In need of a narrative

The following article was published in OnLandscape magazine earlier this year.


If you’re reading this then you’re probably a disciple of the quest to explore nature in all its forms; hiking, discovering, conquering and escaping into mindfulness. We would argue there’s a human need for photographing in these places. We want to sometimes tame them and idealise them, set ourselves a compositional challenge and bend the location to our will. It’s about unearthing something unseen, to create surprises, offering a wider acknowledgement that our own way of seeing is unique to us, that we are different.  Although perhaps that’s not quite enough.

Last autumn I visited Spain, once again in search of wooded scenes making use of the autumnal colours. It was on my list of photographic things to do; always looking for a less well known location and places that challenge me as a photographer. I found the experience enjoyable and intense at times, which is an ideal state. The subsequent set of photographs produced was also satisfying. However, once the images were in a set, I felt something was missing. Whilst interesting and perhaps pretty, they did not convey to me anything other than the natural forms I had recorded, however skilfully. There was no narrative. There were no layers of meaning.

Mystery in photography is often seen as a sign of artistic endeavour. The more we can ask the viewer to seek an understanding of the image, the longer the image is in their presence, the more successful the photograph. With this in mind, some photographers seek to obfuscate their photographs through processing hoping that this will give them artistic credibility (harking back to Pictorialism perhaps). They imbue mystery, believing it will offer meaning. It’s the wrong road and one which I suggest you shouldn’t take. Look at the work of the masters such as H.Callahan and E.Weston for guidance on this issue. 

Instead, layers of meaning arrive through consistency (across a project) and clarity of vision and by having images that offer more than the natural forms before the camera, however much they are beautifully rendered. Images need metaphors; they need to reach out beyond the physicality of the scene. Just the other day with this thesis in mind I was passing a walled in sector of land with an open metal door somewhere along it. Behind it was a small 600 metre mountain. The meaning was clear to me. A door to the wilderness, to adventure. The door set against the mountain. My second thought was how could I create an image of this which had a heightened sense of framing and composition, one that was visually rich and had aesthetic beauty but was obviously not of a beautiful scene.

Just as listening to music that is clear and well recorded gives us a greater appreciation of it, likewise an image that is gracefully composed of something less than elegant or less outstanding is not only more visually rewarding, it conveys more meaning. The photographer has both drawn our eye to their constant theme and the complexities within which we as the viewer can make associations from. It’s a challenge of course. Combining aesthetic beauty within ordinary locations is not easy. It means no longer looking for the obviously outstanding but having the mindset and compositional completeness to impose a personal set of rules on any given location.

New landscape photography (NLP) is a term for a methodology that uses a narrative to approach the everyday often via the framework of a written statement. The photographer imbues meaning within the sequence through the combination of image, text and explanation. In doing so, the concept is held high whilst compositional brilliance is diminished and the obvious appeal of individual images by virtue of beauty is both less apparent and less desirable. Moreover, there is a concept and consistency to framing that points to an intellectual appreciation. 

Where NLP often fails to move me is exactly in the compositional shortcomings many images display. There’s a passivity to the framing and camera position. Always taking a detached view (camera position) of a subject or location as a modus operandi doesn’t necessarily develop viewer experience. Concept shouldn’t negate aesthetic beauty. It’s just that the subject itself is not initially or transparently appealing. 

So what is the way forward? There are two approaches I would suggest. 

The first is to conjure an emotional feeling in the viewer which connects with a universal experience. I believe whilst image interpretation is indeed subjective, there is shared co-existence and the palette of human experience can be quantified. I should make the point that this is less about the feelings the photographer has in their mind. I’m not a subscriber to the school of present emotions being important to how the viewer connects.  It is of course, all about seeing and recognising, not the emotional state of the photographer. There are some landscape photographers who are able to open up layers of meaning in this way but they are few and far between. If we look at the images of Thomas Joshua Cooper in his ‘West’ land series, he offers us the palpable feeling of standing at the end of the line, a frontier with the great unknown beyond; the trepidation or the promise of hope for the vast emptiness despite our understanding of what we know to be there.  It’s a universal feeling to be at land’s end and connects with our own childhood experiences. Another photographer I would consider part of this tribe is John Blakemore. His images of wooded scenes instantly convey the feeling of being windswept and free.

The second path is about reframing your approach to landscape photography and developing a more conceptual approach, focusing less on single images but instead on the series where a complex narrative can emerge through similarities across the set. Steering this course will mean maintaining compositional awareness without seeking the individual brilliance of a single image. The team aesthetic should be paramount. Moreover, conventional image beauty might well mask some of the narrative one wishes to communicate.  More of an intellectual exercise than the first, it’s about considering the less obviously pretty and neglected locations that offer a back story and potential narrative. Perhaps they are closer to home and so you can get to them regularly. Paul Hill eloquently spoke about having a resident’s perspective during his On landscape conference talk in 2018.  

To develop a narrative, you’ll need a thesis, a methodology and to keep a journal to develop ideas. Finding meaning in your images comes through insight, reflection and scrupulous editing of your approach. The project will be unique to you and highly personal. Think about your framing at all times and your proximity to the subject. Can you draw some consistency across them. 

I should point out that I’m not advocating dispensing with excursions into nature’s finest landscapes. The pleasure and mindfulness is essential for some of us and the compositional benefits of training your eye will provide a great foundation for future work. But these trips abroad and into the wilds of your home country should perhaps include a desire to see beyond the obvious and to think about how framing directs the viewer towards metaphor and meaning. Moreover there is surely the struggle to convey meaning within more spectacular locations as many of us cannot connect with wild and remote places. I admire the best imagery from Iceland but cannot derive much meaning, perhaps because it doesn’t relate to my experiences. I would imagine there’s an element of cultural approximation to this, with audiences from further north reading images differently.

For both approaches keep a sense of visual refrain in your kitbag.  Sometimes an image thrives on less is more and by not showing the subject or scene in its entirety. However, I would say that clarity of vision is a bigger tool. We also like to be intellectually challenged as well as visually sated. This is something that the photographic landscape community could introduce more into their work. It’s partly why the art world in most cases, rarely accepts straight landscape photography. There are simply not enough embedded ideas, either visually or conceptually. I would argue one should strive for both. There is also the curse of repeating an aesthetic. Again I would reference Paul Hill and how a particular landscape look has become a commodity. Instead his work from the 70’s offers division within his landscape framing. It looks radical compared to current approaches in composing landscape imagery.

So to recap.

Closed photos

These are images which offer one viewing. The better ones of these will provide sustained viewing because of appreciation of light, composition and visual awareness. These images are interesting to look at but are short on layers of meaning.

Semi-open wonders

One-off images that often inspire a shared or universal emotional response in us. They sustain repeat viewings as they connect with some experience we’ve had or they remind us of something through the quality of light and/time of year/or a classic movement in art. For pure landscape forms, this is a great place to be but it requires a lifetime’s work to make a portfolio.

Open photos 

Imploring the viewer to return again each time bringing their own changing perception and seeing new understanding in the photos. They have layers of meaning which offer more than artistic values. They express ideas, concepts, humanity or connect the viewer to historical art and movements. These will most likely contain elements of the urban and man-made and evidence of human interaction. They are also open to interpretation and can be metaphorical. Photographers worth looking at here include; Toshio Shibata, Joel Sternfield, Steven B. Smith and Jem Southam.

You may well have noted from what I’ve written, the absence of a potential key element in developing a narrative which is people. You should keep an open mind about this. The land, landscapes, can also offer the connection to humanity. Land is rarely untouched, unmanaged and there is overlap that provides rich material for meaning yet our framing often denies this.