I'm looking for 4-6 photographers interested in working with not one, but TWO wonderful world class fine art nude models in a day long outdoor photo shoot / workshop / safari / adventure at Wreck Beach on Saturday, August 9th.
Anoush Anou - http://anoush-anou.com/ and Salome - http://www.sami-art.de/ - are two amazingly gifted models, from New Zealand and Germany respectively, with a wealth of experience and amazing bodies of work in their portfolios. Please do visit their websites, you won't regret taking a peek...
While they are here in Vancouver, I have volunteered to lead an expedition down to Wreck Beach, a location where I have shot a significant portion of my Nude in the Landscape series (50+ shoots).
This short video will give you a sense of Wreck Beach (half the images were shot there) and the astonishing variety of shots you can get in a one and a half mile stretch of beach, as the sun moves from East to West and the tides roll in and out. Sand, sea, trees, pebbles, rocks, foliage, drift wood - Wreck Beach offers a cornucopia of possibilities for the photographer with a good eye and the imagination to create an original vision. And even at the height of the summer season, there are long stretches of vacant beach.
https://vimeo.com/78877418
I am more than happy to share my knowledge of Wreck Beach as a location and provide as much instruction, guidance and counsel as is needed, wanted or desired by the participants. Advice and my opinion are free. Cost of the workshop is $200. All proceeds go to the models. This is an extraordinary value and a rare opportunity to both stretch yourself artistically and hone your photography skills over the course of the day without feeling the pressure to "get the shot" that can sometimes happen in a one or two hour photo shoot.
You will probably want to bring a small camera bag, because of the terrain and the climb down, but especially back UP the hill. Good walking shoes, sunscreen, water, a bag lunch, a blanket or tarp if you're going to shoot on the sand, shorts or swim trunks and flip flops if you are crazy enough to venture into the water (I always am), a sense of humour and the desire to create a little art...
Parking is available at the Chan Centre at UBC ($16 for the day), and the location is a fifteen minute walk away. At the beach, we will divide into two groups, each group having an opportunity to work with Anoush and Sami at different locations, the groups alternating models and locations over the course of the day.
Please message me if you are interested in attending, or have any questions.
Cheers, Vince
www.HemingsonPhotography.com
Monday, July 21, 2014
Saturday, April 26, 2014
"Plush" Size Models
Do a Google Image Search for, "Robyn Lawley". Take a good look. Frankly, this woman is gorgeous. Stunning. A knock out. How does the mainstream fashion press see her? The word hefty was used. If this woman is "hefty", then as far as I'm concerned, hefty IS the new sexy. Model Robyn Lawley was recently described in print with the adjective,hefty. Having once been described in the London Times TV Reviews as a "beefy Canadian", for the Vanishing Tattoo National Geographic documentary film I produced and hosted, I can empathize. But let's be honest, it's different for guys. Beefy isn't so bad. But calling a =n unquestionably beautiful woman, hefty? We need a reality check.
Hefty is out. It just doesn't sound sexy. It sounds like a brand of garbage bags. And "Plus-size" models? It's almost as bad as hefty. I get the "Plus" part, but plus isn't sexy either. But if you add an"H" to plus... I think we might be onto something, Watson...
Voila! I give you plush! "PLUSH". Let it roll off your lips. Puh - lussshhhh. Say it again. Plush is magnificent. Plush is sumptuous. Plush is grand. Plush is deluxe. Plush is posh, ritzy, swanky and classy. You can look it up. Plush is just utter fabulousness. Plush is opulent and opulence.
Plush is sexy as Hell. "She is so... plush."
We need to have Plush size models, not Plus size models. Beautiful women happy with just being beautiful and not trying to conform to some bizarre, completely out of touch with reality industry standard of what beauty is. Plush is real. Plush is beautiful. Plush is lush. Plush is P L U S H ! ! !
Plush is the new sexy. Now that, I want to put on a T-shirt.
"Plush is the new sexy."
Robyn Lawley, you are so plush it hurts...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mg3tdqWSi6k
Hefty is out. It just doesn't sound sexy. It sounds like a brand of garbage bags. And "Plus-size" models? It's almost as bad as hefty. I get the "Plus" part, but plus isn't sexy either. But if you add an"H" to plus... I think we might be onto something, Watson...
Voila! I give you plush! "PLUSH". Let it roll off your lips. Puh - lussshhhh. Say it again. Plush is magnificent. Plush is sumptuous. Plush is grand. Plush is deluxe. Plush is posh, ritzy, swanky and classy. You can look it up. Plush is just utter fabulousness. Plush is opulent and opulence.
Plush is sexy as Hell. "She is so... plush."
We need to have Plush size models, not Plus size models. Beautiful women happy with just being beautiful and not trying to conform to some bizarre, completely out of touch with reality industry standard of what beauty is. Plush is real. Plush is beautiful. Plush is lush. Plush is P L U S H ! ! !
Plush is the new sexy. Now that, I want to put on a T-shirt.
"Plush is the new sexy."
Robyn Lawley, you are so plush it hurts...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mg3tdqWSi6k
Saturday, July 7, 2012
Dagga Boys and Belligerence
The most dangerous animal in Africa doesn't have huge canines, a mouthful of sharp teeth, poison fangs, flesh tearing claws or terrible talons. It doesn't stalk its prey, lurk in the shadows or come out of a cave in the dark of the night. No, the most dangerous animal in Africa eats grass and chews its cud. The Cape Buffalo is an ungulate and a bovine. But is unlike any cow with which you may be familiar. As a member of the coveted "Big Five" among big game hunters, some trophy hunters will pay upwards of ten thousand dollars for the opportunity to hunt one.
A large bull in the prime of his life may tip the scale at more than two thousand pounds and they are avoided by man and beast alike. Big males have been known to kill lions and most prides give solitary bulls, or "dagga boys" as they are known in South Africa a wide berth unless game is very scarce. Cape Buffalo are notorious among hunters for the danger they pose when wounded, as a wounded will animal will lay in wait to ambush a hunter and have even been known to stalk their attacker in return.
When guides and trackers are advising people on safari, the first thing they tell you is, "Don't run. Everything in Africa is faster than you." If you suddenly encounter an animal in Africa, whether its predator or prey, you are instructed to stand firm and hold your ground. If you turn and run, you will trigger the predator prey response in an animal. After all, dinner runs. If you run, therefore, ipso facto, you must be dinner! Chances are, the animal in question that you just bumped into in the bush is just as startled as you. The first thing the animal wants to ascertain is if you pose a threat. Not even a lion or a bull elephant wants to take a chance with the unfamiliar if they don't have to. On the African plains, even among the large and the ferocious, discretion is definitely the better part of valour. Most animals will make fierce displays to frighten off intruders into their space, up to and including a "mock" charge. Sometimes this mock charge will bring the animal within a few yards of you. But its a bluff. And if you stand your ground there is every chance the animal will fold their cards and back away.
Except for the Cape Buffalo. When a Cape Buffalo charges you, you are advised to get out of town, turn tail, run, scatter to the four corners of the wind, get out of its way! Because a Cape Buffalo doesn't mock charge. When a Cape Buffalo charges you, he is trying to kill you. You almost have to appreciate that kind of purity of approach. And even before a big bull Cape Buffalo ever charges you, he will have terrified you with a look of such menace and belligerence, that it will leave you quite literally shaking in your boots. Its not even fair to call it a look because this is an animal that glares at you. You don't even want to get too close in a Land Cruise, because, well, they're so unpredictable that you just don't want to provoke them into charging a truck. This look can be summed up quite nicely by a quote that is often attributed to Ernest Hemingway, but in fact came from one of his proteges, novelist Robert Ruark, "They look at you like you owe them money".
For a photographer, Cape Buffalo pose a few challenges. The big herds like lush grass, and river sides and swamps. You will smell a herd of buffalo long before you will see it, and there will huge clouds of vicious, annoying, biting flies in attendance. Because of the flies, buffalo love to wallow and will coat themselves in mud for a little insect relief. In all likely hood the herd of buffalo you do see will consist mostly of cows, calves and young bulls. The big trophy bulls that will remind you of an Ernest Hemingway short story will be nowhere to be seen. That's because when a big bull reaches a certain vintage, he will have wandered off to the bar to drink with "Papa" Hemingway.
The older bulls of a certain vintage have reached the stage in life where they've grown tired of the herd, all the cows and the calves and the noise and the moving around, so they simply wander off on their own. Occasionally these old bulls will form loose bachelor groups, but often they are solitary. They are curmudgeons, irascible, short tempered and easily offended, cranky and irritable. They have been known to charge trees, stumps, and even parked vehicles. Just about their only pleasure in life comes from finding a good wallow and soaking in the mud. As a result, when they wander about, they look as if they're caked in plaster or cement. In many cases, large patches of their fur has come off with the mud, so they have large bald patches. But despite their ragged ass appearance, every other animal in the African bush, gives the old bulls a wide berth. Not even the lions want to mess around with them. Too many bad things can happen to a predator if they tangle with an old bull. So the old bulls wander around, doing what they want and going where they please. In South Africa, one of the terms for cement is dagga -- coming from the Swahili term for mud -- and the men who work with cement are called "dagga boys". You can imagine how the men look after a day of working with cement, and the old bulls were known as "dagga boys".
To get a photograph of a dagga boy, you simply have to be in the right place at one time. About halfway though my first photo safari in South Africa, we were heading back to camp at dusk. The road, or dirt track, was narrow and winding through thick brush when all of a sudden our progress was halted by two large "dagga boys" standing in the middle of the road. They looked at us through hooded eyes, because the light was failing and although Cape Buffalo are noted for excellent senses of smell and hearing, their eyesight is so-so. These dagga boys weren't budging. I asked Lanz von Horsten, our South African photography guide, if we could go around them. "Oh no, Vince, that might just piss them off!" Lanz turned to our driver and African tracker, "Isn't that right, Robert! You don't want to piss off the dagga boys!" Robert laughed and nodded in agreement. At that moment, as if on cue, one of the old dagga boys grunted, arched his back and let loose with an epic stream of piss right in the middle of the road. It was as if he was listening to our conversation.
Having never heard the expression before, I asked Lanz what a dagga boy was. Lanz launched into a description and then part way through, stopped and started laughing. "Oh my God, Vince. YOU are a dagga boy! What do you say Robert?" Robert looked at me and after driving me through the bush for a week, he just smiled, "Oh, he is a dagga boy for sure." And at that moment, for the rest of my time in Africa, to Lanz and the local Africans, I simply became, Dagga Boy.
A large bull in the prime of his life may tip the scale at more than two thousand pounds and they are avoided by man and beast alike. Big males have been known to kill lions and most prides give solitary bulls, or "dagga boys" as they are known in South Africa a wide berth unless game is very scarce. Cape Buffalo are notorious among hunters for the danger they pose when wounded, as a wounded will animal will lay in wait to ambush a hunter and have even been known to stalk their attacker in return.
When guides and trackers are advising people on safari, the first thing they tell you is, "Don't run. Everything in Africa is faster than you." If you suddenly encounter an animal in Africa, whether its predator or prey, you are instructed to stand firm and hold your ground. If you turn and run, you will trigger the predator prey response in an animal. After all, dinner runs. If you run, therefore, ipso facto, you must be dinner! Chances are, the animal in question that you just bumped into in the bush is just as startled as you. The first thing the animal wants to ascertain is if you pose a threat. Not even a lion or a bull elephant wants to take a chance with the unfamiliar if they don't have to. On the African plains, even among the large and the ferocious, discretion is definitely the better part of valour. Most animals will make fierce displays to frighten off intruders into their space, up to and including a "mock" charge. Sometimes this mock charge will bring the animal within a few yards of you. But its a bluff. And if you stand your ground there is every chance the animal will fold their cards and back away.
Except for the Cape Buffalo. When a Cape Buffalo charges you, you are advised to get out of town, turn tail, run, scatter to the four corners of the wind, get out of its way! Because a Cape Buffalo doesn't mock charge. When a Cape Buffalo charges you, he is trying to kill you. You almost have to appreciate that kind of purity of approach. And even before a big bull Cape Buffalo ever charges you, he will have terrified you with a look of such menace and belligerence, that it will leave you quite literally shaking in your boots. Its not even fair to call it a look because this is an animal that glares at you. You don't even want to get too close in a Land Cruise, because, well, they're so unpredictable that you just don't want to provoke them into charging a truck. This look can be summed up quite nicely by a quote that is often attributed to Ernest Hemingway, but in fact came from one of his proteges, novelist Robert Ruark, "They look at you like you owe them money".
For a photographer, Cape Buffalo pose a few challenges. The big herds like lush grass, and river sides and swamps. You will smell a herd of buffalo long before you will see it, and there will huge clouds of vicious, annoying, biting flies in attendance. Because of the flies, buffalo love to wallow and will coat themselves in mud for a little insect relief. In all likely hood the herd of buffalo you do see will consist mostly of cows, calves and young bulls. The big trophy bulls that will remind you of an Ernest Hemingway short story will be nowhere to be seen. That's because when a big bull reaches a certain vintage, he will have wandered off to the bar to drink with "Papa" Hemingway.
The older bulls of a certain vintage have reached the stage in life where they've grown tired of the herd, all the cows and the calves and the noise and the moving around, so they simply wander off on their own. Occasionally these old bulls will form loose bachelor groups, but often they are solitary. They are curmudgeons, irascible, short tempered and easily offended, cranky and irritable. They have been known to charge trees, stumps, and even parked vehicles. Just about their only pleasure in life comes from finding a good wallow and soaking in the mud. As a result, when they wander about, they look as if they're caked in plaster or cement. In many cases, large patches of their fur has come off with the mud, so they have large bald patches. But despite their ragged ass appearance, every other animal in the African bush, gives the old bulls a wide berth. Not even the lions want to mess around with them. Too many bad things can happen to a predator if they tangle with an old bull. So the old bulls wander around, doing what they want and going where they please. In South Africa, one of the terms for cement is dagga -- coming from the Swahili term for mud -- and the men who work with cement are called "dagga boys". You can imagine how the men look after a day of working with cement, and the old bulls were known as "dagga boys".
To get a photograph of a dagga boy, you simply have to be in the right place at one time. About halfway though my first photo safari in South Africa, we were heading back to camp at dusk. The road, or dirt track, was narrow and winding through thick brush when all of a sudden our progress was halted by two large "dagga boys" standing in the middle of the road. They looked at us through hooded eyes, because the light was failing and although Cape Buffalo are noted for excellent senses of smell and hearing, their eyesight is so-so. These dagga boys weren't budging. I asked Lanz von Horsten, our South African photography guide, if we could go around them. "Oh no, Vince, that might just piss them off!" Lanz turned to our driver and African tracker, "Isn't that right, Robert! You don't want to piss off the dagga boys!" Robert laughed and nodded in agreement. At that moment, as if on cue, one of the old dagga boys grunted, arched his back and let loose with an epic stream of piss right in the middle of the road. It was as if he was listening to our conversation.
Having never heard the expression before, I asked Lanz what a dagga boy was. Lanz launched into a description and then part way through, stopped and started laughing. "Oh my God, Vince. YOU are a dagga boy! What do you say Robert?" Robert looked at me and after driving me through the bush for a week, he just smiled, "Oh, he is a dagga boy for sure." And at that moment, for the rest of my time in Africa, to Lanz and the local Africans, I simply became, Dagga Boy.
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
The Sentinel
The zebra may look like a horse in a pin-stripe suit to you and I, but to most of the predators in Africa they look like dinner. The stripes are an evolutionary adaptation, that not only makes it more difficult for individual animals to be picked out in a herd by colour-blind hunters like lions, but also apparently to annoying and disease carrying horseflies.
You can read more the fascinating research behind the science of this here: http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2012/120209-zebra-stripes-horseflies-bugs-akesson-science/
You'd think that photographing a grass-eating herbivore like the zebra, conveniently clumped together in large numbers, would be relatively easy. But like so many things in Africa, nothing is as obvious as it appears on the surface. For instance, what's the most dangerous animal in Africa? Nothing so exciting as any of the "Big Five" coveted by the big game hunters on safari in days of yore. Rather its the notoriously short-tempered and extremely territorial hippo. And if you wanted to get technical about dangerous lifeforms, the malaria-carrying mosquito is responsible for far more deaths in Africa than anything on four legs. But back to the zebra and trying to photograph said equine.
Like many of the herd animals you encounter in Africa, when you approach a herd of zebras they kind of skitter away. And they turn their rump to you at the same time! It's a little like trying to push a piece of string. I have a lot of shots of zebra asses, which is NOT a species of striped donkeys... And the thing is, the zebra is so distinctive an element in the African landscape that you really WANT to get that zebra shot. But when you're a favoured entre on just about everybody's menu, well, hey, I can understand being a little bit jumpy.
The Sentinel is named for the stallion in the herd who looked directly as me the entire time I was shooting his herd. They didn't move away on this occasion, in part I think because we were on the opposite side of a large watering hole. And this shot was another example of not really knowing what you have with a shot until you print it. I always liked the composition in this shot and the contrast of the textures.
It works in colour, but it really kind of 'Pops!' in black and white. But it wasn't until I saw it as a 32 x 40 print that I really knew what I had. The print has layers and depth and you can stand in front of it for many minutes. There's an extraordinary amount of detail and you can clearly make out eleven of the twelve separate individual zebras in the group portrait. There's the stallion, his mares, two brand new foals and a couple of yearlings. It's a family portrait that tells a story. And my eyes keep coming back to the zebra dead square in the centre of the photograph who stares back at me as if somebodies life depended on him knowing what I was up to. And the thing is, most of the time, it does.
You can read more the fascinating research behind the science of this here: http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2012/120209-zebra-stripes-horseflies-bugs-akesson-science/
You'd think that photographing a grass-eating herbivore like the zebra, conveniently clumped together in large numbers, would be relatively easy. But like so many things in Africa, nothing is as obvious as it appears on the surface. For instance, what's the most dangerous animal in Africa? Nothing so exciting as any of the "Big Five" coveted by the big game hunters on safari in days of yore. Rather its the notoriously short-tempered and extremely territorial hippo. And if you wanted to get technical about dangerous lifeforms, the malaria-carrying mosquito is responsible for far more deaths in Africa than anything on four legs. But back to the zebra and trying to photograph said equine.
Like many of the herd animals you encounter in Africa, when you approach a herd of zebras they kind of skitter away. And they turn their rump to you at the same time! It's a little like trying to push a piece of string. I have a lot of shots of zebra asses, which is NOT a species of striped donkeys... And the thing is, the zebra is so distinctive an element in the African landscape that you really WANT to get that zebra shot. But when you're a favoured entre on just about everybody's menu, well, hey, I can understand being a little bit jumpy.
The Sentinel is named for the stallion in the herd who looked directly as me the entire time I was shooting his herd. They didn't move away on this occasion, in part I think because we were on the opposite side of a large watering hole. And this shot was another example of not really knowing what you have with a shot until you print it. I always liked the composition in this shot and the contrast of the textures.
It works in colour, but it really kind of 'Pops!' in black and white. But it wasn't until I saw it as a 32 x 40 print that I really knew what I had. The print has layers and depth and you can stand in front of it for many minutes. There's an extraordinary amount of detail and you can clearly make out eleven of the twelve separate individual zebras in the group portrait. There's the stallion, his mares, two brand new foals and a couple of yearlings. It's a family portrait that tells a story. And my eyes keep coming back to the zebra dead square in the centre of the photograph who stares back at me as if somebodies life depended on him knowing what I was up to. And the thing is, most of the time, it does.
Monday, July 2, 2012
Scar, or, It's Tough to be a Lion
Long before I embarked on my photo safaris in 2010, I was enamoured with most things African. I remember knowing at a fairly early age that my grandmother had been born in South Africa, and later that my Great Grandfather had gone there to fight in the Boer War after graduating from Cambridge, and that he met his wife there -- hence my Grandmother, who was born in Klerksdorp. My mother's genealogical research revealed that a Great Grandfather had gone to South Africa to found the first Scottish Presbyterian Church of South Africa.
"My three times great grandparents, Rev.
William and Maria Campbell, with five children left Scotland via Liverpool
aboard the Unicorn on June 14, 1850 bound for Natal Province. They were among a group called the
Byrne Settlers – those sponsored by J.C. Byrne and Co. - and had the promise of
land when they arrived. The ship
docked at Port Natal on September 19, 1850. Rev. William Campbell became the first Presbyterian minister
in Pietermaritzburg.
William Campbell was born
in Thurso, Scotland and educated at Aberdeen University. Maria* was born in Calcutta, India and
was the daughter of a Scottish officer in the East India Company army. They had two more children in South
Africa. Rosanna, my great great grandmother was the fourth child. She married Alexander McEwan who had
emmigrated from Scotland. They
lived in Johannesburg and had four daughters. The third daughter Eila married Frederick Philpot who came
to South Africa to fight in the Boer War.
My grandmother, Jean, was born in Klerksdorp. With three children they emigrated to Canada in 1908."
:from Sally Hemingson
*(Maria is the great mystery woman of my mother's research, as she has been unable to prove which Scottish Officer in the East India Company was her father. However, the only Campbell in the 5th Native Infantry was Lieutenant Colonel Archibald Campbell. My mother strongly suspects that Archibald may have had an Indian wife or a Bibi, as was the custom at the time, and the practice was actively encouraged by the East India Company. That would make me 1/32 Indian and in attempt to find out, I sent off a DNA sample to Oxford Ancestors a few years ago to find out. The results showed that my matrilineal DNA was rare enough in the United Kingdom to support the theory, but not to prove it. But I digress...)
http://vanishingtattoo.blogspot.ca/2008/12/running-genes.html
So on making the trip I did feel that I had something of a family connection to Africa. And as a writer with a strong affinity for all things Hemingway, I had a powerful desire to to experience a safari and to capture the big game, if not exactly with the business end of a rifle, certainly with a honking big piece of Nikon glass. I have an affinity for shooting portraits, and in Africa I felt a real compulsion to take head shots of most of the animals we encountered.
As mentioned earlier, I was particularly attracted to the big cats. And you hate to anthropomorphize, but human nature being what it is, who amongst us can help themselves in moments of weakness? I put no weight in astrology, but generally speaking can't help but read my daily horoscope and if you're a Leo, then I suspect all things leonine have a certain charm. All of which brings me to the next photograph in the series, Portraits of Africa, Scar.
During my photo safaris we encountered several prides of lions, some more successful than others, each with their own unique personality. The two portraits of the two male lions I shot for the series, shared the male duties of the same pride. It's rare for a single male lion to rule a pride, and generally it is two related males, brothers or cousins who share the females in a pride, although it is not uncommon for there to be as many as three. These two male lions did not look related, even remotely. Research has shown that for male lions, the larger and darker the mane, the greater the likelihood of social dominance. (for a fascinating read go here -- http://ngm.nationalgeographic.com/ngm/0204/feature2/fulltext.html )
Scar, with his faux blonde mohawk, was paired with a partner who looked like a Central Casting version of the prototypical male lion, with a full head of dark, luxurious mane. Twentieth Century Fox would have killed for Monarch. And when I looked at Scar through a 600mm telephoto I was struck by the number of scars and scratches on his face and forelimbs and flanks. For an apex predator any injury that limits your ability to hunt or to feed is going to be a grim situation indeed, likely leading to a slow and painful death. Looking at Scar, I couldn't help but think, "It's tough to be a lion." He looked a little beat, a bit down on his luck even, and his partner was larger, flashier and probably better looking to the lionesses. At that moment I was just struck by the expression on Scar's face, in fact, even now I am a little haunted by it. Which we'll talk about more in Requiem...
Sunday, July 1, 2012
Symmetry, and Serendipity
Although I may have had no idea what kind of image I was going to end up with when I was shooting The Matriarch, I knew in in my heart and soul that I was witnessing something quite extraordinary when I was shooting the Symmetry sequence. Of Africa's "Big Five", the rhino and the leopard are generally accepted as the two big game animals that can be the most difficult to shoot. Both animals are rare and notoriously elusive. The leopards are constantly on the move, although they will rest in the branches of a tree for long stretches at a time. The rest of the time they remain hidden deep in the brush and the long grass, so that even when you get a brief glimpse, a clear shot is difficult at best.
During my photo safari adventure I was incredibly lucky when it came to seeing leopards, and saw some twenty-seven different animals. Without a doubt that number has to be attributed to the skill and knowledge possessed by my guides, drivers and trackers. And there is no denying the element of luck, pure and simple. In the case of Symmetry, our guide said that a pregnant female had not been seen for more than a week. Chances were, she had holed up in one of her dens and given birth. For several days we cruised past places she was known to inhabit within her territory. On this morning, my desire to be the first to leave camp and the last to return at night paid off.
We snuck up to one of the female's dens before the sun had barely broached the horizon. The rocks and brush were is deep blue shadows, and the morning sun streaked the scene with deep yellow and golden fingers of light. Initially I was at 4000 ISO with my Nikon D3s and wide open with my Nikkor 200-400mm f/4. Eventually, I dropped the ISO to 1600 and I think its a real testament to the sensor that I was able to crop and still get the image size and sharpness that I finally printed with. But I'm getting ahead of myself. When the female first appeared, none of us noticed her cub. It was an extraordinary sight. And to see mother and cub, in the open, on top of rocks in the relative open, breathtaking. It's rather difficult to explain the thrill that comes from watching a week old leopard cub attack its mother's tail in the wild. A cub with the bright blue eyes of a new born kitten. I felt like I was watching over-sized barn cats like when I was a kid growing up on the farm.
Lanz von Horsten, an acclaimed South African wildlife photographer with many books to his credit, was with us on this safari, though not with us in the Land Cruiser this particular day. Looking at the images later that evening, he shook his head and smiled, "I've been doing this for twenty-seven years and I don't have that shot you lucky bastard!"
It's true. Sometimes you get lucky. But you can also have a hand in making your luck. I was fortunate to be in the right place at the right time. And I'd like to think that when the opportunity presented itself to me, I was fully prepared to take full advantage of what lay before me. And I certainly wasn't taking any chances. In a little over an hour I took 280 shots. It's incredible to be able to shoot interaction like we witnessed between this female leopard and her cub.
How to choose the best single shot is what can make editing such an agony at times. Is it form, composition, the interaction, the story, what will be the best single image. Sometimes its obvious and the single best shot leaps out at you. Mostly though, its never quite that simple. In the end, Symmetry became just that. A shot that worked in either colour or black and white, told the story, showed the relationship, and was for me the best composition in terms of line and flow. Symmetry and serendipity. Sometimes the universe smiles on you and you just get lucky. And count your blessings...
During my photo safari adventure I was incredibly lucky when it came to seeing leopards, and saw some twenty-seven different animals. Without a doubt that number has to be attributed to the skill and knowledge possessed by my guides, drivers and trackers. And there is no denying the element of luck, pure and simple. In the case of Symmetry, our guide said that a pregnant female had not been seen for more than a week. Chances were, she had holed up in one of her dens and given birth. For several days we cruised past places she was known to inhabit within her territory. On this morning, my desire to be the first to leave camp and the last to return at night paid off.
We snuck up to one of the female's dens before the sun had barely broached the horizon. The rocks and brush were is deep blue shadows, and the morning sun streaked the scene with deep yellow and golden fingers of light. Initially I was at 4000 ISO with my Nikon D3s and wide open with my Nikkor 200-400mm f/4. Eventually, I dropped the ISO to 1600 and I think its a real testament to the sensor that I was able to crop and still get the image size and sharpness that I finally printed with. But I'm getting ahead of myself. When the female first appeared, none of us noticed her cub. It was an extraordinary sight. And to see mother and cub, in the open, on top of rocks in the relative open, breathtaking. It's rather difficult to explain the thrill that comes from watching a week old leopard cub attack its mother's tail in the wild. A cub with the bright blue eyes of a new born kitten. I felt like I was watching over-sized barn cats like when I was a kid growing up on the farm.
Lanz von Horsten, an acclaimed South African wildlife photographer with many books to his credit, was with us on this safari, though not with us in the Land Cruiser this particular day. Looking at the images later that evening, he shook his head and smiled, "I've been doing this for twenty-seven years and I don't have that shot you lucky bastard!"
It's true. Sometimes you get lucky. But you can also have a hand in making your luck. I was fortunate to be in the right place at the right time. And I'd like to think that when the opportunity presented itself to me, I was fully prepared to take full advantage of what lay before me. And I certainly wasn't taking any chances. In a little over an hour I took 280 shots. It's incredible to be able to shoot interaction like we witnessed between this female leopard and her cub.
How to choose the best single shot is what can make editing such an agony at times. Is it form, composition, the interaction, the story, what will be the best single image. Sometimes its obvious and the single best shot leaps out at you. Mostly though, its never quite that simple. In the end, Symmetry became just that. A shot that worked in either colour or black and white, told the story, showed the relationship, and was for me the best composition in terms of line and flow. Symmetry and serendipity. Sometimes the universe smiles on you and you just get lucky. And count your blessings...
Saturday, June 30, 2012
The Matriarch
It was near the very end of my stay in Africa that I took the photograph that would become, The Matriarch and interestingly, it was the image that would become the genesis for my series, Portraits of Africa. The end of my trip in effect, sparked the beginning of new journey in the editing process when I returned home. Unlike most of the photos that formed the series, I had almost no inkling at the time that I took the shot that it was in any way significant or special. The shot was taken on the last day of my Botswana safari in September. We were on the move and frankly, I was bone tired and ready to return home. It was a hot, scorchingly hot, day and the sun was already high overhead. The light was terrible, flat and bright, with sharp, harsh shadows. It was just before Noon and the elephants were huddled under the tree seeking shade. I longed to find some shade. I longed even more for a bite to eat and a long, cool drink to wash it down with.
To be honest, I wasn't even that interested in elephants. I was smitten with the big cats and all during my safaris I was constantly on the look out for lions and leopards and cheetahs. The elephants, eh, sure they were part of the storied "Big Five", but I wasn't that enamoured with them. I'd even take rhinos and Cape Buffalo ahead of the elephants if I had to draw up a list. But these elephants were nicely gathered under a tree and something attracted me to the composition. I loved the umbrella shape of the tree. And it was the only large tree in the vicinity. And the alpha female was front and centre, positioning herself between the Land Cruiser and her large extended family. There were lovely shapes in front of me. The first two shots were a waste, because there was a bush in the foreground in the centre of the frame. I asked the driver to creep forward. I took nineteen shots in all, but the sixth shot was the one. I don't know why, but for some reason she reminded me of Meryl Streep. She had gravitas and obvious intelligence and a certain elegance about her. I liked her. I wanted to take her picture.
Unbeknownst to me at the time, but I had shot the Cape Buffalo that would become "Dagga Boy" two hours earlier when I was already beginning to become worried about the light. And three hours later I would shoot the swimming elephant that would become, "The Crossing". In other words, I shot fully one quarter of my series in the span of five hours on a two month safari when I considered the light to be "bad". By this time in the trip my MacBook Pro laptop was pretty much fried, the motherboard having given up the ghost. So at the end of the day I tucked my card into my luggage and promptly forgot about it. A few weeks later I was pretty sure I had lost it, but I wasn't that concerned because, hey, the light was so bad. Although it was 670 shots and an entire day on safari.
I found the card when I finally got around to unpacking all my luggage from the trip. The card was tucked into a side pocket in my backpack. It was the last of the pictures I edited from the trip and it brought the total number of images taken to just under fifteen thousand. I winced when the images came up on my computer monitor because the colour was so flat and de-saturated. I almost immediately made the decision to try them as black and white images. And just as quickly I found myself falling in love with elephants. With the elephants I saw personality in the pictures, felt there were stories being told. I loved the photos in black and white and all of a sudden colour became a distraction.
By this time I had posted several hundred images on Facebook and shown many other images to friends. The elephants were the last pictures to be added. Different people responded to different photographs, and there were several dozen that got mentioned specifically when the albums were viewed. But the picture of the elephant herd under the tree was one that almost all people responded to, and when gender was taken into account, it was no contest. Women would look at all of the three hundred photos I had edited from the trip, turn to me and say, "I love the elephants under the tree". I had no idea that so many people were fascinated by elephants.
As I mentioned in my last post, The Stories Behind the Pictures, I had enormous difficulty editing fifteen thousand photos into a dozen images that would work as a series. The Matriarch, in her own way, solved the problem for me. Four friends, all of them women, put me on notice that they wanted prints. Had been saying so for several months in fact. So I paid a visit to Hieu at The Lab with my file tucked into my pocket and said, "Print it as big as it will go, " which turned out to be 30 x 40. I am of the school of thought that says a picture really isn't a photograph until its been printed and you can hold it in your hand and hang it on a wall. Its concrete then, a real, tangible thing. You've created something. The Matriarch, well, at 30 x 40, she kicked my ass. The Matriarch spurred me to go back to my Africa edits and ask the question, which eleven other images would work in black and white and work as body.
So, in true safari tradition, I raise my glass and offer a toast, "To the Matriarch. Long may she reign!"
To be honest, I wasn't even that interested in elephants. I was smitten with the big cats and all during my safaris I was constantly on the look out for lions and leopards and cheetahs. The elephants, eh, sure they were part of the storied "Big Five", but I wasn't that enamoured with them. I'd even take rhinos and Cape Buffalo ahead of the elephants if I had to draw up a list. But these elephants were nicely gathered under a tree and something attracted me to the composition. I loved the umbrella shape of the tree. And it was the only large tree in the vicinity. And the alpha female was front and centre, positioning herself between the Land Cruiser and her large extended family. There were lovely shapes in front of me. The first two shots were a waste, because there was a bush in the foreground in the centre of the frame. I asked the driver to creep forward. I took nineteen shots in all, but the sixth shot was the one. I don't know why, but for some reason she reminded me of Meryl Streep. She had gravitas and obvious intelligence and a certain elegance about her. I liked her. I wanted to take her picture.
Unbeknownst to me at the time, but I had shot the Cape Buffalo that would become "Dagga Boy" two hours earlier when I was already beginning to become worried about the light. And three hours later I would shoot the swimming elephant that would become, "The Crossing". In other words, I shot fully one quarter of my series in the span of five hours on a two month safari when I considered the light to be "bad". By this time in the trip my MacBook Pro laptop was pretty much fried, the motherboard having given up the ghost. So at the end of the day I tucked my card into my luggage and promptly forgot about it. A few weeks later I was pretty sure I had lost it, but I wasn't that concerned because, hey, the light was so bad. Although it was 670 shots and an entire day on safari.
I found the card when I finally got around to unpacking all my luggage from the trip. The card was tucked into a side pocket in my backpack. It was the last of the pictures I edited from the trip and it brought the total number of images taken to just under fifteen thousand. I winced when the images came up on my computer monitor because the colour was so flat and de-saturated. I almost immediately made the decision to try them as black and white images. And just as quickly I found myself falling in love with elephants. With the elephants I saw personality in the pictures, felt there were stories being told. I loved the photos in black and white and all of a sudden colour became a distraction.
By this time I had posted several hundred images on Facebook and shown many other images to friends. The elephants were the last pictures to be added. Different people responded to different photographs, and there were several dozen that got mentioned specifically when the albums were viewed. But the picture of the elephant herd under the tree was one that almost all people responded to, and when gender was taken into account, it was no contest. Women would look at all of the three hundred photos I had edited from the trip, turn to me and say, "I love the elephants under the tree". I had no idea that so many people were fascinated by elephants.
As I mentioned in my last post, The Stories Behind the Pictures, I had enormous difficulty editing fifteen thousand photos into a dozen images that would work as a series. The Matriarch, in her own way, solved the problem for me. Four friends, all of them women, put me on notice that they wanted prints. Had been saying so for several months in fact. So I paid a visit to Hieu at The Lab with my file tucked into my pocket and said, "Print it as big as it will go, " which turned out to be 30 x 40. I am of the school of thought that says a picture really isn't a photograph until its been printed and you can hold it in your hand and hang it on a wall. Its concrete then, a real, tangible thing. You've created something. The Matriarch, well, at 30 x 40, she kicked my ass. The Matriarch spurred me to go back to my Africa edits and ask the question, which eleven other images would work in black and white and work as body.
So, in true safari tradition, I raise my glass and offer a toast, "To the Matriarch. Long may she reign!"
"Elephants live in a structured social order. The social lives of male and female elephants are very different. The females spend their entire lives in tightly knit family groups made up of mothers, daughters, sisters, and aunts. These groups are led by the eldest female, or matriarch. Adult males, on the other hand, live mostly solitary lives.
The social circle of the female elephant does not end with the small family unit. In addition to encountering the local males that live on the fringes of one or more groups, the female's life also involves interaction with other families, clans, and subpopulations. Most immediate family groups range from five to fifteen adults, as well as a number of immature males and females. When a group gets too big, a few of the elder daughters will break off and form their own small group. They remain very aware of which local herds are relatives and which are not."
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elephant
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