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Mastering landscapes
How Oman’s natural beauty could be your inspiration

In the last issue we discussed portraits, as this was the commonest form of photography. But as much as people are dynamic and interesting, the draw of bare landscapes devoid of habitation is as strong. We are all attracted to windows, to views, to open sky and nature, in some form or the other. Landscapes – whether in oils, watercolours or photos – are probably the most common wall decoration we have used over the past few centuries.

Anthropologists could point to reasons buried deep within our evolution as hunters, gatherers and cultivators. This almost primeval draw to the wild is in direct opposition to the view that landscapes are boring as art forms, or superficial. Such opinions are more a reaction to the clichéd reproductions that characterise postcard art today.

But don’t forget that clichés arise when we imitate something too much – and that original was obviously good enough to replicate over and over again. One source of these so-called ‘picture postcard’ views that we seem to avoid today was Ansel Adams. He trudged around the American wilderness hauling huge view cameras, with glass plates instead of film. Far away from the world of compact digital cameras of today, these would be transported by mule, on back or lifted by rope. His work showed an obvious passion for nature, and, more importantly, an eye for fine art.

Wide off
Your instinctive reaction to a beautiful landscape will be to choose the widest lens possible, to get it all in. After all, it’s the panorama that attracted you in the first place – the draw of wide open space, sweeping geography and dramatic sky. Lenses have got progressively wider over the years, so you could have a wide angle that would
provide a view so broad it will look fantastically dramatic in the viewfinder, impressing you into pressing down on the shutter.

That could, perhaps, be your first mistake. If you point your camera at a distant scene, like mountains in the background, with open sky above and a river beneath, for example, you’ll end up with a flat photograph. That means that everything will be distant, you won’t have a foreground, and you’ll end up with something that might be pretty, but nothing deeper than that. You’ll have to try harder for something more.

Are you taking or making photographs?
That will also teach you an important lesson, which could apply to any form of photography. It is the realisation that although scenes and situations you experience might feel like they would make great photographs, they might have none of the ingredients for visual art. Here, you are merely imposing yourself on the subject, and getting carried away with emotion. But while many people might look at photography as very emotional – even passionate, glamourous and romantic – its upper reaches can only be accessed through cold calculation. Remember, you could either take photographs, or make them. Most people take them – they point at, encompass as much, and shoot. But you have to realise that many different levels of senses are being used here to register the scene. When you step out of your car for a sunset, you’re overcome by the colours of the clouds, the magic of the moment and all the emotions that the mood of the moment might stir up in you. But in the end the only one of those ingredients that could be captured on camera is the colour of the clouds. And that’s just not enough.

So stop taking photos, or chasing things that will have to be shredded into a single dimension of flatness, on screen or paper, mere mirages in the sky. Instead, create them, crop out distractions, go low, go high, do whatever it takes to make them what you want. The landscape is raw material, blank canvas. It’s up to you to make it your own, and something more.

The flatness of distance
Landscapes are more prone to looking flat on paper, because they typically involve distant scenes. Since everything is far away from you, nothing in particular stands out, and you don’t have any centre of interest. This makes for flat, boring photographs. So the next time you see a nice mountain range unfolding into the distance, or a lake spread out in front, look for foreground. It could be a dead branch, a person, a boat, a stone – anything that looks interesting and adds depth to the scene. Look for lines that lead you into a scene, like a river meandering away into the distance, or a road leading to the horizon.

Sometimes, wide isn’t the best option either. Look again, at the details. You could crop that panorama into a million ways with a longer lens. You’ll probably have a zoom, so twist it to include or crop out elements as you wish. Most people might have little use for a telephoto when shooting landscapes, but it could be an important part of your gear depending on how you like shooting.

The mercy of light
You will be at the mercy of natural light, and everything else that the elements either throw at you or withhold. Landscapes are too large to illuminate with artificial light like flash, so you will be paying attention to how the sun – or even the moon – shines. Midday sunlight is harsh and flat, like a naked light bulb directly overhead. The sky tends to be pale, shadows harsh. The best time is when the sun is lower, either at the beginning of or at the end of the day. Your sky will be a deeper blue, especially where it is furthest away from the sun, and the light will be more reddish, rather than the blinding whiteness of high noon.

Natural light will teach you patience, and in the time it takes to get better you might even come to appreciate nature better. Light can also change very fast, especially if the sun is setting, or there are clouds moving overhead. This is when you will have to anticipate what will happen next, and move quickly.

In the end, you’ll have gone beyond nature, and yourself. Your photograph will be a creation, and posses its own internal logic and meaning. And that’s when you’ll have made a photograph, something to be proud of. Your next step? Make a better one, of course.