Travel photography: In search of old Japan

Note: This article was first published on 4th December 2014, but the contents are still applicable today.

It was way too early and I was freezing my face off.

The sun wasn't out yet, and I was so cold my hands were turning red. What was I doing standing in front of this dark lake, bracing myself against the biting wind, when everyone else was still warm and snug in bed?

Oh yeah, I was there to take a photograph.

We’d always wanted to do a travel photography article here on HardwareZone.com, and over the past month, we finally got the chance in collaboration with Canon. With their latest camera, the EOS 7D Mark II, I spent 10 days in Japan, walking and taking photographs.

In this article, I’m going to talk about travel photography, but I won’t be talking too much about the basics, since I’ve dived more deeply into that with the HWM MegaGuide to Digital Photography 3.0 (iTunes link). Instead, I’ll be going deeper into how each of the 11 shots here were made, and why they were made, from the perspective of an amateur photographer.

This is my process, but it’s not the only process. Send another photographer on the same journey and I’m sure he or she will come back with very different results. But I’ve found great value in learning from other photographers’ processes through the years, and hopefully you’ll find something of value in reading through mine.

One confession before I start. I can’t pretend that photography is easy for me, and I shoot way more bad frames than good ones, but I’ve discovered that often the good frames come as a result of the bad ones. So I’ll also be talking about the mistakes I made, as well as showing you some of the shots that didn’t work and why.

What is travel photography?

Travel photography can be quite wide, so it’s useful to define what I mean by it here. A simple shot of sushi from your smartphone can be travel photography just as much as a photograph of maiko in the evening light. My goal with travel photographs is to shoot photographs that express how I felt about a particular place. If I’m successful, then maybe someone else will feel the same way I did, looking at the photographs I made.

Before you go

It helps to define a key theme for what you want to photograph before you travel to a new place. What is it about this place that you particularly want to focus on? Is it about the landscape? Its people? Or is it a more general theme, like spirituality or modernity? For example, before I flew to Japan, I decided I wanted to find the traditional side of Japan, to go “in search of old Japan”.

Knowing that was my focus helped me in three ways, before, during and after. Before I went, I planned to hit the older parts of Japan instead of staying in a major city like Tokyo. When I was shooting, I knew the kinds of places and people I would focus on, and what I could ignore. When I did my edits, my theme helped me to narrow down my selection and focus on the shots which fit the theme.

In search of old Japan

When you talk about Japan, you have to talk about Mount Fuji at some point, right? I have some other straight-on photos of Mount Fuji, but I chose this one to start the series, because this shot combines both an icon of Japan and a clear indicator of the season I visited it in. Introducing these two elements first helps to set the scene, and establish the period.

The afternoon before I made this photo, I walked around Lake Kawaguchiko, trying angles of Mount Fuji framed against autumn leaves. I don’t always get the shot right the first time, but I find that there’s a lot of value in trying different compositions of a scene I like — ‘sketching’ to find if something works (01, 02).

Doing my review that night, I discovered some sketches I thought might work if I went back again in the early morning light. Some photographers won't even look at their work until months later, but I find it helps to review your photos at the end of the day, to see where you succeeded, where you didn’t, and what can be improved. It's also useful to spot if you're repeating yourself, and if your work resonates with your chosen theme or a stronger theme is beginning to emerge.

This shot wouldn't have been possible without some planning beforehand. Thanks to the research I did before I reached Japan, I’d booked an inn to stay where I knew I’d be facing out into Lake Kawaguchiko, looking at Mount Fuji. I also knew the inn lent out bicycles, so I could wake up early and get to my location quickly.

The next day, I woke before sunrise and cycled back to the places I’d scouted before. But I’d arrived ahead of time, and while Mount Fuji was getting some sunlight, the leaves were still dark and dull. I knew the light was going to change soon, so I just waited around 10 minutes (03, 04) until the sun crested the mountains and hit the autumn leaves, turning them from black to fiery red.

 

It’s sad to think that the iconic Tsukiji Fish Market in Tokyo will one day become a part of old Japan. Even though the date hasn’t been finalised, the inner market is set to move to a new location, tearing the inner and outer markets into two pieces.

I’d been fiddling with my camera in front of this obasan’s (grandmother) store. When I raised my camera, our eyes locked and she gave me a little smile. That’s when I knew it was okay to make a few portraits. I loved how her store lights shone like stars as she stood under them. I amplified the effect by shooting at f/11; when you shoot at smaller apertures you get a starburst effect coming from points of light, like the ones you see here.

I also love how the warm yellows of her store contrast with the blue morning light coming from the left side of the image. Because our eyes are drawn to warm over cool colours, the effect pulls your eye to where she’s standing. If I can get poetic, it says something to me about how the warm yellows are still sheltering her from the cold changes that are coming for Tsukiji. 

This shot is a great example of the way zooming in and out changes the way lines look in a photograph.

The cedar trees on the way to Togakushi Shrine were breathtakingly tall, and I wanted to express that in some way. Shooting with a wide angle exaggerated the lines the trees made (05), but it wasn’t the look I was after. Instead, I wanted to show how straight and tall the trees were.

To do that, I zoomed in to 42 mm (on an APS-C camera like the 7D Mark II, that translates to 67.2 mm in 35 mm equivalent). While a wide angle lens exaggerates lines and makes objects appear further away from each other (05), a telephoto makes lines appear straighter and subjects look closer together (07).

To show how tall the trees were, I needed people inside the shot to provide a sense of scale, and I wanted them to be a small part of the picture to further accentuate how tall the trees were. After shooting a few frames, I realised that nobody would be able to link the photo back to Japan if all I shot were people and trees. So I walked back to the entrance, where there was a traditional entrance and a shimenawa (sacred rope) tied around a tree.

I saw a couple approach while the rest of the walkway was clear, so I knew they would make clear subjects. If you look at the pathway, there are patches in shadow and places that are lit. I knew that if I wanted to draw my viewer’s eye, I had to wait until the couple walked into the light to take the shot (see 06, where they're in shadow and not as prominent). They made a series of poses as they walked through the light (07), and one of them worked for my final image.

This abstract photo was born out of frustration and receptivity. I arrived in Tsumago, a small preserved town, in the middle of rain, rain and more rain.

The light was flat, and I couldn’t find anything to photograph. In the middle of my frustration, I asked myself what my most immediate impression of the place was: wet, wet, and more wet. So I picked that as a theme to work with. I found some autumn leaves, lying in puddles on the street, and began to play around. I’d recently been experimenting with a slow shutter technique (inspired by photographer David duChemin), where you slow the shutter speed and intentionally move the camera to create an abstract, impressionistic picture.

It’s a very touch-and-go technique, sometimes I get something, most times I end up with hazy photos. I’ve found that your basic composition needs to be strong when doing this. Leading lines need to be clear and colours need to be intense, like how there’s a clear line moving through the leaves here, and how the bright colours of the leaves contrast strongly against the black gravel.

There's a lot of trial and error involved before you find something that clicks. But when the technique works, it can work beautifully - this blurry picture conveys the wetness of the rainy afternoon more clearly than any of the other tack-sharp pictures I took that day.

I was playing around with the composition on this photograph, when a man walked out of his house and gave me the focal point I needed. Without him, the picture would have been empty, without a subject for the eye to be drawn to (08). One reason why this photo works is because of the repeating triangles in it. The mountains, the roofs, and even the man’s pose create triangles (09). The repeating lines help to draw the eye in and down the image, and finally, a human figure helps to anchor the moment.

Sometimes, luck is on your side…or is it?

I’d found this composition earlier in the day, and tried a few variations of it (10, 11). But nothing really clicked, so I decided to come back during sunset and try again. As the sun was setting, the light changed to that beautiful twilight blue you get just before everything turns black. I loved how the warm yellow of the streetlamp complemented the blues in the upper part of the image, but even then you can see how the empty street lacks a subject for the eye to latch on (12).

Out of nowhere, an old lady walks into the street, carrying a bright red umbrella. I thanked my lucky stars - until I remembered my camera was still set on timer mode! All I could do was press the shutter and hope I got something.

This was the single frame I got. It’s not perfect, she’s a little too near to the edge of the frame. I would have preferred if she was more to the left and up of the frame to better balance out the composition. But to me, the light, moment and moment here trump that detail so much that I can live with it.

So…sometimes, you do need luck to get the shot. But then again, you have to put yourself in a place where you can get lucky. In my case, it was a matter of working this scene again and again, coming back during sunset with a tripod, then waiting it out in the freezing cold hoping to get something good before the day was out.

I’d walked nearly six kilometres in the rain along a mountain trail, and had shot nothing good the entire morning .The light was flat, the colours were dull, the trees were bare, and I was cold, wet and sad.

Then I chanced upon this guesthouse and walked into a scene straight out of old Japan. I was so relieved to get out of the rain, get a hot cup of tea and a snack to eat. I chatted with the old man minding the guesthouse in my broken Japanese, and after a while I asked him if it was okay to take some photographs. He agreed, and this is one of my favourite images taken in the entire journey.

There's debate among photographers whether you should make a photograph with consent or ‘steal’ a photograph without consent. I think there's a time for either. Of course, if you decide to ask for permission instead of just taking the shot, there’s always the chance that you will be refused. But then again, if I hadn’t taken the time to talk and ask, I wouldn't have been able to make such a relaxed portrait of this ojiisan (grandfather).

The only technical part about this shot I want to talk about was how careless I was to be shooting at 1/30th of a second — I’m just plain lucky this shot is still sharp (thank you, lens image stabilisation). It was dark, but I should have increased my ISO and shot at a faster shutter speed instead, to increase my chances of getting a sharp photograph.

I’d walked around this street the afternoon before, making sketch images and getting the lay of the land. The next morning, as I was shooting just after sunrise, these clouds came out of nowhere to envelop the land. The detail that makes this shot for me is the single point of bright orange in the bottom third of the picture. It helps to provide some contrast to the blues and shadows and to draw the eye.

I know it can be difficult to find the time to shoot when traveling, especially if you’re traveling with others. The one trick I’ve found that works is to get up earlier than everyone else and go shoot during the sunrise hours. Most people would rather sleep in, and you have this short pocket of time where you can shoot to your heart’s content. Plus, the light is amazing, contrast this photo with the light from the afternoon before (13), and at 8:49AM, two hours after the chosen image was taken (14).

This shot was taken at the end of a long day, where all my shots were bad and I was convinced I was an absolute failure at photography.

I’d been seeing these guys drawing these old rickshaws around the whole day, and in the late evening light I saw one coming towards an interesting light and background. I didn’t even think I’d get anything, but I panned with him and shot a few frames.

The miracle is that something actually worked (15, 16). When you pan with a moving subject at a slow enough shutter speed, you get the subject somewhat in focus with a blurry background, which ended up being a great way to photograph these guys. I thought I might get something here.

The problem is that it was getting dark — I mean, really dark. My shutter speed was getting slow, the ISO was getting high. But I decided to just keep shooting — after all, I’d already been failing the whole day, why not fail a little more? The trick was to catch when these guys would run into both the light provided by the streetlights, and shoot against backgrounds that said ‘old Japan’. I saw this guy approaching a streetlight, in front of the perfect Japanese backdrop. Even better, he had two passengers dressed in traditional kimono.

This was make it or break it time. I wasn’t sure if the camera could even handle it, like I said, it was dark. But thanks to the 7D Mark II’s fast frame-rates, quick auto-focus and high ISO, I squeezed a few frames and managed to nail it with this one.

Technically, this is a terrible shot. The noise is high (though it’s far more usable than I thought it would be at ISO 16,000), and the subjects are blurry. But to me, this is one of those shots where the light, lines and moment trump the technicalities — so I’ll take it. I like how the blurry movement conveys how these guys are always moving around. I also love how there's such a variety of primary colours in this shot, from blue to green to red to yellow. Most of all, I love how the yellow light from the streetlight draws a diagonal line right across the image, and how the man is just about moving away from the blue light on the left and into the yellow light on the right.

I reached Tenryuji temple early in the morning, and there were already tourists hurriedly snapping photos of its beautiful garden. But I noticed this gentleman just taking his time, sitting down and relaxing into the moment.

I decided to follow his lead and sit as well, and that’s when I saw how these doors framed the garden outside. I made a few frames, but wasn’t happy with what I got — there was no strong focal point in any of the shots (17). And then I wondered…what if I shot this gentleman and used him to focus the frame? I went to sit behind him and photographed this moment. For most of my trip, I’d kept the 7D Mark II on silent continuous shooting mode. It’s quiet, inconspicuous and allowed me to shoot subtly in delicate settings like this one, so that my subjects wouldn't take too much notice of me (this man didn't even realise I was there until he turned around to leave).

What I like about this shot is how the frame around the garden helps to focus on it. The man’s silhouette helps to anchor the picture — the photo might work either with or without him, thanks to the lines created by the tatami leading into the door frames, but I do like him in it. Because the man himself isn’t the main subject, it wasn’t necessary to show him in detail, so I underexposed the shot to show him in shadow.

I have to thank this man for showing me how to slow down and appreciate the moment. If I’d gone into the scene snapping away like everyone else, I might have ended up with a standard straight-on shot of the garden (18). But by taking my time and becoming receptive to the tranquility of the moment, it allowed me to find a different point of view and express it more concisely.

This is one of my favourite images, and I chose to use it to cap off my search for old Japan, because it sums up my journey nicely.

In 10 days, what I saw was only a brief glimpse into the immense culture of Japan. And even though I saw many beautiful parts of old Japan, the truth of it is that I was experiencing it all in the year 2014. All I can do today is appreciate the past through modern eyes, and this photo of a girl in a traditional kimono, using a modern smartphone, says that all for me.

I’d been walking along Gion Shimbashi street and noticed that there were many ladies dressed in kimono visiting the area. Since my theme was ‘old Japan’, I thought they’d make great subjects. I found a place where I thought there was good light and a good backdrop, then I waited for them to walk past. As they approached, I’d pat my camera and ask them if I could take their photograph. If they said yes, I’d shoot.

I’d shot a couple of subjects before I realised that the light I thought was good wasn’t that great after all (19). That’s when I turned around into the sun, squeezed off a few test pictures, and realised that that was the light I needed.

That’s when this girl and her friend walked by. I have a few frames of her and her friend facing the camera when they agreed to let me take their portraits. But during the shoot, this girl had a call come in, and she turned around to answer it. I didn’t stop, but continued to shoot into this amazing backlight.

I have a few frames where she turned around to face and laugh into the camera (20), but I prefer this one where her back is facing us. The blue belt adds contrast to the reds of the kimono, and the lines created by her silhouette stand out beautifully. There’s also something more mysterious about not being able to see her face, don’t you think? If I show the photo of her facing the camera, then the shot becomes more about this particular woman. But with her back facing us, she represents something else altogether, not this particular person, but a symbol for the Japanese woman in general.

Showing your work; or why you should edit ruthlessly

Before I end this article, I want to take the chance to share what I once learned from Magnum Photos photographer, Abbas. I was lucky to take a photography workshop with him a few years ago, and if there’s one key takeaway I learned from him, it’s this: edit your work ruthlessly.

Out of thousands of images shot from a group of participants over a few days, Abbas forced us to whittle them down to a selection of 20-odd photographs to create a single photo essay.

I remember being shell-shocked at how breathtakingly good some of the photos we threw away were, but I learned a hard and valuable lesson. If we’d included the good photos amongst the great, they would have diluted the impact of the entire series and made those great photographs lesser for it. In this case, less is really more.

On social media, I find that people tend to share too many of their travel photographs than too little. Even when I really want to browse through their galleries, my eyes glaze over, because there are so many shots I don’t know what I should be looking at. By curating what they share, I believe their good photographs might stand out more strongly, and their viewers will have an easier time appreciating their travels.

Over these 10 days, I shot over 4,000 frames. There are about 70 that I like, and then there are these 11 that I really like. I didn't share some of the photos I love just as much as these 11, because while they’re strong photographs, they don’t fit into my theme of old Japan. Having them in the series would make the entire body of work weaker. Take a look at the collection above, compared to the collection I showed you below. Which is stronger? Does having too many shots of the same subject, like Mount Fuji, dilute the overall body of work? In this case, is less more, or do you think there's far too little? Which do you prefer to show, if this was your work? Which would you prefer to see, if you were the viewer?

Ask more questions

In the end, I don’t want to say you should do this or that with your photographs, or leave you with three easy steps to something. Instead, I want to ask questions, and encourage you to do the same. I think questions more than answers is as good a way as any to spark off more thoughts into how to approach your own travel photography. That's why I enjoy learning from other photographers' processes; there are so many ways to approach the work, that I find there's more value in learning from them and asking questions than to try and find a definite, one-size-fits-all answer.

So how would you want to approach your own travel photographs? What do you want to say most about the places you go? What do you most like to photograph? What do you want to share with your friends and family about the places you’ve been? How much time and thought would you like to put into a single shot? Do you want to take time out of a vacation to try just shooting for you?

P.S. I hope that a little peek into my own process has given you some value along the way.