined efforts of multiple organizations. Even the local Boy Scouts played a part; marking the trails to help folks like me to find our way around.

I arrived a little too late to explore the complete property, but saw enough to know this is a location worthy of many more visits. Once again, my curiosity has been sparked and I will be back.

Ten Easy Steps to Having Your Own Thoughts

I’m a big fan of technology and innovation, but a couple of related experiences this week got me thinking about how so called ‘progress’ is not always for the best.

First came the news that I will no longer be able to visit, browse, and purchase from the magnificent collection of photography books that Timothy Whelan stocks in his Rockport, Maine store. Yesterday, after ~18 years, he closed up the store that, as Ashley Gilbertson describes in this excellent and moving interview, “is known as one of the finest of its kind in the United States”. In the interview, Mr. Whelan discusses the economic difficulties of running such a store, especially in this age of Amazon.com and the internet. It’s impossible to compare the experience of thumbing through beautifully printed books by some of the best (and little known) photographers on the planet with a quick browse through the thumbnail images on Amazon.

Today, I popped into a local Barnes & Noble to grab a coffee and spend a few minutes answering some urgent emails. As with every visit, I first wandered over to the photography section to get my browsing fix. Only, there was no photography section; at least not where it’s been for the past year or so. In its place were dozens of book covers extolling the wonders the author could work with my window treatments and interior décor, if I would only give them a chance.

After wandering up and down a couple of aisles, I found my missing photography section. Actually, ‘section’ is an exaggeration. What I found was a meager collection of maybe 20 books covering the portfolios of well-known photographers such as Ansel Adams and Henri Cartier-Bresson. Not to take anything away from these masters, but these are the same few books we see in every store; nothing new or different.

The reason was clear as I moved a few aisles over and found the section titled “Digital Photography”, which is apparently a very different animal to just plain old photography. Here, I could learn the “Ten Shortcuts to Mastering Photoshop”, how to “Manipulate Skin”, “Hacks That Every Digital Photographer Should Know”, and “Digital Photography in 24 Hours”. Nowhere could I actually pick up and browse the portfolio of a photographic artist, examine and enjoy his or her work, and simply lose myself in their art. Oh no. That would involve reflection, contemplation, analysis, and generally using my own brain to draw my own conclusions. In fact, I’m sure someone’s written a book entitled “Ten Easy Steps to Having Your Own Thoughts”. If they haven’t, I have first dibs.   

The Fruits of Manual Labor (or, Say No to Automation)

I keep my camera and lenses set to manual. That doesn’t mean I won’t switch to auto when appropriate, but I’m often shooting in low and challenging light or photographing a subject with little or no contrast, such as moving water. These conditions will play havoc with auto focus, causing the lens to rotate back and forth as it searches for something to lock onto. There are other advantages too. Landscapes frequently call for maximum depth of field, and I like to manually set my focus point as I’m composing, rather than hoping one of the built in focus points will be in the right place. I can focus, compose, set the aperture and shutter speed, and fire the shutter in one easy sequence.

Focusing manually takes practice for it to become second nature. My technique is simple. I start with the subject (or the point I’m using for correct depth of field) blurred, turn the focus ring until it looks good, and – this is the tip -  keep turning until things start to blur again. Then I bring it back. This way, I know I’ve nailed the focus to be exactly where I need it.

Although this is a simple method for focusing, it’s a philosophy that can apply to the complete process of finding and taking the photograph. It’s easy to spot a subject, point, focus, and click. But, why not keep walking? Go past the first spot you find, walk around a bit, and come back. Blur the lines, break the rules, and view it from different angles. And never forget to turn around. A couple of years back, I was photographing Bass Harbor light in Maine. After a few shots, I turned 180 degrees to see an enormous pink moon hanging just above rocky coastline. It remains one of my favorite photographs, and 5 minutes later it was gone.

Last week, I stopped at ‘The Basin’, a well known tourist spot in Franconia Notch, where I93 cuts through the White Mountains of New Hampshire. I watched carloads of visitors climb out of their vehicles, walk the hundred or so yards to the basin, snap a picture, and head back.  If you keep going past the falls, you’re on the Cascades Trail, one of my favorite hikes in the Whites. For approximately a mile, the trail follows a rocky stream and a succession of waterfalls, varying in height from small cascades to the more significant Kinsman Falls and Rocky Glen Falls.

I’ve also followed the trail until it eventually meets Lonesome Lake, where you can loop around and follow a different trail system back to the Basin. It’s a 5 or 6 mile hike that takes some beating for its varied and dramatic scenery.

So, think about shifting that switch over to manual every now and then. I’m sure you’ll enjoy the fruits of your labor.

Science, Beauty, and the Meaning of Life

After a valiant effort to extend summer into October, Mother Nature has officially given up and delivered more traditional fall weather to New England. In response, our trees have decided it’s finally time to take a break from all that photosynthesizing and prepare for their long winter’s rest. No more chlorophyll production. The carotenoids in their leaves can now entertain us with a vivid display of yellow, orange and gold, while the extended summer means we should also see vibrant reds and purple in the mix, as trees produce more anthocyanins to recover any remaining nutrients from their leaves. Of course, this is all before the leaves give up and decide it’s just easier to jump.

It’s impossible to write that last sentence without thinking of the brilliant Terry Gilliam and his animated ‘suicidal leaves’ sketch in Monthy Python’s ‘The Meaning of Life’.

Anyways…

As mentioned in my previous post, I recently made the first of many pilgrimages to photograph this fall color. In previous years, I’ve waited (or not had the chance) until the area I visited was at so called ‘peak’ color. This year, I was determined to get out there early. There was good reason for this. I happen to prefer the beginnings of the color change. Sure, it’s an amazing sight when the hillsides are awash with crimson and gold, but, at the risk of alienating leaf peepers everywhere, I find it all looks the same after a while. What I really enjoy is finding a lone tree, dripping scarlet against a backdrop of green. That’s when the colors truly pop and we appreciate the science and beauty of this change.

That doesn’t mean I won’t be back to take more pictures. In fact, I’ll keep going back until the trees have lost their color, lost their leaves, and it’s possible to find a parking space again. And I’ll do it all again next year. Because this is New England in the fall.

Top 10 Memory Lapses for a Landscape Photographer

Yesterday, my quest for photographing Fall color began with a 3:30am alarm. Like most people, my brain isn’t fully (ok, is not at all) operating on all cylinders at that time. Over the years, I’ve developed a habit of preparing the night before. I need to be able to jump out of bed, into the car, and get going. It’s not a perfect system. This time, I forgot my rain jacket. Guess what the weather was doing when I arrived at my first destination.

This preparation doesn’t just stop with photography and personal ‘gear’. To illustrate, here’s a list of ten other memory lapses that have gotten me into trouble. There are many more, but I’ve forgotten what they are. :)

10 - Forgetting to change the ISO setting, after shooting indoors at ISO 1600 or higher, and returning from a fabulous hike with a card full of grainy and unusable images

09 - Leaving the camera on 10 second self-timer, and realizing the moment a moose spends exactly 9 seconds crossing the path in front of me

08 - Forgetting my tripod; the second most important piece of equipment I carry

07 - Leaving the books or maps of my planned route at the side of my bed, where I was reading them the night before

06 - Forgetting to charge my camera battery

05 - Charging my battery, and leaving it in the charger

04 - Not packing toilet paper for a long hike into the great outdoors. ‘Nuff said

03 - Not keeping a firm enough hold on my camera and backpack during a walk through Barcelona, and watching it all get whisked away by a couple of professional criminals

02 - Forgetting to set or change my alarm, and rendering everything else moot

And the number one memory lapse that has gotten me into trouble?

01 - Brewing a cup of tea and leaving it sitting on the counter. Maybe I should add some perspective here. One of the first questions my daughter often asks when she gets up in the morning is “Daddy, have you had your tea yet?”.

So, that’s my list. It’s Interesting to see how many of these have crept in due to the digital age.  What about you? Did I miss anything?

Pride & Prejudice in New England

About now, TV channels and web forums are abuzz with predictions and opinions about fall color in New England. September’s Yankee Magazine has an excellent article entitled “The Top 25 Towns for Foliage”, and this is representative of what we see and read elsewhere; the best drives, finest fall hikes, views no leaf peeper should miss…

Fall in New England is indeed spectacular, and I always look forward to those special trips to see what photographic splendor is waiting to be captured. I enjoy the fact that it is all so unpredictable. Despite an overabundance of colorful interactive maps and confident predictions, Mother Nature is firmly in control here.  Headed out in the early hours of the morning, you never know what you’ll find and whether you are too early, late, or just in time. Hike a half mile in any direction from an area past its prime, and you’ll likely find a magnificent display of crimson and gold.

I often wonder how many born and bred New Englanders truly appreciate this annual exhibit. I grew up on the doorstep of an area called the Peak District in England. This is the stuff of picture postcards and calendars; rolling hills and valleys, lazy trout rivers, rocky outcrops, picturesque villages and stone walls straddling the hillsides in every direction. If you’ve seen the recent adaptation of “Pride & Prejudice” or any episode of James Herriot’s vet stories (although these take place in an adjacent county), then you know the kind of scenery. It’s truly beautiful area, but back then it was simply home. Only now, after living over here for 16 years, do I truly appreciate its beauty.

Last year, I took only one trip - to the White Mountains in NH – in search of photographs, and I realized I’m in danger of falling into that same apathetic routine. I’ve recently had reason to think much about this area and how fortunate I am to live here. New England is an exceptional corner of the world and, like many natural places, is in a constant fight to retain that distinctiveness.

As a landscape photographer, I can think of no better use for my work than to remind folks of where they live, remind them to appreciate the enduring beauty of New England, and to ensure it stays that way for my daughter and generations to come.

So, if you’ll excuse me, I have some photos to take.