It was only a matter of time before I ended up loitering in the countryside at night.

This series is my attempt at challenging my own relationship with and understanding of the landscape around me. When I was contemplating my next project, night time seemed an obvious choice for a few reasons. It would be technically and physically difficult and would certainly initially be fairly unpredictable in terms of what I would achieve photographically. Starting with no plan was as good a plan as any. I didn’t really have any idea what was going to happen and there was a lot of trial and error. In fact there still is. I’m fully aware night photography isn’t a new thing and I’m hardly cutting edges or blazing trails but I wanted to explore the heavily photographed landscape of the Peak District in a new way. I wanted to find a balance between the application of fine art photography, satisfying my own creative needs and making something that can be appreciated by a wider audience.

All the images to date were made in the Peak District, which can have a sense of foreboding that I wanted to accentuate by photographing it at night. The initial photographic results were encouraging and I started to formulate the basis of a long term project. I also received very positive feedback from a broad range of people.

In terms of making the images the whole point of the project was to use artificial light to create a sense of unreality and get viewers to question the photographs, making a series of well known landscapes into something different, possibly an uncomfortable difference. The idea was that I closed off all non essential aspects of light (that I could) as a way of purifying the subject matter. I could then choose to illuminate certain parts of the landscape or allow others to do the hard work for me, as in the Winnats Pass light trails image.

I used various lighting sources. I started with a 1,000,000 candle power torch. This proved effective yet very time consuming due to the long exposures and as usual was never guaranteed to get anything that resonated. I managed maybe four or five shots per shoot. I also used my car headlights to light some of the tree shots but most recently have resorted to using off camera flash. This allows a modicum of control the torch doesn’t offer and I have found planning shots easier and the results I envisaged more achievable.

Other difficulties are getting to and from your location safely and the dreaded composition. Generally I have an idea of what I want to achieve and set out in daylight to compose the photograph. Then it’s a case of hanging about till darkness falls.

The biggest problem was overcoming the nervous reaction to sometimes being a long way from anywhere on my own at night. I haven’t always found making the images to be an enjoyable process. It is a strange side effect of the project. When you’re working you don’t notice but it’s always there. All those bad dreams and childhood imaginings reappear. At first I didn’t think that this would come across in the photographs but looking back over the series so far I feel they encapsulate some of these emotions. I probably need to man up a bit.

I will keep going with the project for another year or so. It’s always running in the background and I intend for it to be the basis for an exhibition and finally a book. In terms of this series of photographs I will be heading further afield to locations around the country to let the project evolve. The next trip is to the Norfolk coast for some late night work by the sea. Should be a mission but the harder the photographs are to make the more I seem to love them.

You can see more work by Al Brydon at his website or at his Flickr stream or Etsy.. Here are a few more photographs from this series

As landscape photographers we are fundamentally solitary predators. Away before the dawn and skulking home long after sundown. Shying the pack culture. Lost in “the zone” of image capture meditation. It is a personal space of peace and calm I love to frequent. A place I feel I am at my best, away from intrusions and thoughts that invade much of the reality of the every day.

And indeed, when seeking to express through the lens ones thoughts and emotions of the scene before us I for one find myself horribly distracted when I feel constrained by the presence of external undesired intrusions. When out with other photographers whose style I know I have in the past found it difficult not to be influenced by their presence and have even found myself creating images that reflect their work more than my own. Time to retreat to the comfort of being alone with my thoughts and ideas. A much safer place to reside.

And there is definitively something to be said for this approach. Some of my favourite personal work has come out of these solitary excursions. To the point where I rarely consider taking my camera out if I am walking with a friend. This lesson I learned many years ago when travelling in Ireland with my brother and a camera. The “third party” on the trip did little for bon accord and at one point I was nearly left at the side of the road having apparently taken more than an hour setting up and wait for the light. My brother is a very patient man but this was the end of the line as it was my umpteenth stop to get a snap.

A decade and a half later I purchased and lived for a year in a campervan as I pursued the solitary dream concept of being alone with my camera in the wilderness. But as the weeks and months passed I realised that solitude, whilst having is place, is a lonely existence. At least it was for me. After about ten days out in the field I would rush to visit a friend or town for a modicum of civilisation. It was a very interesting time and I learnt a great deal about myself. I am sure some would survive and excel in such an environment and part of me wishes that I could but it simply wasn’t the case. I love the solitude but not, obviously, over significantly extended periods.

So when I met my wife Morag a new approach to my photography materialised. As a fellow photographer we could go out into the field as individuals and yet at the same time learn from each others experiences, emotions and reactions to the moment. With digital technology we could even learn in the field, reviewing each others ideas and developing concepts as we went along. Sharing the joy of being in “the zone
” whilst out the field.

Our first “project” developing this very new way of working for me, was our Impressions series of portfolios, which we worked pretty much consistently and exclusively on for a period of some two to three years, barely taking any traditional images over that period. This Intentional Camera Movement (I avidly dislike this terminology as I think it reflects only the science of a capture method and not the emotion of the resulting image) at the time was a relatively new concept to single frame, in camera digital capture. The LCD screen allowed us to review and learn as each shoot progressed, enabling us to make step changes in our approach as we went along and examine the styles and techniques of the other which in turn we could use to influence our own images. We could instantly explore new themes and emerge from blind alleys. At some point one or other of us would take the image that reflected our combined vision at the time and that would become the statement shot for the shoot. It didn’t really matter which one of us had taken the final photo as we had both played an equal role in arriving at the final shot. As such we adopted the joint signature approach for our collaborative work, which had the additional advantage of reducing marital competitiveness!

As we designed, built and subsequently moved into our new Eco-home in south west Scotland this approach continued with the commencement of the Zero Footprint portfolio. Having spent 5 years of our lives working to minimise our carbon footprint at home we felt it would be interesting to see if this could also be adopted in our work lives. With respect to any commission works we began to charge the client for “carbon dioxide free” petrol and planting native species of trees to offset the fuel use. More recently we have installed a domestic wind turbine to produce our electricity, and the digital darkroom for us is a more pleasant and environmentally friendly place to be (although there will always be a part of me that would love to dive back into that cocktail of pungent chemicals and muted lighting).

We then looked at our fine art work and decided that we could shoot a portfolio of work from the same location, allowing ourselves the luxury of any lens and shooting in any direction. Either one of us could take a photo at any time, as long as it was from the same location, the patio of our house (we are extremely fortunate that despite be a very remote location our house is blessed with a fantastic view). No travel meant no carbon emissions from the shoot.

At times we would work together and at others alone, it just depended on who was where at the time when the light shines gold (or grey or dark or bright). The project has remained collaborative and as such maintains the joint signature. With our current exhibition at the Joe Cornish Gallery we present the end of the first phase of this project, which depicts the amazing mists and fogs that permeate our valley throughout the year. These moments are rare and it has taken many hours waiting for the occasional few seconds when the tides of fog roll up and down the valley to reveal the mysteries beneath. In future phases of this ongoing lifetimes work we will explore a variety of techniques and approaches as we attempt to capture our glen in its many guises.

I still absolutely love and crave the solitude of being out there on my own and fully appreciate and admire those who adopt nothing but this approach to their work. But in collaborations with Morag, learning form every person that comes on our workshops and the odd shoot with fellow photographers in the field, I now feel as though I have a new string to my bow as I head to the hills and glens with my sole mates.

While we were working on the Big Camera comparison, one of the things that became quite clear was that the different sensor devices we looked at were producing images whose colour was quite different. More importantly, when we tried to fix the colour from one to look like another, it proved impossible.

This rung a few bells with me from a couple of years ago when I was looking at whether it was possible to simulate Fuji Velvia 50 by creating some form of Photoshop action or icc profile. It quickly became obvious that although we can approach some of the colour changes that Velvia introduces (for instance blue shadows, tendency to move colours toward their primaries), there were certain colour changes that were impossible to fix. Trying to change one part of the colour range would inevitably affect another part. Eventually I gave up with this, concluding there was either something magic going on or my Photoshop skills weren’t up to it.

We’re talking to a fell runner turned photographer this issue (I wish I was as fit!) and someone with a fascinating take on the classic mountain photography genre.

What photographic moments have most transformed your thinking about photography (or have just had you jumping up and down for joy!?)

This is the hardest question Tim and I actually left it last to answer; I do know though that I am not an excitable type to be jumping up and down, far too old for that anyway!

There have been a few transition periods in my relatively short photographic time, for the first year I was in the distinct phase of learning how the camera and lens worked and what I or it needed to do to make reasonable photos. I quickly understood the mechanics and basic physics though and this was made easier I think with me being an Engineer and having a good grasp of technical concepts and devices.

The next phase was concentrating more on the artistic elements needed to make better images such as understanding which exposure to choose for my creative intent, focusing and DOF, motion etc. Although I must qualify by stating that I’m not a creative type by nature.

Then about have way through I became far more concise on the type of images I really wanted to take and became much less random, around about this time I also stopped chasing the light. By this I mean that I became much more subject driven, I stopped taking images of random things that happened to be illuminated in great light and concentrated far more on photogenic subjects that I wanted to capture that were enhanced by complimentary light. A good example of this would be me haring off down to the beach at the sniff of a decent sunset without much consideration for subject but hell bent on light and colours. Actually I don’t think there is anything wrong with this approach and I should do a bit more of it as it can be very relaxing enjoying a spectacular sunset but more on this later why it is on-hold at present.

How long have you been a ‘photographer’ and what connection with the landscape have you had before you started?

I’ve been taking photos seriously for the last five years once I bought my first digital camera, I’m uncomfortable calling myself a ‘photographer’ as I have no formal training and I don’t make a living from photography. I’m a ‘camera user’ though and know how to use it enough to produce results that please me. Prior to buying my first DSLR I only had various automatic pocket cameras that I would very sporadically take a few rolls of film for snapshots only. These would be sent off to Boots for processing then invariably be left in their packets and boxed away in the attic once I had taken an initial look at them, I wasn’t really interested in photography or producing images other than the aforementioned snaps. I’m still not that interested in the ‘art’ of photography preferring just to use it as a tool to create the results I want whether that be a print for home, sharing on my website or progressing my long term project.

I have though been an avid outdoor person for the last 35 odd years of my now maturing 45 years of age. I was born and brought up on the coastal edge of the Lake District underneath Black Combe for anyone who knows the west coast of Cumbria and I still live close by and am fortunate to view ‘The Combe’ from my home. I was introduced to the fells around age 11 when my older brother thought it would be entertaining to take me up Blencathra via Sharp Edge on a windy and icy winter’s day, a life defining moment and I’ve never looked back since. During my teens I walked most things the Lake District could offer soon progressing to donning shorts and vest and quickly took up fell running both for pleasure and competition. Learnt to drive then the hills of Yorkshire, Wales and Scotland beckoned. So, here I am, still walking and running over the hills but perhaps a bit more sedately and a lot less recklessly than my younger days, although I still think I can run races at similar youthful times!!

How did you actually get into photography in the first place?

A relative gave me a £20 birthday gift to go towards buying a picture of Black Combe, I searched and scouted for a decent picture I could buy to frame and hang on my wall but after a few months of unsuccessful looking I came to the conclusion that I could try and photograph it myself. This coincided with my consciousness becoming aware that digital SLR technology was advancing to a point where they were of good quality and obtainable by non-photographers, me basically. I did a wee bit of research and bought a Nikon D40 as a Christmas present for myself then spent the next 6 months working out all these strange and peculiar new concepts of ISO, f-stops, White Balance and apertures etc.

I probably had an unconscious desire as well to start photographing the hills and landscapes that I was walking and running over, perhaps turning forty was another trigger that made me part with cash for a camera. Not that it had anything to do with a mid-life crisis or anything!!

You grew up in the Lake District but much of your photography is of Scotland. Where does your love of or connection with Scotland come from?

One of my first trips to Scotland was shortly after I bought my first car, my friend and I drove to Fort William for a week of walking and climbing the hills of Glen Coe, I distinctly remember my first sight of Buachaille Etive Mor rearing up like a huge pyramidal monolith from the blanket of Rannoch Moor, pretty inspirational stuff and perhaps another life defining moment. Over the years we’d make fairly regular visits to the Highlands for the fix of getting big hills under our boots, the Scottish hills offer a rugged and remoteness that the Lakes or even Wales can’t match. I’m drawn to the harshness and solitary nature these hills are capable of providing, there are many places where you can stand on a summit and not see any signs of civilisation in any direction, a fulfilling and enhancing experience that is quite hard to come by.

More recently, four years ago, I had the chance to work in Aberdeen with a fortnightly commute home; this coincided with me getting more proficient with my then Nikon D200, filters and tripod. I found it convenient on occasion to get a spare day or two on my commute to detour via Skye or Torridon and spend a bit more time walking; this is really where my passion for photographing took off as I could combine the two pastimes together.

Could you tell us a little about the cameras and lenses you typically take on a trip and how you came to choose them?
My current camera is a trusty Nikon D300, a little hard worn but still performing brilliantly. I find it a great compromise between weight, mechanical construction and sealing, performance and operability. I use three Sigma lenses from 10mm to 200mm, the 17-70mm being my default lens and producing probably 80% of my images. I only use the 10-20mm in limited and last resort situations as I find it has a few odd effects but has been essential for a few mountain scenes that dictated its use. I hardly ever use my 70-200mm as it is too heavy to carry in the hills, has a scratch and the focus motor is broken, I should get shot really and repair or replace it. I use a Heliopan polariser, Lee and Hitech filters much preferring to use ND grads rather than HDR which for me doesn’t produce the results I desire for various reasons.

I’m bought into the Nikon system and way of things stemming from the D40 Christmas present. I have to say that Nikon had a better marketing program at the time of my purchase, they were actively advertising in the magazines I was reading at the time so it was them that I plumbed for and I have to say am very content with my present gear with no desire to change or even upgrade.

I believe you are working on a photographic project, can you tell us about this?

It’s a bit of a labour of love I have to say. A couple of years ago whilst my passion for photographing the mountains of Scotland was increasing, I became inquisitive as to what actually are the finest mountains in the Highlands. I started a lot of research gathering many different opinions and information from a fairly wide range of people who either use or admire the hills but mainly from other walkers and drawing on my own experience. I then developed a list, a list in flux I have to say as opinions are so subjective that I keep adding or subtracting depending on who I listen to or how I feel. I then embarked on trying to photograph the mountains on my list, it has taken me a couple of years to photograph 70 odd of them so far and I have around a dozen left to do which as usual are the hardest and most frustrating to accomplish.

This process though has given me great reason to explore parts of Scotland that I probably wouldn’t have thought to go to before and it is a constant source of enthusiasm and has given me plenty of focus and direction in my photography, sometimes detrimental to taking an other type of photograph though occasionally. I’m absolutely committed to finishing it, to the point where I hardly take the camera out of the bag to photograph anything else, I can even drive past Buachaille Etive Mor these days on a frosty winter morning at sunrise and not even have a pang to stop and photograph the waterfall, I already have my image and am solely focused on the ones I require. I may allow myself to go back there and photograph it again though once I’m finished..!!

The ultimate goal though for my collection of photographs is to produce a book describing the most appealing, iconic and photogenic mountains that are in Scotland. I’m in the process of proposing my idea to various publishers and keeping my fingers crossed I may be given the opportunity to see my project to publication.

Actually, I have to say that I have probably had as much enjoyment doing the research and planning of the images that I have wanted to capture for each subject as much as actually climbing the hills and taking the images. The learning process has been exciting, discovering that there are more to the obvious mountains that most of us know. Discovering hidden gems such as Ben Aden in the heart of Knoydart, understanding what its like to walk and photograph a whole range such as the Mamores in a day and the lone overnight camps high on the hills. It’s also given me more reason to pore over maps and guide books with the ability to switch off from the latest soap opera that the family are watching.

Tell me what your favourite three photographs are and a little bit about them.

My current three favourite images are ones that I have taken specifically for my book.

North Glen Shiel Ridge.

This image has some simple aesthetic appeal for me, the Glen Shiel Ridge leading off to the right as the main subject, backed by the opposite mountains in a typical winter scene but this isn’t the main reason why I like this image so much.

This was my third attempt at this image as previous tries hadn’t materialised in favourable weather conditions but this one met my expectations so it does have some appeal purely from a satisfaction point of view that I captured an image that I had pre-visualised.

However, it’s mainly an image that provides me with some distinct memories of a fabulous and quite rare experience. There had been heavy snow overnight and a harsh frost which provided a crust on the fresh snow surface which made a fabulous crunching sound that shot the otherwise eerie silence. The light half an hour before sunrise was soft and subtle which gently accentuated each slight contour. As I stood there in the -10 C temperature I could have stopped time and just savoured this moment for ages. I may not have actually portrayed this atmosphere or how I felt very well with this image and there might not be any particular solid compositional or interesting features in it but it is simply one of them images that transports me back to a wonderful 15 minutes or so where I was literally on a mountain high.

Solace in Silence.

I like this image for two main reasons; firstly it fulfils my desire I had to simply capture the Corrag Bhuidhe ridge of An Teallach in favourable light. I hadn’t seen this image from the summit of Sgurr Fiona before even after all my research but I knew from my study and reading accounts of the scramble over it that it must be worth photographing, again my expectation was satisfactorily met. Perhaps this image demonstrates a bit of my hunter/collector side where I want to show viewers where I have been and what the view is like from this particular location, it was certainly an effort to gain it but more overriding is my desire to show quite a spectacular scene, well for me anyway.

The second reason is perhaps hinted at in the title. I had orchestrated this trip to be at this location for sunset; I had pitched my tent in the afternoon and now had time alone on the summit waiting to take this picture. I had chance of a few minutes to just sit and absorb my circumstance and environment; I was alone close to darkness on the summit of a remote mountain surrounded by inspiring scenery in every direction. This was another life enhancing moment and a wonderful experience all round, it invigorates me when I place myself in these situations and there are many similarities with my personality in this image.

However, once again, I don’t know if viewers will get this message and it’s not really my intention to try and portray these nuances but if you do get more than just the details of the scene then it is a bonus I guess.

Buachaille Etive Beag.

I think this image just simply pleases me greatly for its aesthetics, mountains in winter with a quite fabulous sunrise. It was another location that was planned and pre-visualised for many months before I got the opportunity to attempt it. I’m essentially a recorder of scenes, I like to describe and inform the viewer with straightforward information of a subject. There isn’t much room for abstraction or mystery in my images, I usually cram in as much visual data as possible and there isn’t much left for the imagination in them, Tim will go and choose other images that may contradict me now probably!

It’s a bit of an unusual view of Buachaille Etive Beag and I think makes a reasonable attempt at something alternative of it, the usual view of it is from Glen Etive or from the entrance to Glen Coe but it usually gets overlooked in favour of its big brother. It wasn’t the sole reason why I climbed to this point though as Bidean nam Bain was my first priority which is just out of shot and bagged along with this. These are in essence the type of shots that I’m most proud of and if I could produce just a few of these each winter I’d be very happy as I think they sum up my relationship with the mountains.

When you are ‘in the field’, what is your usual workflow? i.e. How do you find a picture? Do you take sketch shots and then go back to a choice spot and wait for light? etc.

I have two very distinct phases for my planned shots, the research and planning stage which can be up to a year or so from conception of an image to capture. Typically I’ll decide on a mountain to photograph based on obvious reasons such as Ben Nevis having a terrific crag and being the highest or more subtle reasons such as Ben Lomond having an association with the loch and its popularity with many folk from Scotland’s central belt, both worthy of photographing. I will then work out how best to photograph them or concentrate on a particular feature that identifies them, this will be the part where I pore over my maps and ignore the family for hours on end. I will write down the season, angle of Sun and time of day etc to maximise my chances of showing the subject of at its best. I have a methodical spreadsheet for all this information; being the Engineer in me I’m afraid.

I then move to the next phase where I make a trip to attempt the shots and where I am at the mercy of the weather but I have become quite adept at predicting what will happen, the weather is usually the deciding factor whether I meet my expectations or not, if I don’t then I make return visits.

I don’t take sketch shots but I have very strong pre-visualised images in my head of what I want the image to turn out like even if I haven’t seen a previous image or been to the location before, I build this up from contours of the map, I know, I should have done something a bit more funky in my youth!

However, I’m not always robotic and do act spontaneously when chances arise, ‘Schiehallion’ and ‘Leave the light on for me’ are good examples of being somewhere for another reason but taking advantage of an opportunity.

Once on location I don’t think too much about composition and shoot more on what instinctively looks right to my eye through the viewfinder, I’m not trained and don’t read much theory relying more on my years in the hills and what feels right or makes a pretty view.

Light is not a driving factor for making an image either, I prioritise the subject first then hope that the light is complimentary for the composition I have chosen, although it has to be said that if the light isn’t obviously right then I will usually return.

Do you have any desire to put your photography on a professional level (i.e. make some or all of your living from it)
No not really, I’m very lucky to be employed in an interesting and satisfying industry that pays well so it would be quite a hard decision to change to a different career.

I obviously want to get my book published which isn’t from a financial desire but certainly more from a recognition and ability to share places perspective. I have though been fortunate to do well in a few competitions and that is very gratifying. I’m a member of an international curated gallery which displays my images of Scotland and the Lakes to a wider audience other than UK based and I have developed an appreciation and following there.

What sorts of things do you think might challenge you in the future or do you have any photographs or styles that you want to investigate? Where do you see your photography going in terms of subject and style?

At present the only challenges are my levels of enthusiasm and desire to get to the locations that I have set myself, some are physically quite hard, time consuming and at a sacrifice being away from my family, they are getting harder as well, should have taught me not to pluck the champagne images first!

I don’t have any real desires to try different styles or approaches, I am quite limited in what I like in my photography and don’t have any real desires to photograph other than mountains at the minute, I have a macro lens collecting dust that should get used more often in the garden but I’ve found it even harder to get a decent macro shot than trekking all weekend for one.

Even though there is a lifetime of subject matter in Scotland I’d probably like to do the Lake District justice with a similar approach to what I am doing now.

To illustrate how dead set I am though, I spent an all paid three week trip to New Zealand for work but didn’t even bother to wiz down to the Alps and have a ganders there, shocking for a landscaper.

Who do you think we should feature as our next photographer?

Ooh, a difficult question as I don’t really know too many and if I am being totally honest don’t draw too much inspiration from other photographers as much as subjects. I’m also a bit limited to photographers that shoot the things that I’m interested in; I am though a big fan of Colin Prior’s panoramic mountain scenes so I’d suggest Colin Prior.

Alan Gordon provided all the images for ‘The Scottish Mountains’ book. Another source of inspiration with images that were taken through the eyes of someone who obviously spent a lot of time in the hills, I know nothing about him though so that would be interesting for me.

A big thank you to John for this interview and if you want to see more of his photography you can visit http://www.viewlakeland.com/ or see more of his images at http://1x.com/artist/JohnParminter.

I’m sure many of you are aware that the Bradford-born artist David Hockney has recently filled the walls of the Royal Academy with an exhibition of his landscape paintings, iPad drawings and multi-screen HD films most of which were produced in the East Riding of Yorkshire. Whilst it may not be of great significance to landscape photographers it is certainly a significant event in the history of landscape painting. It is also playing an important role in promoting the landscape of East Yorkshire and especially the Yorkshire Wolds. This quiet but beautiful part of Yorkshire has been largely ignored by tourists but due to the Hockney exhibition is now gearing up for an influx of visitors keen to sample the landscape he has been painting for the last eight years. As some may know I too have spent the last eight years on a different journey into the Wolds landscape, mainly searching and photographing the steep sided dry valleys hidden below the chalk upland. I’ll discuss my reasons for photographing such a quiet and relatively un-dramatic part of the British Isles later in this article but for now I’d like to expand on the landscape work of David Hockney.

Over the past few weeks there have been countless newspaper, television and internet articles about the exhibition which is the first major event in the 2012 Cultural Olympiad. David Hockney had been asked four years ago if he would like to fill the walls of the Royal Academy with new landscape paintings of East Yorkshire. He had previously been successful with the display of ‘Bigger Trees Near Warter’ at the Royal Academy. This huge 50 canvas painting was done on location in stages over a period of a few weeks in winter and spring 2007. It shows towering beech trees at the edge of a junction near to the small Wolds village of Warter. The location is fairly typical of many others around the Wolds but Hockney saw the opportunity to create a huge painting to show the colour and majesty of the trees and tangled branches stripped of foliage. He (and colleagues) used Photoshop to combine photographs of each of the partly painted canvases to re-create the finished jigsaw whilst returning time after time to add new paint strokes and to start on new sections.

After finishing ‘Bigger Trees Near Warter’ he began work on another spinney of beech trees near Warter to show the seasonal changes but the four works were cut short when the trees were felled leaving him aggrieved.

The current fast-selling exhibition has been received favourably by many people and some reviewers but has also been slated by others. His large joined canvas oil paintings range from clever subtle use of colour and keen observation of light to surreal psychedelic studies using an exaggerated palette. His brushwork harks back to the Impressionists, most notably Van Gogh, but he also pays homage to the Fauvist movement’s use of bright colours. Whilst they bare little resemblance to the traditional English landscape work of Constable and Turner there is no denying their presence and impact. As a founding member of the British Pop-Art movement in the early 60s Hockney has now re-invented landscape painting to suit his own radical style and vision. It has certainly sent the art world into a spin and delighted most of the public.

I discovered Hockney’s Wolds paintings shortly after I had begun to explore my local area for photographic subject matter. A friend had shown me a series of Hockney’s early watercolours of views I knew well and they certainly captured the look of the Wolds beautifully. I had no idea that Hockney was continuing his Wolds period only a couple of miles from my home near the village of Warter. I had become far more pre-occupied with my own journeys into the Wolds landscape.

I had become aware of the vast areas of Access Land in the dry valley systems that scatter the Wolds but remain virtually invisible as you drive over the arable chalk upland. The valleys are used for grazing livestock and I’d visit and photograph them with the intention of showing the wonderful geometry and the colour that existed all year round. I would walk miles down quiet and peaceful dales searching for subject matter and the best viewpoints. I’d pour over O/S maps of the Wolds searching for hidden locations then visit and re-visit at all times of the day and throughout the year. I began to know when and where I should visit to catch the best conditions. I learnt all the Tolkein-esque names – Scoar Dale, Frendal Dale, Sylvan Dale, Great Dug Dale, Horse Dale, Thixen Dale (named for its six joining valleys) to name but a few. Each valley has its own individual look and feel – some are barren and beautifully desolate, some are complex and varied where each new twist reveals a completely different eco-system of plants and trees. I began to coincide my visits with the seasonal events I’d witness. Wild garlic, hawthorn blossom, rosebay willow-herb, ox-eye daisies, harebells, ferns and hawthorn berries provided me with scope for variety in my photography. Without mountains, rivers, waterfalls, lakes or rock formations to photograph I had to adapt to what was on offer.

This brings me back to David Hockney and specifically his well-publicised views on photography. According to Hockney photography is all but dead. He has been vocal in criticising the camera’s single viewpoint (hence his series of ‘joiners’ made in the 80s) and the single timeframe of the photograph. Perhaps he should investigate the work of many photographers who take advantage of equipment to drastically lengthen the exposure time, varying it from several seconds to one year in a single image or move their cameras whilst exposing the shot to create blurred effects and impressionistic studies!

This opinion does no justice to Hockney or to the important role photography has had in shaping our lives over the previous and into the current century. It also demeans the already hard work that photography galleries in this country have in convincing the art world of its validity as an art form.

As a landscape photographer I’m fully aware of photography’s limitations. It can never replicate the real sensations of a place but neither can painting nor filmmaking. All three are only capable of creating an impression of being in the landscape. The truth can only come from experiencing the landscape first-hand. All the experiences of being in the landscape can never by gathered from a single image bound by a frame but does that make photography pointless? Whilst it cannot create the feeling of being out in the open air, the one thing it can do is give you the feeling of WANTING to be out in the open air. Wanting to see the subject for ones-self and revel in the experience of being there. This brings me to my own reason for wanting to photograph the places I see on my travels. My photographs do remind me of where I’ve been and the wonderful times I’ve had in the landscape but I also want others to see what the Yorkshire Wolds has to offer.

It’s not about one single image. My photographs around the Wolds were taken over many years in the areas I visit at all times of the year. To show the wonderful variety of subject matter, weather conditions and light you have to produce a large body of work, not a single shot. Only then can people begin to see the dramatic and subtle changes I see on my travels.

A recent article on the Guardian website really caught my eye. Some of the East Yorkshire residents were interviewed after visiting the Hockney exhibition. Whilst they all praised the work they had seen the most telling comment was that it ‘made them wish they were back in East Yorkshire’. That must be the greatest compliment paid to Hockney about his East Yorkshire landscape work. I’d like to hope they, and others, would also feel the same way if they were confronted with wall-filling landscape photographs from their locality (unless it was a Gursky!).

I hope the exhibition will encourage people to begin to experience the landscape and see it with fresh eyes. I know that many landscape photographers already appreciate the wonders of nature, light and the climate as do many non-photographers (ie. artists, naturalists, walkers, climbers) but I hope it convinces others to look a little harder and appreciate and cherish their own immediate landscape.

I’d also like to encourage other photographers to look closer to home. I know of many who do and have been rewarded with some wonderfully creative photography. By putting yourself out of the comfort zone of traditional landscape photography locations you will be forced to look harder and in return begin to see more. That is what Hockney has achieved by putting himself into a landscape that isn’t overtly dramatic.

East Yorkshire residents have always been justifiably proud of this quiet, secret landscape and we are glad that someone of Hockney’s stature has recognised the Wolds undeniable beauty. His motives are purely for pleasure, not for profit, which is an endearing quality. It’s not every day that Britain’s greatest living artist makes his home on your doorstep. It’s also nice to know that the English landscape has found a new spokesman, despite his curmudgeonly views. I’ll forgive him for his views on photography because there’s so much more to admire in him than to dislike. I only hope he continues to produce work around the Wolds as I hope there will be better to come.

I’ve included a selection of some of my favourite views and some of the conditions I’ve had the pleasure to experience on the Wolds. I know one man who’ll hate them!

I’d be interested to hear anyone’s views on Hockney’s work, his views and the exhibition if anyone has been or is planning a visit.

Please visit www.royalacademy.org.uk for details about visiting the exhibition (pre-order tickets are selling fast and the small number available on the day are snapped up quickly).

See also www.hockneypicture.com. Which has a few of the Wolds paintings buried away.

A recent article written by Ian Thompson on his wave photograph at Porth Cawl generated just a little bit more feedback than I or Ian expected. The main gist of the comments were along the lines of ‘this has gone too far’ or ‘this isn’t photography’. I thought it would be a good idea to take a look at the idea of truth and photography in a little more detail.

At about the same time that we were testing the cameras for the Big Camera Test, Joe Cornish was pondering the possibly of purchasing the IQ180 and in the last few weeks has been getting to grips with it. Tim Parkin and Andrew Nadolski accompanied him on a walk through Bilsdale which proved too windy to get the photograph we had planned but we stopped on the way back when a group of larches caught our eye in the shadows at the edge of the path. Despite it being almost too dark to see the composition, we decided to record the process and then to print the resultant file to share with our readers. We hope you enjoy the process and would love any feedback.

Photographic description alone will never be inspirational, never make a heart beat faster, never bring a tear to another’s face. To achieve these things emotional messages must somehow be woven seamlessly into the photographic representation. But beyond what is baldly described by the light captured in a scene, the exact meaning of photographs is elusive. We read them but it’s not like reading prose, there’s no dictionary that we can refer to for definitions. Every viewer reads them in a subtly different way and their meaning may also alter for different viewings by the same viewer. Photographs’ descriptive power is almost overwhelming, sometimes it’s as if the images shout about the contents of their frame. Yet, almost lost in the cacophony of detail, deeper messages are being whispered. Despite the difficulty of hearing them, we know that the messages are there because we know that photographs can move us.