G'Day World! (Aka a New Life Down Under)

Last week I moved to Australia. Can you believe I just said that so flippantly?! If you follow me on Twitter or Facebook this may not come as a surprise to you. If you don’t, it quite likely does! The story behind our move is probably one for another time. For now I just wanted to say ‘hello’ and share a few initial thoughts on our first week here.

Blue Skies. What the...?

It’s fair to say that photographically I was apprehensive about making the move to the bottom of the world. Burning sunshine, bright blue skies and red rocks seemed to be the antithesis of what I’d adopted as a dark, moody, and desaturated photographic style in the UK.

Of greatest concern to me was the weather. Blue skies lack all of the mood and drama that get me excited. It is said that the worst time to make photographs is in the middle of the day, and I rarely venture out during the day unless the weather is poor. I've been worried that Australia would be like shooting in the middle of the day all of the time.

Yet the creative spirit rises to a fresh challenge. Whilst my style is certain to evolve, I'm confident that the experience will be a positive one. A totally fresh photographic adventure, another step on the journey.

I’m relieved to say that after a week here I’ve already found ample photographic opportunities - and even some clouds and fierce waves! - and have really enjoyed numerous forays along the coast from my base here in Yamba NSW. Already I’m confident my photography will prosper rather than suffer. Indeed I’m now actively relishing the prospect.

Vastness

Until you get here it's difficult to comprehend just how big this country is. Ok, you know it's big, but the scale of the place is incredible. It's the world's 6 largest country at nearly 8 million km². Contrast that with the UK's 242,900 km² and you begin to appreciate that a 'long drive' to Scotland for a photo trip is like a trip to the shops here! Ok, not quite, but being 4 hours from Brisbane and 10 hours from Sydney there are a lot of kilometres to cover to get anywhere.

Where I'm based we're surrounded by national parks. Compared to the UK, national parks are very common and unsurprisingly very large in Australia. Nonethless they're still a bit of a drive away. I have a couple very local to me (one within 5 mins drive) but it's inland to the mountainous wilderness of the New England Tablelands that I find myself strongly drawn to.

Part of the mountainous spine running down eastern Australia known as the Great Dividing Range, the New England Tablelands are the largest highland area in Australia. Most people don't think of Australia as being mountainous thinking instead of beaches and vast desert but these are proper mountains. For example Round Mountain is 1,586m making it 242m higher than Ben Nevis, the UK's highest mountain. There are 25 national parks here, 3 of which are World Heritage Sites. The opportunities that lie up there are mind bending. Plus one of the national parks is Guy Fawkes National Park, named after my great great something uncle, so I have to go don't I?

The downside is that although these are 'close by' they are still several hours away from me here. Whilst I expect to visit them regularly it will be relatively infrequently, spending several nights under canvas to make the most of it.

I don't believe in over-travelling to make photographs. Setting aside the environmental concerns, I think finding locations to work with nearby is important for repeated and frequent visits. This also provides a more personal challenge to produce more intimate and deeply satisfying images than relying on dramatic and iconic locations alone, and helps with my creative progression.

So I'll be picking my way along my little stretch of coast. We sit on the mouth of a large river, the Clarence, with a ferry required to cross. A five minute drive to the south is Yuraygir National Park which at 65km is the longest stretch of undeveloped coast in New South Wales. So I've got between here and there to work with before I have to pack the tent and pull on the hiking boots (which I will of course!).

Hey Dude, Where's My Twilight?

Beyond the size and the seemingly perpetual sunshine, the other thing that has struck me so far about Australia is how short twilight feels and how quickly the sun rises.

This morning I was climbing over rocks by head torch only 30 minutes before sunrise. Once the sun is up, it rises into the sky very quickly giving the ‘middle of the day’ problem of high contrast white light. In the UK I would expect to be shooting for up to an hour before the sun came up.

At the other end of the day the sun sinks and darkness seems to set in unbelievably quickly. One minute I’m making an image, the next I’ve got the head torch on trying to find my way back to the car. We don’t so much get a Blue Hour and a Golden Hour as 30 minutes but Golden Half Hour doesn’t sound quite as good!

The weather also reduces the shooting window. Post-sunrise in the UK you often get more usable light due to ample cloud cover. This is one reason I love being out when it’s cloudy. If it’s overcast you can basically shoot all day. So far I’ve experienced little cloud cover so the light quickly turns harsh forcing me to pack up the camera. Of course part of my adaption to this new landscape will be making best use of this light. I don't believe there is such a thing as 'bad light' rather it's about adapting your approach to the available light.

Nonetheless as a Scot living in one of the wettest parts of the UK, bright sunshine is a bit alien to me and definitely provides me a challenge. With time I expect my images will become lighter, and will play on light and shadow and the graphic shapes they produce. I am also sure that I will be ever more grateful for the short windows of blue offered to me by twilight.

Some Images to Finish With

Anyway that’s a few opening thoughts on my time here. It’s a big country, full of fresh wonder and adventure for me. Already my early apprehension is fading, filled with renewed confidence and excitement that I can produce some great work here. I hope that you stick with me to see some of the results.

Here are some images from the last week. You can see more in my freshly created Australia gallery.

The Cook, the Baker, the Photograph Maker

Some musings (codeword for a bit of a ramble!) on how different pursuits mean different things to different people.

As a lad I used to enjoy making the occasional meal. My dad loved my enchiladas, and making them myself was the one way to guarantee they'd be spicy enough for my taste. Leaving home first as a student (not much cooking happened then I can tell you that!) and then working in London necessitated that I fend for myself, so I learned how to cook.

Over time I've picked up a few tricks and can knock out a pretty decent meal without much need for a recipe book. I enjoy cooking, and often create an over elaborate meal over the course of hours (and a lot of mess!). It can be quite meditative, at times challenging and ultimately rewarding. Anything spicy is on the menu, Indian curries with all the accompaniments being my speciality.

Occasionally friends will tell me they couldn't get a better meal at a restaurant (of course they're just being nice) and sometimes I daydream about opening a restaurant when I watch Masterchef - before realising that a chef that makes loads of mess and takes hours for 4 plates of food isn't exactly in high demand! In reality my culinary aspirations are modest. Cooking food I enjoy for my family, throwing in a bit of "Fawkes flair" (otherwise known as chilli) to keep the creative juices flowing. I enjoy cooking and like to put a nice meal together, but I don't go stir crazy (pun intended) if I can't cook in a given week. I'm happy enough with that.

Last year I started making sourdough bread. People think this is hard but it's actually realise quite straightforward. You make a 'starter' from flour and water and use this instead of yeast when baking. The starter takes a wee bit of looking after by feeding it flour and water regularly, but it's just a matter of remembering rather than being time intensive or difficult. Making a loaf takes a wee bit of labour with the kneading but otherwise it's easy enough.

I've had a few disasters along the way which taught me lessons - making sure I give the dough time to rise, don't let the dough dry out, get your quantities right, etc - and over time have developed a feel for what makes a decent loaf. I stick to one recipe. My first foray into experimentation last week by adding caraway seeds was not well received by my wife. That aside she's pretty positive about my bread products - "you're getting a bit good at this aren't you?" - and it's great seeing and smelling a well risen crusty loaf coming out of the oven. I'm happy with that.

You may be wondering why this culinary talk has any place on my photography website. Just bear with me a minute.

New recipe books are interesting and I like to try something new, but most of the things in my books are left uncooked. Acquiring a new book is a matter of need ("how do you cook Lebanese?") rather than a driving desire to consume as much knowledge about cuisine and cooking as I can. I don't have a million gadgets to make my life easier. I don't create something for the sake of it, but because I need to eat. I experiment a little on our family meals just for a bit of fun rather than because an inner creative need demands it. I don't go out of my way to get some of the more exotic ingredients and certainly don't spend hours wondering at the produce at food markets. I have no desire to open a restaurant, for a Michelin star, to write a recipe book, to invent the most amazing dishes known to mankind or any of the other things that someone passionate about cooking might have as their life's ambition.

Equally when it comes to bread I'm no Paul Hollywood. I'm not going to invent new breads, open a bakery, try all the weird and wonderful (and laborious!) breads that are in my bread books. I've got a bowl and a baking stone and they're all the gadgets I really need even though there's a wonderful world of cloches, bakers' ovens and the rest to explore. The truth is, I just don't care enough to throw myself into baking. Being able to turn out a nice loaf on a regular basis is enough for me. If people say "that's the best bread I've ever tasted" that's great, but they probably only know supermarket bread and could probably bake as good it not better themselves. My baking ambitions are pretty modest.

And so to the photograph maker. Well, that's totally different. If I'm not making photographs I'm looking at them, reading about them, thinking about them. Sometimes it feels like every non-photography thought that enters my head is a distracting intruder and is swiftly jettisoned. I've read the recipe books, and am moving beyond them. I'm trying to do my own thing, find my unique voice and offering to the world.

One day I'll be writing my own books, exhibiting and perhaps opening my own gallery. If someone says "nice picture" (especially on Flickr!) it's not enough. I want more - more connection, more emotion, more of my personality to shine through. It sounds corny, but photography isn't so much like something I do but a part of who I am. My life. I suspect you may know what I mean by that.

I realise that photography probably means something different to you than it does to me. Perhaps you too feel like it's core to your life, but almost certainly not in the exact same way it is to me. Another may read the above and think I'm totally insane! For each of us it means different things in different ways and each of us should embrace that I think.

For some it's a pastime, something to get out and about and ease the stresses of the day. Taking an image you'd like to put on your wall - or even better on someone else's - may be all that they're looking for. They are no less deserving of the gift of photography than I or others that immerse themselves in it.

Photography to you may be what cooking or baking is to me, something I enjoy but not something I'm screaming to do. I'm sure there are plenty of aspiring chefs that would turn their nose up at a meal I present them, or aspiring bakers wondering why I keep making the same loaf of sourdough. So as far as I'm concerned, it's not for me to judge the merit of their sunset image without first understanding their self-perspective of what photography means to them.

Photography is a gift. Indeed, the world is full of wonderful gifts and it's for each of us to take them and make of them what we will. Don't worry about what other people think and don't feel like you have to justify yourself to them. Stick to your guns. Yes, listen to what others have to say but then relate it to your own world. The key person that matters in your world is you, and you set the rules.

With that said, I'm going to leave you with a little sting in the tail. If photography truly is something you are passionate about then don't be content making images from someone else's recipe book. If you do then perhaps you are selling yourself short.

Reflections on Disappointment

My last post shared the  disappointment I felt following my weekend in Northumberland.

On second (third, fourth,...) study the images aren’t that bad. I was hoping for something more – more...different – but there are at least a couple of images there that I’m quite happy with. 2 images in a weekend’s not a bad hit rate to be honest.

Although not quite what I was after they’ve definitely grown on me – and I didn’t dislike them in the first place. An interesting thing for me to ponder further is if I didn't like them at first, but I like them now, how then can they be a realisation of my original vision? Some thoughts on that and quite what this "Vision" thing is in a future post I think.

Anyway after some reflection, one or two chats, and looking at the images again, I think I’ve learned a few lessons (and relearned a couple) that I thought were worth sharing. Most of them are about our own expectations.

1. Approach Trumps Location

I had hoped that a different location would get the creative juices flowing. However approaching that location in the same way with the same mindset won't lead to original images, just similar images of a different place.

At the end of the day I was still planning on shooting rocks, with some long exposure sky and sea. They might be different rocks and even geologically interesting rocks, but they were still going to be rocks in a "milky" sea. The location was irrelevant really.

Approach appears to be the biggest factor in making original images. After all original images can still be made in well known locations.

2. Clear Your Mind of Expectation

I didn't really find the "geologically interesting rocks in the surf" combination that I was looking for and was quite disappointed. Aside from that I had headlands and other rock stratas invading my frame where I wanted a clear, minimalist sea.

I had built an expectation that was quite different to the reality I found on location. This expectation can be a real creativity killer.

Sometimes you can spend all of your time looking for and trying to make as certain shot, yet you miss other likely better opportunities. Who knows, perhaps those headlands and rock stratas I was so busy trying to get out of frame were the image.

An expectant mind isn't an open mind. We put pressure on ourselves to make  images, perhaps even images that aren't even there, rather than just going with the flow.

3. Stop Trying So Hard

If I’m struggling to make sense of things or things aren’t going the way I expect, I find myself trying harder to make them work, and often working too fast and loose in my eagerness to get something. The result is often something forced and visually jarring. The struggle to make the image is transmitted by the image itself.

I find I need to work more intuitively and if things aren’t coming easily then it’s normally a sign to move on, and perhaps to try something different. I don’t mean easy in the sense that actually making an image is or should be easy. Rather that for me the process of image making needs to be a subconscious free flowing one, feeling my way to the image rather than wrestling with what’s in front of me.

4. Learn to Spot and Deal with Frustration

My usual reaction after some disappointing results is to go out and take more pictures. If I'm not able to I get can really frustrated! “You’re only as good as your last shot” and I want to go out and prove myself all over again.

But in that state of mind I’ll be forcing things, willing things to fall into place and setting myself the expectation that I’ll get something I’m happy with. Not good.

I think I’m better giving it a little time, going out as the opportunity arises. Perhaps more importantly I need to stop worrying about it. That feeling of being on a bad run hurts but a clear head and an open mind are required to make better images. They will come if I don’t panic and trust myself. Maybe even take a wee break doing something else to forget all about it.

5. Don't Worry About What Other People Think

Whilst constructive feedback and even praise from others is welcome, this shouldn't be the intention of image making. I think it stifles us and leads to unoriginal and shallow images.

In the field it's better to clear my head, block out others' voices and follow my instinct. There’s a time to worry about what others think and that’s definitely not at the point of image making.

6. Don’t Worry About the Results

Whilst in the field I can spend a lot of time looking at the image review on the LCD. Normally I'm checking for good things - histogram, compositional refinements - but I'm also looking for that 'wow' moment where I got the shot.

It has to be said the LCD can be very flattering to our images! Often I see what I think are amazing shots but I take them home and just go "huh?!".

To me checking and worrying about those results, looking for reassurance on the back of the camera is a bad habit. If I think the results are looking good I may be inclined to think that I've got "what I came for" and pack up prematurely.

Conversely if things aren't looking so good I can feel the pressure mounting, the need to get "something, anything!". Either reaction to this constant progress reviewing is damaging I think.

The problem isn't checking the LCD, and yes I should check it from time to time and use the feedback constructively. Rather it's a reliance on the LCD as the barometer of success and feeling anxious until an image leaps off the screen. I think it's better to not worry, stay in the moment and keep working intuitively.

7. Familiarity Helps

As I said above going to a different location is no guarantee of getting something good or different. It’s still possible to shoot clichés in a new location. Instead I think familiarity helps in a lot of ways.

For one, regular visits can mean that I work the “more obvious” shots out of my system. This frees my mind to explore somewhere more creatively. I know certain places where I can say to myself “I have that shot, now what else can I find”.

I think many of us are looking for some form of familiarity, looking for reassurance that there's potential and that we're not wasting our time. I think this is why honey-pot locations exist - people are familiar with other images and the potential to make their own (or mimic).

Even for a fresh location repeated visits let us get under the skin of a place - see it in different light, weather and seasons, and perhaps appreciate it completely differently. Without at least some familiarity we’re trusting to luck that the landscape will bear its riches to us immediately (which some places do more readily than others).

Of all the lessons this is the one that I feel strongest about. I want to feel like an explorer, but I also want to feel like the land is an old friend. So I'm going to find and keep returning to those locations I can call my own and spend time understanding them better.

8. Let Your Images Breathe

I always feel the urge to race home, check my images and share them with the world. Again I think this is me looking for reassurance, external validation, that my endeavours were not in vain and that I've still “got it”. It goes back to worrying about results.

I think that I review images much too soon after shooting. On occasions where I give them time I appreciate them a lot more. Of course it's not the images I'm giving time, it's me! Time to forget - about the expectations, the emotions, the excitement - so that I can see  the images for what they are.

I’m going to make a conscious effort to delay and then slow my image reviews down.

9. Actually “Look” at the Images

My image review process goes a lot like this "junk - junk - junk - maybe…no - junk - junk - ooh, I like!", quickly racing through the images looking for the ones that stand out. Indeed I'll normally remember those images I have hopes for when I shot them and  jump to those quickly, perhaps not even looking at most of the others.

But each of those hundreds and thousands of images has its own story to tell and its own lesson for us. “I shot too many”, “I was trusting to luck”, “bad light”, “focus was off”, “composition is unbalanced”, “my exposures we’re all over the place”, “I've got a bunch of the inside of my bag because I didn't switch the camera off”, etc, etc.

I think really looking at these failed images and consciously noting why things didn't work will help me to make stronger images in the future. “Learn from your mistakes” as they say. This can be very difficult to do objectively and again highlights the importance of letting time pass to let go of the associated emotions.

I've decided that when I review I'm going to note 2 or 3 things that I think  I need to work on on an index card. I can then glance at that as a conscious reminder before stepping out for my next shoot.

Conclusions

There you go, 9 lessons from my recent experience of disappointment. Some of these things I already knew, but I've taken some time to consciously think about them. In the past I would probably have just got back on the bike and started shooting until something clicked.

But I've found it very interesting and helpful to sit down and reflect on the above points to actually learn some lessons that will hopefully make my photography stronger in the future.

It may read as though I'm beating myself up - and to be honest I've made some points more strongly to get them across - but I genuinely think this a good, positive experience.

One of the things I love about photography is that it presents the ultimate puzzle - how to turn this big complicated world into a meaningful and emotive photograph.

But more so I think the puzzle and challenge is with understanding ourselves. I really enjoy the questioning of myself that photography brings out and the better understanding that follows.

Northumberland: Looking for Something Different

Although I grew up close to the Northumberland coast, as is often the case it wasn't until I started photography that I realised how fascinating it is.

My parents live in Coldstream which is just inside Scotland. So it was the beaches of Northumberland that we'd go to on day trips with a picnic (when it wasn't raining and blowing a gale). Yet I never really fully appreciated the beauty of the area until I started exploring it with my camera last year. Photography truly is a gift far greater than images alone.

The beach we often used to visit as kids was Cocklawburn beach near Scremerston which is just south of Berwick-Upon-Tweed along the A1. Not only is it a beautiful beach but like most of this stretch of coast it has some remarkable geology to marvel at. Rocks resembling pavements, dinosaurs' skeletons, waves, furrows, landscapes in miniature. So much to explore. I still get to visit this area when I visit my parents' for the weekend, which normally means I can take in 1 or 2 sunrises.

But I wanted to spend a bit more time exploring it more fully, further south than I was accustomed. I checked the tide tables and they looked promising for last weekend - close to high for a couple of shots I had in mind, and I generally have better success with a higher tide. So I asked my wife about the possibility of a photography weekend away. "Ooh, that's close to our anniversary, maybe we could combine the two?". Not quite the freedom I was looking for! Still it was a reason to stay in a hotel further south at  Bamburgh (saving me a 40 minute drive from my parents).

With a bit of umming and ahhing and some advice from my twitter mate David Breen (@breenster) my locations were: Cocklawburn for Saturday sunrise (I was staying at my parents' on Friday night), Rumbling Kern near Howick for Saturday sunset and Cullernose Point again near Howick for Sunday sunrise.

[osmap width=600 height=600 markers="NU032483;Cocklawburn Beach|NU262172;Rumbling Kern|NU261187;Cullernose Point"]

My chief aims and really the reason for sharing in this blog post was to do something a bit different. In my "Be Brave" post I've talked about turning my back on more obvious opportunities in favour of finding something more unique and hopefully original. A more typical shotlist for a weekend in Northumberland would perhaps involve some combination of Bamburgh Castle, Dunstanburgh Castle, St. Mary's Lighthouse and Lindisfarne. But I wanted to explore and find something different with a particular focus on the geology.

Looking for something different is something I'm looking to develop in my work this year. This has already manifested itself in the images I made during the recent snowy spell, shunning more typical Peak District locations to make images within a few miles of my house. Increasingly I feel that everything has had a photograph taken of it, in so many different ways, and that as unique and highly creative as (I would like to think!) I am, I can only make a tiny contribution beyond what's already been done. Yet as much as "everything's" been shot there's so much of this country and the world that remains relatively unexplored through a lens.

To continue on this point a little further, my particular particular valley in the Peak District, the Longdendale, has very few images of it beyond walkers' snapshots on Flickr. By contrast Mam Tor, Stanage Edge, Curbar edge and the others probably have a server dedicated to hosting those images alone! That was the reason for me starting my Longdendale project (which I shall update shortly), to find and share something that it seems many haven't seen. Doing a bit more exploring and finding the non-obvious is something I'd like to apply to my image making more widely.

Of course, going it alone like this meant it was going to be tough. There's relatively little imagery that you can use to build a picture of an area, and you're somewhat trusting to luck that you'll find something. Of course, there's always something to find! But I think that's something that you have to build a trust and confidence in. In suggesting locations David had also suggested they were "tough to find compositions". I sort of knew I'd have my work cut out for me. And yet, that's the sort of challenge I feel I should thrive on.

What this more exploratory approach means, of course, is that my image making becomes a bit more hit and miss. There's every possibility I could spend a day, a week, or even months making images that don't really do much for me. In the same time period, I could rely on tried and trusted locations - and even compositions - to create an expanding body of work. There's a part of me that feels the need to do that - you're only as good as you're last shot and all that - but at the same time, I feel I need to do something more and embrace the challenge. Again I need to trust my instincts and yes trust to luck. That gem that you mine yourself is far more precious than that which is handed to you.

On this particular trip David was right - finding compositions and pleasing images was tough! I returned with only a handful of images I'm sorta kinda happy with, and definitely none that I'd consider portfolio worthy. That probably shouldn't come as much of a surprise. Ansel Adams talks about making 12 good images a year, so I am probably being greedy expecting a set of decent images in any given particular weekend, even ignoring my unfamiliarity with the location! Yet I remain somewhat disappointed.

I think I'm disappointed for two reasons. The first is that the images weren't that great. That's an obvious source of disappointment.

But the second is deeper. There's probably only one image here where I felt it was in keeping with my aim, finding and trying something bolder and a bit different (even then I had hoped for a better result, but at least I learned something). I feel like I've gone to difficult places to photograph, and then tried to photograph them in the same way that they and other places have been photographed. I don't think I fully embraced the creative potential. A lot of the shots, unsurprisingly, are long exposures, and in most cases the geology is a supporting feature rather than a primary focus. So the second source of disappointment isn't with the images, but with myself.

I think part of this was due to expectations I had placed on myself to come back with some different, interesting and wowing images to prove to myself and others that this is the right approach. When there's pressure you tend to rely on tried and trusted processes, and your mental dictionary of shots that you know work in particular situations. As I've said before, expectation can be a killer. I went looking for something different and came back with a mediocre version of the usual. Although I don't dislike these images, they sort of feel like someone else's images instead of the ones I wanted to make. Instead of letting myself go, explore fully and see what happens, I created preconceptions and misconceptions of what I should shoot.

Still, it's all good! It's part of the learning process, and I'm glad that I've recognised where I think I've gone wrong here. I'll take some time out to reflect on the results and what I might have done differently, and perhaps more importantly why. Food for thought.

In the meantime I thought I'd leave you with the handful of shots I was most happy with. Photography can be full of myth and magic at times. We forget about all the times that things don't work out, or why they don't, and we don't recognise that others go through the same. The shots below serve as a reminder to me at least that things don't always work out - at leas the way you intend - and that's a very necessary part of our progress.

Be Brave

Considering the size of our planet (510,072,000 km² at last count) it's pretty strange that we, as photographers, cram ourselves into such small areas. Across the globe there are honeypot locations that seem to have an irresistible pull on us. Perhaps these areas exhibit extremely high magnetic attraction pulling us and our metal and electronics to them!

Or perhaps some of us (myself very much included!) are just lacking the inspiration or - more likely - the willpower to break free of this invisible force. We get drawn to the same spots over and over hoping the conditions are that much better than the last time we were there.

I have been musing on such 'honeypotting' for some time now. Why do I feel the need to drive an hour or more on a regular basis to visit a location already visited by thousands? Why can't I just take a walk from my back door? What do I hope to achieve that others haven't already and more successfully?

I'm not sure I have the answer. These questions play on my mind often, and I'll share my perhaps paradoxical thoughts here.

We're Pressed For Time

Time is our most precious gift. When it comes to photography most of us get out a lot less often than we'd like and often in conditions that aren't our ideal. I swear I see the most interesting conditions on the train to/from work! And so we value our time out with the camera, it's precious to us and we want the best results.

Given the choice of potentially 'wasting' that time out - wrong place, wrong time - and finding we don't make any photographs we're happy with, or heading to a well known spot with plentiful compositions and the chance of good light, well, it's not surprising most of us choose the latter. We fear we'll wander the countryside aimlessly, desperate to find something while everyone else is at the best spots with the best light. Why oh why did I not just go there? Doubt, second guessing, disappointment.

Going to these honeypot locations is as close to a guarantee as you get in photography. We've seen the location in books and on Flickr, we know great images are possible here. The variables are reduced, it becomes a matter of getting good light and executing the technical practices well. Our responsibility and set of concerns is smaller.

To be honest I don't think any of us should feel bad for that. For probably the vast majority of photographers going out and making a "good" picture is the only goal. Maybe going to such locations is the best way of doing that with the time we have.

It's Big

The world is just so big. It's overwhelming. If everything is a possibility then how do you choose the right thing?

Constraints are a good thing, it narrows options. I think this plays a role in location selection. If we're going to filter the entire world down to somewhere to take pictures on a Saturday morning then I think it's fairly natural to see what's worked and use that as guidance.

We're not the first photographers, or artists or even people to walk the land. "We stand on the shoulders of giants" and if over our existence we've filtered it down to good places and not so good places, why should we repeat the same mistakes? The human mind is a remarkable pattern matching machine and if we recognise something that works then attempting to repeat it is I think also fairly natural.

Intention

I guess I'm skirting around a key point here, which is that of intention which I need to talk about before going on to my latest thinking on this subject.

We all see the world through our own eyes and as objective as we might try to be, we are always imagining someone else's position yet with our own back story and motivations. Not everyone picks up a camera for the same reasons that we do, they have their own intention.

In our eyes they may use that camera to produce sun drenched images of cliché locations or to create arty farty nonsense. Yet they may be completely comfortable with what they're doing and happy to do it. If somebody wants to spend what time they have with a camera taking photos at honeypot locations then they should - and I have - go and do it. "Live and let live", I say.

Be True to Yourself

From my own perspective, recently I've been feeling a growing need to move beyond making more classical pictures of well visited locations. Not that I think I  mastered that art, indeed a part of me wonders if I'm running away as it's easier than doing so. Personally I hope that this is a sign of growing maturity in my own approach and a desire to produce something more "me".

In art they say "be  true to yourself". Honestly I've never quite known what that means. It's fair to say the more thoughtful, philosophical side of art is still kinda new to me! I've come up with my own working interpretation of what it means. And again I think it has a lot to do with intention.

My interpretation is to listen to your emotional and sensory reaction to the world around you, and use that to guide your work. In some ways trying to avoid preconceptions or being overly influenced, but using more of a sense of intuition, where you find yourself slipping into a certain "zone" where things happen instinctively and subconsciously. It's difficult to put into words. I guess it's about seeing for yourself, reacting to it, and knowing that it's right, that you are moved by it.

By contrast my interpretation of being "untrue to myself" is motivated by an intention to mimic others' images, being so heavily influenced by other images that it's difficult for "you" to shine through, making an image for plaudits and faves on Flickr, etc. To differing degrees these represent only a fraction of us with the input and reaction of others completing the whole. So "being true" seems to me to be about tuning out the influence of others for a while and listening to your own instincts and reactions.

Be Brave

Coming back to my original point, I'm trying to listen to myself and find things that interest me more, and do more exploring to find things that interest me. That means I'm trying to walk away from the honeypot locations and find interest in other areas, or looking at things from a different perspective. This means relying a lot more on my luck and my intuition than it does on research of well known locations. This means getting it wrong a lot in the hope that I'll get it right sometimes!

As an example I headed out in the direction of Mam Tor in the Peak District at the weekend. We'd had snow towards the end of last  week. I was aware that snow was lying on this higher ground (not near where I lived).

But this was a Saturday, and Mam Tor is notorious for being busy on a Saturday morning. I got to the bottom car park and there were 4 cars parked there and I could see people on and heading up to the summit. I could have gone up and taken a similar shot. A snow covered ridge, with a lovely sunrise, what's not to like?

Yet I had come through a fantastic bank of fog before arriving at the car park and it was sitting in the valley behind me.

"Be brave" I said to myself as I started trudging in the opposite direction, towards the fog. Above it sat that fantastic purpley twilight colour that I adore.

Though I stopped for this I cursed myself for not being better prepared, for not being in the right position, for taking a gamble when I'm sure some great images were to be had up on Mam Tor.

Then I looked towards the mountain and could see other photographers crawling over it like ants and reminded myself that there are other images to be had, there's always something else to find.

I didn't quite get what I was looking for but upon returning to the car and chasing the fog bank further along the road I got two of my favourite shots of the year  (top and bottom of this post). Perhaps if I had been up Mam Tor I would have come back down and come to this fog bank anyway, but I like to think this was karma in some way and payment for my decision.

I consider the "true to myself" point again. Are they "me"? I'm not sure. I was certainly having a heart attack from the excitement of the conditions! Is that listening to myself? I think so, and I think "Enveloped" is one of my most evocative images to date, something I consciously hope to capture in my work.

I've often thought the phrase "adventure photography" sounded a bit daring, perhaps involving extreme sport, climbing mountains and the like. And yet I wonder if it's more of an adventure of oneself and what interests you. I think the real adventure is from taking the alternate path or better yet the path not yet trod and finding something that interests and moves you. Perhaps the adventure is more psychological than it is physical, and that is being true to ourselves.

Ultimately I guess it comes down to learning to trust yourself and your ability to make good photographs wherever your travels take you, even if that's means somewhere non-obvious. I think developing this trust and this ability to see and make "something out of nothing" is perhaps the key trait of a landscape photographer. So, be brave.