Mystical Iceland - Alessandra Meniconzi

in Photography , Thursday, November 29, 2007

This review is very, very overdue, but maybe with Christmas coming up, it isn't so badly timed. I have written about Alessandra Meniconzi before, and reviewed her first book, The Silk Road. This, her second major publication, is also the fruit of several years of hard work (maybe not quite so hard, or quite so many, as for The Silk Road, but probably considerably wetter!). This time Alessandra turns her focus on Iceland, which is pretty much guaranteed to get my attention.



"Mystisches Island", to give it its German title, is a collection of photographs spanning pretty much all of Iceland, both from the ground and the air, often battling against Iceland's worst weather, and indeed taking advantage of it.

Iceland is becoming a more and more popular subject for photographers, including a growing number of very talented native Icelanders. So what can another book bring to the market ? Well, in this case, a lot. Iceland is, often, spectacular, and any competent photographer should be able to bring home a few attention grabbing images. But that isn't what we have here. Somehow these photographs convey a strong sense of place, of fascination, and involvement. They don't feel like they were taken with an audience in mind, but more like from a strong, personal passion for the place, the people, and its stories. They are photographs that demanded to be made, publication or no publication. Although these photographs are principally landscapes, there is often a strong sense of narrative within them. I could not say if it is conscious or not, but a handful of the photos also seem to pay tribute to some of Iceland's leading photographers, including Sigurgeir Sigurjónsson and Ragnar Axelsson.

I guess in some ways this book appeals to me because I know a lot of these places, and have tried, not very successfully, to take some of these photographs myself. It is a bit weird when another photographer manages to take pretty much the same photo as me, only considerably better.

It is difficult to pick out a favourite from the book's 120 or so photos, but this one has a particular appeal to me...

photo © Alessandra Meniconzi

..the space, the emptiness, the timelessness, the colour - and of course the sheep - these are all elements that make Iceland what it is.

And this leads me to my one criticism of the book: the title. To me, "Mystical Iceland" sounds a bit "new age", and undersells the book. Maybe "Elemental Iceland" would be more appropriate. That's what it feels like to me.

"Mystisches Iceland" is very highly recommended (could you guess?), and is published with German text by Koehlers Verlagsgesellschaft, Hamburg, ISBN 978-3-7822-0951-9. I believe an English version is in planning, but I haven't seen it yet. Alessandra has also published a 2008 calendar featuring her Icelandic photography (ISBN-10: 3765446734, ISBN-13: 978-3765446733), but this too is unfortunately elusive.

Iceland 2007 Calendar

in Photography , Wednesday, December 06, 2006

Following the vast success of my Iceland 2006 calendar, I have repeated the excercise this year, with a slightly longer print run. All landscapes this time.

The principal purpose of this calendar is self-promotion, building up to a commercial distribution, hopefully next year. However, this year we are selling them in local shops, and I also have a limited number available to sell here.

The front cover

The calendar is A3 portrait format, spiral bound, with 13 months (Jan 2007 - Jan 2008). Day and month names are in English, German, French and Italian. Place names are in Icelandic...

Page for July

It is professionally printed on a commercial digital press (not some dreadful service like Lulu or CafePress), and I'm certainly happy with the reproduction quality. So are specialist retailers. All the photos were taken using the Olympus E-1 and Zuiko Digital lenses. You can see the shortlist of photos on Flickr.

If you would like a copy, .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address). The cost, payable through PayPal, is 30 Swiss Francs (including packing), plus post by Swiss Post Priority Letter rate (depends on the country, but at most 10 Swiss Francs).

There are not many left, so if you want one, don't delay!

UPDATE: This calendar is now sold out - thanks for all the interest. Check back for the 2008 edition!

Chasing icebergs in Iceland

in essay , Thursday, November 30, 2006

This article was written in 2005, originally for the web, but then pulled and modified for publication in Iceland Geographic. Unfortunately the magazine faded out of existence before it could be published (or even accepted, although it was in theory accepted)

I first came to Iceland six years ago. In the unexpected, luminous ambience of a midsummer late evening arrival at Keflavik, I felt a little apart and distant from the befuddled masses who were “only” going to Iceland: for me, and a few others, Iceland was simply a stepping stone to Greenland. The journey to Reykjavik did little to change my mind. Perhaps in reply to my disdain, the black, colourless landscape blanketed itself in drizzly, low clouds.  If I wasn’t prepared to show some respect, Iceland was not going to reveal itself to me yet!  But why Greenland?  I could reply in one word: icebergs.  The sights I had seen some years before in Antarctica, of fantastic colours and shapes floating in mirror still, crystal clear water under a midnight sun were always in my mind. I wanted to see this again. Whilst I did find what I was looking for in Greenland, and much more besides, I had no idea then it was much closer at hand.

Several years later, having realised what I was missing out on, I decided to visit Iceland properly. An opportunity to join a photographic workshop with leading Canadian landscape photographer Michael Reichmann, and local specialist Daníel Bergmann was the perfect chance. Some days into this journey, we were driving down Highway 1, in a pretty barren landscape, with the sea some distance off on the left, and a low range of hills close on the left. Suddenly Daníel directed us to turn left, and we clattered off the highway. Getting out of the vehicles, and climbing to the top of the ridge, suddenly a awe-inspiring vista opened up: the Jökulsárlon lagoon, full of icebergs, full of wonder, right there at our feet.  This is the best way to meet Jökulsárlon for the first time, rather than the far less spectacular initial sight from the highway bridge.

Forward to July 2005, and it is already my fourth or fifth visit. It is always special, but this time, emerging from two days of constant downpour, it is magical. Leaving the car park and the Highway 1 bridge far behind, we have wandered for several hours along the west shore of the lagoon, vaguely hoping to approach the ice cliff where Breiðamerkurjokull meets the water, shedding icebergs of all shapes, sizes and colours. We cannot help but stop frequently, captivated by the endless display of fantastically sculpted shapes. We are halted by the site of a berg gracefully rotating as melting shifts its balance, to present a fresh cobalt blue underside to the world. Many icebergs show dark streaks, of gravel and ash that settled on the glacier during its slow progress to the lagoon. Some are jet black, others pristine white. Small fragments of clear ice dot the shore, looking like exotic crystal sculptures.
We continue our walk.  The thick clouds that were sweeping in just an hour ago have miraculously vanished, revealing a clear blue evening sky. The water is now quite still, and acts as a giant mirror to the ice, the sky and the mountains in the distance. It is a long way to the ice front, or rather to an outlook from which it can clearly be seen, and we continue to make our way along the pebble beaches.

Even by Icelandic standards Jökulsárlon is a new feature in the landscape. Correctly termed a proglacial lake, it started to form in 1933, as the Breiðamerkurjokul retreated, leaving open a trench through which seawater could flow. By the end of the 20th century it covered over 17 square kilometres, and continues to expand as the glacier retreats. Scientific surveys have revealed a deep narrow trench extending 25 km inland – were the ice to fully retreat, a spectacular fjord would be revealed. However, nothing can be predicted with certainty about the future evolution of the region. Both global and local continuing climate change is likely, but what form they will take, and what consequences this might have, is less clear. Sediment carried into the lake might reduce its volume, which in turn could slow down the melting of the icebergs. On the other hand, coastal erosion, a result of the lack of sediment carried into the sea since the lagoon’s formation, might lead to a wider breach into the ocean, in turn leading to an increase in melting. Breiðamerkurjokul is an outlet glacier from the Vatnajokull ice cap, and changes in – or under – the ice cap are also directly reflected in the behaviour of the glacier. For now, we can enjoy the wonderful scene that nature has created, but any sense of timelessness or tranquillity is an illusion.

The effects of the glacier’s retreat are also clear where the Breiðamerkursandur meets the ocean. Previously, the sediment transported by the glacier matched that taken away by the tides. Now there is very little to counter the costal erosion, and the power lines, road and bridge are potentially threatened. Plans are being drawn up to reroute the road and the power lines, and to build coastal defences – but ultimately it has to be questioned if this could do more than postpone the inevitable victory of the sea.

We have reached a wide, flat area of gravel and pebbles, from where the ice cliffs can be seen, although they’re still a long way off. This lagoon is bigger than it looks back from the road. Directly in front of us, reflected in the still water, is a big, white, triangular berg. It looks just like a classic view of the Matterhorn, back home in Switzerland, reflected in a lake. It’s getting late, so we decide to stay here for a while just to appreciate the scenery before heading back. As we sit there, in the distance something is moving towards us. It turns out to be a small group of eider ducks, which proceed to come right up to us, checking out these strange apparitions, and stay a while, swimming back and forward in front of us, sometimes diving, and eventually drifting off again. It is incredible – we have never before managed to get anywhere near to these ducks, but here, in such idyllic settings, they have come right up to us.

Jökulsárlon is a firm fixture on the Icelandic tourist trail. Although it is quite a trek from Reykjavik and other classic locations such as Geysir and Gulfoss, in summer during the daytime a constant stream of tourist busses arrives at the car park near the bridge. Some will take a few snapshots, wander over to the café and sit waiting to leave. Many take a trip out onto the lagoon in the bright yellow amphibious boats that give you an up-close experience of the icebergs. It is busy, full of people enjoying their vacation. It is also a good place to watch out for seals, which venture into the lagoon from the ocean. But you need only to wander a little way from here, along the moraine ridges, which encircle both the east and west margins, to find a peaceful spot. For the more addictive, the moraine offers plenty of places where you can discretely pitch a tent for the night, without spoiling other people’s view, and protected from the wind.

Finally, and full of images both in our heads and in our cameras, we walk back along the shore to our campsite. At this time of night, there is not a soul to be seen. The ever-present roar of heavy trucks rushing along Highway 1, just the other side of the ridge, turns out in fact to be the sound of the ocean waves crashing on the beach. We’re in Iceland, so of course the weather has turned, but it is of no matter. Jökulsárlon has many characters, depending on the weather: dazzling under a clear summer sky, peaceful on a quiet evening, mysterious and otherworldly when enveloped in fog. A quick meal cooked over a camping gas stove turns into a luxury dining experience from our perch overlooking the iceberg-filled lagoon.

The following morning we pack up and head over to the café for breakfast. Before we head off though, there is one last highlight waiting for us. On the ocean side of the bridge, remnants of icebergs carried by the Jökulsa River end up briefly on the beach. The contrasts of the smooth, eroded, white, blue, or crystal clear ice against the black sand are another delight to be savoured. Finally, after much lingering, we head off down the road towards Höfn. Amidst all this change, one thing is sure: we will be back.

Zuiko 8mm Fisheye for Landscape

in Olympus E-System , Monday, July 03, 2006

For some time I've been meaning to write something here about using the Zuiko Digital 8mm Fisheye lens, specifically for landscape. This is the first true fisheye I've ever used. Many, many years ago, I used a fisheye adapter on Canon FD lenses, a combination which puts most Holga photos to shame.

The lens is very well built and the focusing ring rotates smoothly with just enough friction, making it a pleasure to use. The huge front element is very impressive, and a bit exposed. A fixed lens shade is included, and a large lens cover fits over the barrel.

Conventional wisdom claims that fisheye lenses cannot be used for landscape photography, but I think that images here demonstrate that this is not always true. Using a fisheye for landscape work requires a certain approach. First, you need to have a suitable subject, usually with a range of subjects from very near field to very far. Second, you need to make sure that any feature which you do not want to distort is centered vertically and horizontally. The “normal” rules of composition do not work with fisheye photos. Exposure is always critical, especially as it is likely that there will be a wide contrast range. Don't trust automatic exposure with this lens - check the histogram. It is best to under-expose slightly, to reduce the danger of localised flare. As with any fisheye chromatic aberration or localised flare (purple / blue fringing) in high contrast areas is going to be a problem, but with care and attention this can be avoided. You also need to decide if you're going to 'correct' the fisheye effect, using Olympus Studio v1.5 for example. Other options exist, but, for example, the lens correction filter in Photoshop CS2 is nowhere near as good as Studio. Personally, I tend to approach subjects with the idea that I am looking for a fisheye view. Although the correction tool is very impressive, inevitably the corners are very soft, and a lot of cropping takes place. However, this itself gives a certain feel which works well with some subjects.

The first shot is of the Strokkur geyser, at Geysír in Iceland. The first version is geometrically corrected and processed from RAW using Olympus Studio 1.5, and the second processed without correction. The shot directly into the sun shows how well flare is controlled by the 8mm fisheye if carefully managed. Exposure details f5.6, 1/3000th sec, -1.5EV, ISO 100, tripod mounted. In this particular case, I find that the uncorrected version works better.


geometrically corrected...


uncorrected.

The second shot is of Gullfoss, also in Iceland. Again, the first version is geometrically corrected and processed from RAW using Olympus Studio 1.5, and the second processed without correction. Exposure details f5.6, 1/90th sec, -0.5 EV, ISO 100, tripod mounted.


geometrically corrected....note very soft foreground edges.


uncorrected.

Fisheye photos are obviously on the borders of tastefulness in many cases, and in others are just illegible. But to capture really dramatic views, such as the geysir shots (I have about 100 variants of this...), they can really work. The Zuike Digital 8mm is a very expensive lens, considering that it will be used rarely, but sometimes specialist lenses give special results. Just don't try using them everywhere

More Iceland

in Recommended web sites , Tuesday, August 23, 2005

I've mentioned this before, but I really strongly recommended Alessandra Meniconzi's website. Actually, to be brutally honest, strictly speaking I recommend her photos, because the website has greatly overgrown the size that iPhoto can gracefully support, and, to be frank Alessandra, you need to sort it out

But anyway, try starting here, then explore the rest of the Iceland pages. One photo, for me, really stands out as a work of inventive genius. On the road to Patreksfjörður in the West Fjords, there is an abandoned beached fishing boat. It is interesting but not really photogenic. But Alessandra has photographed it from behind a rain streaked car window, giving it a strange, magical air. In that weather most people would not even stop - but she has seen a brilliant opportunity.

I believe some of these photos will be published in due course...something to look forward to. Then maybe she can sort out the web site!

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