Having arrived at Lake Wanaka late in the afternoon of my first day in NZ, I found that the water level of the lake was too low to get the image that I wanted as the foreground was nothing less than scattered rocks covered in a fine mud. Not to be peturbed, I figured that with a little rain and a little more luck I’d find the lone tree surrounded by water.

Having watched the weather move in over the South Island while I was on the North Island enjoying the Rugby Word Cup, I figured that I may have a chance the following week.  Again, with a close eye on the weather I decided that a clear still day would best to light up the mountains in the background and provide a nice calm reflection.

The above image, for me, is the result of sheer persistence and pre-visualisation and an image I am proud to call mine.

A vertical panorama allows the photographer to lead in the audience’s eye into the frame by placing strong compositional elements in the foreground of the image, that is near impossible with a standard panorama. In the below image, I was able to include the marshmellow like texture of the snow, the flow of the river in the mid-to-foreground and the scattered snow covered rocks in the midground to the brooding alpine clouds and layers of snow covered hills in the background.

In many respects, the vertical panorama is akin to a “doorway to the landscape” inviting the viewer to walk into the scene and appreciate the landscape. The vertical panorama is a skill that is hard to master as it requires strong compositions and an appreciation of textural elements of the scene.

The biggest advantage most people think of in this kind of discussion is what might be called “real estate”. Simply put: a larger film area yields a higher quality of image than that of a smaller film area.  Medium format film is a whopping 5 times longer across the horizontal plane of the image than a 35mm Single Lens Reflex camera (SLR).

Disregarding the fact that all my images here on my blog are posted at 900 pixels wide, the native resolution of my master print files is massive – far greater than that of the digital counter parts I can produce with a single row stitch.

Below I have posted an illustrate example of what a 100% crop looks like (although it has been resized for the blog). To give you a true indication of the intricate detail, the zoomed section would approximately equate to 25 cms * 18 cms at full resolution… Now that is juicey detail!

 For those of you that follow my facebook page, you may have seen the adjacent image which was taken on my iphone. It certainly was one of the most incredible sunrises I have been fortunate enough to witness. Having shot this scene on Fujifilm Vevlia RVP50, I knew that the resulting image (if exposed correctly) would be rich in that melt-in-your-mouth velvia goodness.

 The process of shooting film, in my opinion, is far more rewarding than shooting on digital. While the world becomes more digitalised, film shooters are becoming a rare commodity. This is why, to some extent, I decided to pick up a film camera instead of following the well trodden path of digital photography. There is a simple honesty to shooting film that is nigh on impossible to replicate with a DSLR, not to mention the feeling of accomplishment and sheer joy that you get seeing a well exposed transparency on a light table.

 The story

The story of this image is one of well-managed luck. I had been shooting up in the Victoria high country for three days and the famed Craig’s Hut (the Cattlemen’s hut used in the film ‘The Man from Snowy River’) was next on the itinerary. I had driven the three hours from Bright to Mansfield, booked a hotel and commenced the drive up to Craig’s Hut only to be stopped by a closed road 15km from the hut itself. After initially considering walking into the hut, I decided to head back down to Mansfield and reassess. This was the second time I had made it all the way to Mount Stirling only to be stopped in my tracks within cooee (here’s hoping to third time lucky!).

 Thankfully, every cloud as a silver lining. When driving down the Hume Highway from Bright to Mansfield, I noticed the dead trees of the Lake Mokoan wetlands. This was to be my ‘plan b’. Not knowing how deep the water was and not fancying having a run-in with a tiger snake, I decided to stop by the camping and fishing store in Mansfield and picked up a pair of fisherman’s waders. I set out at 4 the following morning to make the 80km drive to Lake Mokoan.

The result? Well, it was one of the most resplendent, stunning sunrises I’ve ever seen. Here I was standing thigh deep in water surrounded by circling eagles, a flock of swans and a heap of other water birds. It was certainly something I’ll remember for a very long time!

 As I mentioned briefly above there aren’t many words that can describe seeing a well exposed transparency on a light table. It felt like Christmas morning when I picked up the film from the processing lab having had 56 rolls of film developed. The feeling is hard to describe, it’s a strange mix of anxious anticipation and excitement. I opened up the envelope that contained my transparencies, pulled out a sleeve and placed it on the light table.  The adjacent image hardly does it justice, but what I saw was some of the richest pink and purple hues I have seen rendered onto the Velvia transparency film.

Maybe I am a perfectionist, but I’m not 100% happy with the composition, it feels slightly unbalanced BUT those rich, gorgeous colours make this image what it is…. one of my favourites.

Sometimes, the true majesty of the natural world unfolds in front of our eyes. As storm clouds rolled down off the Otway Ranges the sun hit the clouds and lit up the sky in a blaze of colour. Thankfully, I was there with camera and film at the ready.

The Great Ocean Road is truly a remarkable piece of coastline stretching from Geelong to Warnambool. The Twelve Apostles stand as a reminder of the ferocious nature of the Southern Seas, having been formed by the rough seas battering the soft sandstone coastline.

Being firmly planted on the tourist route and only a few hours from Melbourne, the Twelve Apostles is never short of tourists. This particular night was no different as the place was swarming with tourists, all there to see the light show at sunset. Having navigated the crowds and found a decent spot on the viewing platform allowing me the composition I wanted, I set up my tripod and camera. Little did I know that I soon would prove as much of a tourist attraction as the sea-stacks!

It would be somewhat of an understatement to say that the old GX617 attracts attention. The thing is big. Very big. However, on this occasion I was forced to used the ground glass back to compose my image as the view finder was all fogged up after dropping it in the water at Hopetoun Falls. So here I was focusing my camera under a drapped towel looking like something from the 1920′s. Those DSLR camera wielding enthusiasts and amateurs gawked and asked questions while others just gave me strange looks.

Thankfully the sky lit up in a flurry of colour as the sun dropped towards to the horizon. I was working like a maniac wiping seasrapy and rain off my filters, firing off exposures, adjusting the settings and loading new film. I think I fired off 4 rolls of film before the light faded as quickly as it came.

All in a day’s photography on the Great Ocean Road. I’m just glad I got the shot!

Light

Many photographers often say that they are on a ‘endless quest for the perfect light’. I won’t go as far as suggesting that there is such a thing as “perfect light” but light does, in my opinion, serves a dual purpose.

• Firstly, interesting light makes for an interesting image. Simple, yet true. Afterall photography is “painting with light”, the more dramatic the light, the more dramatic the photograph.
• Similarly, surreal lighting conditions make for more evocative images. The end-game for most landscape photographers is to evoke emotions from the viewer – whether it be calm, drama, curiosity, tranquility or peacefulness.

Take the example of the images below. The difference in lighting conditions is obvious, yet the emotions that the images evoke are quite different, even if the subject is the same. In my opinion, the top image evokes a feeling of curiosity amalgamated with a sense of brooding drama. The second image has more of a sedate soothing feel to it as the day transitions into night.

Form

Form is the construction of the shapes within an image. Composition is the notion of how to frame a subject whereas form can be thought of as stripping back the notion of subject into shapes, and articulation of the said shapes within the frame. As artists put brush to canvas they need to consider what they include in an image, photographers mush consider what to exclude BUT both need to consider how to configure the anatomy of the image, that is, how to best represent the subject.

The focal point of an image, by definition,  is where the focus of the viewer is attracted. There is little doubt that the focal point of the below image is the blue boat shed. My challenge, having photographed the scene a day prior, was to arrange the shapes within the frame in such a way to provide emphasis on the blue boat shed in a unique way.

I had previously photographed the boat shed in the conventional front on manner (refer to the image above). This placed emphasis on the boat shed as it in the centre of the frame but also the brooding skies in the background.

So, here I was with a subject that I had photographed just a day before, with seemingly unflattering light. I decided to move to the right of the boardwalk and toy with the idea of using the shapes inherent in the boardwalk and boat shed to lead the eye throughout the frame from left to right where it settles on the blue boat shed, the focal point of the image. This is illustrated in the below diagram.

The arrangement of the shapes within the above image are enhanced by the subtle transitions in colour from pink to mauve to blue. In my opinion, this is an original take on the much photographed Crawley Boat Shed and an image that I am proud to call my own.

Thanks, Tim

An image taken back in November last year down at North Narrabeen tidal pool on Sydney’s Northern Beaches. If it looks familiar, there is good reason as I posted an image taken shortly after this one a number of months ago. I’ve been trawlling through a number of old images and couldn’t resist giving this a quick processing.

Taken on a trip to Tasmania last December, these falls were suprisingly difficult to shoot. Shrouded in mist and light drizzle, the falls themselves had a powerfully calming an ethereal feeling to them.

The drizzle was the first problem. No matter how I tried to sheild my camera lens from the water, the fine mist and swirling wind seemed to coat my lens in a film of water. Patience proved to be my best ally in trying to overcome this, so I just waited for the wind to  die momentarily to fire off a frame or two before it picked up again.

Secondly, after a number of days of consistent rain the falls were full and flowing fast. To find a pleasing composition I had to hop across moss covered rocks with all my camera equipment. At times I was knee deep in cold Tasmanian water, but in the end it was all worth the effort.

Lastly slide film has the narrowest dynamic range of any medium of photography. Dealing with white water and dark shadows meant that my dynamic range was far greater than the (appoximately) 4 stops that slide film allows. Naturally, something had to give. I decided that blowing some highlights was better than under exposing the shadows.

 I think, given the circumstances, that the resulting image conveys the sense of calm that I felt standing there on a moss covered rock. That’s all you can hope for as a photographer.

Sydney Harbour is notoriously hard to photograph. A legacy given by the thousands of local and international photographers two are drawn to the iconic Harbour Bridge and Opera House. It’s not hard to see why Sydney Harbour has a magnetic appeal for  photographers: it really is a remarkable place.

The image itself evokes a strong sense of curiosity, baiting the viewer to question what the shed is doing perched on the water. I just hope that my image goes further than provoking curiosity and the mood and energy of the image provoke emotion.