Death of a Duck

Death of a Duck

Even to this day, I still feel 'Death of a Duck' may just be the saddest photograph I have ever taken. It was shot a month into my first term at Plymouth College of Art, while out on one of our regular out of class, exploring Plymouth with a camera kind of sessions. Through much of the first year, there seemed to be far more emphasis placed on freedom to express oneself via imagery rather than the importance of subject matter and context (which did indeed come later), helping me as new student to find a true sense of exploring this medium without ever overcomplicating my practice.

As with many of our weekly activities back then, we were given a starting point to build from - colour, rule of thirds, etc - for this particularly session it was all about depth of field. Generally, as long as we kept to the basic structure of what was determined of us, the end result could be as open and varied as one could make it.

After a lovely Autumn morning of messing around and attempting to understand various aperture settings, I came across this rather emotional scene upon the rocky seaweed shores of the Barbican. Within seconds I was transfixed, lying on the ground without a care for my jeans, capturing the moment. There was nothing staged or constructed about the above either; the rubber duck tilted on its side was photographed exactly as I found it. I also  left it as it was for anyone else to discover before it would inevitably wash out to sea.

For some time I continued to wonder about this plastic duck and its final resting state and what possible (artificial) life may have led before this moment, and from that moment forward, I slowly began to notice that there was a potential story in almost everything around me, and that these instruments I used to capture could be perceived as a method of storytelling. I do miss the inquisitive nature one has as they begin a journey so special. Back then it didn't seem to matter what I was taking, it just mattered that I was taking something; when I got it just right, when all the elements finally came together, there was an undeniable sense of achievement, cementing further reason as to why I had chosen this career path.

The decision this week to re-edit 'Death of a Duck' in Lightroom has certainly been very rewarding and I firmly believe the outcome of this image is far better than it was before. As a first year student all those years ago, I was often quite heavy handed with my edits, pushing various levels a little too much this way and that, for no reason I can think other than perhaps because I could. With a great deal of practise and tuition from a wonderful and supportive group of lecturers, those four years spent studying certainly helped me develop a sensible level of control. 

Just as I find it important to continue to develop new material (such as I am with my Emily Rose project, featured again recently in Fishing News as a two page spread), I think it is equally importantly to look back on what you have already taken. With fresh eyes, looking back on the past can often make for a better and more interesting future. 

Two page spread in issue no. 5300 - 10th March 2016 of Fishing News

Emily Rose, Round Two

The plan was to follow up to my first venture out at sea with another trip just weeks after my November exhibition at the National Marine Aquarium in Plymouth, though unfortunately this had to be put on hold. For the rest of 2015, the Brixham trawler Emily Rose was grounded due to extensive maintenance and repair work, particularly to the roof on the wheelhouse. And while this did allow me to begin work on my 'They Live on in Light', I was somewhat gutted that the momentum on my 'Emily Rose' project had slowed after such a progressive and wonderful start.

Yet as with every year, it wasn't long before Christmas came and went and 2016 was quickly upon me.  I spoke to Arthur during the first week of this new year and with work now completed on the Emily Rose, along with his Caribbean Cruise over for another year, we arranged for my next venture out with the crew for mid January.  

I was really interested in capturing the cold harsh feel of winter fishing.  While many of us will be tucked up in the warmth of our homes during these icy months, the idea that a group of fishermen, 30 miles from the coast, working day in day out and in some of the harshest conditions you could imagine, I always found this difficult to comprehend.  

While I arrived in Brixham on the Wednesday, the other crew members were delayed and instead expected till the following morning. I spent much of the afternoon and evening taking in the goings on around the harbour, the sights and many sounds, before Arthur and I enjoyed a good helping of evening fish and chips from the local Rockfish chippy.  This time around, I had my very own bunk and as the night drew in, I got my head down for a few hours.

Arthur Dewhirst, Skipper of the Emily Rose

Early evening at Brixham harbour (Instagram)

My bunk for the journey (Instagram)

It was a much smaller team this time round, with Arthur also getting his scrubs on and pulling shifts on deck; 18 hours on, 6 hours off for this crew of three. I didn't envy the graft one bit, and these weren't young guys either. Seeing them in action really did put me to shame, as I'm sure you can guess what is coming next.

Clifford Warren (right) and Sean 'Scribo' Scrivens

Ship to ship chats in the harbour (Instagram)

The freezer room is filled with ice (Instagram)

Not more than 30 minutes after leaving Brixham harbour and my legs turned to jelly.  The gentle calm that was contained in the wake disappeared as we hit open seas; rough waves lifting the trawler back and forth with absolute ease.  I felt awful, throwing up over and over till there was nothing left inside me. Even then I was still trying, with only belching noises followed by long stringy spit (my apologies for that description).  I literally thought having done so well during the last outing (or at least towards the back end of the week), having braved that gale force 8 storm and rode the waves like a complete champion, I was cured forever of seasickness.  I was a sailor now.  I had my very own sea legs and nothing could stop me!  But no, that was not quite how it worked.

Leaving Brixham, moments before I was sick (Instagram)

For the next four days I was a complete and utter wreck. I was so disappointed with myself and cursed the fact. I just kept muttering next time, next time I'll take the tablets in between further bouts of throwing up.  Given how I felt and how much time I spent in my bunk (it seemed the only place where I kept things down), you'd be surprised I even took any photos at all. Yet I did.  And just as I did during the last trip, I came back with some crackers.  

Cliffy rescued the trapped Gull and helped it safely overboard

Cliffy working the deck (Instagram)

The Squid actually managed to pull itself up and over and make it back to the sea

Another cold day draws to a close

After four days with no food and most of my Christmas weight now feeding the fishes, things started to get a little better for me.  Despite the way I had been feeling, I was immensely happy with the images taken and I was just glad for the opportunity once again to be out here doing something I loved. It is not every day you get to see scenes like the above, and below.

The familiar sight after a haul (Instagram)

Another 'Poseidon' maybe?

With storm Jonas heading towards the UK following its battering of the States, we headed back a few days early. You could really feel a bitterly cold change to the already icy temperature, the swell of the waves expanding in size that compared very much to last time's gale force 8. With a smaller crew it wasn't worth the risk. They had done a stellar job, worked harder than anyone I could have imagined, in conditions and an environment never gentle on the skin or senses. And there was me, pretty much wetter than most of the catch. I had a very long way to go before I could ever compared myself to a fisherman.

Back on dry land at Brixham Harbour (Instagram)

Since my return, my website has been updated with many more photos from this trip and I really feel like this series is beginning to tell a wonderful story of what life onboard a trawler is really like. I plan to head back out to sea with the Emily Rose during the latter part of March, with two (possibly three) more trips to see me through to June where I will conclude the project. Though next time I will stock up on various tablets and methods to combat sea sickness. I know who I am now, and its not nowhere near the levels of Arthur Dewhirst and his fine crew.   

Revisiting the Light

During the final term of my degree, as I was building 'i am Alive', my interest quickly grew to one day return to the work produced during the 'Found Photography' module and give it the attention and production values it truly deserved.  It was all due to this photo, a single square format image of a slide of my father, taken of him during his time in the military and held intently by my hand; I realised I had something quite magical of someone very special to me, and someone lost a long time ago.  At the time this was taken, my tutors acknowledged this as a defining moment of my 'i am Alive' project.  Despite the hospital #selfie being the original starting point, the image of my father neatly became the key and central focus of my final print.

'i am Alive'

The difference in terms of the quality and detail captured was always going to be an obvious jump; from an entry level D60 used on 'Found Photography' to a full frame D700 on 'i am Alive', the contrast in terms of ISO control and in particular how the camera behaved in front of a light source was vastly superior.  While the originals were either too dark in many places or simply overcome and washed out from overblown highlights, the D700 allowed the bright glow of light to be far less harsh on the eyes and more accommodating and gentle towards the contents included within the slide.  Perhaps this was also to do with the change in light sources used; the above image did seem to possess a wonderfully subtle outlined finish that resonated an almost angelic appearance around my hand.  It may have be a little strange to consider but sometimes even the littlest of things really do have a huge impact.  The photos taken during 'Found Photography were held in front of my ceiling light, while the image taken for 'i am Alive' used my bedside lamp.  It wasn't just the strength of the source that made such a striking difference, I could also hold the slide much closer to the light.

The way this image had been edited in post was something I wanted to explore further as I delved deeper into this project.  Even though I didn't have the original RAW files, I still managed to achieve a certain level of control.  Using the various saved presets from my 'i am Alive' project, I imported the 'Found Photography' images into Lightroom and began editing the photos as a potential indication of what to expect with the revised, reshot and remastered editions.  I found the Radial tool to be a very important instrument during the edit, allowing me to focus on the most notable aspect in each photo - in this case, my father - as drawing a circle around him allowed me to affect either what was outside or inside without altering its opposite.  It wasn't long before I was bringing him out of those D60 shadowy darks and into a more visible light.

Lightroom - Before & After

I absolutely adored this photo of my father and immediately knew that this would be one of the first slides to be replicated when I came to begin shooting 'They Live on in Light'.  The fact that the contents of the slide were not lying exactly in place added even more to the finished article, like some individual reel from a film.  It was something I simply didn't wish to correct; my father looked every bit the Hollywood film star, a towering presence and power frozen forever within a perfect light.

I decided to crop the images in a 1x1 ratio, just as I did with the entire series of 'i am Alive'.  As with Instagram and my final degree piece, there was something similar here with the look and feel of these slides; the square format and nod towards the long lost Kodak era seemed to beg for the presented shape to be that of equal sides.  The image also seemed far more intimate this way.  I felt that with the initial 2x3 ratio, there was far too much unnecessary information in the picture; condensing the crop bought me closer to the subject as if I was once again holding the slide.

The removal of the text was pretty much a given from the start.  It just seemed, well, tacky, for want of a better word.  The font I had chosen back then was also extremely childish - though at least it was a step up from Comic Sans - and while the chosen words were sweet and thoughtful, they did seem more the unsure me back then than the confident graduate and practising photographer I am today. Sometimes you don't need words to convey a message.  Sometimes an image will speak for you, from within, to each and everyone wishing to listen.  I felt 'They Live on in Light' would do exactly that.

The final stage of this project is now very much underway and I expect to have this fully concluded before my next outing at sea in a few weeks time.  Going back over 'Found Photography' in a more structured way has been immensely helpful in how I will present and publish my new set of images; eighteen months following graduation and it has been encouraging to see that I am still using the same planning and preparation methods to formulate an outcome.  Elements that worked and those that did not may have not been quite so noticeable had it not been for my time spent revisiting and revising the original project, as well as re-editing those initial photos; the Instagram styled presets, the 1x1 ratio, the removal of text, the change in light source, each component added further layers to a perfect foundation.  Along with the vastly superior difference in equipment, I felt that the end results for 'They Live on in Light' were not only going to be very exciting, but immensely beautiful indeed.  

Simply Cute

'Simply Cute' was taken during April 2010 as I continued to build a portfolio of work with the purpose of studying a photography degree at Plymouth College of Art.  Like many of my photographs back then, it was unfortunately shot in JPEG format, using a Nikon D60 and a 70-300mm Tamron lens.  While it can not be printed in the sizeable realms that 'Posiedon' is currently being produced though Graphique in St. Austell and Kaya Gallery in Plymouth, it has found a nice little place along side some of my other work in a different context altogether.

Simply Cute

Over the next month, I will be applying the finishing touches to my Etsy store with a variety of products, ready to go live for the start of the new year.  I've been in the planning stage for a while now and as a way of testing the water in what may or may not sell, I recently produced a series of products, one of which being a batch of fridge magnets for a local cafe. Within weeks, the majority had surprisingly sold and this image in particular quickly became one of the most popular.  They weren't short on quality either, using the same paper as I always do for my actual prints through Kaya Gallery, along with a good weighty plastic and strong magnetic strip from an online company I eventually settled with. With key rings and even Snow Globes planned (though I am hoping to find a company that also does Sand Globes to suit some of my Kenya images), the sky is the limit to the potential of my store. If only I knew this during my time at university.

At the moment I am toying around with the possibility of text across the top of some of the fridge magnet images, though more so as a limited run for particular calendar events.  The theme of love is wonderfully represented with 'Simply Cute' and with a little further editing, I believe this will work out great for Valentines.  I am also producing a run of 'Deirdre' Chicken fridge magnets with possible text of "Love My Girls" and links to BHWT, with the potential to donate a percentage of the profits to this wonderful organisation, though more on this and my Etsy store as I get closer to launch.  I really do miss her.

This last year and a half since graduation has been a real eye opener (and struggle at times) in the ways and means of being a practising documentary photography while generating an income.  I continue to persevere onwards; that is all you can do really, though these last few months have been fantastic with further business ventures and sales due to my 'Emily Rose' project.  I can't wait to get back out to sea (she is currently under maintenance for the next few weeks and with a Christmas job lined up, my next trip has been postponed now till the second week of January) and I firmly believe next year will be a stunning, rewarding and very hard working year for me.  After updating my LinkedIn profile recently, it is comforting to note how far I've come and how much I've been involved with since graduation; I expect to add a great many more opportunities to the already growing list during 2016.  

I will also make some time free during April of next year and head back to the same spot I took 'Simply Cute', situated in a lovely little place called Mount Edgecombe, only this time with my Nikon D700 and a 500mm lens.  Hopefully there will be more wonderful new borns on display, loving their introduction to life and as always, loving one another.  If there is anything this world needs right now, it is a whole lot of love.  After the awful events that have transpired recently, particularly that of Paris, I think it is important to remind ourselves that there is still a great beauty and warmth to be found in this world, despite the various evils that often overshadow the thought.  You just have to look for it, however hidden away it may seem.

It is strange how we look back at a photo and how is speaks back to us years later.  'Simply Cute' seems to translate a scene of fragility and wonderment of what life is all about.  We often strive for things that matter the least, when all we really should be searching for is the necessity to be comfortably safe.  For this is all anyone on this planet should ever want or deserve. To be forever safe, comfortable, and always loved.  Perhaps one day we all will.  

The Power of Colour

The more I think about it, the more I firmly believe emotion and the way someone is feeling at that particular moment governs the way we take and edit photographs.  

In a previous post, I mentioned how the hard drive on my Macbook Pro fatally crashed during Christmas 2014, and that losing all my edited work resulted in having to go back through hundreds and hundreds of RAW files and re-edit, only his time with additional years of knowledge and experience I acquired through the latter stage of my degree and the subsequent months following graduation.  What I don’t understand is why I suddenly began to edit my work in black and white.  

I am not saying that this was a bad move; from the sudden change at the beginning of the year in how I was producing my images, I did get a further two exhibitions from a newly completed and highly praised project, work as a contributor for an online publication, as well as a few emails and new contacts that I will soon (and very excitedly) talk about.    

I just found colour strange to look at.  For a good while, tones and spectral range just seemed considerably off and whatever the issue was, I simply could not put my finger on it.  It wasn't just in my images either.  Everywhere I seemed to look, imagery just didn't seem quite up to the standard that I was aware of during my degree.  It was as if I was now viewing imagery with production values firmly focused on saturation and vibrance through sliders turned up to 11 or lost within some convoluted mess of HDR exposures.  I got immensely tiring of seeing so much of the same export, wherever I looked; beautiful scenes seemingly altered to the point of no return.  Had photography become solely art over documentation?   

Perhaps this is why I began to play around in black and white, and for a good few months thereafter, a newfound interest and control over what could be done with an image began to present itself.  Shadows and blacks easily masked noticeable issues, while contrast could be ramped up in a way that if copy pasted in colour, the result would likely look entirely horrendous; perhaps this was how I was viewing things prior, though here in black and white, it seemed to only add further to the beauty of a piece.  There was also this interesting element that when producing work in black and white, imagery became somewhat and immediately timeless, as if the only way to view history was via this format.

Tsavo was bought to life during those few months, along with many other images taken during my time at university.  As I began to lay the ground work with regular visits to Sutton Harbour at the beginning of my trawler/life at sea project, and despite early attempts to edit in colour, I decided that long term I would continue to produce work in this way; the idea to exhibit solely in black and white while still retaining some form of commerciality in selling certain images in colour. It got to the point where I believed the only way to be a good photojournalist was to present your story in black and white.

Of course this is not and never will be the case, but try telling that to someone who is having difficulties in understanding the imperfections of colour; is this the point in which emotion comes storming in?  For example:

Imagine there is a person you have cared about for a number of years.  Perhaps something happens, nothing too serious but certainly a wake up call.  Suddenly they don't appear quite who they were.  You try and put your finger on it but the answer lies dormant.  From this point forward you begin to look at them a little differently.  Whatever the reason, you believe that this new look is for the better, despite your opposite now devoid of what it was that made them so special in the first place.  For a while you forget about the before and concentrate on the now, until a series of reminders and new opportunities quickly reflect on that green grass other side notion and you wonder why you ever did alter the one thing you've always viewed, loved and produced.

While I am often known for going off on a tangent, hopefully you get my point. A few months ago I was approached by a San Francisco based company (I'll go into more detail about this in a later post, to coincide with their website launch). They were interested in my Tsavo series, though when they approached me, 'Tsavo' was still in black and white.  Around the same time I found out I had been shortlisted in the Birds and Bees categories for the Zoological Society of London's Animal Photography Prize 2015, with my image of a Wake of Vultures. Despite 'Tsavo' being in black and white, I exported 'Carrion' (the title of the piece) in colour.  I was over the moon with the news and while I didn't go on to win my category, the acknowledgement does look pretty nice on my LinkedIn as a strong end to my first year as a practising photographer.

With my Emily Rose project now in full swing, I submitted a previous blog post, 'Emily Rose - A Week @ Sea' to Fishing News.  The editor of FN, Dave Linkie, soon replied back.  He seemed very impressed with the series of black and white images from my first outing, though he did finish by asking if I had these in colour.  I didn't.

Still, this and the last month or so did give me much to think about.  I was adamant that I was going to continue exhibiting in black and white; at least I think I was, though perhaps this was becoming more of a case of stubbornness washing over me.  I had pretty much settled on what prints I was going to showcase for my next exhibition (less than a week away as I write this), yet with multiple opportunities presenting themselves, I had a bit of a headache on my hands.

I began first with Tsavo, creating Virtual Copies of each RAW file and went from there.  Was it simply a case that right now, I was feeling on top of the world?  I still can't put my finger on it, which is why I do believe certain emotional factors do have such a huge impact on photography.  Whatever the case maybe, by the end of the week, Tsavo had never looked better. 

There were a few images I felt didn't work - Tsavo went from 51 images to 42 - but as a series, it certainly did look so much stronger.  Colours were awe inspiring; oranges, blues and greens looked positively alive, just as they were when I was there during those magically four days.  I could feel the change; bubbling and stirring inside, like getting home from a cold winter's day to thankfully sitting by a roasting fire, there was this beautiful warmth returning my work.

Emily Rose was next, and it gave me immense pleasure to not only reproduce my new project in this way, but to also create a series of new prints for my forthcoming exhibition at the National Marine Aquarium in Plymouth.  I think Dave Linkie was pretty happy with the change too.

The feedback so far concerning my 'Emily Rose' has been fantastic, and I definitely believe reproducing the series in colour has had a lot to do with it.  In less than a week, this series gets its first exhibition and I'm very sure this will not be just a one off.  Around the same time, Fishing News will be including a series of prints, plus a write up by yours truly over three fantastic pages; a huge thanks to Dave Linkie and the team.  'Emily Rose' will soon be submitted to Viewfind, the San Francisco based company, and I hope their interest in me as a photographer continues.  I suppose when I say I have quite a bit going on and much to tell you about over the next month, I think you'll agree.  Plus round two of my 'Emily Rose' project is coming up, with a second week out to sea in early November.  I really can't wait to get back out there, and this time on cold winter seas.  No rest for the wicked.