The Photograph Explained: Faces in the Canyon, The Greater Blue Mountain World Heritage Area by Leonard Metcalf
The late start was inevitable. The decision to go and photograph this canyon was made in the small hours whilst playing that final round of pool over a few too many beers.
Jamie, an accomplished volunteer and dear friend offered to accompany me. This sealed the deal. It would become the next days mission.
Canyoning in the Blue Mountains is a very cold, wet experience. Bracingly cold. Physically demanding, involving wetsuits, dry bags, waterproof Pelian boxes and some considerably long walks and what seems like never-ending swims. All with a heavy wet pack. We often use air mattresses to paddle on, but I have found with so much in pack it has enough buoyancy to keep me afloat. At least this canyon didn’t need the climbing harness, helmets or abseil ropes.
Choosing the camera was easy, take the smallest toughest one you have, and pack just one lens. Better make it a light weight one in one of your favoured focal length. So in this instance it was a 1950’s 4 x 5 metal field camera, a Linhof Technica III. I had already surgically removed the rangefinder to shed a few more ounces of weight. The lens was a small crisp Fuji W 135mm f5.6 lens. It all folds up neatly into a small package, yet is feels a bit like a brick. It has a few moderate movements, a tiny bit of tilt activated by dropping the bed. It has some swing, and I have often threatened to have a Arca Swiss standard dovetail attached to the side so I can mount it sideways so I can use the swing as tilt.
I had been using colour transparency exclusively for the past couple of years and had only worked in the canyons with these films previously. They do make it slightly harder with their limited latitude. You have to learn to embrace the blacks. The first visits were in 1988 when I tackled Claustral Canyon over three days with a large format camera, wetsuit, abseil ropes and overnight camping gear (that trip finished with a 75 pound pack, transparencies I had to print them with contrast reducing masks on Cibachrome and an art school portfolio worthy of high distinctions, but that is another story for another time).
I had been encouraged to expand my horizons and shoot some black and white images. For ease of use, scan friendly nature, latitude, and in particular the ease of getting it developed I choose a black and white chromogenic film. Kodak T400CN in 4 x 5 inch sheets. I didn’t have access to a darkroom and I hadn’t discovered any commercial labs that developed traditional black and white films at the time. They came latter here in Australia. I also threw in two double dark slides, one with colour transparency Fuji Provia and one with the Kodak black and white film. That gave me a total of four shots for an afternoon, an ample supply considering my usual consumption of film. I never bracket and rarely took more than three photographs on a good day.
With our late start, we walked down the exit of the canyon mid afternoon. We were putting on our wetsuits as the canyoners were taking theirs off. Bemused we headed upstream, as we left them scratching their heads as to where we were going in the late afternoon. We had to wade and swim upstream to visit our proposed location. In these situations I head to one location, then work with it, rather than wandering and shooting along the way. Actually this is the way I prefer to work most of the time. Spending time in a place allows me to see more, adjust and settle. Getting the large format camera out of all its waterproofing after drying myself takes time and time wasn’t on our side.
On arriving at this side canyon. This canyon is a tributary that flows into the main canyon we had swum up. It is a very tight sandstone slot, only a foot or two wide, fifty feet high. You have to take your pack off and shimmy through sideways to get through. Fifty yards latter your through into what is affectionately called the ‘Green Room’. Jamie disappeared exploring further upstream to leave me in peace to photograph without distractions, he was in search of the duck under where you have to hold your breath and swim underwater in the dark into the next section. I wandered around, sat, looked, observed and pondered taking in the majesty of the location. Despite the thermals under your wetsuit, it is very cold. You slowly warm up. Your hands are a bit numb and fiddling with the camera requires careful attention as your sensitivity is a bit shot.
This photograph came easily to me, as did the decision to shoot in black and white. The dark walls lacked the stunning vibrant greens that dominated the usual images I was taking in similar locations. The Australian sandstone slot canyons of the Blue Mountains are very different from the ones in Utah. Here they are wet, moss and fern covered. The ones in Utah are reds and oranges, dry and dusty. I have a thing for visual depth in my work, and the depth down through the encroaching walls dominated my composition. I knew that the viewers eye would love to wander into the distance of the canyon walls, down to the highlights. I spot metered, ensuring that I would capture the details in the green ferns, setting the highlights and then letting the shadows fall where they may.
Latter I took two colour images in the same area of the green moss that dominated the large open space behind me and a detail of the ferns. Jamie returned and it was time to head out of there. My little stop had been only 35 minutes.
The trip home was memorable as we hadn’t planned on being out so late and had neglected to bring any torches. As the sun set, looking at my watch, I knew that we would be walking in the dark. Twilight would soon be upon us. A wave of stress flowed through me, remembering the old barbed wire fence at the top of the hill we had to step over and the very loose track we were following back to our vehicle. We plodded up the hill slowly and steadily with just enough of the track to follow. Luckily as we neared the ridge a near full moon rose and there was plenty of light to navigate back to our vehicle. There is an important lesson here: never leave home without some form of torch. I now keep two in my camera bag religiously. And take a third powerful head torch for those nights I plan to be back late.
The film was developed in C41 at my lab, and was returned to me with a slightly enlarged proof. It was on the judgement of this proof that I decided to get it drum scanned to be used as my main marketing image for the Leonard Metcalf Gallery at Katoomba, in The Greater Blue Mountains World Heritage Area. The first print was the 3 x 3.75 meter banner that hung on the side of the gallery. On laying out this huge print I was shocked to see more details in the highlights than in the original proof. The drum scan had bought out more details and had had further enhanced the photograph.
We chose that image as the main one to market the gallery with. The image went on to postcards and posters to market the gallery. It was so rewarding to meet people who turned up at the gallery with the postcard in hand, bought there only on inspiration of that one image. They needed the map on the back to find me, as I was located down a back alley in the oldest building in town.
I included the location, the canyon name on these materials. To my horror visitation requests to go to this canyon skyrocketed at the local guiding companies. This was the most important lesson for me. I now carefully consider which shots I tell people the locations of and which ones I avoid telling people. I believe that it is my responsibility to make decisions like that in the best interest of the area and its ability to handle increased traffic. As guidance I turn to the National Parks and see if the area has been sacrificed for visitors. So this photograph received a name change with me taking the location out of the title.
The new title is fitting, as the longer you look, the more faces you see. One imaginative photographer counted over fifteen.
This image has turned out to be very significant in my journey as a photographer. Taken nearly twenty years ago. It is the first black and white image that I published and has received wider recognition. It is the start of what would latter become an obsession. An obsession with black and white photography. Contemplating this image has taught me loads about composition. In particular about how depth captivates the viewer. How little details intrigue the viewer. How imagination can play a part in the viewers personal journey through a photograph.
Today it serves as motivation to get back into the canyons. So many more beautiful images to capture in this wild harsh location.
People still point out new faces in this image. It still sells consistently. It is probably my most iconic photograph. To think it all started drunk one night over too many beers.
Details: Linhof Technica III circa 1950, Nikkor W 135mm f 5.6 Kodak T400CN 4 x 5 sheet film - Exposure details unrecorded (probably f22 @ a couple of minutes)
