What Malcolm Gladwell Taught Me About Photography

Baobab Tree, Tanzania, shot from the back of a moving pickup truck.

A couple of years ago I read Malcolm Gladwell's wonderful book "Blink". It makes the case that we should put greater faith in our instincts, especially our initial, intuitive responses to a person, object, or event. Even though these assessments might happen in a few milliseconds, they can be, and often are, better than those based on more protracted deliberation. According to Gladwell's research, this ability is based on the way the human brain has evolved to assess stimuli (largely visual) subconsciously  and render trustworthy judgments very quickly. Of course, this is not always true, and Gladwell also talks about certain factors, like biases and prejudices, that can impede our subconscious ability. Nonetheless, he makes a very strong case for the power  of quick, intuitive assessments that can happen in a "blink".

So what does this have to do with photography? Just this: your first visual impressions are important and reliable. The photographs you make based on them may not be your best shots in any given circumstance, but they might be. So, I say, "shoot first and ask questions later". Rather than thinking very much about why you like something, just dive in. We have all heard or said "I know what I like, but I don't necessarily know why".  That's OK. To record your first impressions, you don't necessarily have to know why something attracts you, but you do have to recognize that it does. You have to feel it.

Two Kinds of Shooters (at least)

Perry's Cove, Conception Bay, Newfoundland, Canada, Dec. 28, 2010

In your reading about photography have you come across the idea of pre-visioning or imagining your shot in advance and then going after it? Sometimes it is treated as a prerequisite for good image-making. Certainly it is a valid method and one practiced by many excellent photographers, but rarely do I practice it, and I certainly don't see it as a "essential secret" to making strong images.

I think its closely connected to your ability to imagine visually. Some are very good at it, others less so. For example, my wife might suggest that we move the couch from here to there, or to paint the walls a particular shade of whatever. She can actually see the change in her mind's eye. She can make a disturbingly (to me) accurate guess at how it will work out. It's a gift, but one that is not as strong in me. I have to move the damn couch to its new location and then assess whether it works or not. She can do the whole thing in her head, which is a whole lot easier on the back.

So some photographers have this gift and others lack it, or have a weaker capacity for it. My point is that there are two kinds of photographers: one that pre-visions the image and then proceeds to create it, and the other (like me) that is more reactive to the world around us. In my (perhaps self-serving) opinion, one is not necessarily any better than the other.

My Grandson Peter

I'm very proud today. Peter created a touching tribute to his friend Zach and posted it on youtube. Zach died tragically last Christmas in a car accident. His favourite song was Wagon Wheel so Peter and a gang of his friends collaborated to make their own version of the song and present it to Zach's family this year. Peter sang, played all the instruments, except the drums, recorded all the tracks separately and mixed the final audio. There was never more than Peter and one other singer in the studio at one time. The project certainly shows off some of Peter's talent but more than that...it shows his big, caring heart. Well done Peter.

Canada and Global Warming

I am an arctic addict or, as my friend Matthew Swan describes it, I have "arcticus feverus". I try to get there annually, mostly with Adventure Canada, and when I'm there it touches me deeply. Three years ago we went further north than ever we had before to a place in west Greenland called Etah. We managed to get there because it was so ice free. All over the arctic there are clear signs of incredibly fast changes brought on by global warming: glaciers receding at rates faster than anyone previously predicited (checkout this link: Extreme Ice Survey), methane escaping in freshwater arctic pools as permafrost melts, thining ice, shrinking of the permanent ice pack, robins on Baffin island, and more. Regardless of anything we do now to reduce greenhouse emissions, major ecological changes have started in the arctic and will continue. Yet in the face of this, my country, Canada, seems to see no good reason to act decisively to help curb emmissions. The Conservative government says that they intend to lower Canada's greenhouse gases 20 per cent from 2006 levels by 2020 and to further lower emissions 60 to 70 per cent below 2006 levels by 2050. These targets are far lower than Canada committed to in 1997 since which our emissions increased by 30%!! They are also out-of-step with most other developed countries that are actually trying to reduce global warming.

I expect better of Canada.

Spring Sea Ice

It’s beautiful, glowing stuff. The light bends around its edges and in places appears to be coming from within. On the underside it is a gorgeous aquamarine. Many people curse it because it makes a long winter feel even longer. But if you choose your moment when the light is soft, or low in the sky, it is nature at its most radiant.


This is sea ice (also known as pack ice or drift ice) that forms in arctic waters and drifts south on the cold Labrador current each spring. It envelopes the coast of Labrador and the northeast coast of Newfoundland extending as much as 200 miles offshore. It is frozen sea water in contrast to icebergs which are frozen freshwater from the land. Newly formed sea ice is indeed salty but over time the salt leaches out and what remains is fresh enough to put in a rum and coke, my preferred winter libation.

Finding the Essence

The art of nature photography can be a daunting task. You are surrounded by a world of exciting visual material - animals, plants, objects, land, water, sky as well as their abstract components of colour, shape, line and texture. In addition there are the non-visual elements such as sounds, smells, wind, warmth, cold, damp, dry - all of which contribute to your total experience when you are immersed in nature. Then there is the internal environment of our beings, our feelings and thoughts from one moment to the next. When you place your eye to the viewfinder all this is rendered down into a strictly-bounded, two-dimensional frame in which you try to depict what you see and, more importantly, what you feel in that moment. For those who have truly tried to do this, you know it is not easy.

It's also inescapably subjective. It has been said that you are in every image you make. Each one is autobiographical. This is because the way you choose to frame an image, select its content and set its boundaries, is such a personal thing. During our tours and workshops I am often with other photographers, both professional and amateur, at the same place, in the same light, at the same time, each of us with high quality gear and perhaps similar skill. But when we share our images afterwards, it's surprising how different they are. Each eye chose a different way to frame the scene or subject.

Return from the Arctic

I'm flying home from another of my arctic sojourns. Yesterday started a little before daylight as we left the ship anchored in snow-covered and breezy Resolute, and zodiaced to the nearby shore to catch our ride to the airport. We were met by a grizzled and burly man in a thick, faded, plaid shirt that looked like it was rarely removed, and then, only when absolutely required. I said, "Good morning." and he grunted something not unpleasant, but not entirely intelligible either, clearly not a morning person. This was the only sound he made until he departed again in his battered and rattly van with a simple, but reasonably clear, "See you." How such a brief exchange could endear you to someone I don't know, but I felt a fondness for his thrifty style. He looked and acted like the iconic working man of the north.