Visual Art Group Magazine No. 153/2018/Issue 1

VISUAL ART

DATES FOR YOUR DIARY

Visual Art Group 2018 Members’

Print Exhibition

Official Opening & Annual Luncheon

17 February 2018

12:00 - 16:00

Croydon Clocktower, Katherine Street, Croydon, United Kingdom, CR9 1ET

Official opening of the Visual Art Group’s 2018 Annual Exhibition by the President of The Royal Photographic Society, Robert Albright HonFRPS. This is followed by the group’s annual luncheon which is bookable with the form downloadable from the website. The exhibition will run in Croydon until 10 March 2018.

Event organiser: David Wood ARPS (wood.david.j@virgin.net)

See more at: https://tinyurl.com/y8txpcn6

Rollright Visual Art Group

Winter Members’ Day

03 March 2018

10:00 - 16:00

Village Hall, High Street, Long Compton, Warks, United Kingdom, CV36 5JS

Another opportunity for you to show a selection of your work and offer it for general discussion in a friendly and relaxed atmosphere.

RPS/Non RPS Member £8.00, Ploughman’s Lunch £5.00

Event organiser: Andreas Klatt ARPS (rpsva@klatt.co.uk)

See more at: https://tinyurl.com/nuosl6l

SW Visual Art Group

A Day with Robert Canis

07 April 2018

10:30 - 16:00

The Dolphin Hotel, Station Road, Bovey Tracey, United Kingdom, TQ13 9NG

Robert Canis is a professional nature photographer, workshop and tour leader who has been photographing the natural world for more than 30 years. He regularly contributes to the photographic press and has been the recipient of numerous awards in such prestigious competitions as Wildlife Photographer of the Year, British Wildlife Photography Awards and International Garden Photographer of the Year. To see more of Robert’s work, please see his website: http://www.robertcanis.com/

All are welcome at this event, but please book your place with Linda Wevill FRPS by e-mail.

Event organiser: Linda Wevill FRPS (linda.wevill@btinternet.com)

VAG Member £5, RPS Member £8, Non RPS Member £10

See more at: https://tinyurl.com/yaa39ebe

Visual Art Group

Spring Weekend

20 April 2018 - 23 April 2018

The White Swan Hotel, Bondgate Within, Alnwick, United Kingdom, NE66 1TD

Our next residential Spring Weekend will be set in Alnwick (Northumberland). The region is famous for its rich history, brought to life in architectural treasures and great natural beauty - a photographer’s dream. Speakers will include Paul Mitchell FRPS, Philip Joyce ARPS and Jeff Teasdale. Our base will be The White Swan Hotel, an historic coaching inn, much loved for its interior with splendid panelling and stained glass windows from the Titanic’s sister ship, the Olympic. This event is now fully booked.

Event organiser: Andreas Klatt ARPS (visualart@rps.org)

See more at: https://tinyurl.com/ycpcuxcc

Visual Art Group

Notice of AGM

The Annual General Meeting of the RPS Visual Art Group will be held at 21:00 on Friday 20 April 2018 at The White Swan Hotel, Bondgate Within, Alnwick, United Kingdom, NE66 1TD. Relevant papers will be filed on the microsite in due course.

COMMITTEE

Andreas Klatt ARPS (Chairman) visualart@rps.org

David J Wood ARPS (Vice Chair & Programme Secretary) wood.david.j@virgin.net

Robert O Charnock (Honorary Treasurer & Exhibition Organiser) rjcharnock@hotmail.co.uk

Viveca Koh FRPS (Honorary Secretary) viveca.koh@gmail.com

Gill Dishart ARPS (Portfolios Secretary) gill@dishart.plus.com

Eddie Morton ARPS (Exhibition Organiser) eddiemorton@gmail.com

Paul Mitchell FRPS (Co-ordinator of The Stephen H Tyng Foundation) paul@pmd-design.co.uk

CO-OPTED

Michael Butterworth LRPS (Group Web Editor) visualartweb@rps.org

Jay Charnock FRPS (Exhibition Organiser) jaypix@hotmail.co.uk

Mark Deutsch (Membership Secretary) mrkdeutsch@aol.com

Max Klatt (Digital Communication Adviser) max_klatt@hotmail.com

VISUAL ART

CONTENTS

NO. 153 / 2018 / ISSUE 1

5.

my

Ways

SUB-GROUP ORGANISERS

Rollright Andreas Klatt ARPS rpsva@klatt.co.uk

South West Linda Wevill FRPS linda.wevill@btinternet.com

If you are interested in having or organising a Visual Art Sub-Group in your area, please contact:

Andreas Klatt ARPS (Chairman) visualart@rps.org

EDITOR: Nicki Gwynn-Jones FRPS (flychick110@googlemail.com)

DESIGNER: Paul Mitchell FRPS (paul@pmd-design.co.uk)

Visual Art is The Magazine of the RPS Visual Art Group and is provided as part of the annual subscription of the Group. © 2018 All rights reserved on behalf of the authors. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without the written permission of the copyright holder. Requests for such permission must be addressed to the Editor. The Royal Photographic Society, RPS Visual Art Group and the Editor accept no liability for any misuse or breach of copyright by a contributor. The views expressed in this magazine do not necessarily reflect the policies of the Royal Photographic Society or of the Visual Art Group.

Printed by Henry Ling Ltd, The Dorset Press, Dorchester. DT1 1HD

Klatt ARPS

Comments Nicki Gwynn-Jones FRPS

Old is New; Empty is Full Lee Yuk Hung FRPS

9. Discovering the Magic of Orkney Nicki Gwynn-Jones FRPS

14. Curiosity Tom McLaughlan

19. Land of

Father Caroline Fraser ARPS

23. Architectural Photography Iñaki Hernández-Lasa ARPS

28. Woodland

Paul Mitchell FRPS

A View from the Chair

ANDREAS KLATT ARPS

They say there are no problems, only solutions. But that was not what we felt in our long search for a new editor of this magazine.

David Cooke FRPS retired after years in which he had single-handedly run Visual Art and built up its reputation to the point where the prospect of taking on this task looked like a poisoned chalice. It requires a massive investment of time and effort, combined with a rare skillset of editorial judgment, visual awareness and creative flair. For free. Anyone?

Carole Lewis ARPS volunteered, but this on the understanding that it could only

be for two issues - a stop-gap offer to give us breathing space for another year. Yet still no takers.

The solution to this knotty problem turned out to lie in ancient Gordium. Cut it. Split the task into editorial and production, lighten the load and concentrate on individual talent. You are looking at the result. This issue of Visual Art has been produced by a content editor, Nicki Gwynn-Jones FRPS, and a professional graphic designer, Paul Mitchell FRPS.

They have done a stunning job. And we will not stop there. Whilst Paul will

Editor’s Comments

NICKI GWYNN-JONES FRPS

When Andreas Klatt rang me a few months ago and asked me to contribute an article for this edition little did I imagine that I would end up as the guest editor.

However, he has a most delightful line in persuasion and I was thrilled to be asked, not least because it has given me the chance to be in touch with a group of photographers whose work truly inspires me. My brief to them was that they could write about anything they liked but that there was to be no mention whatsoever of camera settings…

If I had to settle on one idea that links this issue’s featured photographers it would be that one way or another we are all seeking to portray the essence of our subject matter:

Iñaki Hernández-Lasa has harboured a lifelong love of architecture and this has led him to specialise in photographing some of the most beautiful - and recognisable - contemporary buildings in the world. What marks him out for me is his wish

to communicate the architect’s feelings and intentions for a building, which he does with sensuality and an uncommon understanding of the drama of natural light.

Caroline Fraser‘s work speaks to both art and poetry and is deeply personal. She writes about the book project that became a tribute to her late father, and the mood that she creates as she describes the trip to Scotland that instigated the project is heart-breakingspare, minimal and lonely.

I was fascinated to read about the way in which classical Chinese ink paintings influenced Lee Yuk Hung’s interpretation of the decaying walls that he was photographing, and as he chats to bystanders, astonished that he can see beauty in the neglect, I get the sense that they really do experience the gift of a different way of seeing.

I first encountered the work of Tom McLaughlan on Facebook and in his Ministract blogs. He is completely self-

remain the anchor in production, editorial responsibility will be shared in a small team, with Linda Wevill FRPS taking on the next issue in turn. Collaborative and diverse ingenuity is required to create what is undeniably an expression of visual art. Our magazine is a quiet statement of purpose, convincing in every aspect from choice of content to quality of print, because it needs to answer the perennial question of ‘What is visual art?’. It should lift us. And it does.

Andreas

taught and what first caught my attention was his natural talent for composition and his extraordinary eye for pattern and colour - he sees in ways that I know I never could. He writes about the creative force of curiosity and applying the seven aesthetic principles of Zen to photography.

Paul Mitchell is a master of many types of photography. I do not know anyone else who can produce woodland images of such luminous delicacy and beauty, and I find it fascinating to read that he avidly studies the great English landscape painters. Here, too, is the proof that you do not need to travel far in order to make world class images…he really can see the wood for the trees.

As for me, right now it is as if Orkney is adrift in a universe of wind and rain, but as you will read, I did move here with a need to immerse myself in life on the edge… Thank you so much for reading - I do hope that you enjoy the magazine.

Nicki

Old is New; Empty is Full

LEE YUK HUNG FRPS

I live in one of the densest cities in the world, at a time when cities the world over are growing faster than ever. While that change is making our world feel more and more crowded it is leaving some places emptier than before - urbanization has left many rural and suburban villages that had been inhabited for generations almost vacant and abandoned. Paradoxically, it is in these wastelands that I find life forces at work - a rare bit of space to breathe, to be inspired and to create. It is to these places that I brought my camera for this photo project.

The photos show the walls of deserted buildings and waning villages in southern China which sit on the edge of burgeoning urban encroachment and at the crossroads of transition, guarding the last vestiges of a centuries-old civilization under flux. These little back yards steeped in history and nostalgic memories stand vulnerable to decay under humid sub-tropical climates. Decay through growth; moss, lichen, and the mould that every inhabitant must battle, crawl without impediment over the surface of these walls. To some, they are beautiful, to many they are not, and I found myself repeatedly explaining to the few unimpressed who gathered around me what exactly I saw worth documenting in these corrupted surfaces.

I saw quite a lot, in fact - not just abstract beauty, but a resemblance to classical Chinese ink wash paintings.

I saw quite a lot, in fact - not just abstract beauty, but a resemblance to classical Chinese ink wash paintings, the traditional subject matter of which is nature. Human touches - a house nestled among the trees, a solitary figure under a cliff - are deliberately marginal or absent. The water, trees and mountains in these paintings are more impressionistic than strictly realistic, and are not unlike the fluid forms that I saw on those walls; their ancient creators reproduced the spirit or essence of an object, its qi, but not the object itself. If ink wash painting could turn landscapes into semi-abstract shapes, why couldn’t I use my lens to coax nature’s footprints on these walls into tangible landscape paintings? The ridges, spines, and bristles stained on the wall looked, from a certain angle, like mountains and trees. More vaguely textured marks might be water, clouds, or falling rain. In a sense, everything in the photos is vague, everything is ambiguous. That looks like a mountain, we can maybe agree - but are those streams running down, or fissures? Is that a cloud rolling over a ridge, or the mist of a waterfall? There is no limit to the wonderful fabric of natural elements that you can see; I have my ideas, but you may have your own, and my challenge as a photographer is to convey a sense of the landscape that I saw on the wall - to encourage the audience to see trees and lakes and to sense the hydrous nature of it all as I did, and not just a dirty wall. But at the same time, I like that the specifics of the image are left to interpretation.

You see, I was painting without a brush. I could not create the strokes of my images, only frame them. Taking the photos meant carefully interpreting the wall, drawing from my visual memory of the genre. To the degree that my intention is clear, the audience can share my interpretation - ‘of course, that’s a snowcap, and that’s the moon.’ On the other hand, the ambiguity that remains‘are those clouds?’ - allows the audience to join with me in the act of interpreting. The photos should not spell everything out for you, but they should not leave you lost either. They should nudge you in the right direction, and let you take part in the creative act.

Framing the photos was largely a question of composition, and the composition in ink wash painting, the sense of balance, is very particular. The paintings are not realistic, but they are often quite detailed and have astonishingly fine brushwork. Yet they are never claustrophobic; there is no horror vacui. There is always space to allow the viewer to breathe and to allow air, or qi, to flow through the painting. Absence complements presence. The combination of detail and space produces the incredible sense of scale that certain ink wash painters achieve when trying to show the greatness of nature and the smallness of humanity. Certainly these photos have a degree of detail that one can lose oneself in, but I have tried to balance that detail with a certain amount of space, and to draw out an epic vastness on these little village walls.

I also tried to draw from the palette of ink wash painting. The colours of these paintings are so muted that one could be forgiven for thinking that they were all monochrome, as many of them are. Yet many do use subtle colouring, and I attempted to do the same in some of my photos. This was faithful to my source of inspiration, and a hint of blue or green here or there provides another interpretive nudge to the viewer, again not to show you the trees or the lake, but to help you find them.

I did not explain all this in such depth to the people I met in those villages, only in passing. I think it was eye-opening, or maybe just amusing for them to see these ordinary walls, perhaps ones very familiar to them, in such a different light. To have shared moments like this with strangers was a wonderful thing. It was an intimate moment rare in our big, modern city, a moment of pausing to look into our past as it exists in the old walls and in the landscapes of China.

Discovering the Magic of Orkney

NICKI GWYNN-JONES FRPS

In the summer of 2016 Nicki, her husband and their two cats decided that there was probably even more to life than their very comfortable existence in Cheltenham, so they packed up their belongings and moved to Orkney, a group of islands on the 59th parallel and situated off the north east coast of Scotland, at the point where the Atlantic Ocean meets the North Sea. They have no regrets.

We tried really hard to move to the Isle of Harris. I longed to be able to gorge on the endless photographic opportunities and to immerse myself in life on the edge, in the place where the Atlantic collides with North West Europe and has the weather to prove it. But the universe had other ideas, so here we are, 18 months into our Orkney adventure.

From the air Orkney resembles a jigsaw puzzle fit for a giant, fretsawed out of the sea and painted emerald green. At first I was entranced by the skies,

huge 180 degree panoramas of endless shape-shifting beauty, but after several months of walking around with my head quite literally in the clouds, the first winter storms started to arrive.

We are surrounded by water - Orkney has nearly 600 miles of coastline - and

I quickly realised that my longing to experience the primal power of the elements had been granted to me, that the place deep inside me that craves a little danger was standing to attention.

It is impossible to stand up in these high winds so I crawl from the car and hope

for the best, aware that I am taking a risk but with an absolute need to be here, to connect with the forces that since the beginning of time have shaped this place that I now call home. In order to envelop myself in the storm I must be at eye level to the massive waves, as big as houses, as they come thundering in, so I hunker down under a cliff in a spot that could have been carved out just for me by all the raging tempests that have ever been. The sound is deafening and I can taste the salt spray on my lips. I offer up a silent prayer that I and my camera equipment will survive and then I get to work.

I draw on my experiences as a bird photographer; anticipation and quick reactions are key skills here. I spend a while observing the action as the spot that I have chosen is complex; the waves often come from two directions and it is a rocky, craggy place - I pause to think of how many ships and lives have been lost along this notorious stretch of coastline.

If I am lucky the sun might break through, illuminating the turbulence with all the colours of the Caribbean, but what I am really looking for is the point at which the triumvirate of wind, tide and rock combine to produce a moment of power so absolute that it is hard to comprehend.

Now remember to press the shutter button...

Orkney is a land steeped in mythology and folk tales, from Fin Folk and selkies

to giants and hogboons, and I get the strongest feeling that magic is alive and well here. Inevitably much of the folklore is based around the sea - the sight of a boat being swallowed alive by sea haar is alluringly hypnotic and surreal, transforming even the largest cruise liners into the ghost ship of the Flying Dutchman, doomed to sail the seas for ever. The simmer dim, the perpetual twilight of midsummer in the Northern Isles, is other-worldly, seemingly filled with enchantment and the supernatural, but there is faerie magic here too, or so I found when I started to photograph the wild flowers of Orkney.

In Orkney it is the wind that shapes everything. I have long been fascinated by movement; dance, music, wind and light on the surface of water, birds in flight, and by a quality of suggestion and mystery that is possessed by so much of the art and music that I admire. It is that sense of something fleeting, not

quite seen and impossible to hold on to, like impressionist chords sliding and evaporating into another tonality and with a rhythm that is often vague and free. Here I feel a purity of expression and a joyousness; watch fulmars scything effortlessly through the air on a stormy day and tell me that they are not loving every second!

I give myself over to the idea that the combination of wind and flowers will have an exuberance, freedom within a form, like jazz to the classical. Again, I must be at eye level to my subject matter, so I don the waterproofs… Orkney can be boggy…and get down on the ground. Using manual focus, and almost always a telephoto lens, I immerse myself in another place. But I

must be still and quiet, absorbed in a concentration that shuts out everything outside of this nanoscopic universe. I search, shifting the focus millimetre by millimetre. What am I looking for? I don’t really know, except that I will know it when I see it, that in-between space, the unseen landscape that holds its secrets close. For here, even though the image will be static, there will be flow and movement. Some days I return emptyhanded - the faeries will not tell - but some days I am granted a glimpse into their world, a privilege that is only given to those who want to see.

www.nickigwynnjones.com

“Be not afeard.

The isle is full of noises, Sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight, and hurt not. Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments

Will hum about mine ears, and sometime voices, That if I then had waked after long sleep

Will make me sleep again; and then in dreaming

The clouds methought would open and show riches

Ready to drop upon me, that when I waked

I cried to dream again.”

William Shakespeare, The Tempest

Curiosity

TOM MCLAUGHLAN

It’s 20 years since we moved to Tokyo. ‘We’ was me, my wife and our son - we came back with an extra one - but it didn’t include a camera. It was another 10 years before photography joined the family.

We’d hesitated over the decision to go but our minds were finally made up one Saturday morning at Clapham South tube station. There on a billboard ad was a couple at a greasy spoon cafe, a chrome condiment caddy on the table between them, stuffed with salt and

pepper, and all the other condiments. There was an ashtray too. He looked like Andy Capp and she wore the same expression as the women in L’Absinthe by Degas.

“We never did make it to Paris”, he said mournfully in her direction. Bucket lists

weren’t called bucket lists back then but it was as though he was listing all the things that would have been on theirs if they could live their lives again.

loved Japan for many reasons but none more than the way the country brought a new surprise every day - something that fed my deep sense of curiosity. When Einstein said ‘I have no special talents. I am only passionately curious’, he wasn’t displaying false modesty, he

was highlighting how questions - the everyday symptom of a curious mindlead to discoveries. He was extolling the creative force of curiosity, and much of what I was to experience in Japan would impact my personal photographic journey when it began ten years later. Nobody visiting Japan can fail to notice how the country and its culture embraces the natural world. I enjoyed the arts and crafts movement – pottery, furniture, woodblock print maps – and was curious about the associated myths. Many were spiritual with Zen Buddhism featuring strongly. I read about Zen’s seven aesthetic principles and when

photography worked its way into my life, I took pictures that attempted to illustrate each one. In truth, I failed miserably but the principles have driven much of my work.

Datsuzoko. Some people are lost without routine and the formulaic approach that often accompanies it. Datsuzoko on the other hand is the absence of both; indeed, some have called it a reprieve.

Fukinsei. Symmetry and regularity bring a predictable rhythm but asymmetry and irregularity generates a dynamism that excites.

“We decided to move to Japan on the Monday.”

I

Kanso. Simplicity. Focus on what matters and get rid of the rest. Seijaku. “Don’t underestimate the value of Doing Nothing, of just going along, listening to all the things you can’t hear, and not bothering.” Winnie the Pooh understood the importance of tranquility but Saijaku goes further by stressing its creative power.

Shibumi. Simplicity doesn’t have to be simple. Look for subtle details to bring complexity into the equation.

Shizen. Whether natural or made by human hands, the principle of Shizen means there will be no sense of

pretense or artificiality. Photographs Shizen-style won’t feel ‘photoshopped’. Yugen. A tease. Curiosity piqued. Show less, communicate more. If Emily Dickinson had been writing about the aesthetic principles, it would have been Yugen she was describing when she urged us to “Ignite the imagination and light the slow fuse of the possible”.

Curiosity played its part again recently during a visit to War Photo Limited, an exhibition centre for war and conflict photojournalism in Dubrovnik’s Old City. Founder and former photojournalist Wade Goddard concludes his

introduction to the exhibition guide with these words: “We cannot hope to answer all your questions on this subject but do hope you finish with more questions than you started with”.

When we apply this questioning and curious mindset to photography we find ourselves trying out new things. We take risks. We look beyond the obvious in search of something new. Perhaps this is what Robert Mapplethorpe meant when he declared “I’m looking for the unexpected. I’m looking for things I’ve never seen before.”

With Mapplethorpe’s words for inspiration and energised by lots

of questions, I went looking for the unexpected with my camera. I’ve never had a photography lesson so I didn’t know what would happen if I pulled the zoom lens out quickly as I pressed the shutter or if I zoomed in on architectural details. Could I disguise what I was photographing? Could I draw out a feature that people might miss as they walked past? What if I photographed the colours of lights reflected in steel columns and turned them through 90 degrees? Could metal become the home of a seascape?

Curiosity has been the catalyst for a wonderful photographic journey.

http://ministract.com

“We keep moving forward, opening new doors, and doing new things, because we’re curious and curiosity keeps leading us down new paths.” Walt Disney

Land of my Father

CAROLINE FRASER ARPS

My most recent project is a very personal one about the death of my father. It happened upon me in a rather roundabout way. My father died suddenly when I was a child, and for a many years I have tried to put this in the past and move on.

In 2014 I popped up to Scotland for my annual photographic pilgrimage. I like to get there once a year for a dose of mountains, landscape and photography. I spent a week alone in Ardnamurchan and Glencoe.

rained. It poured.”

Roads were flooded and inaccessible.

I ended up sheltering in a church taking photographs of rain dripping onto the floor of the interior.

“It

I found my mood darkening and my images along with it. Monochome was the order of the day.

FEATURED PHOTOGRAPHER

Images taken through a wet car window predominated. Norman Ackroyd my source of inspiration.

Land of my Father

And did I tell you that my father died too soon?

While I was at school he fell off a table, couldn’t breathe, and that was him gone.

Returning home in the back of my aunt’s pale blue bubble car full of excitement at the novelty of the ride, I felt that something good was about to happen.

My mother sat in an armchair beside the circular loop pile rug on the parquet floor, in front of the silent black and white TV. Orange velour curtains disguised the sombre mood.

She gave me the news and sent me to the kitchen to have my tea.

I was eight, my sister six, my brother three. We didn’t go to the funeral. It wasn’t done back then.

I was not the same after he left us. Not ‘late’ or ‘passed’ Dead.

Not believing that he was dead I fancied that, as for Roberta in ‘The Railway Children’, my father would re-appear one day and take me by the hand.

I waited patiently in the school playground for this miracle day after day after day.

No one spoke of him for years after. Perhaps the pain was too much to bear.

I am drawn to the highlands from whence he came.

Caroline Fraser

These words describe my father’s death when I was eight years old. Intensely personal.

I didn’t know what to do with it, but felt I needed to share it with my brother and sister in a way that was worthy of the subject matter; one that we have all struggled with over the years.

I decided to make a small book. I realised that the images made in Scotland the previous autumn were entirely appropriate to accompany the poem. They represented my need to

keep returning to Scotland... the ‘Land of my Father’. The title was born and I quickly made a small book using Lightroom book module, exported to Blurb.

Some images were created using a tilt-shift lens, and others using incamera multiple exposure. Images that accompany text may not work as stand alone images, but I felt that they worked together in the context of the words. eg; my sister 6, my brother 3. Three stones on a wall representing three children.

I used a cream tone preset in Lightroom to give a unity to the images, and made a small book using Blurb software within InDesign.

The paperback arrived, and while I was reasonably happy with it, I felt that I could do better. I wanted it to be something really special.

FEATURED PHOTOGRAPHER

I enlisted the help of Eddie Ephraums from Envisage Books, and so began a whole new process, involving the selection of paper type, cover materials and format, shape, font, size, and then the difficult decision of how many to print.

I wanted this book to have a Japanese style binding that shows the thread on the cover, and allows for a bit of colour and a feeling of a handcrafted object. We tested different paper types for the images. Smooth or textured? White or creamy? What weight of paper? So many decisions. We took our time. Choosing cover colours and thread colours was possibly the hardest part. The images are toned monochrome, so the cover had to complement them. Looking at threads I was keen for some bright colour. Orange was my choice. The words inside the book reference the bright colours at home disguising the sombre mood.

And so, having made all these decisions we finalised the InDesign document in preparation for print.

As this was to be a hand sewn book (by me), I limited the first edition to fifty copies, each to be signed and numbered.

The pages and cover were printed on an Indigo Press and trimmed to size by a commercial printer. Watching the printer in action was a very special moment after months of planning.

The thread is hand waxed using beeswax, and the sewing begins. It is a painstaking process, and at least one book is now bloodstained for ever. I chose a very simple Japanese stab binding, and then encased each book in a sleeve with an embossed title and wrap around image.

The end result leaves me with a feeling of resolution; a tribute to my father that I am proud of, and one that has allowed some new conversations in my family about a painful event.

It transpires that my memories are not completely accurate. But that doesn’t worry me; it was the making that was important.

After all, we all write our own stories.

www.carolinefraser.org

Architectural Photography

IÑAKI HERNÁNDEZ-LASA ARPS

“Architectural photography might be considered by some an aseptic documentary process. However, it becomes visual art when the photographer engages and shares his or her interpretation of those buildings”.

FEATURED PHOTOGRAPHER

Iñaki Hernández-Lasa is an amateur architectural photographer who has lived in Ireland for the last 27 years. Born in Spain, he grew up in a family where architectural designs, plans and sketches were a recurrent topic of conversation during dinner time. While professionally he chose an alternative route, childhood nurtured in him an artistic interest in contemporary architecture, a passion which he brings to his photography.

However, he remembers fondly how everything changed when his parents presented him with a Nikon F-601. From that moment, endless Fuji Velvia rolls were shot and sent to the lab in a constant attempt to learn and improve his photographic skills.

Moving to Dublin at the age of 24 led to rolls and rolls of beautiful landscapes of the West of Ireland, capturing lush greens and majestic seascapes. But city environs, buildings and materials still held a stronger attraction.

The definitive moment came in 1997 with the opening of the world-famous Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao by Frank Gehry. This remarkable building completely transformed Iñaki’s native city from an industrial, grey urban area to a modern, vibrant city. “Apart from the ‘Guggen’ as we locals call it, Bilbao also opened a state of the art underground, designed by Sir Norman Foster, Santiago Calatrava’s Zubi Zuri bridge, Arata Isozaki’s Atea towers and more recently César Pelli’s Iberdrola tower. And all within a 10-minute walk from my parent’s house. An architectural photographer’s dream”.

“I started experimenting with various photographic subjects and styles through the medium of film and slide during my school years using my father’s camera which I remember had an incredibly sharp Carl Zeiss lens”.

From the opening of the Guggenheim in 1997, it was clear that Iñaki’s interest lay firmly in architectural photography and for many years he would practice and perfect his technique. He considers himself to be an enabler of communication between the buildings and the public.

Trips to Bilbao on a yearly basis to visit his family allowed for numerous shoots in his native city. However, he also travelled over the years to many locations featuring stunning architecture, and planned his shoots with great care in order to expand his portfolio: Los Angeles, Chicago, Berlin, Milwaukee, Miami, Valencia or Dublin to name but a few.

“Over many years, I have been privileged to photograph these remarkable structures. I tend to concentrate on their “genius loci”, the very essence and nature of these buildings. I enjoy capturing their three-dimensional interplay, by providing a spatial reference and highlighting the breadth and scale of these extraordinary structures”.

One of his questions when shooting architectural photography has always been: “what can I ‘interpret’ that other people around me have not? How can I express the architect’s feelings and intentions for his building through the medium of photography and transfer that to a larger audience? The main purpose is to present a more intimate view of the building, by eliminating distracting elements and their surroundings, and by concentrating on a less standardised view. I try to provide a more artistic and personal interpretation while maximising materials and light”.

“The ultimate objective is to express and convey the different aspects of these buildings while trying to create an aesthetically pleasing image”.

Before getting down to shooting Iñaki plans carefully and analyses the buildings as much as possible, walking around them a few times looking for interesting angles and compositions that may catch his eye. “At this stage the camera is still in the bag: I just want to examine what is possible, where the light is, where the reflections lie, juxtapositions of materials, angles, anything that may create a strong composition”. One of Iñaki’s beliefs when it comes to contemporary architectural photography has always been influenced by those words of renowned architect Mies van der Rohe: “Less is more”.

Light, time of day and the human element play an important factor too, so it is not surprising that he was first in the queue on a freezing cold winter morning in Berlin to shoot Foster’s dome at the Reichstag.

Over the last few years, Iñaki has presented his work at numerous photographic societies and has acted as a judge nationally and internationally. He has also taken photographers to Spain where he has run architectural photography workshops in Bilbao and Valencia.

In May 2013 Iñaki received a Fellowship of the Irish Photographic Federation (FIPF), and he is the only photographer to have received an FIPF for architectural photography. In 2017 he gained his Associateship of the Royal Photographic Society. His aspiration is to continue to engage and attract photographers into this fascinating genre.

In Iñaki’s opinion, “these outstanding buildings are best understood in their environment, by examining and engaging with their abstraction, their angles, their lines, their materials and their beautiful minimalism. I experiment and pursue that glint of light that brings life and energetically transforms their materials into contrasting elements”.

Iñaki Hernández-Lasa, FIPF, ARPS, AFIAP www.ihlphotography.com

Iñaki approaches his shoots as if he were still shooting film, making dozens of images rather than thousands. “I try to slow down, think of the composition, frame every image as best as possible and expose it as correctly as I can”. It is perhaps his background in film that makes him pause and think twice before pressing the shutter and his approach means that post processing is usually very fast, a matter of minutes. The more painstaking task is usually cloning those unattractive scratches, so characteristic of Gehry’s L.A. Concert Hall or Guggenheim Museum titaniumclad façades.

“I had a vision that I wanted an uncluttered shot of a single person walking up the ramp to highlight the dimensionality of the Reichstag dome. And that is best achieved by showing the ratio of the human element versus the height of the structure”.

Woodland Ways

PAUL MITCHELL FRPS

Woodland can be notoriously difficult in which to compose meaningful images, which is hardly surprising when you realise how complicated groups of trees can become; the phrase ‘can’t see the wood for the trees’ regularly comes to mind.

Over the years I have come to realise that my background in graphic design has been helpful. I am always looking for simplified compositions and pay particular attention to colour, texture and light.

I am in no way an art historian but I do like to study the works of our classic English landscape painters such as Gainsborough and Constable - there is so much to be learned from the way in which they composed their landscapes and, more importantly, from their renditions of trees and how light interacts with them.

Another aid to composition is to use a viewing frame, and these can easily be made from a piece of black card or even from a rigid foam mouse mat; something about the size of a postcard with a cutout aperture of a 2x3 aspect ratio works perfectly. Viewing through the aperture with one eye closed renders the scene two dimensional and the area immediately surrounding the scene is masked off. I then begin to look at the composition as if it were a print on my wall, and if it doesn’t look right I just walk on until I find another composition.

I’m sure that we have all come across that famous slogan which adorns so many car rear windows - ‘A dog is for life, not just for Christmas.’ The same can be said of woodland - it’s not just for autumn!

I visit woodlands throughout the year, each season having its very own characteristics.

From the sight and smell of a bluebell wood in springtime, to the honeydripped glory that is autumn, to the cold purple hues of winter, there is always something to photograph - even a hot summer day in July can render results if you use an infrared camera! I must admit though that autumn in any woodland can be rather irresistible especially when you combine it with a little bit of atmospheric mist and fog.

I often get asked during lectures whether I prefer woodland or coastal landscapes. My answer is always that I love both, but time normally constrains me to exploring my local area. The biggest difference between my approach to coastal and woodland photography is the use of filters. I try if at all possible to exclude skies in my woodland images but they are unavoidable at the coast, so I make

more use of neutral density graduated filters. Time of day and tides are also a big factor, something I don’t really have to worry about in the woods!

A lot of people want to know about my post processing technique. Firstly, it is very much about pre-visualising how I want the image to look at the time of releasing the shutter, and after that I have a repertoire of workflow techniques in both Lightroom and Photoshop. I tend to use custom pre-sets and actions, but ultimately if I have to spend more than 10 minutes on an image I will put it to one side, giving me time to decide if it is still worth pursuing at a later date. I always remind people that I sit in front of a computer using software like Photoshop on a daily basis - the last thing I want to do is spend hours of an evening processing one image!

Over the years I have used 35mm, medium format and large format film cameras. Even though I still have them I tend use my Nikon D810 with the 24-70 f2.8 and 70-200 f4 Nikkor lenses. Out of the two I tend to use the 70-200 in woodland, mainly because I look for quite tight compositions, a group of trees in the distance or an interesting pool of light in a densely packed area of branches. I also like the compression that longer focal lengths give. Looking through the EXIF data on quite a few of my favourite images I would say that 100-150mm is the most common focal length. I have also recently started to use my old Nikkor 135 f2.8 Ai lens again. It is certainly not the sharpest lens I own but used at a large aperture it can give images a wonderfully soft feel. More recently I have been using a Fuji XE-1 that has been converted to the infrared wavelength, which has added an extra dimension to my woodland images especially during the summer months.

www.paulmitchellphotography.co.uk