Old schoolers will tell you that digital has done away with happy accidents in photography - and provided you have an inkling of what you are doing, they are right. I 'suffered' this happy accident recently whilst shooting the former World One Hour cycling record holder Graeme Obree for a lead feature for Rouleur magazine. It was to be a one day job. Hop on a plane at Stansted, cab into Glasgow to meet Graeme, shoot the pix and home. Job done. I took the Hasselblad 501CM because I reckoned that Graeme, with his analytical thought train and love of engeineering, would appreciate it and it would give us something to talk about besides pedalling a pushbike. The shoot went well. Two rolls of 120 through and some digi pix to give a few extra angles. But when I took the second roll of 120 out of the back I knew something was amiss. Instead being taut and ready to be taped up, the roll was loose and ,well, soggy feeling and I could tell that light would've leaked into at least part of the film.
The lab later told me that the film itself had come loose from the backing paper, causing wind on difficulties. Anyway, I had frames in the middle of the roll intact. But this strange multiple exposure revealed itself. And I love it. And so does Rouleur! I reckon it will make the cut. To produce that in digital would mean a lot of computer work (for me!) There, a happy accident that worked in my favour.
Of course, I would never have shot the whole session on just the 'blad. I had the confidence knowing that I had back up. Best of both worlds I reckon.
Strange isn’t it. After shooting bikes for so long this was my first time at the famous Paris Roubaix race. I’ve seen it countless times on’t telly and the big reason I love the race is , of course, the pave sections. When I started shooting bikes it was road that I aimed at but when mountain bikes entered the fray I was sold. I have shot fat-tyred machines for a long time but always watched the Paris Roubaix because, discounting cyclocross, it is the nearest the road guys get to off road. The rough and tumble, the carnage, the mechanicals and crashes that form the race and decide its outcome are fascinating to watch. One year it can be a dustbowl (like this one) , the next an epic muddy morass. Brilliant!
I went over principally to cover the Paris Roubaix Challenge for Cycling Plus the day before, which is a shorter ride for The People, but still incorporates many cobbled sections. After taking a few shots of the man that is Sean Kelly, looking trim and well up for the run, I mounted the moto (always moto, never motorbike!) and was off into the riders. Starting at 7.30am meant the temps were low but the Spring sun was starting its arc into the sky. The light was pretty amazing for photography, casting long shadows as it hit the groups of riders from the side. Bright yellow rape fields set off the multi coloured Lycra of the riders all heads down and set for the long day in the saddle. So, anyhoooo. Flash cards choc-full, swift Duvel at the Arrivee to wash the grime from the roof of my mouth and it was back in the car to re-charge (batteries and body) for the following day.
I had maps, I had the expected times of arrival of the peloton at a multitude of spots, I had water, grub and even a co-pilot/navigator. But I still only caught the race twice. Sunday drivers are international, the roads are narrow, there’s a lot of traffic on a race day and I am a yellow chicken are all valid points and excuses. There were moments of indecision as we opted for a spot further up the route rather than risk missing the riders completely and be chasing our posteriors. We opted for Quivey, a short and narrow cobbled dive between houses and barns and then a longish drag up through the fields, as the first ambush point. The obligatory camper vans were there before us, along with a few locals. The crowd grew larger as the clock ticked over and some hour or so later the TV choppers hoved into view. I chose a high bank from which I could shoot 300mm tele images and then , when the group came beneath me, I could shoot wide angle pix on a second body using the pretty village as the backdrop. A billowing dust cloud from the countless vehicles in front of the race was the signal the riders were due at any second. Thankfully a brisk sidewind whipped the dust away so I could get clean shots. Boom, boom, boom. Hit the first gruppetto. Wait. The snaking of the main peloton in the distance. Boom, boom boom, that’s them in the bag on the tele. Drop it in the grass and shoot wide on the 12-24mm. Boom, boom, grab everything and speed ramble back to the car.
Tear-arsing up the motorway (watching an Eddy Merckx emblazoned Merc bullet off the slip and squeeze in between the car in front and my own at a rate of knots: most impressive sir. Chapeau!) got us nowhere. The slip we wanted was blocked. Feck! Guarded by guards they were. It was non, non and triple non. Head further north. Double back to get to Orchies. I saw a great bar there on the Challenge that would make good images. But non. More blocks. Park up. Walk down a farm track to the pave at Champin-en-Pevele. A crucial point. Campers to the left of us, campers to the right of us. Sun bathers, beer swillers, mask wearers, TV watchers, horse riders, radios, barbeques, smokes, smells. A sense that something Big was coming and it would be too long before it rolled into town.
The best thing about this race is that it criss-crosses fields on the ancient roads, switching this way and that like some giant Etch-a-Sketch. There are no hedgerows and you can see the race coming from a long way off. And you can walk to a spot where you can see everything unmolested and be so close to the riders that you could touch them if you wanted. Try that in Formula One. Again, I maximised my shooting by switching between the long shot and the wide. The lead group came through: I caught three keepers of winner Van Summeren leading the breakaway group of four. I got even more of Hushvold and his group of chasers containing the race favourite Fabian Cancellara. . By the time race reached my point, field was decimated. I waited until the very last rider had come through, switching between sides of the road so I could get back-lit and front -lit images. I was wasted. The driving, the excitement, the cross country yomp with my gear all took their toll. There was only one thing for it. And there it was a small village sports hall with a bar. Full of happy French and Belgians. That cherry's well and truly lost.
Went out to a remote part of Essex yesterday; the flatlands between the Blackwater and Crouch estuaries where the so-called 'Hell of the East' bike race was being held. Private roads,often full of potholes, and rough farm tracks to form part of the course, a homage to the famous Paris Roubaix race in France and other classic early season races held in Belgium. The race was in doubt this year but sponsors stepped into save it and two or three bigger teams entered to make good fist of the racing itself. So, inevitably there was more press interest and more photographers! I have shot the race three times now and decided to forgo stills and practice my video DSLR technique instead. It ain't easy! Under two minutes footage from a three odd hour race. Hey ho. Still learning. Always learning.
I think so yes. Or at least top three. Piling your bike into a 1965 Dehavilland Beaver float plane and taking off to fly up the Gun Creek valley in the south Chilcotin mountains BC, Canada, land on Warner Lake way higher up and then slice and surf through some of the best singletrack ever surrounded by golden aspen trees. I felt like I had landed in a Sombrio advert. Fond memories indeed. Do it before you die. Or die doing it if you wander out at night and a bear gets you.....
That's what I am wondering. Or put a different way, does it take a photographer to recognise what is going on in an image and look a bit deeper? And does that matter? I have been taking pictures long enough now to make it very hard to disengage my viewpoint. I become an instant critic - whether that be good or bad. I critique and I don't even know I am doing it. I would really like to get back to looking at a picture with fresh eyes, the same way a child produces a painting that they could never recreate as an adult.
I see the light, the composition the impact and effect it has on me. It's a bit like my curse as a drummer: when I listen to music it's the drums I hear first followed by the bass. And maybe percussion if there is any. It takes a while to hear the whole band. It's a switch that cannot be turned off no matter how hard I try. It's been hard wired into me.
But I know that people who don't take pictures, or at least, don't take pictures on as regular a basis, see very different things. Fans of cycling see the rider's brand of shoes, helmet, the way he wears his knee warmers, the colour of his sunglass frames before they look at The Picture. I think the picture hits them but in a very different way. Like it takes me a long time to pick up song lyrics. Never at the first listen.
The point of being a working photographer is to make money from one's images but I do wonder how big the market is for buyers of imagery shot a little bit out of the box to what is the norm. This was brought about by watching a video of a recent downhill race posted over on Twitface. There was nothing new, nothing that challenged the viewer. The format is a clip of the rider with his name on screen and then onto the next rider with his name on screen. The seminal freestyle motocross video Crusty Demons of Dirt broke that ground way back in the early 90s. And yet On Any Sunday still remains the more satisfying watch.
In the stills game it is similar. Despite what the comments say, I don't find it particularly 'awesome'. When a photographer picks up a camera and produces something like Lifecycles then I pay attention. Nothing to do with budget, all to do with ideas. Approaching the subject matter from a different direction. Making a new statement. Documentary can be still be art. It doesn't have to be a 100 riders all shot with the same light set up in the same spot. Is that a personal challenge? Only when it is cold and wet! Or maybe you think differently? Then let me know.
I can't claim to be a massive fan of 'circular' sports. Honestly, even motocross which I really enjoy carries a little less magnetism once the field is all mixed up and I can't work out what rider is winning, or second or 15th. Likewise track racing. Team pursuit racing? Yes. Two man sprint? Easy. Points race? Aaah fageddabowdit! Madison? Nope. But I put this down to my owning the attention span of a very small gnat rather than anything else. Obviously, I can follow F1 because the order they go off the grid is usually the finishing order which is easy to work out for even a pea brain like me! ;-) Still, that's no reason not to attend a World Cup track event now is it? To decline such an invitation would be churlish. So I didn't and found myself easing my way through slippery seas of freakishly large quads and giant glutes at the recent Manchester race.
Britain won gold, rainbows seemed to be everywhere I looked, a certain Miss Pendleton provided the ice and all the riders breathed fire. Anyone who watched Saturday's race will know about Awang's splinter (stake more like) and Rouleur blogged about it here using my images of the Kiwi rider Edward Dawkins. Awang had crossed the line and collapsed around bend one and I was caught up in the melee in the finish straight.
Here's Ed giving Juan Peralta Gascon the stinkeye for (allegedly) causing the pile up.
So USA! Olympic gold medallist Jamie Staff was coaching the American team whilst keeping a beady eye on the goings on in the GB pit right next door. He could only watch as former team mate Hoy rode his rivals into the dust - or boards - to take the gold in the keirin. I snaffled one of my favouritist (my blog my language!) portraits of recent times and came back with a small bag of bangers - that's pictures I am happy with.
Of course, I'd really like to show them here but the printed page on old papery stuff still has the last word in that respect. So look for them. They will come. Oh yes, they will come.
Today the sun shone. It was shining when I woke up and is still shining weakly as I write this. It was the excuse I needed to get on a bike and ride out into the countryside. Bike riders know this is good for the soul and, I believe, it is doubly so for freelancers who spend an inordinate amount of time chained to a computer. In my case the Mac is in my basement so the urge to feel fresh air and blue skies is a pull
I always take my iPhone in a plaggy bag and set off the Everytrail app as I leave the house, for no other reason than I like watching the little blue me (close the graph and you can see it!) riding around the lanes when I get home. Today the low sun flickered through the hedgerows like a strobe and left long shadows across the fields. The recent winds had died. I'm glad I went.
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