Finding My Photographic Niche with the Help of a Winter Excursion

We all have a photographic niche that is unique to us, an area where we can excel above all others. Yes, even you. You may not yet have the technical skills or equipment to exploit that niche, but the things that make you uniquely "you" mean that we all have an inherent niche in which we're uniquely qualified to excel photographically. What this niche is depends on our experience, our knowledge, but most importantly on our passions. It's very difficult to take a good photo of something without being passionate about it. I'm a scientist and work in a very fact/evidence-based industry; if it can't be measured then it doesn't exist, but I've noticed that in my photography, different rules apply. It's not just about getting the optimal settings and composition: If I'm shooting something that I feel strongly about  or have a connection to, and if I can transport those feelings and connection through the camera lens to the sensor, then 9 times out of 10 I'm taking a good photo. 

Ice Crystals on Snow || Olympus 86 mm (crop), f/8, 1/640, ISO 200 

So what part of ourselves can we tap into to find our niche? What do you know about your local area, what is your experience of those places? What is it about them that moves you? I've always been someone who struggles with a sense of my own worth and ability in almost all aspects of life - humility was more important than self-esteem growing up. If I say that I consider myself to be a good photographer, it's because I've slowly come to accept the feedback that I've received over the years - it's something I've been told repeatedly. There are also photos I've taken over the years that I am proud of. Accepting that I'm a good photographer (I still find it difficult to even type that) was one thing. Understanding my niche and accepting that there's a corner of photography where I might be uniquely equipped to share my vision with the world has (is) taken even longer, but I'm slowly beginning to feel comfortable in my skin and recognise that I have a contribution to make as a photographer or even as an instructor. I may never be a Nigel Danson or a Gavin Hardcastle, but I am Mike Page. I am an experienced mountaineer (but no Heinz Zak) with a comprehensive knowledge of the north-eastern Alps (and a few areas in between). I can recognise a good image out in the field and know which conditions would be good to return - my experience. I can take a decent astro-photograph, but I'm no Stefan Liebermann, I'm a competent photo editor, but I'm no Albert Dros. I'm passionate about being outdoors and I can write. That's my niche, or at least part of it. What's your unique set of talents and how do they relate to your photography?

The Mighty Guffert || Olympus 44 mm, f/5.6, 1/2000, ISO 1600 (don't ask!)

One of our favourite winter outdoor activities is cross-country skiing, a sport that has taken us all over the eastern Alps as well as to the hills of Norway. And so we found ourselves getting up in the dark yesterday morning to join our dear friends W&C to revisit the Guffert Loipe between Achenkirch and Steinberg am Rofan. It was a chilly -5°C as we were putting our skis on in the small car park whilst looking for the start of the trail. Although there are a lot of people who take part in this sport, not many of them can be bothered to lug a big camera around with them and not many photographers get out on cross-country skis to access these areas in winter - again, a part of my niche. There wasn't much snow left on the trees, but there was a decent frost on the surface of the snow and on many of the trees, especially near streams and in areas that the sun wasn't reaching. 

Winter Beech || Olympus 86 mm, f/5.6, 1/40, ISO 200

Hoar-frost is a very ephemeral phenomenon; unless it's really cold, once the light's on the crystals, you only have a few minutes to get the image before the sun's warmth melts the ice. A lot of the frost that we'd seen in the morning simply wasn't there any more when we came back in the afternoon, even though the temperature never climbed over the freezing point. The crystals on the wire fence are so reminiscent of tinsel that it's laughable, especially when we remember that the basis is actually the other way round.

Hoary Tree || Olympus 100 mm (crop), f/5.6, 1/8000, ISO 1600 (again, don't ask!)

Nature's Tinsel || Olympus 70 mm, f/16, 1/250, ISO 200

Needles on Needles || Olympus 86 mm, f/11, 1/250, ISO 200

Skiing past a beautiful wooden chalet our attention was grabbed by the tits and finches flitting in and out of a tree above a bird feeder. Fortunately the birds were accustomed enough to human presence that they allowed us to take a couple of photos, including this one of a crested tit, posing thoughtfully on the centre of the feeder. It's a very serendipitous image, but like I always say, a good photographer makes their own luck. Being out to capture the image and being in a position to monopolise on an opportunity when it presents itself helped me to capture this gorgeous little bird in exactly the right location.

Crested Tit || Olympus 100 mm (crop), f/8, 1/160, ISO 200

In some places, the ice crystals had really built up, both on the surface of the snow and on branches, giving rise to some really bizarre structures. I had my 60 mm macro lens in the bag, but found that I didn't need it to capture the level of detail I wanted to show. Maybe if I had been out on my own I would have taken the time to swap out the lenses, but I didn't want to keep my three companions waiting too long given the late hour. The day wasn't getting warmer any more. The M. Zuiko f/4 12-100 has a minimal focus distance of an incredible 15 cm, making it relatively simple to get up close and personal with the ice anyway.

Ice Crystals I || Olympus 80 mm, f/16, 1/40, ISO 200

Ice Crystals II || Olympus 35 mm, f/8, 1/640, ISO 200

Ice Crystals III || Olympus 100 mm, f/8, 1/250, ISO 200

I'd expected the crystals to be more hexagonal, these were anything but, forming needles on the surfaces that they'd grown on. In terms of photo tips, shoot against the light where you can; light shining through the crystals - or leaves - will really show off the structures from within. If I'd shot with the light behind me, very little of this detail would be apparent.

Ice Crystals IV || Olympus 86 mm, f/14, 1/60, ISO 200

Ice Crystals V || Olympus 86 mm, f/14, 1/60, ISO 200

Ice Crystals VI || Olympus 100 mm, f/11, 1/200, ISO 200

Returning to the car we descended through this last part of the forest. The rest of the route had been well tracked, but the connecting Loipe to the car park was in need of preparation. A fitting last image of the day. 

Last Metres of Track || Olympus 24 m, f/8, 1/80, ISO 200

Well, almost the last image. The nearly full moon rising behind the log pile after we got back down was too much of a temptation despite the rapidly falling temperature. I would have preferred taking this with my super-zoom, but that's 1.5 kg too many for an outing like this.

Moon Stack || Olympus 100 mm, f/8, 1/80, ISO 200

So what's your niche? What's your unique set of knowledge, experience and passion that you're excited to share with the world? I'm genuinely interested to hear what it is - an even more interested to see the results!

Between Times

November and April are strange months in central Europe near the foot of the Alps. In April there's not enough snow in the mountains to go skiing any more but too much to go hiking. In November, autumn's over; the trees have lost their colour and winter hasn't yet arrived. I used to dread this time of year. In my fourties I went through several years of seasonal affective disorder - winter depression. For a couple of years it was so bad that I was prescribed medication in order to be able to function, until I worked out that the side effects were at least as bad as - if not worse than - the symptoms. Towards the end of last week I began to feel the old claws began to sink into my shoulders and I knew I needed to get out, get some sunlight and exercise. Sharon was kind enough to set our Saturday plans aside and join me as I headed down to Oberstaufen and the Buchenegger Waterfalls. 

(Tip: If you click on a photo, you get taken to the gallery view where you can see a larger version and can flip between the images without having to read the boring bits 😉).

Hoarfost on the Hündlekopf || Olympus 44 mm, f/7.1, 1/400 s, ISO 200 

The mild weather had given way to a frosty weekend - it was so cold that by the end of the day there was still frost on the fields where the sun hadn't shone - and there was snow on the ground from about 1,000 m up combined with hoarfrost in the trees. We parked at Steiblis and made our way through the woods down to the waterfalls. The frost had only made its way into the edge of the woods - the further we pressed on the less of it there was to see, and even then it was predominantly on the wild raspberry leaves. 

Frosty Raspberries  || Olympus 66 mm, f/4, 1/400 s, ISO 1600 

Isolated Farmstead  || Olympus 21 mm, f/8, 1/80 s, ISO 200 

When I visited the waterfall back in early September, I struggled with the intense light of a late summer day as well as an over-abundance of foliage getting in the way. I knew at the time that I'd be back in late autumn or on a more overcast day to see whether I could do anything else with the pool. But even in better light there wasn't a whole lot I could do with this relatively straightforward scene. 

Buchenegger Waterfall || Olympus 17 mm, f/20, 10 s (live ND), ISO 200 

The Funnel || Olympus 100 mm, f/20, 3.2 s, ISO 200 

The best view of both sections of the falls is to be had half way up to Buchenegg on the eastern side of the river, but even this disappointed. The leaves had gone from the trees but there were too many saplings in the way for a decent shot. Next time I'll just have to bring my lopping shears with me 😉.

Upper and Lower Falls || Olympus 66 mm, f/8, 1/20 s, ISO 200 

What I did get though was this juicy shot of the sun shining through the moss on the side of a tree. I hadn't noticed in the field (alright, in the forest) that the background was so cool. This one breaks all the composition rules, but it works really nicely (IMHO), partly because of the palette of colours.

Mossy Tree || Olympus 44 mm, f/8, 1/60 s, ISO 200 

Tree stumps are wonderful things to photograph. I've really discovered them this year and they rarely let me down. They're microcosms of the forest, whether they have bracken growing out of them or moss like here. If you're lucky, you'll get a root system as well thrown in for free. My bonus here was the raspberry plant. 

Stumped for a Composition? || Olympus 86 mm, f/8, 1/80 s (HDR), ISO 200 

Having climbed out of the valley our route took us past a number of lovely old farmsteads, many of which would have normally been selling buttermilk or a cool beer to supplement their income. Today they were all boarded up for the winter, but still looked pretty in the sun, especially when accompanied by larches like this. Larches are the only fir trees to cast their needles in the winter. Before they do this, though, the needles turn a magnificent golden colour. In the right light they can be real eye-catchers.

Bifurcation || Olympus 23 mm, f/5.6, 1/250 s (HDR), ISO 200 

Frozen Puddle || Olympus 41 mm, f/5.6, 1/125 s, ISO 200 

Last Colours || Olympus 100 mm, f/5.6, 1/50 s, ISO 200 

Frost Border || Olympus 44 mm, f/8, 1/80 s, ISO 200 

On days like this there are plenty of details to catch. Some photographers tend to plan every shot down to the last degree, plotting where the sun's going to set and when, slavishly studying tide tables and weather systems. I tend to be a bit more spontaneous with my shots, with the exception of Milky Way photography, where you need a strong foreground and a new moon. For the rest of it, a little research can't hurt, but more often than not it's the chance encounters that delight.

Crystals || Olympus 75 mm, f/5.6, 1/80 s, ISO 200 

Forest || Olympus 86 mm, f/5.6, 1/100 s, ISO 200 

Transitions || Olympus 31 mm, f/5.6, 1/200 s, ISO 200 

Walking back along the other side of the Mittelbach towards the Weißach river we were given occasional glimpses of a ridge a little ways above us that had managed to stay mostly in the shade of the main ridge. One tree in particular caught our interest, a well-shaped deciduous tree on a bare ridge surrounded by firs. My longest lens was the one I had on my camera - my trusty 12-100 mm, but Sharon, bless her, had brought the 100-300 mm Lumix that I'd given her when I bought my 100-400 mm (following so far?). Once she'd finished with it, I begged a borrow (no, I hadn't packed the bazooka, it weighs almost 1,200 g and I hadn't thought I'd need it). I hadn't noticed the farm on the left until I processed the image, and yes, I did take the liberty of enhancing the colour of the roof. It's art!

Standing Out || Olympus 120 mm, f/5.6, 1/500 s (HDR), ISO 200 

As we descended back towards Steiblis where we'd left the car, there were a couple of larch trees catching the late afternoon light and glowing golden in a very tantalising manner. There was too much foreground though, and by the time we got to a place where we had a clear line of sight the light had dipped too far behind the ridge leaving them unappealingly dull. You win some, you lose some. Walking along the road though Sharon pointed out that the moon had just risen above the Hochgrat (yes, THE Hochgrat of the sunset fame). And whaddaya know, there were some larches lurking in the foreground, rounding off the day very nicely.

Half Moon over Hochgrat || Olympus 100 mm, f/5.6, 1/400 s, ISO 200 

When I go out on a walk like this, I don't usually reckon on getting a single three star image, let alone three of them. Let me explain. I take so many photos these days that if I didn't have a rating system to help me organise them I'd drown. When I import my photos into ON1 Photo Raw, I scan through them and sort out the discards - shots that are out of focus, the 'butt-dial shots' where I've pressed the release putting the camera back on its bracket (yeah, I do it too!). At the same time I give a single star to the images that I at least want to look into editing. Once I've sifted through all the shots from a shoot like this, I move onto editing. If I'm happy enough with an image that I think I'll want to share it to social media (Facebook, Instagram or here on the blog), I'll give the image two stars. Once I've edited the whole set I batch-process the pictures, exporting the two-star images to jpegs. If I really like an image, I'll give it three stars. These are the ones I feel confident about submitting to PicFair for selling or submitting to magazines, photos that I'd be happy to print and hang. Occasionally I might even print one. Once or twice a year, I'll give an image four stars. I've yet to take a five-star shot.

So, can you spot the three-star images here? It's a completely subjective system of course, everyone has their own preferences. Which are your favourites?