V&A tunnel, London

Artistic notes

  • The diagonal lines and the perspective are what drew me to this scene – they result in a great sense of depth.
  • Also like the pattern that repeats into the distance, and how this is broken by the person, who is big enough to recognise but not close enough to be the subject.
  • I had another version without any people in, but it lacked interest.
  • In processing, I cropped to the widescreen format, which gives a move-like feeling.
  • I also increased the contrast and desaturated the colours.

Technical notes

  • Sony A7s
  • 35 mm
  • f/8
  • 1/60 sec

Bryan Peterson – composition and colour with impact

Scrolling through Instagram, as I do these days after effectively ditching Facebook, I was stopped by this image.

Look at those lines! The contrast of the colours. The composition. It’s so simple, but so striking! This is the work of Bryan Peterson, a photographer you might be familiar with. I was, but I hadn’t even realised until I learnt that he’s written several really well-known photography books, including Understanding Exposure, Learning to See Creatively and Understanding Color in Photography.

The image above drew me in to look further at Peterson’s Instagram profile, and I was captivated. His feed is a fantastic fest of colour and composition, and it really got me excited! He’s a photographer who doesn’t take the sickly picture-postcard landscapes and coastal scenes that saturate photographic social media, but who has his own style. What’s more, he creates the kind of images that I want to create!

The first thing that stands out for me is his bold use of colour. You can see it in the image above, and look at the one below!

Complementary colours is a theme you can see in lots of his images – in this case, it’s beautiful use of yellow and purple. Yes, it’s a sunset, yes it’s water – it’s not an original subject, but you don’t often see landscapes with such strong colours, and I love it!

Lines are the other strong elements in many of Peterson’s images. At the top we’ve got the horizontal lines of the steps, and above we’ve got the verticals of the trees and the diagonals of created by the perspective. The image below is an abstract composition in just one (still strong) colour, but it’s again the lines that make it.

The thread that ties Peterson’s use of colour and lines together is composition. His sense of composition and balance really resonates with me, and the image below is a great example of this.

There are very strong lines and the person with the umbrella – the main focal point, but not necessarily the main subject – is offset a long way to the left, much further than would be dictated by the rule of thirds. It’s the strong red that offsets the black on the right to create balance in the image, and the placement of the elements makes this balance dynamic because it creates doubt about whether the real subject is the person or the structure and the lines that it creates.

In fact, composition is at the centre of Peterson’s philosophy, and he’s perhaps the first photographer I’ve found who shares my opinion that composition is more important than light. He says this unreservedly on his website:

‘light’ is not Holy Grail. Rare does a scene with great light salvage a poorly composed image, but rarer still does a truly compelling composition NOT salvage a scene with poor light!

For me, Peterson’s approach validates my views about composition, and the balance and look of many of his images are very close to what I intend to create with my photography. Finding someone to provide this kind of vision that aligns with your own is inspiring! I hope sharing his work with you has inspired you too!

If you are inspired, then Peterson also has a website called You Keep Shooting, through which he offers online educational resources. Through subscription to his website, he offers educational videos, webinars and critiques. Here’s a taster that Peterson has allowed me to share.

I’m off to watch some more of his videos!

All images copyright © Bryan Peterson and reproduced here with permission.

Stairway to art (or, why I photograph staircases)

My name’s Ian, and I photograph staircases.

It’s not really an addiction. But if I see a ‘really good’ staircase and I don’t have my camera with me, I am annoyed. Quite annoyed.

It’s a longstanding project that’s been going for almost as long as I’ve had a camera (almost 9 years). It started out subconsciously as I just photographed what I like, but it turned out that I like staircases a lot and has become very much a conscious project.

Why staircases? Good question.

Lines. It’s the lines.

Stairs at Hyde Park Corner Underground station, London, UK
There are so many lines in this photograph that create geometrical shapes, depth, form and an incredible sense of perspective. It’s all about the lines!

The longer I’ve been taking photographs, the more I’ve realised that what I really love about it is the composition of lines and geometry. And where better to find lines and geometry than staircases? If they’re straight, they’re beautifully uniform. If they’re a spiral, they have wonderful geometric curves and contrasting straight lines. If they’re wonky, they’re unusual, but the lines are still there. With staircases, you just cannot get away from lines.

Arranging these lines in the frame to create balanced compositions and striking images is what this staircase project is about. Stairs also necessarily involve surfaces in different planes, and this usually means that the light plays on them nicely to create form. Of course, if you’re at one end of the stairs or the other, the staircase also goes into the distance, creating yet more diagonal lines and a strong sense of perspective. The lines are so simple, yet so complex in the way they can be arranged in the frame.

Stairs are everywhere

Yes, this means that no matter where you are, there’s always a staircase available to photograph. That makes it pretty easy to accumulate material for this project, but that’s not what I mean.

Staircases have been made by humans for centuries, in every culture in every corner of the world. They are a symbol of the intelligence that is universal among our species, and they demonstrate how we use this intelligence to manipulate our surroundings. Whether it’s a few rocks on top of one another, steps carved into a mountainside, or a wooden staircase constructed in a modern house, the simple idea of creating stairs to reach otherwise unreachable elevations is a triumph of human history.

Stairs at the castle in Lisbon, Portugal, have been there for hundreds of years.

One step at a time

Finally, stairs are symbolic of a concept that is crucial in the human condition. When faced with a challenge that seems insurmountable, you need to break it down. Into steps. And take one step at a time. And that’s precisely what stairs do. They break down an insurmountable leap into small steps and put the unreachable within our grasp.

Staircase in Naxos, Greece, that appears to lead nowhere

Not only that, but they take us to a different level, and this physical ascent is symbolic of the progress that can be made when we take steps towards an ultimate goal.

In short, staircases are symbols of human achievement, advancement and of hope, and they create wonderful compositions of lines and geometry. What better photographic subject could you hope for?

Here are a few more images from my staircases project – take a look at the whole collection on my portfolio site.

The three powers of projects

In photography, as in any art, it’s easy to lose your way. To photograph anything and everything so that you lose a sense of what you are trying to create with your photos. The result can be boredom, indifference, and a lack of motivation that eventually results in the camera staying in the cupboard. That’s where projects come in, and they can help in three ways.

1. Constraints breed creativity

If you can choose to do or have absolutely anything, it’s impossible to choose. You’re paralysed by the possibilities or you try to choose everything. It’s the same with photographic subjects. Although it doesn’t seem intuitive, the constraint of a project breeds creativity. It gives the brain something concrete to work with, a topic to explore and look at from all angles. It might start off with mediocre images, but the creative juices soon get going and you’ll find you come up with images that are much more original.

These images are part of a macro project I started just after my daughter was born, when my opportunities to get out to take pictures were limited. I ended up focusing more specifically on spiders in the garden, and over a few weeks, I went from obvious, fairly standard images like the one on the left to much more original ones like the other two.

What’s more, you can have projects that are open-ended, and when you’re stuck for knowing what to photograph, you can fall back on these to at least get you started. I have several of these ongoing projects – the longest running is a project of staircases, but there’s also shadows, lost clothing, harbours, panoramas and more.

2. You build a body of work

To feel like you’re getting somewhere, it’s nice to see your portfolio building. Projects give you direction and a reason for organising your images. As you shoot a few images here and there, you find these building up into satisfying collections. You also get a better idea of what is working for you in the project and what isn’t, helping you to make images with more purpose and direction for the project in future. One fantastic way of watching your projects build is to organise your collated images on a portfolio website. This not only allows other people to see your work, meaning you can easily ask for feedback if you want it, but also allows you to easily see how the images are working together and to chop and change the collection as you see fit.

If you use Adobe Creative Cloud applications, such as Lightroom and Photoshop, then you’ll have the option of creating a site with Adobe Portfolio for no extra cost. I’ve just done that, and I’d highly recommend it for a simple-to-use solution that gives a sleek and streamlined finish.

My portfolio homepage, made with Adobe Portfolio

3. Images are better together

It’s tough – no, impossible – to take those top-drawer photographs with every release of the shutter. The fact is, only a fraction of the images we make will deserve to make our portfolios as standalone works of art. Projects provide a different way to create art in which images contribute to a bigger body of work that ends up being bigger than the sum of its parts.

As an example, my ongoing staircases project has produced some unbelievably average photographs. I mean, they’re stairs, what can you expect. I like photographing staircases because of their strong lines and geometry, the way light plays on the different surfaces, and their symbolism of progression, advancement, improvement. Although many of the images include unusual or visually interesting staircases, each photograph is still essentially an image of some stairs. But together, these images create something much bigger.

Take the image below. It’s a staircase in Lisbon, Portugal. It’s slightly unusual in that it leads down onto the beach and the bottom steps seem to merge with the sand. But on its own, this image is nothing particularly spectacular.

Put it in a group of images of several other staircases in Lisbon though, and suddenly you have something. A collection of unusual staircases that say something about the place and create something of an atmosphere.

Now put this set into a collection of images of unusual staircases from other places, and this becomes something else again. At the least, it is an interesting collection that shows how the idea of steps has been adapted for various contexts. At the most, it is a commentary on the universality of staircases, on the singularity of our species and on the diversity, yet convergence, of our intelligence. It could also speak of the universal striving for progression and improvement.

Below is a selection from the current version of my staircases project. You can see the full collection here.

Try it

So next time you’re stuck for something to photograph, start a little project for yourself. It could be something that takes 20 minutes and produces one final image, or it could last a lifetime and evolve with you. It could be as general as portraits or trees, or it could be specific – all the piers in the UK, all the species of insect you can find in your garden, or each petal of a single flower. No matter what it is, a project has the power to free your creativity.

If you have any projects you’re working on or you have any great ideas for projects, we’d love to hear about them – just leave a comment below!

Photography and fear

I am afraid. Creative work makes me afraid.

I am afraid that people will judge my work unfavourably and judge me for thinking I am any good as an artist. Because I am afraid I am not.

I am afraid that people won’t judge my work at all. That they just won’t care. That my creative efforts will echo in a void of indifference.

I am afraid of liking my work. What does it matter if I like it? That means nothing.

I am afraid of not liking my work. If I don’t like it, how can I expect other people to like it?

I am afraid of not knowing if I like my work. How can I tell if I like it? I’m biased.

I am afraid that I will reveal too much of myself, and judgement of my work becomes judgement of me.

I am afraid of revealing too little of myself, so that my work is meaningless.

I am afraid that I have got it wrong, and it’s obvious from my work.

I am afraid to fail. Whatever that means.

I am afraid of not creating. But my fear stops me.

Notes from the Aegean – ground tree

Some of my postcards from the Aegean were taken at the top of the highest point on the tiny island of Iraklia – I hesitate to call it a mountain at 400 metres, but that’s what it seems like in the context of the island. Anyway, the photograph above is one of many many small tree-like, shrub-type things that grow almost flat to the ground at the peak. Clearly I don’t know what they are or whether they are alive or frazzled in the Greek sun (I’ll refer to the them as trees), but I really liked what they looked like, and I decided to photograph them. I had in mind to make a small collection of black & white images, focusing on the twisted forms and the coarse textures. Neither the collection nor the black & white worked out!

When I opened the images of these trees on screen (I could barely see them on the camera LCD because the sun was so bright), I didn’t like most of them. When I took them, it was around midday and the sun was high, creating harsh shadows if the trees weren’t completely flat to the ground. What’s more, in most images, the textures of the ground were too similar to those of the plants, so what was intended as my subject didn’t really stand out. Only this one image above worked for me, so that was the end of a collection.

I think this one image works better because the plant is closer to the ground so there are fewer shadows, and those that there are are at the edges and blend in with the texture of the tree itself. Also, this tree was sitting on a relatively flat rock, so there is a contrast of texture between subject and background. However, when I converted to black & white (below), I didn’t like it at all. The colours were all too similar across the frame to create much contrast with the colour mixers in Lightroom, and the textures really didn’t stand out like I wanted them to.

So I turned to my backup plan when I want the effect of black & white (greater focus on lines, shapes and textures than on colours) but simple monochrome doesn’t quite work – partial desaturation. I find this works well when colour is necessary but you don’t want it to dominate.

Doing this here reduced the strength of the colours, preventing the orange hues from dominating and actually revealing subtle complementary blueish and orange hues. This makes the image pop and emphasizes the textures as I wanted to. In addition to the diagonal that the plant makes from bottom right to top left, the desaturation created a lovely balance in the image.