Welcome to Deserted
Desert Convoy
In Pursuit of Drylands
Skeletal
Deserted
Dunescape Horizons
Changing Light
Shadow Play
Desert Palette
Unfamiliar Forms
Desert Sculptures
Skeletal
The Namib desert transforms the light, glowing shades of deep red and burnt orange as dark shadows snake across the land. Skeletal trees stand silently, surrounded by bleached-white river beds and mountains of russet dunes. Patterns and textures are woven into the earth, shifting perspective and reminding us of a deeper connection with our planet. The gentle fragility of these ancient landscapes provides a glimpse into the unknown, a reminder to continue to learn and to seek to understand our physical environment.
Photography by Emilie Ristevski Various Locations, Namibia
Changing Light
Light impacts the desert like no other landscape. A combination of dry, clean air and a cloudless sky results in tones that intensify and saturate throughout the day – delicate pastels of dawn become blazing streaks of fire at dusk before inky silhouettes of distant rocky outcrops fade into a night sky studded with stars. In a place where there is so little to focus on, and where the rolling landscape seems to repeat itself in endless cycles towards the horizon, it is the light that changes the surface of the land, allowing us to think differently. The position of the sun in the sky, the dry atmosphere, and the lack of humidity showcase the scenery from a different perspective, as though experimenting with tone and shade. It seems the magic of the desert is best seen in its shadows.
The rocks and dunes adjacent to the smooth curve of the tarmac road are barely discernible in the cold predawn. The landscape lacks depth and the shapes appear flat and uninviting. Gradually the sky lightens and the rich indigo of night fades into a dawn that brings with it a softer, gentler light. Subtle nuances of colour tinge the now noticeably lighter sky; lavender and rose pink highlights streak the horizon and the silhouettes of the dunes lighten to reveal greater definition. The coldness of night still clings to the sand and the sun seems
to hesitate, hanging just beneath the horizon, hinting at what is to come, but remaining reluctant to rise. The landscape is bleak, lacking the heat so closely associated with its definition.
Eventually, a hemisphere of pale yellow rises from behind the rocky formations littering the horizon, and gentle warmth gradually expands across the landscape. At one point, the desert looks as though it has been cut in two, one section remaining in the dark coolness of the night, and the other gleaming as rays of light shatter across the ripples left by an earlier wind become evident on the floor. The landscape is no longer flat and sepia-toned – definition shimmers into view as the sun breaks across the surface in a riot of sudden colour and a familiar warmth blankets the earth, highlighting a multitude of previously hidden tones.
And as the sun crawls towards its crowning point in the sky, the pale tones of the early morning fade into a crimson sunrise streaked with gold flares. It isn’t long before the welcome warmth of the early morning becomes the soporific, sticky heat of midday, a difficult time in which to appreciate the landscape. It appears harsh and lacks softer contrast; the glare of the sun all-encompassing, the heat rising from the ground as well as directly overhead. There is almost a sense that there is too much colour
in the earth, the edge not muted by a slight coolness, the softer blur a much-required filter through which to appreciate the landscape.
And as the midday lazily melts into the golden light of the early afternoon, the land remains motionless, free from breeze or movement of any kind, except for a faint shimmering above the burnt orange, white-tipped salt flats in the distance. Amber and honey hues fleck the ground, whilst the welcome shade to be found beneath rocks and small overhangs burn a deep scarlet. Now we long for the cool of the evening to return, despite the craving for warmth only a few hours earlier. The temperature in the desert changes dramatically – there is little time for those in-between moments of respite where it is neither too hot nor too cold. It is a place of startling contrast.
The sun continues blazing across the landscape until later in the afternoon, when the shorter rays pierce the air and illuminate the now shadowed rock structures in shades of vermillion. Craggy features in the rock now appear more defined, the shadows that play out beneath them clearer and with a more solid shape. The distinction between the shade and the open lacks clarity, the late afternoon sunlight a result of the sun’s gradual descent towards the rocky gatherings it will soon be hidden behind, their twisted, gargoyle-like shapes gleaming soft coral and pink. Sunset in the desert is not like anywhere else – there is scientific reasoning behind the statement. In the desert the light is free to filter across the landscape; there is nothing to block its intensity. The lack of moisture in the desert air means precipitation is rare and so thin, wispy clouds hang in the mid to upper levels of the atmosphere. These clouds filter and reflect the sunlight, enhancing the colours rather than corrupting them. In the slanting light of the evening, the sand shines like whiskey-coloured velvet, the ground on fire as the sun sinks into a clear horizon. The sunlight now has to travel along a longer path through the atmosphere to reach the earth, and as a result violet, blue, and green are scattered. The sky is a result of light left over; streaks of rust and crimson, gold, and burnt orange cut the horizon. It is now that the desert feels most alive, when the true shades
and colours radiate warmth and have a rich depth.
Night pours into the desert all at once, suddenly shades of indigo wash the sky where stars are drilled out like small shards of glass. Structures become vague and intangible as darkness returns and a smokey twilight washes the sky. One of the desert’s greatest features only appears after the blanket of night has extinguished the sun from the blazing sky, and the landscape morphs into a dome of glittering stars.
The Atacama, in Chile, is home to half the world’s ground-based astronomy projects for this very reason. With low humidity, high altitudes, and virtually non-existent light pollution, it is a place for gazing into the silvery glow of the Milky Way. Huge globular clusters – around 16,000 light-years away – appear in a blazing streak across the sky, the landscape deeply silhouetted, its majestic appearance now secondary to the sky washing above it. What was impressive and worthy of sole attention and focus during the day now pales under the realisation of how small and insignificant these landscapes are.
In the heat and blinding light of midday they intimidate us, make us feel small and irrelevant, but when seen as an inky silhouette rolling beneath a sky where the Milky Way expands overhead, the landscape itself becomes relatively minute. Here is an understanding of not just how meaningless mankind’s existence truly is, but of how small and fleeting the existence of our planet itself is. The night sky is a reminder that – in the vast expanse of the universe – we are nothing but a blink of an eye.
A single image, taken in the same place but at varying times of day, appears as though it has been taken in completely different locations. The intensity and variation of colour from the light constantly transform the same scene and evolve the picture in a continuous iteration.
From the desert floor, the sun remains a golden glare, before sinking into a horizon of blood red, but it is far from this simple. This light changes the desert, bringing an otherwise motionless landscape to life, where it appears to move in time with a deeper rhythm, breathing and sighing with the changing skies above.
RUCKSACK
Editorial & Creative Direction:
Mirko Nicholson
Laura Pendlebury
Words: Laura Pendlebury
Cover Photography: Pauline Barré
Mickael Samama
Website: www.rucksackmag.com
Email: hello@rucksackmag.com
Social Media:
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Photography Credits:
Pauline Barré 75-99, 189-205, 232-239
Andrew Ling 151-163
Filippo Maffei 43-57
Mirko Nicholson 115-121, 139-149, 167185, 229-231
Julia Nimke 59-71
Emilie Ristevski 19-39, 207-227
Evan Robinson 123-135
Mickael Samama 75-99, 189-205, 232-239
Luke Stackpoole 2, 5, 9-15
Chiara Zonca 101-111
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© Lannoo Publishers, Belgium, 2022
D/2022/45/36 – NUR 653/500
ISBN 978 94 014 8232 5 www.lannoo.com
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