Re-Woodworking: Revisiting My Practice

Re-Woodworking: Revisiting Fundamental Practice Re-Woodworking: A Terrible Pun for a Great Practice Growing up, I had some key sporting hobbies and was actually quite good at them. As part of those sports, practicing and refining the fundamentals was a vital part of improving. Interestingly, photography is no different, and neither is mental health and wellbeing. Fundamental Practice is key to survival! So, last week I revisited some older woodland photographs that I took earlier in the year. It was a bit of “Re-Woodworking,” if you will excuse my terrible attempt at a pun! These are all shots of ordinary, local places that have grown in meaning for me over the past few years. From Snapshots to Intentional Art When I originally processed these images, they were well and truly “taken.” However, I now consider them “made.” My goal is to invite the viewer to travel into the frame rather than bouncing around trying to find what to look at. These are no longer just snapshots; instead, they have a clear intention. As I’ve mentioned before, art is subjective and our creative paths are unique. Even so, I take this intentionality as a sign that my technical skills have improved compared to even six months ago. An example might be this shot of a woodland path winding gently through dense pine trees. I walk this path almost every day, and especially when it’s nice weather! It has become unremarkable to me because of my near-daily visits, but objectively it is a beautiful spot. I tried here, to use the path as a sort of leading line into the photograph, through the bridge and off to the horizon line. I intentionally framed the picture so the end of the path can’t be seen to inject a little bit of mystery!   Technical Specs: Shot on Canon EOS R8 14-35mm F4 USM L 1/400 sec at f9.0 and ISO 1600 The Parallel of Wellbeing In the context of mental health, revisiting and sharpening your fundamentals can be life-changing. For instance, getting your grounding practices well-drilled or having a routine to stimulate the senses provides a necessary safety net. I feel a deep parallel between my mental wellbeing and these images. The glass-pooled reflections of Waggoners Wells remind me of times when my mood slips away, and I can’t tell which way is up. My original edit (which I am too embarrassed to show here…) was HIGHLY saturated and the colours looked unnatural – far too orange and the green – yuck. Looked like alien vomit. Now we can hopefully agree that the colours are far more natural, and actually compared to a reference image taken on my phone at the time, the colours are closely representative of what I actually saw on the day.  Other processes were simplified in the edit too – far less local masking to achieve subtle but impactful points of interest in the image. For example, the dehazing of the bottom edge foreground so you can see into the well, and the hazing at the top edge to remove distracting sky elements. Overall, pretty pleased with this one as I felt I really went back to my fundamental practice of keeping things simple!    Technical Specs: Shot on Canon EOS R8 28-70mm F2.8 IS STM 1/160 sec at F5.0 and ISO 2500  Similarly, the ominous tree feels like a point of no return, directing me to go back the way I came. Thankfully, the pathways bathed in light represent the way through the trees to normality. This is sometimes what it feels like living with Bipolar 2 – an abrupt stopping when you hit the low (and high) point and start to bounce back!   Technical Specs: Shot on Canon EOS R8 14-35mm F4 USM L 1/320 sec at f8.0 and ISO 1250 Final Thoughts Much like the waters of the well, photography can be deeply reflective if you give it a chance – especially when you revisit and don’t stray too far from your fundamental practice. Unfortunately, this is a skill many are losing thanks to smartphones and instant media. My brain, my self-esteem, and I are so grateful for this craft. It has been truly transformative for my wellbeing, and I hope it is for you too. Much love, The Bipolar Photographer x P.S. if you like any of the photos in this post, why don’t you check out my Fine Art Print Shop. You can even browse other blog posts for more inspiration! Subscribe for new posts and exclusive prints! * indicates required First Name Last Name Email Address * /* real people should not fill this in and expect good things – do not remove this or risk form bot signups */

Les Arcs (French Alps)

Les Arcs – the French Alps What a few days – my first time in the Alps and first experience of skiing “out in the wild”. Climbing the mountain by car under cover of night didn’t wake my senses up to the vast beauty and the stark terror of being on the side of a mountain so high. Opening the curtains on the first full day and it hit me hard – it was a different world up there; the snow, the minus 8 degrees centigrade, the thin air and the expert ski-ers racing around us. Standing at the window and staring out, I realised that this trip would be different – beautiful but challenging even. I hit the first day hard – picking up my equipment for skiing and racing up to where we could practice, despite only having had a single lesson before travelling out. My first ten runs or so were great and the instructor on the practice slope was impressed, so my confidence rocketed and I felt that tiny itch of hypomania pushing back against my medicated mind. That was until we ended up on the first proper run… We took to the Piste De Minis – a beginner run aimed at children. I believed it would be easy, as I’d become too confident for my own good. I started to follow the instructor but quickly lost control, and the confidence was shattered – I realised I had (as often used to happen before my diagnosis), bitten off more than I could chew, and was then hurtling downhill with very little control over speed and direction! Suddenly the fluffy and welcoming snow became hard and jagged walls of ice; the only thing ready to stop me being the need to slam into one of these cold barriers, or to throw myself down onto the floor… After losing my cool and throwing myself onto the cold, hard snow barrier on the edge of the piste, I realised that I was struggling to feel my feet – boots were too tight and honestly it felt like a relief to know it wasn’t just my head – there was a real, physical reason for my lack of control. I just didn’t have the skiing experience to recognise this sooner and to save myself the worry – cut myself some slack. I think that’s the main message for me from a mental health perspective – you can’t always be perfect, especially if you rush into something without taking the time to really give it a go. It takes time to learn a new skill, to get used to a new medication, to make lifestyle changes, to learn which photos are made vs those that are taken. Give yourself time and for goodness sake, cut yourself some slack! Luckily for me, at the end of the day on this trip, there was always a nice cold beer and some tasty snacks waiting at the restaurant-come-pub-come-club! I used photography on this trip to escape some of the intensity of being out on the slopes – especially as there were a multitutde of new sensory experiences my body needed to get used to, from the snow and ice to the stiff and uncomfortable boots. Because photography can be slow and deliberate, it gives us a platform to move and enjoy the world around us, to really see it, whilst doing so at our own pace. That is one of the biggest gifts of photography in my eyes. Until next time guys, keep it real!   The Bipolar Photographer x Subscribe for new posts and exclusive prints! * indicates required First Name Last Name Email Address * /* real people should not fill this in and expect good things – do not remove this or risk form bot signups */