Nature photography is a wide range of photography taken outdoors and devoted to displaying
natural elements such as landscapes, wildlife, plants, and close-ups of natural scenes and textures.
Nature photography tends to put a stronger emphasis on the aesthetic value of the photo than other
photography genres, such as photojournalism and documentary photography. [1]
"Nature photography" overlaps the fields of -- and is sometimes considered an overarching category
including -- "wildlife photography," "landscape photography," and "garden photography".[1]
Nature photographs are published in scientific, travel and cultural magazines such as National
Geographic Magazine, National Wildlife Magazine and Audubon Magazine or other more specific
magazines such as Outdoor Photographer and Nature's Best Photography. Well known nature
photographers include Frans Lanting, Galen Rowell, Mark Gray, Eliot Porter and Art Wolfe.
TYPES OF NATURE PHOTOGRAPHY
Wildlife photography is all about capturing animals in their natural habitats. The animals are often
photographed in action, such as eating, fighting, or in flight,. Alternatively, more static portraits may
be used to show detail of the animal or to depict it in its environment. Captive or controlled animals
are often photographed instead of true wild specimens, although it is arguable as to whether this
constitutes true wildlife photography.
The world's largest photography organisations, the Photographic Society of America, the Fédération
Internationale de l'Art Photographique and the Royal Photographic Society have agreed on a
definition for nature and wildlife photography that will be applied to photography competitions.[2] The
techniques of wildlife photography differ greatly from those used in landscape photography. For
example, in wildlife photography wide apertures are used to achieve a fast shutter speed, freeze the
subject's motion, and blur the backgrounds, while landscape photographers prefer small apertures.
Wildlife is also usually shot with long telephoto lenses from a great distance; the use of such
telephoto lenses frequently necessitates the use of a tripod (since the longer the lens, the harder it is
to handhold). Many wildlife photographers use blinds[3] or camouflage.
The macro photography article explains close-up photography in general; however, this is also a
type of nature photography. While common macro subjects – bees, dragonflies, and so on – could
be described as wildlife, their world also makes for good photography.
Many photographers record images of the texture in a stone, tree bark, leaf, or any of other small
scenes. Many of these images are abstract. Tiny plants and mushrooms are also popular subjects.
Close-up nature photography doesn't always need a true macro lens; however, the scenes here are
small enough that they're generally considered different from regular landscapes.
Mastering the art of macro photography in nature takes time and patience, but
knowing the when, where and how of the art will increase your chances of
finding fascinating subjects and creating successful images. For photographers
who are limited on time and budget for traveling, close-up photography offers
unlimited opportunities near home—or even at home. I have four parks within
20 minutes of my home with an abundance of great subjects, and my backyard
has been designed with flowers and plants that attract live subjects like
butterflies, dragonflies and other small critters. The cost includes just a little
gas, park passes and resource books to identify the flowers, plants and bugs
you have selected to photograph.
Throughout the four seasons, the life cycles of the flowers, plants and insects
vary from month to month, and even by days with some subjects. Part of the
fun of close-up work is not only photographing subjects but also learning
about the ever-changing environments and subjects that we seek out. When
not out shooting, we can be researching and learning about nature within our
geographic area, which expands the fun of photography.
Our time as photographers is limited by work schedules and family activities,
making it a challenge to find time to shoot. As a close-up photographer, you
have the advantage of being able to photograph at any time of the day. Unlike
landscape and wildlife photographers, who are often restricted to the ideal
light of early morning and late afternoon, macro photographers can effectively
control the available light at any time of day with diffusers and reflectors.
When To Shoot Macro Photography
With the constantly changing environment each month throughout the year,
we have an amazing variety of subjects to photograph. The tiny landscapes of
the macro world are shifting by the minute, and knowing when to be in the
field at the right time is key to your success. Springtime brings us woodland
wildflowers, and open fields produce the taller summer and fall flowers. Some
wildflowers will bloom for long periods of time, while others bloom for only a
few days or at certain hours of the day.
Books about the life cycles of the wildflowers, plants and insects of your region
will provide information regarding nature’s timetables to help you be in the
field at the right times. There are many online resources, and local nature
centers that have websites will also have helpful information. Or contact your
local nature center, where the naturalist on staff will be more than happy to
answer any questions you may have.
The seasonal cycles of the wildflowers, plants and insects will vary by region
throughout the country. For example, in my state of Michigan, the transition
of the fall colors of leaves progresses in sequence from the upper peninsula to
the northern lower peninsula, followed by the southern lower peninsula.
Network with local nature photographers who may be able to help with
timeframes for subjects in your area.
At daybreak of cool summer mornings, for example, with temps in the upper
40s to low 50s, dragonflies and butterflies will be frozen in place as the cold
lowers their body temperatures, preventing them from flying away as you
approach and set up your tripod to shoot. Just find a field in the daytime
where lots of these critters are flying around, and check out those same fields
on cool mornings and search them out in the tall grasses.
In my northern region, the month of December will start to produce ice
formation at the edge of small streams in the woods, creating amazing abstract
patterns in the ice, and as the ice thickens, the patterns are lost as the ice turns
a solid white. Taking the time to learn the timetables of the natural world near
you will increase the frequency of success.
Where To Shoot Macro Photography
Learning where to shoot is as important as learning when to shoot. I travel a
lot with my photography business and almost everywhere I go, I’m able to find
a local park, nature center or botanical garden in which to shoot. Wherever
you live, there should be places you can shoot. If you are not aware of places
close to you, just do a Google search for parks, nature centers and botanical
gardens near your location.
The best way to learn where to find subjects is just to get out once or twice a
week and explore the local forest and fields. Keeping detailed notes about
where interesting subjects were found will prove to be an important and useful
resource for future shoots in the years to come. I’ve learned about the varied
environments in my area, and each month I know what subjects are emerging
and in what locations.
I also search beaches for feathers, shells and sand patterns created by wind.
Swamps have unique plant life, and ponds attract wildlife like frogs, turtles
and dragonflies. Open fields are where you find lots of insects for macro work.
Flowers can be found in both woodland areas and open fields. If you are lucky
enough to have a botanical garden near you, they generally offer a wide variety
of flowers and plant life from different ecosystems. Some botanical gardens
have a greenhouse allowing you to shoot in all weather, and some will have
both indoor and outdoor areas.
How To Shoot Macro Photography
Close-up and macro photography is much different than other forms of nature
photography, because subjects can be within inches of our cameras. Any
digital interchangeable lens camera will work fine for macro photography. My
most successful image that I have produced was shot with a Fujifilm S2—a 6-
megapixel camera—back in 2004, which was generations ago in the digital
age.
Matching the right macro lens with the subjects you plan to shoot is very
important. True macro lenses come in fixed focal length and have a 1:1
magnification ratio that, when shooting at the minimum focusing distance,
you can reproduce the life size of the subject you are shooting onto your
camera’s sensor. The most popular macro lens focal lengths run from 60mm
up to 180mm. The lightweight and compact size of a 60mm lens makes it good
for handheld shots and when shooting stationary subjects, but because this
lens has a short working distance—meaning you must get close to your subject
—it is not a good choice for shooting live subjects that may flee as you move in.
A mid-range focal length lens of 90mm like the one I use is a good all-purpose
lens that will handle most macro photography situations. It does a great job
blurring backgrounds for my flower and bug portraits. For the long-range
telephoto macro lenses, the most popular is the 180mm lens. This lens gives
you the most working distance between you and your subject, and is best for
shooting live subjects and reaching out farther to capture subjects at a
distance.
In the past few years, lens manufacturers have been producing wide-range
zoom lenses with close-up capabilities. I use a Tamron 16-300mm, which
gives me a wide-angle 16mm if I want to show the environment in which I’m
shooting, and a 300mm telephoto range for reaching out and capturing a frog
in a pond or ice abstracts at the edge of a stream. These lenses are not true 1:1
macro lenses, but they are getting closer with each generation; the Tamron 16-
300mm, for example, is a 1:2.7, which will photograph an area as small as
1.5x2.5 inches, covering 90 percent of what I shoot as a close-up
photographer.
Depth Of Field In Macro Photography
When I ask macro photographers what are they struggling with, the answer is
always depth of field, or how much of the subject will be in focus. Deciding
what aperture to choose for the right amount of focus within the subject is
always a challenge to new macro photographers. For subjects where
everything in the composition is interesting and every part of the image is
worthy of full focused details, I set my aperture in the range of ƒ/22 to ƒ/32.
The majority of my portfolio’s images are shot in this style. If I have a subject
where I only want a small portion in focus and a nice soft focus on the rest of
the subject and blurred into the background, I will use apertures in the ƒ/2.8
to ƒ/8 range.
To gain confidence with how much depth of field affects the focus in an image,
shoot one subject at all apertures of your lens, and then analyze how each
aperture changes the amount of focus. Confusion regarding the relationship
between depth of field and apertures is reduced by remembering that the
larger the ƒ-stop number, the larger the amount of focus in the subject, while
the smaller the number, the smaller the amount of focus.
Having control of your aperture is the most important part of macro and
close-up photography. You can set your aperture using your camera’s manual
mode or aperture priority mode. If you shoot in manual mode, you will also
have to choose your shutter speed, but if you are not comfortable setting your
shutter speed manually, aperture priority will set the shutter speed for you.
Either way works fine, but make sure you are the one setting the aperture and
not letting the camera choose.
With macro, we are shooting at a high magnification, so a steady camera is
critical for sharp images. I always use a tripod. I do know some macro
photographers who hand hold their cameras when they shoot, but I’m not
steady enough to hand hold. As far as lighting, I never use a flash system, and
95 percent my images have been shot with natural available light, but I have
on a rare occasion used a small LED light for a little fill.
Can a realistic landscape photograph be creative? I think the answer is yes, but
only if you have a clear understanding of what creativity really means. For a
landscape photographer, creativity doesn't emerge, fully formed, from the
void. It emerges when the photographer makes a new, unexpected, but
suddenly obvious connection between bits of seemingly unrelated knowledge
already stored in that photographer's head. Unlike painters and novelists,
landscape photographers can't sit in a darkened room, conjure an image or
story out of nothing, then put their vision down on canvas or the printed page.
Landscape photographs must be grounded in reality.
Creativity in landscape photography is founded on knowledge of the terrain
where the photographer plans to shoot, coupled with an understanding of key
concepts in atmospheric optics, geography, astronomy, botany, meteorology
and psychology.
Knowledge of the terrain lets photographers focus their efforts on the
land's most dramatic and iconic features.
Understanding atmospheric optics, the science of light, allows
photographers to predict the most vivid displays of alpenglow, where rainbows
will appear and how polarizers will interact with reflections.
Understanding geography helps photographers observe how the angle of
sunrise and sunset varies throughout the year.
A study of astronomy lets photographers predict where to go to shoot
moonrise and moonset, the Milky Way, meteor showers, star trails and lunar
eclipses.
A bit of botany assists in refining your search for wildflowers.
The basics of meteorology help you plan shoots and anticipate what may
happen next.
Understanding how our visual system processes high-contrast scenes
can help you create better photos of dramatically lit subjects.
Clearly, mastering the technical features of your camera is just the first step
toward becoming a creative landscape photographer.
We tend to think of creativity as some kind of magical talent that only a few
gifted people possess. This mistaken understanding can easily lead
photographers to believe that they can never be creative. But as Roger von
Oech, author of A Whack on the Side of the Head: How You Can Be More
Creative, has pointed out, creativity is usually founded, first and foremost, on
a broad and deep knowledge of a subject. Even the landscape painters I know
often use a photograph as a starting point, and the best novelists are usually
acute observers of human nature and the society around them.
As von Oech puts it, "Knowledge is the stuff from which new ideas are made.
Nonetheless, knowledge alone won't make a person creative. I think that we've
all known people who knew lots of facts and nothing creative happened. Their
knowledge just sat in their crania because they didn't think about what they
knew in any new ways. Thus, the real key to being creative lies in what we do
with our knowledge."
It's important to distinguish a creative image from one that's merely different.
Different is easy; creative is hard. An image that's merely different leaves the
viewer puzzled about why you made it. A creative image is one that feels fresh
and new, yet oh-so-right.
Creativity In Action
Let's look at an example of creativity in action. One day in July, my wife Cora
and I were day-hiking in the Indian Peaks Wilderness. Around noon, we
reached a stream. In the flat midday light, the stream seemed unremarkable.
As I looked down the valley past Lake Isabelle, however, I noticed that I could
see the plains 6,000 feet below, framed by the steep valley walls. I used a
compass to measure a bearing to the plains: 80 degrees. I already knew that at
the latitude of Colorado, the angle of sunrise varies from an azimuth of 58
degrees to 121 degrees—a difference of over 60 degrees. If I came back at the
right time of year, the sun would rise into the V-shaped gap formed by the
valley walls. That, in turn, meant that the ordinary-looking stream at my feet
would be bathed in warm, moment-of-sunrise light. And not only that: I knew
from my study of atmospheric optics that the color of that light could be even
richer than the light of a sunrise out on the plains. Here's why.
On a clear day, the light at sunrise and sunset is warm because it has followed
a long path through the atmosphere. During its journey, blue light scatters out
of the beam, while red light travels straight ahead. The longer the path, the
greater the selective sorting of wavelengths. The path followed by light
reaching my stream would be exceptionally long because the horizon was
much lower than my subject. Sunrise light would enter the atmosphere, skim
the earth's surface somewhere out in eastern Colorado, then rise back up
through the atmosphere and trace intricate gold patterns on the flowing water.
That extra path length—from the point in eastern Colorado where the light
skims the surface to my subject—would make the sunrise light even more
vibrant than the same sunrise viewed from the plains. This principle of
atmospheric optics explains why tall mountains that rise abruptly above
nearby plains can get such amazing light, as shown in Fig. 1.
When I got home, I checked the Photographer's Ephemeris
(photoephemeris.com) and learned that the sun would rise at an azimuth of
80 degrees around September 1. I returned to the stream at sunrise three
times before coming up with the image I call "Sunrise Above Lake Isabelle."
Unlocking Creativity
In his book, von Oech discusses a number of mental locks on creativity. One of
the most relevant for landscape photography is the notion that there's only
one right answer, a belief that was pounded into us by a dozen years of
classroom test-taking. When composing landscape images, however, it's often
the second, third or tenth right answer that actually will be the most evocative.
Take a look at the series of images I made of a cornice on Black Face Mountain
near Telluride. I discovered this corniced knoll in late afternoon, but the
cornice face was already in shade, so the light didn't reveal the cornice's form
effectively (Fig. 2). I tried again at sunset, but by then the entire knoll was in
shade (Fig. 3). I returned in the morning, when the light did reveal every
graceful curve of the sculpted snow, and shot an overall image of the knoll
(Fig. 4), but the composition seemed unfocused, with too many elements that
weren't contributing to my main idea. I drilled down further and tried again
(Fig. 5), but the boring region in the middle of the frame made me step about
three feet left, which put the most interesting elements closer together and
allowed me to produce my favorite image of this cornice (Fig. 6).
Another mental lock on creativity is the notion that play is frivolous. As von
Oech points out, "Necessity may be the mother of invention, but play is
certainly the father." Play comes naturally to children, but it can be hard for
adults to adopt a playful attitude. One stumbling block is the feeling, again
reinforced by years of test-taking, that mistakes are always bad. A child at play
isn't thinking in terms of right and wrong answers; she's simply engrossed in
the game.
Think of mistakes as the way you learn what to try next, not as shameful
failures. Even success, narrowly conceived, can have its downside. Not making
many mistakes? It could mean you're really good—or it could mean you're
missing opportunities by not being aggressive enough about trying new things.
Success can also lead eventually to failure if it causes you to repeat your
successful ideas endlessly, using similar ideas and compositions every time
you go out. As a Colorado photographer, I have many images of a clump of
columbine or a grove of aspen with a mountain in the background. Do I really
need anymore? Only if I can articulate a reason why the new shot is somehow
different or better than what I already have.
For me, play often takes the form of asking "what if" questions. Here's an
example. I first became interested in photographing flowing water at sunrise
when I saw Galen Rowell's photograph of a stream flowing into California's
Lake Tahoe. I began studying topographic maps of Colorado's Front Range,
looking for streams and waterfalls that could get moment-of-sunrise light.
Columbine Falls, on the eastern flank of Longs Peak, seemed promising. After
shooting sunrise at the falls five times, positioning myself each time alongside
or above the falls, I finally noticed that the lower step of the falls actually
flowed over a large overhang. What if I could find a way to get behind the
falls? What would that look like at sunrise?
When I returned to the falls, I used a large umbrella to protect my 4x5 field
camera as I inched as close to the cascading water as possible. I called the
resulting image "Roaring Fork Sunrise."
Here's another way to get the creative juices flowing. Instead of simply
searching for beauty, look for the iconic image, the single frame that sums up a
complex whole. For example, what would an iconic image of Rocky Mountain
National Park look like? Maybe an image that includes Longs Peak, the
highest and most dramatic peak in the park, a bull elk and the alpine tundra
that covers dozens of square miles of the park's highest elevations. After
several days of scouting and shooting along the Ute Trail, I came up with "Bull
Elk and Longs Peak."
Or try this approach: Look for images that serve as metaphors. I've often
thought of mountaineering as a metaphor for the human condition. It
embodies in concrete form the way we reach for the sky, yet can only climb so
high. In 2006, I began working on a series of images I hoped would capture
the exhilarating, humbling and awe-inspiring experience of being a tiny speck
on top of the world. Seven years later, I finished shooting sunrise from the
summit of all 54 of Colorado's 14,000-foot peaks. "Sunrise from Mt. Wilson" is
one of my favorite images from the series.
Four Stages Of Creativity
In A Whack on the Side of the Head, von Oech distinguishes four stages of
creativity: explorer, artist, judge and warrior. In the explorer phase, you're
actively scouting an area, searching for great foregrounds, watching the way
the light plays across the landscape at sunrise and sunset, and seeking out the
area's scenic climaxes. You're also learning everything you can about the craft
of photography and the many scientific disciplines that will help you
understand the natural world and how we perceive it. In the artist phase,
you're trying to put together all those disparate bits of knowledge in a way that
your viewer will find new, surprising and innovative, not just random and odd.
Once you have a new idea, you need to don your judge's robes. Is this idea
really going to work? If the answer is yes, it's time to steel yourself for battle
because you may have to fight to create the image you see in your mind's eye.
You may need to fail over and over again before you succeed. Each try may
require getting up hours before sunrise or staying up until the wee hours of the
morning. Many great ideas are stillborn because the creator didn't fight to
bring them to life. Commit the time and energy required to bring your best
ideas into the world, and the result will be truly creative landscape
photographs.
Glenn Randall's most recent books are The Art, Science, and Craft of Great
Landscape Photography (Rocky Nook) and Sunrise from the Summit: First
Light on Colorado's Fourteeners (Farcountry Press). See more of his work,
sign up for his monthly newsletter, read his blog and learn about workshops
at glennrandall.com.
BUILDING STORIES
A picture is worth a 1000 words. A truism if there ever was one. While all
images tell a story some do it far better than others. Why is this so? If we
create images not only for our own enjoyment but also for the enjoyment of
others then it is necessary to make those visual stories the strongest possible.
An image that does not contain a strong story loses its distinctiveness and is
visually relegated to the "ordinary" category.
To enhance the visual appeal of an image, we need to push beyond the concept
of a photograph as simply a slice of time or a visual document. This is where
our imagination comes into play as it transcends these concepts to create the
idea or story point of the image you will try to construct in the camera.
Photography and reality have been inextricably linked since its inception, but
we have come to understand that the definition of the reality created in a
photograph is rather arbitrary.
Whether creating or looking at a photograph, both photographer and viewer
utilize their imaginations to formulate their own interpretations. Our
imagination tends to produce the strongest images when it is triggered by
strong emotional responses. We all have emotions and a compelling image can
pull them from us in the same way a moth is pulled towards a flame. This is
the magic of an image that tells a story. As the creators of visual works, our
challenge is to turn our photography into the art of transforming a simple
image into a story — a story that can speak to the minds and imaginations of
those who look upon our work. Producing an image that does this well
requires that we create a composition that first draws the viewer's attention to
the story and then allows them to be influenced by the pictorial narrative.
This starts with the need to keep the composition as simple and as visually
uncluttered as possible. One of the benefits that come from the use of
simplicity is the development of a narrative. Eliminate just enough visual
information and the viewer will try to determine what happened before and
what happened after the picture was created.
Determining what to use in a composition is first influenced by our
perceptions of the contents of the world around us. How we perceive a scene is
a function of how our brains process the visual information coming from our
eyes. The result of this processing is that we perceive images and subjects as a
whole rather than in parts. This method of processing has a direct impact on
our photographic creativity as we interpret a scene based on the results of our
brains combining the "parts" and giving us a visual "whole." While this is what
we may see, what we are really responding to is the parts, the building blocks
that came together to make the whole. As creative artists it is imperative that,
as we visualize, we become aware of the components that really make up the
scene before us. These visual elements: line, shape, texture, color, etc. are to
photography what grammar is to language. Without an understanding of the
former you cannot have the latter or at least one that can be understood.
It is difficult for us to abstract down to such parts as we are taught to see the
obvious. This can take some effort as we filter out much of what we see and
hear, reducing the incoming stimulus to our senses so that we are not overly
distracted. In many ways this is not such a bad thing—it's important to be
aware of one's environment, but you don't need to process every detail, just
the most important ones. While it is important to place labels on things to help
us identify what it is we are seeing, this simple act of labeling begins to limit
our awareness of the essence of the thing we have labeled.
To enhance our creativity it is important for us to see through the obvious in
order to understand the nature of a subject or scene, for it is that essence that
really stirred our interest to begin with. You will also find that by turning off
the filters you will begin to see your world with a new set of eyes. Plain,
ordinary subjects like a plant surrounded by water can become marvelous to
behold and fodder for the creative imagination.
If photographing subjects such as a cityscape, we need to look beyond the
gross forms or shapes of the buildings and become aware of the fact that they
also consist of more subtle design elements that are much less tangible and in
some cases not even material. These elements are what combine to give
substance and character to the subject as a whole. These must be the real
building blocks of your composition as they are the true essence of your
subject or theme and end up playing a greater role in determining a
composition's visual strength or weakness than the gross forms of which they
are a part.
This is evident in the Queen Anne's lace image. At first glance it is a tall plant
covered with white blooms that umbrella out from the ends of the stems.
While the large mass of white was the first thing I saw, it was the graphic array
of lines that was the real essence of the scene. Photographing upwards against
a cloudy sky and overexposing two stops visually removed the obvious and
emphasized the merely obvious. The result was a graphic element-based
image that was visually stronger than one of the overall plant.
Another downside to being conditioned to see only the obvious is that we tend
to ignore aspects of a scene that have no physical properties. These aspects
generally come in the form of tones—shadows and glare spots—or colors.
Ignoring these physical intangibles can lead to images with unwanted
distractions in the composition. Being aware of them though can create the
option of choosing how to use them as part of the compositional design. Take
a look at the image of the Gentoo penguin and its shadow. While the shadow
has no physical properties it has visual properties that our brains treat as
physical entities. Knowing this, I deliberately went about creating an image
that made use of the shadow's design properties.
Perceiving these visual elements early in the creative process helps us to make
decisions concerning perspective, use of space and relationships, as well as
which focal length and depth-of-field to use. They become the building blocks
we use to construct the image in the camera that our imagination has already
created in our minds. Effectively combining the right set of design elements
allows a viewer to process the visual information contained within just as if
they were viewing the scene directly, just without all of the visual clutter.
When the visual grammar of an image is properly structured, its imagery as
well as its message is strengthened.
Besides both these physical and visual building blocks there is one other
element that should be considered in story building. It is one that I feel that
has the strongest connection to our emotions: mood. Mood can be created via
such aspects as exposure choices, weather, facial expressions and dominant
color. If they are incorporated in the proper degree to match the idea or theme
of the image then they serve to focus, refine, and enhance the story.
You'll know when you have created an image with visual strength, as it will
ignite emotions by instantly passing on the idea, message and narration so
that the viewer feels the same emotions and moods that were present when
you created the image.
