Landscape Photography: The Moment Of WOW!

It is far too easy to ruin an otherwise beautiful shot by overthinking it.

How do I know this? I’ve done it, loads of times! And quite often, I’ve done it in pursuit of things unnecessary for the shot the landscape has presented.

Yep, I’ve been that photographer. You know the one….attempting to cram every technique I’ve ever learnt into one photograph, making landscape photography a tick box checklist. There’s a reason why I got like that, although perhaps that is one for another blog.

There's so much to consider for any given photograph. But you really do need to be aware that, in doing so, moments can be missed and shots can become convoluted when you start to overthink the shot.

The moment of wow! Tarn Hows, Lake District National Park, UK

Take the photograph above of the trees at Tarn Hows. The light fleetingly kissing the leaves on an otherwise stormy day with thick dark clouds as far as the eye can see. Overthinking really wasn’t an option.

When I first noticed the cloud breaks shining some light on the trees I was up on the Eastern side of the tarn. Up a hill (for those that know Tarn Hows I was by the memorial stone) creating a much wider photograph of Tarn Hows. Scouting the clouds I could see some further breaks heading towards the tarn. The light traversing across the land as if by magic, you know the kind of light you only really experience during a break in a storm, stunningly beautiful.

There was no real way to capture what I envisioned from where I was stood. Looking down at the tree line from up high would have captured a rather flat image of green on dark blue water. It had to be from the Southern shoreline.

Having tried this composition on earlier trips, I knew that this kind of light would work well, as long as it hit the trees. Lighting the subject matter whilst leaving the further shore treeline in shadow.

Grabbing my camera and bag I ran down the hill and around the path. I’m not built for running at the best of times, never mind with a bag and camera in hand but shockingly I made it to the shoreline just before the last break was about to hit the trees and instinct took over.

It was a moment of WOW, and just a moment, nothing more. No time to think, no time to overcomplicate it....Long telephoto lens to pull the background in, 1/200 of a second as I was going to hand hold, f/7.1 at 135mm. I bumped the iso to 200, underexposing by a stop so that when the light hit, it was just focus, click, create. Within two exposures, the light had passed.

I had worked hard to get it….but not with the camera. Yet it wasn’t sheer luck. In order to envision the shot to begin with required all the experience I had photographing Tarn Hows, otherwise I wouldn’t have been aware of the potential from my lofty position much higher above the tarn.

Lots of journeys out in less than suitable conditions had given me an eye for breaks in the cloud, experience had taught me that if there had been one break, there was likely to be others. The instinct borne out of countless times exposing manually, the camera in auto or semi-auto likely to have exposed for the trees in shadow before the light hit (perhaps not, but I’m glad I didn't have to rely on it).

Everything that had come before had led me to be able to capture the shot as it happened….quick! No option but to just do it. And certainly no option for overthinking.

Simplicity.

Sometimes the light and the land present a scene that demands nothing more.

Dave

Landscape Photography: The Endless Pursuit

One of the bad photography habits I've gotten myself into over the last few years is 'whatifid-ism'. Basically the habit of looking back on a photograph, a photograph that I'd once been really happy with, and had loads of great memories of creating, and tearing it apart as I now have new found knowledge or a different way of doing things.

Self-critique is a good thing to do in landscape photography, but it can easily lead into a thought process of 'that's no longer good enough'.

This photograph of one of the waterfalls at Tarn Hows in the Lake District National Park is a great example of this.

At the time, and in the years since, I’ve been really pleased with this photograph. And it would seem that other people enjoy it too, a few prints have been made and sold and it’s garnered social media likes and loves. But there’s no doubt that there are things I could have done differently on location…..some ‘whatifId-isms’:

'What if I'd' tried a wider lens?

'What if I'd' closed down the aperture to get more clarity on the bottom right?

'What if I'd' spent a little longer searching for a slightly different angle?

‘What if I’d’ given over a little more room to the flow on the left?

Asking questions like these, after the emotion of the day and attachment to the shot has passed, is a great way to learn and improve on your photography. Analysing the shot, mulling over the composition, thinking about other ways you could have done it, are all vital tools in the journey of learning that we undertake through our photographic endeavours.

But asking these questions and finding the flaws within an image doesn't make it a bad shot. One of the biggest lessons in photography is that art is rarely ever (if ever!) perfect. Perfection is not something that you can control anyway. Perfection depends on the photographs relationship with the viewer, not with the artist. Post about a photograph that you think reaches perfection on the internet, you’ll soon find someone willing to tell you that perfection it is not!

But it is the strive for perfection (and this is the goal that we will never reach) that keeps many photographers going. But it is an ongoing push and pull between what is in our heads and our final creation.

So, yes, this shot has some flaws. But it is the shot that I created in that moment. A brief fleeting moment that can never be repeated. So,

'what if I'd' not taken it?

‘What if I’d’ missed that speckled light because I was busy swapping lenses or searching for a better angle?

'What if I'd' closed down the aperture and lost texture in the water?

Then it wouldn't be this photograph. And I like this photograph. And if I'd never taken it, then I wouldn't have been able to ask those questions anyway.

Learning is so worthwhile, yearning is not.

Dave, April 23