It was almost 1500 days ago.
We’d been house-hunting around Shetland but hadn’t found the right place, and our time had run out. The first of our tour party were due to arrive, so we drove south down the A970 from Lerwick to the airport. Then we discovered that someone can’t read flight timetables. We never really got to the bottom of who can’t read timetables.
In any case, we’d arrived at the airport at 17:20 to meet a flight that arrived at 7:20pm. There isn’t much to do at Sumburgh Airport on a Friday evening so we started browsing (on a very dodgy mobile phone connection) houses around the south end of Shetland.
“There’s one just a few minutes away. Can we be bothered to look at another one? Doesn’t look very interesting?”
“Why not? What else are we going to do for the next couple of hours?”
We found the place easily enough. It was built to be convenient for the airport. Built by the Civil Aviation Authority when they expanded the airport, and needed houses for airport staff that weren’t 25 miles away.
We peered in through the windows. “Might be a bit dark.”
We went round the back. “Has a pretty good view.”
We peered in through more windows. “Looks like it’s just been redecorated.”
We peered in through even more windows. “Do you like it?”
Hesitantly. “Yes. It’s worth having a look inside”.
That was our first look at our Shetland house. At 59 53½ North. We moved in just over 1400 days ago.
Lofoten Islands, May 2014
My first visit to the Lofoten Islands was in February 2012. That visit was dominated by snow.
There had been some snow before I got there, but as I arrived the snow started falling seriously. The upshot was that I didn’t get to see too much of Lofoten. The tops of the mountains were mostly covered in cloud, and the roads were entertaining to drive on. I did, however, see just enough of the mountain tops, and just enough of the villages near Svolvær to ensure that the Lofoten Islands stayed firmly on my must-visit list.
This time I arrived in Lofoten, after crossing the Vestfjord from Bodø, in bright sunshine. My plan (assuming typical island weather) had been to hire a car to provide both transport and shelter. The weather that appeared meant that the only shelter I really needed was a sun-hat, so I reverted to a boot-and-bus travel plan.
My first base in Lofoten was Svolvær, the biggest town in the islands. This doesn't make it a metropolis but does mean a choice of places to stay, and a choice of places to eat. Svolvær doesn't have the charms of some of the villages further down the coast, but it does have the administration, communication and industrial facilities that are needed to make life in a remote group of islands in the Arctic possible. It also has a fantastic setting that will set the heart-beat of any would-be mountaineer soaring. For other tourists there is the draw of fjord safaris, looking for whales and white-tailed eagles, and the island of Svinoya linked by bridge on the other side of the harbour.
Svinoya is covered with red-painted rorbu, and huge numbers of triangular hjell (mirroring the shape of the mountains) used for drying cod each winter to transform it into stockfish.
In the evening, there is also a museum in Svolvær, telling the story of the Second World War in the Lofoten Islands. It's a very busy, and fascinating, little museum. And why in the evening? Lots of towns along the Norwegian coast base their activities around the Hurtigruten ship timetable, Svolvær is no exception. Both the north-bound and south-bound ships call in the evening and for 3 or 4 hours the town is filled with Goretex-clad visitors eager to visit anything that's open.
Just south of Svolvær are the villages of Kabelvåg and Henningsvær. Kabelvåg known for its unique island cathedral and for a pair of museums, the Lofoten Museum telling the story of the islands themselves, and the Lofoten Aquarium telling the story of the waters around the islands.
Henningsvær sits a little further along the coast, on a little group of islands linked to the 'mainland' by high arching bridges. Henningsvær fits a lot of the Lofoten stereotypes. A collection of mostly red-painted wooden houses around a harbour filled with boats, with snow capped mountains behind, and racks of drying fish on almost every available piece of ground.
The one piece of ground exempted from fish drying around Henningsvær, is the football field, and it’s surrounded by fish racks rather than terraces for the supporters.
A few miles across the Vestfjord from Svolvær is the island of Skrova. This little islands claim to fame is as home to one of few remaining whaling boats still active along this bit of coast. The island is, like many around Lofoten, reliant on catching and processing fish. I did see the whale boat when I was visiting, and was relieved not to see it at work. The history of Skrova is told through the eyes, or more correctly the lenses, of local photographers in a wonderful exhibition called Tunnelsyn - Tunnel Vision - which really is in a (mostly unused) tunnel. It's a long time since I was encouraged to wear a hard hat to look at photographs.
My southern base in the Lofoten islands was the little village of Å (or Å i Lofoten, if you want be sure not to mix it up with other places called Å). This really is a small place. Especially out of season. There is somewhere to stay, the youth hostel. And if you’re prepared to walk the 3 km to the next village, Sørvågen, there is somewhere to eat. So why would you come to Å? You might come to visit the world’s only Stockfish Museum. You might come to visit the Fishing Museum. But for most people they come simply because it’s the end of the road.
The E10 starts at on Baltic Coast in Sweden in the town of Luleå, winds across northern Sweden and then into Norway where it comes King Olav V’s Road (as well as the E10). From the Norwegian border the road heads to Narvik before crossing the Tjeldsund Bridge and onto the Lofoten Islands. A network of tunnels and bridges carry the road through the islands to a final tunnel just outside Å, which provides a dramatically situated car park and turning circle. South of that are a few faint footpaths (not all suitable for the faint-hearted) up into the mountains but otherwise no way further south other than by boat.
Back up the road are a series of implausibly picturesque villages – at least they are when they are bathed in sunshine under blue skies and backed by snow-capped mountains.
Sørvågen boasts supermarkets, an excellent little restaurant and a telecommunications museum (at some times of the year). This unlikely museum is a nod to Norway, Lofoten and particularly Sørvågen’s place in telegraphic history. In 1903, just four years after Marconi demonstrated wireless communciations, there were large scale experiments going on Sørvågen providing communications to the outlying Lofoten Islands.
Both Moskenes and Reine have been built around natural harbours. Moskenes has a seasonal tourist office, a single restaurant and ferry connections to the Norwegian mainland, and Reine on its own little peninsula at the mouth of the Reinefjord. There are several isolated hamlets around Reinefjord, and the best (maybe only) way to see these and to explore the fjord is to hop on the little ferry that goes around the fjord two or three times each day delivering hikers, shopping and post as it goes. If you’re lucky you’ll also get a good look at the resident pod of orca that live in and around the fjord.
My second visit to Lofoten really did confirm my initial impression that this is a special place. The dramatic mix of mountains and fjords, of villages and harbours, combined with the clear, crisp air that gives the light a special quality makes Lofoten a wonderful place for photography. I'm certainly going to be back again. I've explored a few of the towns and villages but there are many more to explore.
I do think I'm going to need to do a little bit of personal expectations management about the weather ahead of my next trip. The odds on getting another couple of weeks to match the two I've just had must be pretty long.
My photo diary for the trip (on Blipfoto) starts on 3rd May when I arrived in Svolvær, and there is a selection of images from trip on Flickr too.
If you want to revisit my earlier trip which had more snow and more aurora but much less sunshine is elsewhere on Flickr.
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| Svolvær , February 2012 |
This time I arrived in Lofoten, after crossing the Vestfjord from Bodø, in bright sunshine. My plan (assuming typical island weather) had been to hire a car to provide both transport and shelter. The weather that appeared meant that the only shelter I really needed was a sun-hat, so I reverted to a boot-and-bus travel plan.
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| Rorbu on Svinoya |
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| Fish drying racks (hjell) on Svinoya |
In the evening, there is also a museum in Svolvær, telling the story of the Second World War in the Lofoten Islands. It's a very busy, and fascinating, little museum. And why in the evening? Lots of towns along the Norwegian coast base their activities around the Hurtigruten ship timetable, Svolvær is no exception. Both the north-bound and south-bound ships call in the evening and for 3 or 4 hours the town is filled with Goretex-clad visitors eager to visit anything that's open.
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| Lofoten Cathedral, Kabelvåg |
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| Harbour, Henningsvær |
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| Henningsvær |
| Tunnelsyn, Skrova |
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| Å i Lofoten |
The E10 starts at on Baltic Coast in Sweden in the town of Luleå, winds across northern Sweden and then into Norway where it comes King Olav V’s Road (as well as the E10). From the Norwegian border the road heads to Narvik before crossing the Tjeldsund Bridge and onto the Lofoten Islands. A network of tunnels and bridges carry the road through the islands to a final tunnel just outside Å, which provides a dramatically situated car park and turning circle. South of that are a few faint footpaths (not all suitable for the faint-hearted) up into the mountains but otherwise no way further south other than by boat.
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| Beyond the Road, Å i Lofoten |
Sørvågen boasts supermarkets, an excellent little restaurant and a telecommunications museum (at some times of the year). This unlikely museum is a nod to Norway, Lofoten and particularly Sørvågen’s place in telegraphic history. In 1903, just four years after Marconi demonstrated wireless communciations, there were large scale experiments going on Sørvågen providing communications to the outlying Lofoten Islands.
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| Reinefjord |
My second visit to Lofoten really did confirm my initial impression that this is a special place. The dramatic mix of mountains and fjords, of villages and harbours, combined with the clear, crisp air that gives the light a special quality makes Lofoten a wonderful place for photography. I'm certainly going to be back again. I've explored a few of the towns and villages but there are many more to explore.
I do think I'm going to need to do a little bit of personal expectations management about the weather ahead of my next trip. The odds on getting another couple of weeks to match the two I've just had must be pretty long.
My photo diary for the trip (on Blipfoto) starts on 3rd May when I arrived in Svolvær, and there is a selection of images from trip on Flickr too.
If you want to revisit my earlier trip which had more snow and more aurora but much less sunshine is elsewhere on Flickr.
Thank You
This was the first year I've taken part in Oxford Artweeks.
In past years I've visited (and shopped) at various Artweeks exhibitions, but this was the first time I've hung my own pictures up in Headington and invited folks in to see what I've been doing.
I've thoroughly enjoyed the experience, I've had lots of people dropping in to look at the pictures and to talk about both travel and photography. I've enjoyed hearing about other folks travel experiences to remote places (and some not so remote ones), and talking with them about where I've been. So, thank you to everyone who came along to look and particularly those who spread the word and encouraged others to visit.
I think the Outdoor Gallery was successful. It gave me somewhere to hang bigger pictures than I'd have been able to show inside, and it certainly did lure in people, who might not have otherwise come in, to have a closer look. It also provided a great place for push-chair visitors.
I'll be taking part in the pre-Christmas version of Artweeks on the weekend of 22nd & 23rd November, and I'll have more cards, calendars and other Christmas gifts on sale.
I'm still trying to decide if an outside gallery is a good idea in late November - I might need to sort out a suitable patio heater to lure folks in at that time of year.
Norway. There's an App for That.
| My Norway App collection |
Recently it's become more essential to add my phone to the 'must-have' list. This was particularly true on my recent trip to northern Norway - which was pretty much entirely managed via a collection of apps on my phone.
Pre-trip planning would certainly have been simplified using the Norway app from Visit Norway, if you want suggestions about where to go and when, and where to stay and what to do when you get there it's all in the app.
On this particular trip my flights with Norwegian between the UK and Norway were booked on their website, but after that all the check-in, boarding etc was done without a bit of paper being needed at any point. Actually that's not completely true. The automated bag drop does leave you with a small bit of sticky paper as a receipt. In the days of paper tickets and a person to sort out the baggage, this little of paper was stuck to the back of the boarding pass. I'm not sure where they think you might stick the bit of paper these days.
| NSB to Bodo |
Once I was in Norway my long distance travel was via NSB, the Norwegian rail operator. And again, although I'd booked the tickets via their website, I never actually needed a paper ticket. The 'ticket' just got picked up in the NSB app, and the conductor was able to check that the ticket was valid by just ensuring that the right image appeared on the phone screen.
The Norwegian app and the NSB app got me from the UK to northern Norway (in my case to Bodo, where the main NSB service comes to an end) without needing any paper.
At this point, since I was doing the trip around the Lofoten Islands entirely on public transport I switched to the wonderful 177Nordland app. I've no idea why the number 177 is involved, but the app knows where you are and if you tell it where (in Nordland) you want to go, it'll figure out the walking, bus and ferry stages involved and help you to ensure that you get to the right place at the right time. Once you're on the bus or ferry you do need to look up from the app to get your ticket. You can pay by cash but in most circumstances it's easy (and expected) to pay by credit card.
| Nordland to A |
While I was in Norway, almost all of my hotel accommodation for this trip was booked through Booking.com. And their app provided all the information I needed to find, or communicate with, my hotel before I got there.
I did use two other apps regularly on the trip, one from Hurtigruten so I could figure out which of their many boats I could see passing as they shuttle up and down the Norwegian coast, and the xe.com app to keep track of the money I was spending (although with an exchange rate so close to 10 Krone to the pound, conversion is hardly a major mathematical challenge).
The final app in my 'Norway' set is the NorwayLights app, also from Visit Norway. In the dark months this gives you an aurora forecast for where you are. In early May, northern norway is already getting at least 20 hours of daylight and no real darkness so the aurora isn't going to be visible. But I'm keeping the app ready for my next dark months trip to Norway.
My must-have list is now three items, phone, credit card and passport. I suspect the credit card will eventually be absorbed into the phone, and maybe one day there will even be a Passport app too, and then I can do everything on the phone.
I guess at that point the must-have list becomes just two items. The phone and the charger.
Do Come and Visit...
Having brushed the snow and ice off my Arctic boots, it's now time for Oxfordshire Artweeks.
For the next 10 days (starting on 17th May and running through to Monday 26th May), you can come and visit me to look at some of my recent images from cold and remote places.
I've got images from South Georgia and the Falkland Islands in the far South, and from Svalbard, Greenland, Iceland and the Faroe Islands in the North.
And of course there are pictures from the Shetland Islands.
There will also be some images from my latest trip - I've just spent a couple of weeks exploring the Vestfjord inside the Arctic Circle in northern Norway including a number of places in the Lofoten Islands.
Don't let the pictures fool you - it might have sunny in the Lofoten Islands, and close to 20 hours daylight each day, but the temperatures were usually not too far above freezing, and if it did rain, it was snow.
For more information www.artweeks.org/festival/2014/ross-mackenzie
There is lots of information about all the Oxfordshire Artweeks activities on www.artweeks.org and about the activities in Headington and Marston on headingtonartweeks.blogspot.co.uk
For the next 10 days (starting on 17th May and running through to Monday 26th May), you can come and visit me to look at some of my recent images from cold and remote places.
I've got images from South Georgia and the Falkland Islands in the far South, and from Svalbard, Greenland, Iceland and the Faroe Islands in the North.
And of course there are pictures from the Shetland Islands.
There will also be some images from my latest trip - I've just spent a couple of weeks exploring the Vestfjord inside the Arctic Circle in northern Norway including a number of places in the Lofoten Islands.
Don't let the pictures fool you - it might have sunny in the Lofoten Islands, and close to 20 hours daylight each day, but the temperatures were usually not too far above freezing, and if it did rain, it was snow.
| Svinoya, Svolvaer, Lofoten Islands |
| Reine, Lofoten Islands |
| May Bank Holiday Monday, Svolvaer, Lofoten Islands |
For more information www.artweeks.org/festival/2014/ross-mackenzie
There is lots of information about all the Oxfordshire Artweeks activities on www.artweeks.org and about the activities in Headington and Marston on headingtonartweeks.blogspot.co.uk
Walking and Wandering
This article about purposeless walking on the BBC website struck a chord with me.
I'd recently been thinking about how mentally refreshing walking around some of the remote headlands on Shetland was compared with, for example, rural walks around Oxfordshire, and was trying to figure why there was a difference.
I think the difference really comes down to how easy is to give your mind the opportunity to wander at the same time as you're giving your body the chance to wander.
When the space is open, as it often is on Shetland, it's possible to allow your mind to do it's own thing. You might need to make sure you don't wander off a cliff edge or fall into a bog but other than that you don't need to spend too much mental energy figuring out the route you should be following.
In a busy farming area, like Oxfordshire, you are going to be constrained by footpaths and field boundaries, and the signs intended to keep you in the right direction are unfortunately often very badly maintained or increasingly just missing. This means that you need to spend a lot of mental energy just doing the basics like figuring out where to go next and trying to ensure that you don't stumble into an irate, and occasionally, shot-gun-toting farmer.
I think this observation also leads me, when I'm in southern England at least, to seek out river-side or canal-side walks when I can. At least with a feature like a river or canal you can set aside some of the navigational overhead, and just let your mind meander.
The downside is that it can be a real challenge figuring out a circular walk based on a river or canal, but that's another problem altogether.
I'd recently been thinking about how mentally refreshing walking around some of the remote headlands on Shetland was compared with, for example, rural walks around Oxfordshire, and was trying to figure why there was a difference.
I think the difference really comes down to how easy is to give your mind the opportunity to wander at the same time as you're giving your body the chance to wander.
When the space is open, as it often is on Shetland, it's possible to allow your mind to do it's own thing. You might need to make sure you don't wander off a cliff edge or fall into a bog but other than that you don't need to spend too much mental energy figuring out the route you should be following.
In a busy farming area, like Oxfordshire, you are going to be constrained by footpaths and field boundaries, and the signs intended to keep you in the right direction are unfortunately often very badly maintained or increasingly just missing. This means that you need to spend a lot of mental energy just doing the basics like figuring out where to go next and trying to ensure that you don't stumble into an irate, and occasionally, shot-gun-toting farmer.
I think this observation also leads me, when I'm in southern England at least, to seek out river-side or canal-side walks when I can. At least with a feature like a river or canal you can set aside some of the navigational overhead, and just let your mind meander.
The downside is that it can be a real challenge figuring out a circular walk based on a river or canal, but that's another problem altogether.
West Side Story
There may not be many Sharks in the waters around Shetland, and precious few Jets frequent the runways at Sumburgh, but West Side Story seems to be a pretty good summary of the last few weeks on Shetland.
My intention had been to spend time exploring the northern extremities of Shetland. I did get as far far north as Gloup Ness at the top end of Yell, but I've spent more time exploring the west edges of Shetland.
I've revisited Eshaness, I've been back to Sandness, I've explored the far side of St Ninian's Isle and Fitful Head and I've walked at Fulga Ness and around Banna Minn. And of course I've spent time wandering Scatness.
One of the encouragements to venture west is the ever-changing Shetland weather. Rather strangely over the last couple of weeks the winds on Shetland have been very light, and it’s been rather easier than usual to walk some of the cliffs without fear of being buffeted over the edge.
The west side of Shetland is traditionally the ‘exposed’ side – the houses are usually oriented so that the door (often only one so that a through draught can’t cause havoc inside) is on the more sheltered east side. These western locations are also often very sparsely populated, and in some cases are just sites for lookout posts or a light houses, encouraging passing shipping to keep well away. The wild winds and the churning seas (carried the full power of the Atlantic Ocean along with them) have over the millennia blasted away any fragile rocks or vegetation, and every location is characterised by a storm-bound beauty.
Eshaness. The poster child of Shetland. Eshaness regularly pops up when a dramatic Shetland cliff-scape is required. The dumpy little lighthouse doesn’t need to be any bigger, it stands at the edge of a high cliff looking straight out to sea.
Fugla Ness. There are lots of light houses around the Shetland coastline. The well-known ones, the major lights, are the lighthouses at Sumburgh or Eshaness or Muckle Flugga. There are also a series of minor lights dotted around the coast too.
On Fugla Ness, one of the minor lights marks the route into Hamna Voe.
Banna Minn. At the southern end of the Burras, the narrow finger-shaped islands on the west side of Shetland, is the long curved sheltered beach at Banna Minn, the island on the south end of the beach includes one of the traditional Shetland boat-houses, a common 'second use' for boats that had passed beyond seafaring.
St Ninian’s Isle. A little south of the Burras is another of Shetlands iconic coast scenes, the tombolo at St Ninian’s Isle. When the tide is high the island become a real island, at low tides the double-sided beach offers waves from both north and south. If you venture round to the far side of St Ninian’s you’ll get a glimpse of a more rugged side of the island. The rocks fend off the waves that roll in from the Atlantic, the next bit of land to the west is the southern tip of Greenland about 1400 miles away.
Scatness. The southwest corner of Shetland, Scat Ness had traces of habitation back over 2000 years, and standing here with only the sea birds, seals and the occasional otter for company, it’s not hard to imagine that the landscape hasn't changed much over that time. Over the years a few walls, and small stone enclosures (called planticrubs) have been built, but the coast line probably hasn’t seen too many changes.
| Old Coastguard Lookout at Gloup Ness |
I've revisited Eshaness, I've been back to Sandness, I've explored the far side of St Ninian's Isle and Fitful Head and I've walked at Fulga Ness and around Banna Minn. And of course I've spent time wandering Scatness.
One of the encouragements to venture west is the ever-changing Shetland weather. Rather strangely over the last couple of weeks the winds on Shetland have been very light, and it’s been rather easier than usual to walk some of the cliffs without fear of being buffeted over the edge.
The west side of Shetland is traditionally the ‘exposed’ side – the houses are usually oriented so that the door (often only one so that a through draught can’t cause havoc inside) is on the more sheltered east side. These western locations are also often very sparsely populated, and in some cases are just sites for lookout posts or a light houses, encouraging passing shipping to keep well away. The wild winds and the churning seas (carried the full power of the Atlantic Ocean along with them) have over the millennia blasted away any fragile rocks or vegetation, and every location is characterised by a storm-bound beauty.
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| Eshaness |
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| Fugla Ness |
Fugla Ness. There are lots of light houses around the Shetland coastline. The well-known ones, the major lights, are the lighthouses at Sumburgh or Eshaness or Muckle Flugga. There are also a series of minor lights dotted around the coast too.
On Fugla Ness, one of the minor lights marks the route into Hamna Voe.
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| Banna Minn |
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| St Ninian's tombolo at low tide |
St Ninian’s Isle. A little south of the Burras is another of Shetlands iconic coast scenes, the tombolo at St Ninian’s Isle. When the tide is high the island become a real island, at low tides the double-sided beach offers waves from both north and south. If you venture round to the far side of St Ninian’s you’ll get a glimpse of a more rugged side of the island. The rocks fend off the waves that roll in from the Atlantic, the next bit of land to the west is the southern tip of Greenland about 1400 miles away.
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| Scat Ness |
There are more of these images online on Flickr, and they will also be part of my exhibition during Oxford Artweeks in the second half of May.
Adding to the blog
I've been building this site for about 10 years, over that time it's evolved from a place to just post pictures to having lots of thoughts and observations about travel and photography, and posts about the places I've visited. There are now over 600 posts and despite the Labels block on the left hand side, it's not alway easy to find things.
So, I've now added a couple of extra areas to the site - there are links in the page header.
Place Notes. These are notes about the logistics about getting to some of the places I've been to over the past few years. Currently there are notes about the Arctic and Antarctic places I've been to and links to blog posts about the areas.
Popular Posts. There's also a list of some of the more popular posts on the blog.
And I've added a new header too - this one is of Sumburgh Head in Shetland Islands taken from Scat Ness.
So, I've now added a couple of extra areas to the site - there are links in the page header.
Place Notes. These are notes about the logistics about getting to some of the places I've been to over the past few years. Currently there are notes about the Arctic and Antarctic places I've been to and links to blog posts about the areas.
Popular Posts. There's also a list of some of the more popular posts on the blog.
And I've added a new header too - this one is of Sumburgh Head in Shetland Islands taken from Scat Ness.
Changing Islands
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| Framing the Story |
In the second-half of May I'll be showing pictures at Oxford Artweeks.
I've regularly visited - and sometime bought at - other peoples exhibits at Artweeks in past years, but this is the first time I've committed to doing my own show.
One of the challenges in putting any collection together is finding a theme. At one level it's tempting to go with 'Really Nice Pictures I Have Taken' or 'Nice Places I've Been To', but while these might satisfy the photographer or artist putting the exhibition together it doesn't really do much for the visitor pitching up to see the pictures.
As I've been pulling together images for the exhibition, and based on experiences at the Jam Factory I'm going to have images in a range of sizes from 6 x 9 inches up to A1 (23 x 33 inches), I've been thinking about themes or stories that are going to mean something to people coming to look at the images
A while ago I decided that the broad theme was going to be "Islands", but within that I keep coming back to the idea of change within the various islands I've visited over the last few years. On many of the islands I've visited there is a tension between traditional activities and change.
On South Georgia the change at this point is all about habitat restoration.
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| Orca - never a whalers target, and still common around South Georgia |
The island of South Georgia was discovered (probably) in the 17th Century, but it didn't really make it onto the radar until the early 19th Century when it was regarded as a resource to be exploited - over about 100 years sealers and whalers did their best to kill pretty much all the (mammal) wildlife either on the island and in the waters around it. And the reality is that they didn't stop until it became uneconomic to carry on.
Once the exploitation stopped the whalers (who were the last to leave), just abandoned the islands and went back home. In recent years the push has been to help the indigenous wildlife recover.
The fur seals, who were driven close to extinction, have now reclaimed the islands and the beaches, and the penguins have also recovered very significantly. The whale populations haven't recovered, and despite the recent move to out-law commercial whaling in the Antarctic (under any label) it's unlikely that the whale population will ever recover to the level it was at in the early part of the 20th Century. On land, however, work is underway to return the island to close to its original state.
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| Abandoned whaling station, Stromness Bay |
Several of the whaling stations have been cleared completely, others have essentially been 'made safe', and the process of rewilding is happening.
Rats were introduced pretty much as soon as ships reached the island, and over many decades had caused great damage to ground nesting birds (in SG, trees are pretty thin on the ground, so ground nesting is a big deal). Over the last few years a project has been under-way to spread poison across the island to attempt to eradicate the rat population. There is limited window to do this work, which is only logisically possible because the island is currently divided, by glaciers, into manageable zones. Once global warming has forced the glaciers to retreat from the coastline, rats would have run of the island and any attempt at eradication would have been fruitless.
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| Reindeer, Ocean Harbour on South Georgia |
The second big project was to tackle a rather larger introduced species, reindeer. In the early 20th Century Norwegian whalers introduced reindeer to provide meat at the whaling stations. The landscape suited reindeer well, and when the whalers finally left in the 1960s the reindeer remained, and until recently roamed freely across the island. At one level there was probably a temptation to leave them alone (killing 'Rudolph' is a harder sell than announcing that rat eradiction is underway), but the increasing population was doing significant damage to the endemic plants so it was decided that it was the right time to cull the herd and allow the island to recover.
I'm interested to see how far it's going to be possible to return South Georgia to its original state - there are relatively few places in the word where this is even possible, South Georgia might be one of them.
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| Up Helly Aa, Lerwick |
In the Shetland Islands change has been a pretty common theme over the centuries. The islands, unlike South Georgia where there is no resident human population, have been populated for over 6000 years, and over that time have seen many changes. It's not clear what how rapid the changes were for the first 5000 years, but over the last 1000 they have been significant and accelerating. The Vikings undoubtedly 'encouraged' some changes (still celebrated in Up Helly Aa each winter). There was a fairly serious tussle between Norway and Scotland over ownership and Hanseatic traders were a big deal across the North Sea throughout the 17th Century, including allowing Shetlanders to become traders for the first time.
After 1707 there were still more changes. The blocking of Hanseatic trade brought significant depression to Shetland, as did the constant switching of land ownership and the occasional suggestion that Shetland should return to being a part of Norway.
Shetlanders have historically relied on the sea as, at least, a major part of their livelihood and that continued right through until the mid-1960s when the final few Shetlanders stopped doing the regular trips down to South Georgia for the whaling, and oil became a major aspect of Shetland life.
Oil brought huge changes to Shetland. It brought many incomers to the islands, the population jumped by about 5000 in a relatively short period of time, and many of these incomers (Sooth Moothers, since they arrive on the ferry through the South Mouth of Bressay Sound) and their families have stayed. The oil also brought huge amounts of development to the islands, from roads, to health centres, to leisure centres.
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| Camouflaged accommodation barge, Lerwick Harbour |
At the moment there is further wave of construction work underway to develop infrastructure around gas extraction in the North Sea off Shetland. That's brought a mini-boom all of its own. A new hotel has been built up near the new gas plant, and it feels like every harbour is filled with floating accommodation for the construction teams.
Not everyone is happy about the huge influx of temporary workers, but any anxiety around this is as nothing compared to the tensions around the proposed development of wind farms on Shetland.
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| Burradale Wind Farm |
There are a limited number of solitary wind turbines around the islands mostly powering single houses or farms, and one slightly more substantial wind farm (with five turbines) at Burradale just outside Lerwick. The tensions surround a proposal to build a wind farm with over 100 turbines about 15 miles north of Lerwick. This proposal has divided the island community and is being chased up and down the Scottish legal system at the moment. The other energy source that being explored, to take the place of oil and gas, is wave power.
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| Plenty of power in the Shetland Waves |
Shetland has plenty of wind, it's probably the weather feature that the visitor first notices when the car door gets ripped from their grip. The other natural, renewable, resource that Shetland has in abundance is wave and tide power. There is due to be an experimental wave turbine tested off the west side of Shetland, it certainly won't be as obvious as the wind turbines are but it is based on experimental technology. In the last couple of days I've also read about a suggestion that a hybrid bridge-tidal-turbine could be constructed across Bluemell Sound between Yell and Unst at the northern end of Shetland.
I think it's fairly inevitable that as oil and gas production ramp down we will see renewable resources come further to the fore. I wouldn't like to bet on whether that's going to be based on wind or water, but whichever it is, I'm guessing it's going to involve more change on Shetland.
Eshaness
I love the wildness of Esha Ness.
I don't think I've ever arrived at Esha Ness, and not immediately gone "wow". Sometimes at the car-door ripping strength of the wind and always at the sheer grandeur of the volcanic landscape.
If you stand at the Esha Ness Lighthouse - it's a little lighthouse, it can afford to be little since it's on top of a 200 ft cliff - and look out to sea, you feel like you are on the edge of the world.
If you look North, aside from the little bump that is Muckle Oss and Little Oss, there's nothing else in that direction, until you start going down the far side of the world
If you look West there's nothing until you hit the southern tip of Greenland.
Carry On Blipping
I was interested to find a paper this week from blippers Fotomatikus and EveF about Blipfoto and it's place in everyday routines, and it made me think about why I blip on a daily basis. It was particularly interesting coming just at the point when I had decided to sign up for life membership of Blipfoto.
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| Most Viewed Image |
So why blip? I'm using this as short-hand for taking and sharing a picture each day.
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| The Stuff of Dreams |
Aside from becoming a better (or at least more observant) photographer, there are two other reasons for blipping.
The first one is personal. Over the years the images, and in some cases the commentary, become a rich personal diary. If I'm asked about a particular day I will more often than not refer to the image from that day to jog my memory. The image may well tell me where in the world I was and what I was doing, but more than that the mood of the image (or words) may remind me what sort of day I was having. I've never been successful at keeping going with a traditional diary (although I do keep a travel journal when I'm away from Oxford), but an image-based journal seems to work for me.
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| Most 'Favourited' Image |
Blip provides a platform for sharing pictures with other people. The one image a day model keeps the playing field level. On platforms like flickr or twitter, which have no restrictions, quiet voices get flooded out. Yes, I have unfollowed people on twitter just because they tweeted too much, drowning out the other voices in the stream.
Within my Blip community there are a number of people whose images I look forward to seeing each day. Some live in interesting places, others have interesting lives and others are just good photographers. A few manage to score on all three counts. There are people I follow on Blipfoto who I've never met, but who I feel I know well, and I definitely appreciate the interaction, feedback and discussion from those who look at my photograph each day. And if someone I follow stops blipping without warning, I do worry about why.
I have no plans to give up blipping. If you’re passing, do drop in and see what I’m doing.Size Matters II
A theme seems to be emerging in my recent blog posts and conversations - it's all about size.
I blogged about moving to bigger prints for exhibitions (which is a good thing), I waxed lyrical about how modest my camera bag was, at least in comparison to Samuel Bourne's (again a good thing) and most recently I got into a conversation with a fellow photographer about big lenses.
In that conversation I found I kept coming back to the weight of kit that was involved. I did, at one time, have a 400 mm lens but kept leaving it behind because I didn't really want the extra weight that the camera represented or the big tripod that it demanded. Time after time I've found that I want to limit myself to kit that can be hand-held, and that doesn't require weeks of extra gym work before I can move it.
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| Nikon D700 |
So how would I rank the cameras, by weight or sensor size (which also reflects price)? By pixel count? Or by convenience, on the basis that the best camera is the one you have with you at the critical moment. Or perhaps we get into more esoteric measures like auto-focus or shutter response times. Is there anything more frustrating that pressing the shutter only to find that the event you want to capture has passed in the time it took the camera to respond?
My default behaviour so far, which perhaps reflects the financial investment, is that for serious photography I reach for one of the big cameras. The big camera and big lens is part of the uniform; big camera, he's a real photographer. Almost all the pictures I've taken for exhibitions or sales have been taken on the D700 or D200. The AW100 is for fun, wet photography on zodiacs or on windswept beaches. The V1 is for trips or outings when photography is incidental.
I think it's time to give the V1 a chance to compete.
If I look back through my daily pictures on Blipfoto, I see that since I acquired the V1 in late 2012, almost exactly half of my daily pictures have been taken on that camera. I first looked at the V1 when it came out in 2011, and decided that it was too expensive and didn't have a good enough range of lenses. A while later Nikon slashed the price just when I was looking for a compact-size camera that could take RAW images and I joined in, but have really just been using the V1 as a compact with the bundled 10-30 mm lens. There was a period of time when I thought the signs coming out of Nikon were that the 1 series was an experiment that wasn't going well. At that time further investment in the few 1 series lenses that existed didn't seem like a good move.
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| Nikon V1 |
So what’s the conclusion? I was right that bigger prints are better. It’s certainly true that having camera kit that doesn't need a team of porters to move it is better, but what about the camera and sensor?
The physicist in me says that bigger pixels should be better, i.e. the image quality should be better on a big 12MP sensor than on a small 12 MP sensor, but that an experiment to see what this means in actual use would be a good idea. The wimp in me says that a lighter camera would be better. The photographer in me says I need to get out and take pictures rather than think about sensor sizes.
So when I next head out to make pictures, I'm planning to concentrate on using the V1. I’ll be interested see the results.
Size Matters
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| Polar Bears,from the top A1, 24x16 inches in 50x70cm frame, 12x8 in 16x12 frame |
In the past I've tended to get prints made at either book size or a little bit bigger, and for the exhibition at the Jam Factory I had a lot of prints made up in12x8 inch formats. These images look good in a household setting, and when framed it's not too hard finding a suitable sized bit of wall space.
However, in an office or gallery setting, images at this size can look a bit lost, and when I came up with the idea of putting some images outside for my Artweeks exhibition, it forced me to think about bigger images.
First step was a small batch of images printed up at 24x16 inches - these work fine, and mount up nicely in standard 50x70 cm frames (always good to get a healthy mix of imperial and metric into the same project). But that still doesn't feel quite big enough for outside use.
Next step was to find someone to print up bigger images, and do them in a format that isn't going to need a big frame, and in a form that can cope with the vagaries of the British weather. The Artweeks exhibition isn't until May, but I'm not putting any bets on the rain having stopped by then.
After a bit of investigation I turned to printed.com in Northumberland. They've made up a set of A1 (840 mm wide) display boards for me, with the images printed directly onto a 3mm thick Forex substrate, then laminated.
These images look fantastic. The colours look really bright, the images are very sharp and on first test at least I think these will be able to cope with May showers in Oxfordshire. I think I've got space for four more images in my "outside gallery".
I wonder how much bigger I can go. Next step, renting an advertising hoarding somewhere?
Getting Closer
I've been experimenting with getting closer.
Over the last few days I've been picking some of the pretty faces from my wildlife collection.
When photographing wildlife I usually try and capture the whole creature so that the image includes some context or background along with the animal itself.
Sometimes this tells a complete story, why the animal is doing what it is. In other cases the image tells too much of the story, these close ups don't tell the whole story, they leave you to fill in the rest.
The images here will be part of the collection that I have on show during Oxford Artweeks in May 2014. If you really can't wait that long, and happen to be in Oxford, some of the these images are on show in Coco Noir - a splendid little coffee shop and chocolatier on the London Road in Headington.
The Atlas
Despite my pre-occupation with things digital, from pictures to e-books to audiobooks, I do have an unfortunate book buying habit.
My shelves are creaking under the rows of guidebooks, travel writing books, bird watching books and photography books. And atlases. The atlas collection ranges from 1898 through to 2010.
At one end of the collection is a copy of The XXth Century Citizen’s Atlas edited by J.G. Bartholemew in 1898, which includes countries from Abyssinia to Zululand, and there is a plate marked “British Empire”, with almost 11 million square miles shaded in the traditional pink. Further into the volume, the “South Polar Regions” plate includes the annotation “ANTARCTICA (Unexplored South Polar Continent)”.
Further along the shelf is The Oxford Home Atlas of the World, which has been on my various desks since it was a homework reference book in 1968. The list of countries in that volume runs from Afghanistan to Zambia, and there isn’t “British Empire” listed anywhere.
The next landmark, chronologically, is a concise edition of The Times Atlas of the World, this particular edition is dated 1996. Afghanistan still starts the list, but the end point is now Zimbabwe.
If I want a different perspective on the world there are a bundle of more esoteric volumes including an Atlas of World History and an Atlas of Victorian and Edwardian Britain, and more radically a copy of the Peters Atlas of the World, which claims to show ‘The Earth in true proportion for the first time”. This is a fantastic volume, and it really is refreshing to see the world in a different shape.
The newest atlas in my collection is also my favourite.
This atlas, published in 2010, isn’t one I’ll turn to as a reference when trying to figure where the latest international news story is happening, but it is one that I turn to when I want to be transported by my imagination.
The Atlas of Remote Islands by Judith Schalansky is delightful in so many ways. The author, who grew up in East German without the prospect of international travel, not only wrote the book she also designed every aspect of it right through to creating the font that has been used.
The subtitle of the book Fifty Islands I have not visited and never will perhaps gives a flavour of how travel was regarded behind the Berlin Wall. I often wonder whether the author has visited any of the islands listed in the book. Every time I look at the book I start to think about how I might get to some of the islands that are listed.
I don’t think I’ll get to all of the islands, but I can cross two off the list already, and hopefully I’ll get to a third one later in the year.
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| Two of the Fifty Islands, Ascension Island (left) and Deception Island. |
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