Wildlife photography should be easy: get a long lens, put the critter in the frame and don’t screw up the exposure. Simple, right?
In the 20 years during which I have slid sideways into becoming a wildlife photographer, I have found myself both delighted and frustrated by the challenge of it. Surely if you know how to use a camera, the rest should be a matter of funding the lens and finding the animals. Beautiful creatures make for beautiful photographs, do they not?
Well, yes and no. Mostly no.
I think it’s a mistake to talk about picture-making as though our approach to it is determined by the stuff in the image. We don’t get a pass on weak composition just because the bear didn’t do what we hoped, nor does our picture only succeed because “Look, it’s a bear!” Sure, wildlife photographers have a weird thing for beanbags and we’re overly fond of khaki clothing, but the visual language we employ in our photographs is the same for all of us, and we don’t get a pass on bad composition or a lack of storytelling because we’re working with exotic subjects. I’ve seen some bad photographs of some beautiful people, and so have you.
Visual design doesn’t work differently with a lion than it does with a lamp: shape, colour, contrast, scale, balance, shutter speeds, and apertures all work the same, no matter the subject.
As much as subject matter is the point of what we do as wildlife photographers, it’s also the problem: it’s too easy to get seduced and see nothing else.
When we believe that our subject is so beautiful that “we just can’t take a bad picture of it,” we’re dangerously close to doing just that. I can’t be the only one to have seen (and made) thousands of weak photographs despite the beautiful subject in front of my camera.
I’m trying to get around to the stated intent of this article, which, if the title has anything to say about it, is giving you five ways to make stronger wildlife photographs. But other ideas keep getting in the way, so before I try one more time to get to the point(s), here’s one more diversion—a disclaimer, if you will: these are not quick fixes. The five ideas that follow might require a fundamental shift in what you do and how you do it, but they are not easy tweaks.
If easy tweaks are what you’re looking for, I defer you to Amazon for a mind-blowing selection of bean bags and khaki clothing.
1. More Time
You can’t photograph wildlife in the margins by taking a minute here or an hour there. Like no other subject I can think of, wildlife will demand time from you; if you want your photographs in the wild to get stronger, you must put in more time. More time means more photographs, more failures, and lessons learned. It means different weather and light. It means different behaviour from the animals, including the most challenging, which is simply their showing up in the first place.
You can spend money on the best lenses, but if you want to make a real difference in your photographs, you’ve got to spend the time.
2. Watch Your Background
Speaking of spending money on the best lenses, one reason photographers shell out the big shekels is to reduce cluttered backgrounds to pleasing bokeh, and faster (read: more expensive) lenses help do that. But so does paying attention to the background in the first place, positioning yourself to shoot towards something less cluttered, or waiting for the subject to move, which gives you more distance between them and the background to reduce the depth of field.
There are several tactics for controlling your background. What’s most important is that you make it a priority and obsess about it; it can’t be an afterthought.
The background is your canvas, and if it pulls my eye, it will also diminish my attention and my emotional response to your subject. Be uncompromising about this.
3. It’s Always the Light
While you’re being uncompromising about your canvas (your background), can I urge you to be as fastidious about your choice of paint? Light is our paint, and if I live 1,000 years, I’ll never understand why photographers are so willing just to take what comes their way instead of being proactive about the light in which they photograph.
“But I can’t do anything about the light!” Yes, you can. You can go out earlier, in different weather. You can turn front light into backlight by changing positions. You can (tough love coming) put the camera down and wait for better light.
“But I don’t have time!” Exactly. See my first point. What a waste of money to spend $16,000 on a long, fast lens, but cheap out when it comes to spending the time you need to be out there when the light is at its most compelling and emotive. Your photographs will improve when you make them with better paint.
It’s not only the light, but it’s always the light.
4. Wait for the Action
There’s something appealing about that tight portrait of a leopard—the texture of the hair, the intensity of the gaze, the perceived proximity to something so powerful. I get it. But it can’t be all portraits, all the time. Not if you want to tell a bigger story and have a portfolio with some scope and rhythm. If you want story, then you’ve got to capture behaviour, and to do that, you need to wait (see my first point, again) for them to do something.
Wait for them to do what? Well, that’s up to you. What are you trying to show me with this photograph? Is it a bird landing on a branch, a bear shaking off the water after catching a fish, or the way the ears of a cat go flat and the pupils dilate when the animal sees prey? It could be anything, but make it something. If it interests you, it will probably interest me when I look at the photograph, but action and behaviour are where the story is. And the more you know it, the more you can predict it, and the more you can anticipate it, the better the chance you’ll have a story to tell me. Whatever you’re photographing, wait for it to do something.
5. Look for Connection
Want to make a stronger photograph? Make me care. Fill it with emotion and story. Give me a catchlight in the eye—give me action or behaviour. Give me light that paints a mood. Give me connection. Get that camera to eye level. Wait for eye contact, either with me or with another animal. Show me the moments of intimacy. If they’re not doing something you care about—something that pulls at your emotions—there’s little chance others will care about it when they look at your pictures.
This list of ideas is not a pick and choose. It’s not about doing one of these, but doing all of them: finding a beautiful subject doing something that generates connection, painted with compelling light on a great background. For that, you need time. And not just time, but attention. Yes, get the long lens and nerd out on camouflage lens covers. It can’t hurt. Hell, get the best bean bag you can afford, but don’t mistake the sharp photograph you get as a result for the kind of pictures you might make if you paid more attention to what stirs the heart or mind to awe and wonder.
For the Love of the Photograph,
David
