Winter Landscape by Chip Forelli

Winter Landscape by Chip Forelli
From LensWork and LensWork Extended #64

© 2006 Chip Forelli. All rights reserved.
Reproduced with the permission of the photographer

   

This is one of those incredibly simple compositions that can speak so loudly in the world of photography because this is the kind of thing that photography excels at — showing us things in incredible detail without really showing us very much at all. What we have here is, essentially, a snowy field, some little structure, and some trees. How could you possibly make an interesting photograph out of those simple elements? In fact, this is not only an interesting photograph but there's a lot more going on here than meets the eye.

First, however, I'd like to point out that over half of the photograph is, essentially, empty. There's almost nothing from the halfway point up to the very top of the photograph. It's just a smooth, gradual, gray gradation. This is a very Oriental kind of aesthetic, the kind of thing you see in a classic Oriental landscape — just a few brushstrokes that highlight a rock or an island or a little tree and then this huge expanse of sky up above; it's not often done in Western culture. Usually, this kind of photograph would have big storm clouds or something in the sky. In this case, Forelli gets away with this very interesting compositional anomaly because the air is visible. That is to say, you're not just looking at blank up there. The sky is fog or perhaps even snow. It's the kind of sky that is alive. When I interviewed Forelli he quoted one of his favorite photographers — I believe it was Jay Maisel — who said, "Never trust air you can't see."

Compositionally, the sky is blank, but it isn't blank from an emotional nor from a sensual point of view and that takes me to the next comment I wanted to make about this image. This image is successful in bringing forth senses other than the visual. I find this a very common thing in the best of photographs. Usually there is something in them that brings more than my eye into play. You cannot look at this picture without feeling cold. That sense of cold is created in several ways. One, obviously, from the snow on the ground; there are no shadows to speak of in this photograph at all, no sun, no warmth. There's no feeling of any relief from this cold, wet, moist air that dominates the composition.

Furthermore, the bottom third of the photograph contains little grass stalks poking up from the snow, leaning in the blowing wind. The cold atmosphere, the snow, the bare trees, and now this sense of the cold wind combine to create a physical sensuality in this photograph. Any time we can include more senses than the visual in our images, we're a leg up in terms of composition. As a matter fact, I might propose that one of the things to do specifically, precisely, when we're photographing is to look for elements of other senses we can include. There is the sense of temperature — hot and cold, the sense of touch, the sense of sound, the sense of smell. There is the sense of time. All of these things can contribute to make the photograph more than just a picture of the visual.

One of the other interesting things about this image is that the lower edge, the upper edge, and to a lesser degree, the left and right hand sides, are ever so slightly darker. That is to say, Forelli has probably burned in the very edges of this photograph just a little bit — just slightly — to keep our eye focused in the photograph instead of drifting out of the photograph. That's a technique Ansel Adams talked about in his book The Print and I think Forelli has used it here incredibly successfully. If he goes too far it looks phony; if he goes not far enough then our eye drifts easily out of a photograph. He's done it just right.

As a sort of "fellow traveler" image, look at Arthur Rothstein's Fleeing a Dust Storm from the FSA work. A similar sense of the sensual and the use of atmosphere, but in a completely different context.

Comments

[James Bullard]

I like your comment about bringing other senses (vicariously) into the image. Photography is essentially a 2 dimensional visual medium. The appeal of an image is often in the inference other senses.

The burning on the edges is a matter of taste. I frequently darken corners and or edges of my photos but my rule of thumb for how much is that it shouldn't be obvious that I've done it. For my taste the bottom of this image has been burned too much and the manipulation is obvious. The sky area is a bit less obvious because skies do vary in tone and the gradation is spread over a larger area. Again, it is a matter of taste. You like it as is, I'd have used a lighter touch if I had printed it. To each his own.

[Marty Knapp]

Dear Brooks,
Thanks for putting this photograph and your comments about it on your blog. I liked this photograph immediately.

Upon first glance, I wasn't aware of the techniques that added to the effectiveness of the print. When you mentioned the expertness of the "light" burning of the sides and the bottom of the image, I looked again and agreed. When James complained that the bottom was burned in a bit too much, I returned to the image and found myself leaning back toward James in agreement.

Then, ignoring both of your comments, I recalled my initial experience of seeing this image. I was moved by the masterful simplicity of the composition and the mood the photograph created within me. Paradoxically, the long roof lines of the building, with eaves nearly touching the snow, made it seem that this snow was very deep. The tufts of grass protruding belied this impression. But overall, the starkness and vast spaces made me feel cold, and a little lonely. I enjoyed this photograph very much and reading the comments have stimulated me to think more deeply about my experience.