"Art, huh, what is it good for?"...(Part Two)

Following on from my last post on Art it seems appropriate to discuss a question posed at a recent talk I gave. A member of the audience asked, "Do you feel that it's your duty to lobby for protection of the environment through your work?" From her manner I think the enquirer was probably expecting a resounding, "Yes!" but I'm afraid that I disappointed her.

A deep love of the natural world is fundamental to my photography but I don't think that it's my job to act as a crude propagandist through my images. I'm happy to write or talk about respecting the creatures around us and protecting the future of our planet and, more than this, to follow this up (as imperfectly as humans do) by trying my best to "do my bit". But for me this debate doesn't have a place in my images, at least not in any unsophisticated and obvious way.

It seems to me that I was also being asked the question, "Why do you only make positive images of nature?" Well one strong reason is that I don't believe that making negative images of environmental destruction is going to change anything. Negative imagery is a turn off. Apart from a tiny minority of committed people everyone else looks the other way. They don't want to see bad things and adopt the visual equivalent of the fingers in the ears "La, la, la I can't hear you" pose.

A subtext of this question is an accusation that by making positive images of the natural world I am somehow complicit in the destruction that goes on everyday. I don't think so! This is a kind of "If you're not with us you're against us!" argument, a bullying attitude adopted by the radical tendency of many different political movements including the environmental one. I refuse to be bullied.

The word "duty" in the question is telling. Who or what do I owe a duty to? This question goes to the heart of the relationship between the public and private persona of the artist. In the minds of some there should be no separation between the public and private realm for an Artist; the Artist should live their Art. From this standpoint, since I am a lover of the natural world, it is my duty to proselytise; to convert the great unwashed to my point of view, to get them on-side in the crusade. Actually I think this is what I'm doing, but in a subtle way.

I make positive images and I refuse to apologise for that. The natural world makes me feel positive and that emotion is one of the prime reasons for me making images. I am convinced that positive emotions are much more likely to effect change than negative ones. Seeing something as beautiful is much more likely to motivate somebody to fight to protect that thing than seeing something as having already been despoiled is. It's simple human nature that negative images cause negative reactions. They cause the majority of viewers to withdraw from the debate because they feel the battle is already lost. Rather than causing an uprising, as the propagandists would have us believe they do, negative images are just too depressing and cause the majority of the populous to run and hide.

Portraying something in a positive light isn't necessarily denying that negative things are happening, it may be a denial but it doesn't have to be. Life is more complicated than that! I'm not advocating support for an apologist position, such as that of Nazi sympathiser Leni Riefenstahl. By making positive images of nature I'm not being an apologist for the governments and multi-nationals who are raping our planet. Saying that something is wonderful absolutely isn't the same as saying that it's OK to destroy it. In Riefenstahl's case she was praising the Nazis, the agent of destruction. If we transferred her position to landscape photography it would be like me praising a particular company or government that was implicated in an environmental disaster. It would be like me making heroic images of chain saws and earth moving equipment – that's not something you'll ever see me do!

The original question belongs, I think, to the Marxist tradition of seeing Art's role in quite simplistic terms as a kind of supercharged propaganda. I'm absolutely certain that Art can be deeply affecting on a personal level but I'm not convinced that it can work effectively as a means of changing the world on its own. Picasso's painting Guernica is probably the most famous piece of 20th century art inspired by a political will to protest, in this case against the Nazi bombing of a Spanish village. Did Guernica change the course of the Spanish Civil War to any significant degree? I don't think so. Visual Art is a weak tool when used against guns. The pen might be mightier than the sword, as Edward Lytton wrote in 1839, but I'm afraid that images aren't a match for armaments. Partly this is because it's just too easy to look the other way and partly it's because of a deeper philosophical problem: there is no consistent interpretation of a single image, no language in common between the artist and the viewer or even between one member of the audience and another. The message in Art and photography is too unfocused without written words, a caption, attached. The message is literally ineffable.

The visual arts can lend their weight to a debate but they're never going to be instrumental in causing a political u-turn. The will needs to be present already.

I want to show my wonder at the natural world and to explore notions of vision and perception through my images. I am not interested in creating images of the natural world whose sole purpose is to act as a polemic, I'll leave that to those who are more suited to it. Part of being an artist is about being true to oneself. If we force ourselves, or even worse are coerced, into producing Art to fit somebody else's agenda that work can only ever be third rate. Great works spring from the heart of the Artist, they are not imposed from outside. Saying that I don't want to make propaganda doesn't make me any less worthy as an artist or as a human being. That's a nonsensical argument; it's like accusing a plumber of being a bad person because they don't want to be a prima ballerina. If you're moved to make polemical work fine, if you're not that's equally fine. Art is big enough for both approaches.

The King is dead, long live the King...

I've been given some of the NEW Velvia 50 to try by Fuji and want to share my findings (so far).

For landscape photographers the prospect of the sun setting on the Golden Age of Velvia has been traumatic to put it mildly. There was a brief glimmer of hope a couple of years ago, a false dawn as it turned out, when Fuji announced a "replacement" in the guise of Velvia 100. I say false dawn because 100 could never be described, even by the most charitable of photographers, as a replacement for 50. The magic of the original Velvia 50 was that it was a saturated film that still rendered realistic colours. It gave the scene a bit of ooomph without the cloying effect of some emulsions from other manufacturers (you know who you are Kodak!). 100 has none of the delightful subtlety of 50, in fact it has been described by some as Redvia for its strong tendency toward overcooking the warm end of the spectrum. Kyriakos Kalorkoti has written a very insightful review of the differences between the two emulsions on his website – follow the links to the articles section and read his review.

So it was with considerable trepidation that I approached my chance to try the new 50. I didn't want to be let down again!



I only had a chance to make two comparison images on my first outing with the new 50 and I've chosen to show this one as it was made in overcast conditions, my favourite light for the original 50.

The first thing that struck me when I placed the two transparencies side by side on the light box was how red / magenta the old 50 looked next to the new. In contrast, the new emulsion appears neutral – certainly not cold as I would have expected from that famously 'neutral' film Provia. This bodes well for my photography because these are the conditions in which so many other films would require an overall warm-up to make them acceptable. I try and avoid using a filter in this way. Its global effect, enhancing the warm tones and neutralising the cold ones, is fine except when you want to emphasize colour contrast in an image, something I do quite often. The warm-up kills or severely diminishes this effect and thus restricts my options for creative use of the colour of light. It's much better to rely on the broad colour response of the original emulsion if you can find one to suit your taste. The old 50 hardly ever needed a warm-up, it just subtly enhanced the colours that were there. The new one looks at first try like it may follow the old's lead.

I had been forewarned by Joe Cornish that his first tests had shown that, unlike its predecessor, the new 50 was near to its advertised speed rating. So, I exposed the original stock at ISO32 – as I usually do – and simply changed the ISO on the meter to get my exposure for the new film. The two images are almost exactly the same density so I've concluded that Mk2 really is ISO 50.

My first impressions (and I only got the film back today!) are favourable. I need to shoot much more film in a variety of different lighting conditions before I can accurately assess whether it truly is a worthy successor. I'll let you know how things develop (sic) and post some more images as I make them. The new film may not quite be the King yet but it certainly doesn't appear to be a hopeless pretender.

Now, anyone interested in a freezer load of 50 Mk1...

"It's all down to the equipment, isn't it mate?"...

A couple of years ago I received some fascinating feedback on my book, Landscape Within, from a reader whose flat mate, after a quick flick through my book, apparently made the statement, "Guaranteed, I could take any of these pictures." Let’s call this person The Critic, as opposed to something ruder!

I know many photographers are far more accomplished than I am but must admit I was somewhat taken aback by this statement. The Critic’s statement reflects a depressing and prevailing attitude in society that photography requires little skill on the part of the photographer in order to accomplish good results.

To a large extent this springs from the widely held belief that equipment is more important in the making of a photograph than the vision of the photographer. Photography seems to be unique in engendering this attitude – I would wager that no one said to Titian, “You must have had really good sable brushes to paint that!” – but to make a good photograph it seems that all you need is a good camera. The camera manufacturers have been telling us that photography is easy since its invention (and, bless them, they have made it considerably easier to overcome some of the technical issues) so I guess it's not too surprising that this view is so prevalent. My objection to The Critic’s statement is not the bald assertion that image making is possible for all - it’s impossible to disagree with that at a basic level - rather it’s the implication that it’s easy to make “good” images.

Setting aside for a moment exactly what constitutes a “good” photograph let’s look at some of the assumptions behind the statement, remembering as we do that assumptions make asses of us all.

Seeing the finished image and saying it would be easy to make betrays The Critic’s basic ignorance of the process. Here are just a few of the variables that any accomplished photographer has to consider when making a landscape photograph and some questions to pose to The Critic;

• The contrast range of the image and what compensating filtration will be needed to render the tones successfully - does The Critic understand how to use a lightmeter in order to read the luminosity range of the scene? Does he understand that neither film nor digital imaging can render the same contrast range as the human eye can see? Or, does he just assume incorrectly that the camera can solve all this for him?

• The light level - does he understand the principle of reciprocity failure for film?

• The colour of the light - does he understand that light varies in colour and would he know how to control that variation to produce the results that he wants /sees in the book?

• The quality of the light - does he understand under what circumstances it would be better to shoot an image in soft light or hard light? Does he understand how the quality of the light affects our reading of the image?

• The direction of the light and the best time to shoot - does he know how to assess when the light will strike a potential subject from the desired direction?

• The choice of film stock / RAW / jpeg – does he understand how these choices affect the finished image?

• The weather conditions – would the image be better with or without clouds, is it too windy or too wet?

Now, it’s true that some of these problems can be solved by correctly employing the technical features built in to modern DSLRs or film cameras but many can only be solved by the photographer using their expert judgement accrued over many years of experience. I haven’t even mentioned yet the particular technical issues involved in using a view camera, let alone the potential difficulties in accessing the location or the number of visits that might be needed before the conditions are right.

These technical and logistical issues are, in any case, only a part of the problem - and the simplest part to solve at that! I know from my experiences leading photography workshops that the biggest challenge for most photographers is to actually see the potential for an image in the first place. Choosing what to take is the hardest part of photography;

• Is the subject worthy of representation, am I just wasting pixels or silver halide grains?

• What lens should I use? Do I want to compress the perspective or exaggerate it?

• What angle should I use?

• What should I place in the frame and what should I leave out? Does that element detract from the composition or does it enhance the image?

But (and I've said this before!) the collapsing of all possible viewpoints into the finished image means that a successful photograph makes the choices taken seem both obvious and inevitable.

Perhaps the most important question to address, therefore, is has The Critic ever made any images like the ones he says he could make when seeing mine? Saying that you could have done something after the fact without any evidence to support it is very easy to do - we can all say that we could have scored a goal like Beckham (well, perhaps not too much of a stretch on recent performance...) but simply asserting it doesn't make it true! The plain fact is that when something is executed well it often appears to be easy to achieve - it might appear effortless but I can assure The Critic that it isn’t!

Taking a "snap" is not the same thing as making a photograph. But the camera manufacturers, for obvious commercial reasons, decline to make this distinction and in the process foster the impression that photography, without qualification, is easy. Given this prevailing attitude and the lack of emphasis on visual education in the UK can The Critic even be expected to tell the difference between a “good photograph” and a “snap”?

If he truly could make all of those images then he should, without question, be a professional photographer - in fact I'd be surprised if I didn't already know him. Maybe my correspondent is living with Joe Cornish!

The preceding was originally published in Outdoor Photography. I've updated and amended it and make no apology for presenting it again – it's still relevant!

To paraphrase Edwin Starr, "Art, huh, what is it good for?"... (Part One)

I've spent quite a long time as a photographer pondering on the nature of Art; just what is Art? And specifically I've been seeking to find photography's place in the wider world of Art: not to mention justifying it as Art to a few people! But in the last few weeks (and some might say this is a little late in the day) I've begun to ponder not, "What is Art?" but rather "What should it do?"

I guess the reason it has taken me so long to get around to asking this question is that I was always comfortable with what Art (read photography) did for me. More than that it was bloody obvious! Making photographs allowed me to express myself and viewing Art taught me about other ways of seeing. But what does my photography do for other people? What is the use of Art to society as a whole?

Time was, before photography, before the Avant Garde and Modernism, that Art in the Western world served as a kind of social glue. Paintings and sculpture were used to disseminate throughout society the ideas of the social elite, be they secular or religious leaders. Works of Art contained both explicit and hidden allegorical meanings, often referring to Biblical or Greek sources. There were great Artists but they were subordinate to Art, gifted interpreters and innovators but never the Source of Art.

Then along came Modernism... And Western Art split into a thousand movements, each with their own agenda, each with their own view, each more inward looking than the last. Ultimately Art in the Modernist era became about the individual, it became a celebration of the unique vision of the gifted Artist. Art was whatever an Artist said it was. You might be forgiven for thinking that this was a liberating advance, a break away from the stranglehold of the ruling elite, a chance for us all to have our say. But I don't think it quite worked out like that...

Art for Art's sake became a joke, a practice so inward looking that it disappeared up it's own fundament. Society as a whole came to distrust Modern Art, it was viewed as an elite club that had turned its back on the rest of us. Only Artists could understand Art so why bother to talk to the Great Unwashed? Capitalism seized the opportunity offered by Art's fractured disarray to commoditize it. As Andy Warhol knowingly pointed out, Art had become just another good like Campbells Soup. A proliferation of brands followed, artists who actually made a living from their works climbed from a few hundred across the entire US in the 1950's to thousands in New York City alone by the mid 1980's. One has to ask what benefit did this explosion of expression do society as a whole?

But the Modernists didn't get it all there own way; another "M'ism" had a lot to say about what Art's purpose should be. Marxism held that Art's job was to shed light on human existence; to explain and, at the same time, ease our pain. Artists, such as the Abstract Expressionists, who turned inward, offering no commentary and excluding references to the outside world, were exhibiting the worst kind of decadent behaviour in the eyes of the Marxists. All very worthy but is human existence solely concerned with our relationships with other human beings? The answer is plainly no, so surely Art should have a wider remit.

I believe that there must be room for a middle path between the solipsism of Modernism and the Marxist directive for Art to concentrate on the social world. Surely these are just different forms of anthropocentrism, both equally self-centred. What's wrong with Art looking at the natural world. Not the capitalised, mystical Nature celebrated by Ansel Adams et al but simply the environments that gave birth to Humanity. The natural world is held in common and offers a much wider realm than mankind. It surely can't be true that Art has exhausted the possibilities for exploration and expression encompassed by the planet around us.

There are moments when I'm standing waiting to make an image when I feel completely connected to the world around me; connected to the soil or rock at my feet, connected to the air moving across my body, connected to the birds flying through the air. Those moments are what I seek to capture in my images, to share them with a wider audience and hopefully to evoke a response in return. I make my images for me but not because I want to be inward looking. The work of an artist must be intensely personal if it is to carry any force but it doesn't have to be exclusive.

I'm not sure that I've come to a definitive answer about "What should Art do?" but I think I can definitely make a stab at explaining its role for me. Art shouldn't become so wrapped up in its own concerns that it becomes incomprehensible to a wider audience, it should be inclusive and not alienating, it should express the feelings and ideas of the Artist and, at its best, it should change how we see the world around us. Quite a wish list but one I'm happy to try and aspire to.

Edwin Starr's famous song continued with, "Absolutely nothing, say it again!" This might have applied to Art under the reign of Modernism but I think it's time we claimed it back for a populist audience.

See Part Two here