The Space Between
© 1997 William Neill

What makes one subject better than another? Does one rock have more character than another? I'm not sure that anyone has a definitive answer to these questions, but I know that I've always enjoyed the process of selection. This is an under emphasized skill in landscape photography: do I photograph these leaves or those; that group of mountains and clouds or the ones behind me? I look for the tree that says, "here is an amazing tree," and I search especially for one that says, "here is a tree that symbolizes all trees." Ultimately, as the late great photographer Minor White defines it, the most penetrating photographs reveal the essence of the subject "for what it is . . . and for what else it is."

I think that the skill of sensing this special spirit is indefinable. It at least depends on trusting one's intuition and strongly connecting with the subject, empathizing with it if you will. But after identifying that singular subject, certainly the most difficult aspect, next comes the photographic phase of the process. Is the light right? What lens do I use? How do I arrange the elements of my image within the camera's framing? A vital part of this selection process is deciding on your camera's position. Exactly where do I stand? I have often seen photographers set up their cameras in one spot, make one photograph, and move on. Sometimes this approach works, but most often it indicates a lack of attention to the subject and results in poor composition.

Designing photographs is a thrill and challenge for me. I ask myself how can I arrange the objects in the frame to the best effect? This involves much time and shuffling to find the right spot to make the exposure. Footwork is fundamental! Should I move a little to the left, or does the design work better with the camera lowered a few inches? For example, you are standing in front of a grove of trees, and what attracts you to the scene is the density of the trees. If you move to the right or left, the spaces between the trees change. You might stand in one spot and the composition looks fine, then you move to the left ten inches and from there you can see more trees. Given your desire to convey "density," the change in position has improved the design of the image.

My photograph Burnt trees and shadows on snow shows the need to pay attention to the spaces between. I was driving in my van when I spotted this group of trees so I parked nearby. Instead of plowing through the three-foot deep snow, I tightroped my way towards these trees, ski-less and snowshoe-less, on a packed down cross country ski track. This high-tech, yet practical, technique led me to this composition! When I stepped off the tracks, I sank into the snow. I needed to set up on top of the tracks because this angle allowed me to see the separation between the shadows. From a lower angle, if I had set up down in the snow, the shadow lines merged together. Picture me perched on top of these narrow tracks trying to set my three tripod legs solidly on top of two narrow ski tracks!

There were so many options, in terms of spacing the trees and shadows, that I became immersed in the dance of design. I made some full-framed images, horizontal and vertical, with my 4x5 camera. I made some images with my 35mm camera aimed directly into the sun so that the shadows fell towards me. All the while, I watched how the graphics in the frame were working. Each small move of my camera position made a big difference. The fact that the shadows continually changed as I photographed heightened my excitement and the challenge! I spent at least an hour with these burnt lodgepole pines. Somewhere during that time, I made some panoramic format versions that seemed to pare down the elements to the essentials. In the panoramic versions, the source of many of the shadows can't be seen, which leaves something to the viewer's imagination.

The colors in the image also effect its design. I took off my omnipresent warming filter so that the shadows would come out bluish on film. The contrast of black and blue lines is much different from the gray and black combination that would have resulted if I had left the filter on. Experience told me that the blue shadows would help convey the feeling of winter, and that they would separate out more strongly from the trees than gray shadows.

As I worked, I remembered that I have a tendency to space objects uniformly through an image, and often that works for me. Sometimes, however, this leads to images that look too controlled. To paraphrase the great photographer Edward Weston, "Always question preconceived notions, especially your own." With this thought in mind, I positioned my camera so that the lines of the trees nearly merged in places, creating some tension in the design. The blending of chaos and order, which is what I enjoyed about the scene, was achieved, and the magic of the scene comes through clearly, but not too perfectly.

Instead of over-analyzing each adjustment in composition I made while in the field, I simply tried as many options as I could imagine. After seeing the processed results, I could sort through my efforts. Happily, many of the variations worked well, and to this day I oscillate between which one is my favorite. In the end, the panoramic versions were the strongest because of their extra measure of simplicity, and because of the rhythmic staccato effect of the lines across the long rectangle. Your own time spent experimenting with image design will make your photographs stronger. Look for those spaces between compositionally, and the spaces between that define the essence of the subject--for what else it is!