Enjoy viewing 20 of 2020’s top photography collections!
Time’s Top 10 Photos
Time’s Top 200 Photos
New York Times
The New Yorker
The Washington Post
World Press Photo
My Modern MET
National Geographic – Travel
CNN – Travel
National Geographic – Wildlife
Guardian Nature Photographer Of The Year
National Geographic – Science
Nature – Science
Atlantic – Landscape
View My Best Images Of 2020.
People who take my workshops know my secret weapon, my wife, Arduina. It’s not just her technical knowledge it’s her warmth and hospitality. Those who visit us in our home know she’s the life of our parties. I mean who uses giant animal pool floats as lawn furniture?
When I first met her she was pursuing her MFA at and managing the digital labs of Maine Media Workshops. I’d never worked with someone as quick, smart, and knowledgeable. But that’s not why I married her. I fell in love with her because of her huge heart and her contagious enthusiasm. She’s the light of my life! She wants to share a little of that light with you now.
Her images are so whimsical you might think they’re staged rather than autobiographical. With or without a camera, she gives herself permission to play. On second glance, you’ll see they’re not unmindful of the sober undercurrents that run through our days. Her favorite quote is Milton’s “The mind is its own place and in itself, can make a Heaven of Hell, a Hell of Heaven.” You don’t have to guess which she chooses.
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Visit Ardie’s website.
Enjoy this selection of images from Scoresbysund, Greenland.
These images are selected from three ongoing series – Revelation, Constellation, and Contrail.
View more images from Greenland here.
Find out more about my Greenland workshops here.
Enjoy the photographs that US media selected as the best of 2016.
This is a selection of the images that started my series Revelation over twenty years ago. I had been planning on making related images in the arctic and antarctic for more than ten years. The series Revelation was on my mind when I first went to Antarctica in 2005; I started shooting deliberately for it on a return voyage in 2007; material slowly accumulated in subsequent voyages in 2009, 2011, 2013, and 2015; and then in 2016 it all came together. Part of the reason this work waited so long is that there was other work to do, including the completion of other related bodies of work including Inhalation and Exhalation. Doing that work influenced this work.
The images I recently released (arctic and antarctic Revelations) have a different quality as a result of waiting. they would have been different if I finished them earlier. In part, this comes from sleeping on it; the subconscious does a lot of work. In part, this is is the result of a significant amount of conscious thought; studying craft and composition were only the beginnings, digging into my thoughts and feelings about the subject and the approach were the real keys; related reading and viewing supported it. In part, this is the result of my inner state now; contrary to what some have suggested, I’ve found this isn’t something to overcome no matter what the current conditions but rather something to be nurtured and cultivated. While one needs to guard agains procrastination, one also needs to guard against rushing through content and not developing the necessary depth to fully engage it, fostering an intimate relationship with it. Doing the work develops depth. And, the work doesn’t just happen behind the lens or in front of the computer.
So when should you make work? This is a question that is best approached with awareness and deep contemplation. Though there are repeatable patterns and common tendencies, there is no one definitive answer to this question for all artists and all situations. I’ve found some work gets produced very quickly, sometimes a whole series is made in one shoot, and some work gets produced very slowly, over decades. Ultimately, I think you have to go with your gut. That doesn’t rule out the possibility and potential benefits of a great deal of research and forethought before you do. The two working in concert together often yield the most powerful combination. However, the single most important ingredient is, not mere spontaneity, which can be short lived, but an effervescence of spirit, and it’s particularly important to pay attention to this quality if it can be sustained over longer periods of time. One needs to be alive to the work to make it a living thing.
In the era of social networks, there is a tremendous pressure to release work quickly and to keep releasing work on a regular basis. This can create a pace that is unsustainable for most creatives, at least when it comes to releasing work with real depth. Good fully developed work takes time … because developing a relationship with your work and your self takes time, much like creating deeper relationships with people take time. Savor it.
At the same time, the unfinished work we make along the way has it’s own value, a very different value, and it can be fascinating to watch how we get to our final destinations. It’s important to know the difference and make the distinction between fully developed images and unfinished images, between work and play, both when we are producing our own images and enjoying others.
New images from my series Revelation are out!
Find more here.
View the ebook here.
Get the catalog here.
See related studies here.
Find out about the making of the exhibit here.
Hear my gallery talks on Facebook Live.
During our 2016 DPD Antarctica Workshop we had beautiful weather – foggy mornings, sunny days, and calm waters. I’d been looking for clear reflections like these for years; it is the windiest continent. All of the eight voyages I’ve made to Antarctica have been defined by weather, which has never been the same twice.
Social networks can be wonderful ways of sharing events in our lives, with or without images. Most posts are seen, commented on, and shared more if they include an image.
Some posts are just images. And there are social networks just for images. This all creates an insatiable demand for images, specifically photographs. Now, over one trillion photographs are made every year. (For the past several years, each year more photographs are created in the current year than in all previous years combined.)
Usually when photographs are shared there is no indication of what kind of photograph it is. They’re all shared equally, almost as if they’re all equal and all made for the same reasons, which they’re not. Never mind that some photographs are of higher quality than others. Making this kind of value judgment is another matter entirely – and not the point here. The point here is that we make many different kinds of photographs for many different reasons. (We quickly disregard the imperfections in family snapshots, sometimes they feel more real and immediate because of them, favoring instead their accuracy and spontaneity. We evaluate and use formal portraits in entirely different ways.) How successful photographs are is determined by how well they do what we want them to do. There is no one set of criteria that can be applied equally to all photographs; instead we apply different criteria to different kinds of photographs.
They shouldn’t all be read the same. If we looked at all photographs as being the same, and if we looked at all photographs in the same ways, we’d make many inaccurate conclusions and miss many important points.
So it’s important to ask, “How do we want the photographs we share to be received?”
Can we make it easier by taking some of the guesswork out of it all and tell our viewers more about what we’re trying to say by telling them more about how we’re trying to say it? There aren’t standard conventions for this – yet. (And we need them.)
In an attempt to embrace the challenge of communicating what kinds of photographs I share, I’ve started using specific language to describe and ways of presenting different types of photographs differently.
Here’s my current solution.
Documents are shared bare with no border.
Studies made during the development of more resolved work are shared with a textured paper border.
Fine art is shared with a matt and frame.
It takes a little extra time to add these touches but I think it’s worth the effort. In the end, I feel I’m communicating more effectively. I also find making the distinction between these types of images personally useful. I become clearer about what I’m trying to do, often while I’m making photographs. I’m better able to assess how well I’ve done what I’m trying to do and don’t waste time and energy applying an inappropriate set of criteria; sometimes this affects both productivity and how I make photographs. And finally, because I ask these questions I find new ideas – and that may be the most rewarding part of this process.
How do you share images in social networks?
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