Of moose and men........

Another day of staring out of the window at weather which precludes any field work. I'm not going to risk a soaking on a day which, due to the frequency and severity of the showers probably won't yield any worthwhile results anyway. I'm happy to risk the occasional discomfort if the day is going well but today, out on an exposed part of the Cambrian mountains, I don't think so.

I'm not averse to a modicum of risk, I have been in some 'hairy' places and situations making photographs. Mostly, it has to be said, ignorantly oblivious to any possible danger due to the preoccupation at the time with image making. A magical day in the Montarbu forest in Sardinia when strange, snuffling noises from the undergrowth kept distracting me.

Montarbu Forest, Barbagia, Sardinia, 2000

I'm not sure when I twigged what they were. I was engrossed with the photography, fascinated by the lizards that were scuttling around my feet and tripod legs and too busy working out the complexities of exposure and contrast. A movement in the bushes close to me made me look up and out from under the focussing cloth to glimpse a large, dark brown hairy form with a few smaller ones darting away. Pigs? I thought. Too big and hairy, or the biggest I have seen anyway. Then it dawned on me. This was an ancient forest, tucked away in the mountains in the middle of Sardinia. What were we served for dinner the night before? Of course, wild boar. 

I had no idea of any danger we were in. I imagined they would be fine unless disturbed but they had young with them. Piglets? Boarlets? What are they called? Anyway, I carried on photographing and they left us alone.

A few years later I was fortunate enough to receive an invitation to be the artist in residence at Green Mountain College in Vermont, USA. It involved a bit of teaching, a chance to photograph and an exhibition at the end. All in their magnificent 'fall'. How could I refuse?

Vermont, USA, 2004

The freedom to wander through the many forest tracks without seeing another soul all day was wonderful. It coincided with my starting on a body of work dealing with forests so a perfect opportunity. Every evening I would drive back to Poultney and the college campus to share with colleagues there my experiences and travels for the day. My maps would be brought out and lines drawn tracing my routes through the forests. 

One evening they all looked a little concerned. "You were wandering around there?" "Yes, pretty much all day". "Er, were you dressed like that?" "Well, yes". It was fall, not too warm so brown walking boots, brown trousers for trudging through forests, warm brown  jacket with plenty of pockets for bits and pieces all topped out with my brown wide brimmed hat. Much shaking of heads, sucking in of breath through their teeth. "Don't advise that, wear something very bright". "Why?" "Well you see, it's the start of the moose and brown bear bow and arrow hunting season here in the forests so anything dark moving through the forests........" Now where did I put my high vis. vest.........."

There are times of course when you can be too visible. Large format camera, big tripod, Welsh flag as a focussing cloth. You get the picture. This was apparent in 1988 in Northern Ireland. I had been popping back and fore across the border working on a long-term project when I was driving out across a causeway at the top of Lough Erne one evening. The end of the causeway was the border between the North and the Republic and, at that time, heavily fortified and guarded by the British army. 

Large signs warned against stopping on the causeway, and also indicated that this was strictly a 'no photographing' zone. Not great at taking hints I glanced to my left and saw a photographic possibility.

Lough Erne, Co. Fermanagh, Ireland, 1988

Oblivious, or stupidly, you decide, I chose to stop and make an image. The light was fading and it would probably be the last photograph of the day. Out of the estate car, open the back, extract large grey Gitzo tripod, erect on the causeway, screw camera on, disappear under Welsh flag focussing cloth. Fumble, focus, take meter reading, close lens, cock shutter, insert darkslide, withdraw sheath, make exposure, replace sheath, pull out film holder and put carefully in the case. All takes time. Enough to raise suspicions but I hadn't finished........ I have a routine whereby I make a drawing in a notebook of almost every image I make. These act as a kind of visual diary and an aid memoir when I get back home to the images I have made. I compare these to the negatives then use them for date and location to assist filing and captioning. 

Field trip notebook page, Ireland, April 4th. 1988

In retrospect I was already 'pushing it' with regard to testing the patience and nerves of the British Army lookouts but my routine is my routine and the drawing had to be made. So I duck back under the focussing cloth, open the lens and make my - upside down of course - drawing from the image on the ground glass. After I had packed everything back into the car and driven forward to the checkpoint, barbed wire, red lights, stop before crossing etc. An officer beckoned me to wind down my window. He didn't actually say anything, but made a gesture which indicated what he thought of me and how close I had been to........well not sure really! So the rule seems to be - high visibility for the moose hunters and invisibility for the soldiers.