Death on the Plains

In 2010 I spent a week in the Mara with a guide and driver, photographing to my time schedule and interests and not having to concern myself with anyone else’s.  Everyone should try it, cathartic.  During that short week, I took the photos which ended up winning me my first South Australian Landscape Photographer of the Year, with three of the images comprising trees. 

When I returned in 2011 I reunited with my same guide and driver from the previous year and showed them the photos which had done so well for me.  From that moment on, Daniel went to great pains to find interesting trees for my collection.  Some were trees which were a little out of the way, certainly most were ones we wouldn’t have normally noticed if they weren’t perched above some predatory action.

We did particularly well out of that year’s trees.

One in particular became a favourite of mine and it won a Gold at the State awards and a Silver Distinction at the Australian Professional Photographic Awards.

​Two Trees

Two years after first photographing the tree I returned earlier this year and we were reunited.  It was early morning and we had left camp to make a fairly long drive to a particular area we wanted to explore.  As we rounded a corner I looked at a large fig tree which had just a hint of morning colour behind it.  It looked vaguely familiar and my son, who was with me but who had been in the Mara for the previous five weeks and had recognized it earlier, said “Mum, that’s your tree!”.  At first I wasn’t sure, something was different and then I realised what it was.  The Euphorbia which sat in the background in my photo giving depth and dimension had gone, just a few stray branches sticking up into the air in a sad, desolate manner.  I felt unaccountably emotional, it was after all, just another tree but it was part of my landscape which had served me well and now that landscape had changed forever.  I wonder why we sometimes feel that landscapes are static.

​Two years later

I took another photo of the scene and although I didn’t line up the same angle or point of view, the dead tree is clearly visible.  As we sat there, I was told about some action which involved the tree only a few months previously.  Some visitors were self driving and saw a pride of lions sitting in the branches of the tree. (Why couldn’t they have been there for me, that surely would have sent the print Gold at APPAs!!)  Deciding to investigate further and instead of parking a short distance away and watching from there, they drove right under the spreading branches of the tree so they could get the closest possible view, thereby breaking one of the golden rules of not invading the wildlife’s space.  A short time later they went to start the vehicle and continue their explorations only to find that the engine was dead.  What to do?  Radioing back to camp they explained their sorry plight, unable to get out of the vehicle to look under the bonnet … unable to get out of the vehicle for any reason for that matter.  The camp manager was understandably unsympathetic.  These were not novice tourists with a guide but locals who should have known better so he didn’t hurry to their rescue, letting them sit there a while learning their lesson. 

I bet there would be many, many tales of adventure and excitement that the magnificent fig tree could tell if only we could understand its soughing branches and whispering leaves.

Unexpected Jewels

I often try to explain why I never delete photos I’ve taken.   And I mean NEVER!  Not the out of focus ones; not the shots of my foot; not the white or black blanks. I haven’t met anyone yet who can understand my reasons.  When I’m away on safari collecting all the base images I’ll need for the following year’s work, I often don’t have time to relax and think about the day’s happenings.  My raw images as they are downloaded into Lightroom provide me with a snapshot of my day.  I see the struggle I may have had with a new technique as shot after shot is altered slightly until I reach the moment when I can see all the efforts come together in something approaching my vision.  I can see the hours when nothing is working and I remember why as the images and the mood often co-exist.  I have windows of joy when every frame has a little bit of African perfection nestled within the pixels and I feel again, the sense of success that knowledge brings me.  None of the images are viewable in isolation, at least not to me.

I’ve used images successfully when many would have deleted them on review, so as storage is cheap I think the benefits of keeping everything outweigh other considerations … for me.

The following example illustrates my point.

In 2011 I was wandering around Lake Nakuru National Park with my sister and our private guide Ken.  Already the light was harsh although it wasn’t even mid morning.  Sitting in our 4x4 looking through our binoculars, the three of us scanned the surrounding bush trying to find something interesting.  Something else was also scanning the surrounding ground, a black shouldered kite, sitting on top of a type of thorny Acacia (now Vachellia) and swivelling its head from one side to another.  The patterns of the branches curved nicely up towards where the kite perched and the sky was a rich and brilliant blue.  So I took several photos and thought nothing more of the moment.

​Straight out of camera

A month or so later I was trying to find an image to make a gel cover for my iPhone and thought that a bird photo would look nice.  I wanted something clean with good eye contact and eventually found my little kite.  At the time I had started my journey with textures and detail extraction and so I experimented with the file, knowing that it was unlikely that anyone would see the final result.  In what seemed like a very short amount of time, my little kite had evolved into the magnificent, predator bird that it is, staring down the viewer with authority.

A few weeks later my new gel cover arrived and that was the end of that story, or so I thought.

Towards the latter part of the year I was selecting and creating my submissions for the South Australian Professional Photographic Awards, (SA Division of the Australian Institute of Professional Photography) and was one image short in the Fine Art category.  I looked at the phone in my hand and thought, “why not?” and so began the journey towards fully fledged fine art print.  Presented at the SAPPAs, it scored a 94, Gold, and was part of my winning Fine Art Portfolio.  In 2012 I reprinted the file and sent it to the Australian Professional Photographic Awards in Melbourne where it scored a 90 giving it a Gold at national level (one of three I achieved that year) and helping me win the Fine Art Category.

My little kite, as I always call it, taught me many things and it will always have a place in my heart.  Sadly it doesn’t show as well on screen as it does on the beautiful Hahnemuehle Photo Rag paper which really brings out the rich textures and colour.

Now back to the files to see if there is another jewel hidden away, waiting to be found.

​The final image