It’s not that I don’t like vacations. It’s that I don’t like the sort of vacations normal people like.
Normal people like to fly somewhere far away. So far away that the destination qualifies as exotic. So far away that one full day is forfeited to the act of traveling there, and a second is lost to jet lag recovery. Normal people, once acclimated to their destination, have a mere four days to experience whatever it is they hope to experience before losing two additional days to the return journey.
Normal people believe it would be an act of sacrilege to pay so much and travel so far without seeing everything they bookmarked in the guide book. So normal people fill their days with numerous pre-fab excursions — thus achieving freedom from the pressures of interpreting road signs, or figuring out which combination of indecipherable coinage constitutes “exact change” for toll road passages.
Normal people, having willingly traded all autonomy for the privilege of letting others do their thinking, are rarely given more than 20 minutes at any one tourist destination. That’s just enough time to file off the bus, walk up a hill, snap a few photos identical to those snapped by 50,000 other tourists that day, then file back onto the bus for the drive to the next destination.
None of this is anything I particularly enjoy. I prefer to absorb a place rather than simply gaze at it — an experience unlikely to be achieved in a mere 20 minutes, nor within a 100 meter radius of the parking lot.
When vacationing, all I want is to wander aimlessly, get purposely lost, and really experience my locale — the way it actually is, and not the version presented by the local tourism board. My fondest vacation memories tend to be those trips on which I’ve failed to visit a single tourist mecca.
This past winter, I vacationed in Iceland — a place where normal people don’t usually go in the winter. But destination and season not withstanding, my Iceland trip still contained a heaping helping of normalcy: tour buses, museums, architectural sites and regional activities all found their way into my four day sojourn in Reykjavik.
Normal people consider such vacations to be ideal photo opportunities. For some, it’s a chance to point their cameras at something other than themselves. For others, it’s a chance to place something more compelling in the background of their latest selfies.
But for me, such tourism is like a forced exile from photography. Pre-chewed, pre-sanctioned and pre-vetted photo sites are the antithesis of my own photographic tendencies. Each time I point my camera at one of these spots, a piece of my soul gets taken away. But being a photographer means that friends, family, coworkers and acquaintances expect me to take these photos. Even worse, they expect me to enjoy taking them. Obviously none of these folks are ULTRAsomething readers — or they would know I’d much rather photograph just about anything else.
To prevent myself from stumbling into a quagmire of photographic depression while dutifully photographing every hackneyed scene, I decided to counter each expected photographic maneuver with the unexpected; to muddle that which was clear; to yin every yang.
The most obvious yang to be yin’d was the witless snapping of vapid tourism shots. So every time I took a photo in the expected direction, I would turn and search for photo opportunities that might lie in the opposite direction.
The second most obvious yang to yin concerned photographic fidelity. Travel shots are expected to be vivid and colorful. So I brought along a sack of B&W Tri-X film and my Hasselblad Xpan to counter those expectations. But then, travel shots are also supposed to be sharp and dramatic, so I also brought the Olympus Pen EE–2 — a half-frame, fixed-lens, early–1960’s point-and-shoot film camera (a.k.a. “The Are-Bure-Boke-Matic”). It’s pocketable, impervious to the extremes of an Icelandic winter, and it’s pretty much incapable of rendering anything sharply or dramatically.
My plan worked perfectly. Unlike most vacations, in which I arrive home without a single soul-satisfying shot to commemorate it, I managed to escape Reykjavik with several shots that I actually liked. Not surprisingly, the majority of these were taken with either the Xpan or the Are-Bure-Boke-Matic, and with an idiosyncratic eye that’s firmly at odds with what normal people would consider “proper” travel photography.
Unfortunately, my collection of Reykjavik photos likely means I’ll fail to find any “takers” should I decide to lead a photographic workshop in Iceland. Which, strange as it sounds, is actually a workshop I’d quite like to host. Iceland is a truly beautiful country. It’s a place where a devout, anti-landscape photographer could find himself converting. But such religion is not to be found in the heavily photographed tourist sites. Instead, it’s within all the little things: a fence post; a gravel road; a sudden white out. All are things I witnessed from inside a small tourism van. And all are things I would have preferred to photograph instead of the eventual destination. It makes me want to go back and hire my own driver, who I will force to pull off the road at what, to most, would appear to be the most pedestrian of places.
An Iceland workshop for ULTRAsomething readers. Did Iceland’s gale force winds blow away too many of my brain cells, or is this something people would be interested in?
Part 2 of this article will switch direction, and discuss a topic more appealing to most readers: photo gear. Specifically, I’ll discuss my decision to pack some of the world’s most normal photographic equipment on my Iceland trip — discounting the Xpan and the Pen EE–2, of course.
©2015 grEGORy simpson
Not surprisingly, given this article’s directive, all the accompanying photos were taken on film — definitely not what normal people would do in 2015.
The first two photos in the article are a perfect example of “yinning the yang.” “Through the 5 O’Clock Slot, Hallgrímskirkja” is a shot of Reykjavik from the top of the stunning, expressionist Hallgrímskirkja church — the tallest building in Reykjavik. A popular tourist destination, one ascends an elevator to the top of its clock tower, leans out a little opening and snaps a shot of the city. Rather than taking great care not to include any of my surroundings in this shot, I chose to frame Reykjavik within the actual context of the clock tower itself. Grainy, blurry goodness compliments of having shot it with my Olympus Pen EE-2 half-frame camera, using Tri-X at ISO 400, which I developed in HC-110 (dilution H). “Downtown Reykjavik” is exactly the sort of shot a normal person would take from the clock tower — assuming said normal person was shooting a Hasselblad Xpan, fronted with a 45mm f/4 lens and loaded with Tri-X, which they exposed at ISO 400 and developed in their kitchen using a solution of Kodak HC-110 (dilution H).
“Traffic Jam, Iceland” was taken on the drive to our first “official” stop on a tour of Iceland’s southern shore. To me, this shot feels more indicative of the journey than anything I shot at one of the tourist destinations. As with all my Hasselblad Xpan shots, it used the 45mm f/4 lens (the only Xpan lens I brought to Iceland), and was exposed on Tri-X (the only film I brought to Iceland) at ISO 400 (the only film speed I shot in Iceland). Like all the Iceland photos, it was developed in HC-110 (dilution H).
“Leifur Eiriksson, Reykjavik” is, by far, my favourite shot from Iceland. Perhaps that’s because it’s the sort of shot you don’t have to travel to Iceland to take — meaning it’s purely a product of my own predilection. It was taken in front of the Hallgrímskirkja. While everyone was struggling with how to photograph such a tall building, I was gobsmacked to be the only one bothering to photograph this particular scene! It’s not panoramic, so you know it was shot with the half-frame Pen EE-2. Tri-X. ISO 400. HC-110 (H).
“Church, Hvolsvöllur Iceland” What can I say? You spend enough time in Iceland, you get a bit overly sentimental. Sorry about that. Xpan. 45mm f/4 lens. Tri-X at ISO 400. HC-110 (H).
“Implied Blue” was shot at the Blue Lagoon — the one place I swore that no one could pay me to visit. Turns out no one did pay me. I paid them. If I would have seen more shots like this one, I might have been more inclined to actually want to go. Pen EE-2. Tri-X. ISO 400. HC-110 (H).
“Roadside, Southern Iceland” is exactly the sort of scene that reveals itself continuously while you’re busy driving to someplace else. Frankly, I could spend hours just walking along the roadside, looking at the invisible sites, like this one. Xpan. 45mm f/4 lens. Tri-X at ISO 400. HC-110 (H).
“Driveway, Reykjavik” is, quite obviously, the yin to the previous photo’s yang. Rather than driving 100km for this photo, I simply walked outside the hotel and photographed its driveway. Pen EE-2. Tri-X. ISO 400. HC-110 (H).
By the way, if you experienced a profound sense of déjà vu while reading this article, there’s a very good reason: It’s not the first time I’ve discussed this very topic. Vacate Shun, written way back in 2010, touches on exactly these same travel-related photography issues — proving that I haven’t evolved one iota (and also that I don’t take vacations very frequently).
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Great images! Can’t wait for part 2.
Personally I enjoy visiting the tourist spots as well as the out of the way places. I think probably the out of the way places are more fulfilling to visit though as it feels a bit more adventurous.
I tend to plan my holidays quite extensively, but will often include places that look interesting on Google Earth rather than just places the tourist guide says you should visit. I also try to walk to locations as much as possible, often you’ll find lots of interesting things to photograph on the way.
Nice photos and article, by the way.
Egor, all I can say:
Slippery. Slope.
And it’s not all of that ice and snow. Those are some awfully beautiful images.
Don: Those images you mention — those would be the yangs.
Dave: All good advice. Alas, some of us aren’t fully “in charge” of our vacation plans. 😉
Hank: I’m not sure if you would be “flattered” or “creeped out,” but I actually thought about you in Iceland. Specifically, at one point I thought, “I wonder if Hank could find a way to grow grapes amongst all this ice and lava?”
Egor,
If ever you actually come up with an Iceland workshop… well, I’ll keep checking your web site.
Thanks for sharing your beautiful images.
Serge: Thanks for the kind words.
Surprisingly, I’ve received a few emails from people who’ve expressed interest in an ULTRAsomething Iceland workshop. I must admit, I’m a bit surprised. I mean, I’m the guy who takes an early 1960’s half-frame, fixed-focus, point-and-shoot film camera to Iceland — a place where most photographers feel the need for something closer to the Phase One end of the scale… But then, maybe that’s what would make this workshop unique. 😉
As always, love the images and the editorial even more so. If you ever visit Perth in Oz I can take you to many places like the ones above, but the temperature would be on the opposite end of the scale 🙂
Can’t wait for part II.
Brendon: Western Australia intrigues me — Alas, my “ruggedness” is but an illusion: I can endure most any type of cold weather, but anything north of 25 deg C, and my entire collection of vital organs go into “shut down” mode. Curiously, I have a few loyal readers in Perth… furthering my suspicion that too much heat does, indeed, cause manifest biological malfunction. 😉
You may be interested to know that this ex Canuck Ontario snow belt family moved to Western Australia some thirty one years ago as climatic exiles. Two years ago the females of the family decided to move to Tasmania. Again, mostly for climatic change reasons. Thirty years ago the average WA temperature was something close to your melt point of 25deg well now it’s much closer to 30 with weeks of 35 and higher topping out two summers ago with a few days at 41.
Tasmania is similar to BC in many respects…
BTW this correspondent has visited Rome three times but never got around to the colosseum!
“Instead, it’s within all the little things: a fence post; a gravel road; a sudden white out.”
I would agree that a sense of place comes from everyday incidental details, that no monument nor standard postcard can ever possibly fathom conveying.
If you think about it, that’s also what one can achieve when shooting in a mile-wide radius from home. Which would be the extreme yang to travel photography!
PS What a joy using the Hassy X-Pan. Only had the chance for a few days with a loaner from a friend some time ago. Makes you think differently, doesn’t it. Too bad that I was scanning the negs in two halves and stitching them in PS as I only have a 35mm Nikon scanner!
Hi Giovanni: Thanks for reading, and taking the time to comment! I think you’ve nailed exactly what it is that makes vacation photography so difficult for me — it’s because 99% of my photography is, indeed, shot within a mile-wide radius of my home. Having to hunt for photos is, for me, where much of the fun and challenge comes from. Having photos suddenly “gifted” to you when vacationing just seems like “cheating.”
The X-Pan is a fabulous camera. It’s funny — I’ve been shooting it for two years, and photos from it have populated dozens of my articles, yet I still haven’t written any sort of “review.” I think it’s because I still consider myself a panoramic noobie. I really feel like I haven’t even scratched the surface of what this camera is capable of doing. By the way, like you, I’m also doing the “shoot 2 frames, then stitch ’em together in Photoshop” routine. When I was using the Plustek, this was rather painful (since the Plustek’s negative holder has plastic bars spaced at standard 35mm distances). However, now that I do all my “scanning” with a digital camera, it’s no longer onerous to work this way (since I don’t have to re-position the negative to scan both halves).
Hey, always a pleasure reading you!
On locatravel photography (fits well with a locavore philopsophy that I think we should all try and foster): you are right, it’s more challenging in a sense, but what’s good is that it pushes you harder, and over time it also builds a perhaps meaningful body of documentary work, even if you don’t think of it as such. Individual images are not as strong as good sets.
Ha, no more scanning? I’ve not tried to play with ‘shoot the negative’, perhaps I should revise the mental perception that it requires precise setups and macro lenses? What set up do you use? Consider that I dropped PS at version 2, I’m Lightroom-only since LR3 came out! And my digital gear is street-oriented, not exactly good for shooting insects nor little acetate rectangles… Still, I have tons of pre-digital work that I’d love to bring back to life, and no winter has been dark and rainy enough to give me the motivation to spend hours feeding the Nikon scanner as required. I’d rather be shooting new stuff!
Happy Easter by the way,
Giovanni
Egor,
I like the article and the images are wonderful – the xpan format is great for ‘telling a story’ and I think as a film maker you like that.
Have you ever tried processing in ‘lith chemicals’ – you can get beautiful tones depending on your paper.
David F
Hi David:
I must admit I haven’t slid down the “lith” slide yet. Though I certainly see the appeal. I’m still desperately trying to avoid a whole other slope: photogravure.
Oh, and you’re the first person who’s ever referred to me as a “film maker” — a term I’m rather certain would be vociferously protested by any and all real film makers. 😉
Oh by the way. Even without an X-Pan one can in theory do 24*65 format images, just a matter of cropping to that size. But, don’t know about you, I just hate cropping, period. I need the camera to tell me what format I’m shooting!
Only reason why I would still be tempted to get a used 501 (not the Levi’s!) and play with square format… or that XPan to go widewide!
i always await your next ultrasomething post, it is so well written and the pictures are always a perfect match for your, may i call, “philosophy of life”.
A philosophy that i am very fond of.
I will never be able to fund a ultrasomething workshop to Iceland. But if you guarantee a workshop for the ‘not normal’, i will gladly start saving now.
Very nice article!
I like this. Reconfirms my view that you have an exceptional eye and aesthetic.
Your commentary reminds me of a good book you might enjoy if you haven’t already – Alain de Botton’s The Art of Travel.
Great article, and one I tend to agree with. I get off the beaten path when I travel.
Just thought I would link to a photographer I know who visited Iceland this past winter, and came back with some stunning elemental images. It has made me want to visit Iceland in the worst possible winter weather.
http://www.thomasstanworth.com/album/south-iceland-land?p=1?p=1#1
and
http://www.thomasstanworth.com/album/south-iceland-sea?p=1#1
An interesting read which sent me off to Lightroom to remind myself of the few rolls I shot with a Pen EE2 before I sold it. Some were truly awful and a few were worthwhile. Perhaps I should have kept it as a lo-fi counterpart to an RZ67. But … 72 frames … that means a long wait before processing.
Hey Shaun
I believe there’s no such thing as the worst possible winter weather in Iceland. It’s like in Egor’s photos Yin every yang (Part 2): the weather can change every 5 minutes. I was there twice – OK, in May and August but that’s only because there are (were?) no direct flies in winter from my country- and it was really like that: sun, rain, hurricane, sun, rain, hurricane. So going there any time you choose will be fruitful.
Egor, you sound like my kind of photographer.
When we go on a vacation, we only know the itinerary of arrival and departure from the airport — all the rest is ad hoc. Nothing is planned. We have no reservations or expectations. We just point on the map and say, “That looks interesting, let’s go there.” Those are the very best vacations.
Our photos are usually devoid of the usual tourist trappings and even tourists (however, I’m envious of your people photography and wish I had the nerve and eye to do the same). And — always — it’s enjoyable to look forward and backward for image inspiration.