Trials and Tribulations
02nd January 2018
Trials and Tribulations (and trying to remain philosophical)
No matter how I approach my photography I am always met with frustrations, unexpected problems or a series of trials and tribulations. I get flustered as a shot is missed, I get annoyed with my kit when (and I mean when) it decides to get jammed, not respond, suddenly move at the last moment, or not do what I ‘asked’ of it. The weather, my location, the environment in general, the extent of my budget, time, patience all have an impact. In short, it can sometimes feel like that nature’s very design is to thwart and frustrate me.
A chief nemesis is the weather, and as a particular agent of my downfall, it will splatter my lens with rain drops, blow the camera from side to side as it balances precariously on my budget tripod. Leaving me with blurred images, covered in the shadow of water droplets, as if an army of frogs had stomped across the photograph.
I guess these hazards are not too surprising as I am out in all conditions, all times of the year, in wild, unforgiving environments, however, the weather has a special ability to test my character.
All too easily the perfect shot changes as a dark, very dense cloud magically appears and seems to have no end as it emerges over the horizon. It is as if I am in a scene from some apocalyptic science fiction film, where the planet sized, invading mothership suddenly appears overhead.
Where there was only seconds ago a beautiful lit landscapes, there is (just as I have set up the camera) now a dull and drab scene. The majestic, 3 dimensional hillside, that you could almost reach out and touch, has now inconceivably changed into a flat, nondescript view. It seems almost unbelievable such a profound change could happen this quickly. One second I was peering at a most divine, utopian vision, but as my attention is redirected to the setting up (fighting the legs of my stubborn tripod, levelling camera, etc) I finally peer into my viewfinder to see a dystopian version of the original vision. It is as if Banksy had passed through whilst I was setting up.
I wait patiently for the scene to change, although the dark skies stretch on for ever, I endure the creeping cold that first grabs the fingers, but all too soon spreads along my limbs to leave me profoundly chilled. I wait, I hope, but soon I realise I am beaten. Another shot has been missed and the frustration becomes a distraction from further photography.
Then there are the inevitable times when I have the correct conditions and I see the composition I want to capture, but my equipment or my technical knowledge and skill fails me. It might be my temperamental tripod that flops and bends, never keeping my camera in the place I aimed it. It might be that the light contrast is too tough for me to manage my exposure and although the scene is beautiful in my eyes, I don't have the skill or equipment to capture it within the camera. Or, it might be I am physically unable to find the appropriate spot (maybe be due to a lake, or rock face in my way) to capture an image that tells the story I was hoping to tell.
Occasions like these, I race around trying to find a better location, so I can still get the image I wanted, but without the challenges. However, I am now an unwilling a participant of the Crystal Maze, forced to carry out a problem solving exercise as I sense time speedy away. Too soon the sun has gone or that alien invasion has started another onslaught.
If I let these ‘challenges’ gain too much significance I would soon give up. However, I have to be philosophical and therefore look beyond the process of trying to take photos and recognise the fantastic locations I am privileged to visit. It is these locations and the feelings they create within me that I have tried to capture in my images, but the feelings remain regardless if they are recorded in my camera or not.
Standing by a still tarn, high up a Lakeland Fell, not another human to be seen or heard, just the croak of Ravens and the plaintive cry of a Buzzard I am fully immersed into the very scene I was trying to capture. Although I have had to experience the frustrations of changing weather and the problems with my camera and tripod, I endure. No matter the tribulations caused by changing conditions, managing exposure, focus and finding a composition that reflects the mood or idea that has piqued the imagination, all these problems dissipate with the wind that blows over the Moor. These are mere trials that are soon carried away by the splendour of the migrating geese that fly over head, or drift away along with the flowing Beck.
In the end it is just being here that really matters.
No matter how I approach my photography I am always met with frustrations, unexpected problems or a series of trials and tribulations. I get flustered as a shot is missed, I get annoyed with my kit when (and I mean when) it decides to get jammed, not respond, suddenly move at the last moment, or not do what I ‘asked’ of it. The weather, my location, the environment in general, the extent of my budget, time, patience all have an impact. In short, it can sometimes feel like that nature’s very design is to thwart and frustrate me.
A chief nemesis is the weather, and as a particular agent of my downfall, it will splatter my lens with rain drops, blow the camera from side to side as it balances precariously on my budget tripod. Leaving me with blurred images, covered in the shadow of water droplets, as if an army of frogs had stomped across the photograph.
I guess these hazards are not too surprising as I am out in all conditions, all times of the year, in wild, unforgiving environments, however, the weather has a special ability to test my character.
All too easily the perfect shot changes as a dark, very dense cloud magically appears and seems to have no end as it emerges over the horizon. It is as if I am in a scene from some apocalyptic science fiction film, where the planet sized, invading mothership suddenly appears overhead.
Where there was only seconds ago a beautiful lit landscapes, there is (just as I have set up the camera) now a dull and drab scene. The majestic, 3 dimensional hillside, that you could almost reach out and touch, has now inconceivably changed into a flat, nondescript view. It seems almost unbelievable such a profound change could happen this quickly. One second I was peering at a most divine, utopian vision, but as my attention is redirected to the setting up (fighting the legs of my stubborn tripod, levelling camera, etc) I finally peer into my viewfinder to see a dystopian version of the original vision. It is as if Banksy had passed through whilst I was setting up.
I wait patiently for the scene to change, although the dark skies stretch on for ever, I endure the creeping cold that first grabs the fingers, but all too soon spreads along my limbs to leave me profoundly chilled. I wait, I hope, but soon I realise I am beaten. Another shot has been missed and the frustration becomes a distraction from further photography.
Then there are the inevitable times when I have the correct conditions and I see the composition I want to capture, but my equipment or my technical knowledge and skill fails me. It might be my temperamental tripod that flops and bends, never keeping my camera in the place I aimed it. It might be that the light contrast is too tough for me to manage my exposure and although the scene is beautiful in my eyes, I don't have the skill or equipment to capture it within the camera. Or, it might be I am physically unable to find the appropriate spot (maybe be due to a lake, or rock face in my way) to capture an image that tells the story I was hoping to tell.
Occasions like these, I race around trying to find a better location, so I can still get the image I wanted, but without the challenges. However, I am now an unwilling a participant of the Crystal Maze, forced to carry out a problem solving exercise as I sense time speedy away. Too soon the sun has gone or that alien invasion has started another onslaught.
If I let these ‘challenges’ gain too much significance I would soon give up. However, I have to be philosophical and therefore look beyond the process of trying to take photos and recognise the fantastic locations I am privileged to visit. It is these locations and the feelings they create within me that I have tried to capture in my images, but the feelings remain regardless if they are recorded in my camera or not.
Standing by a still tarn, high up a Lakeland Fell, not another human to be seen or heard, just the croak of Ravens and the plaintive cry of a Buzzard I am fully immersed into the very scene I was trying to capture. Although I have had to experience the frustrations of changing weather and the problems with my camera and tripod, I endure. No matter the tribulations caused by changing conditions, managing exposure, focus and finding a composition that reflects the mood or idea that has piqued the imagination, all these problems dissipate with the wind that blows over the Moor. These are mere trials that are soon carried away by the splendour of the migrating geese that fly over head, or drift away along with the flowing Beck.
In the end it is just being here that really matters.