David Yarrow
Norse, 2019
Digital Pigment Print on Archival 315gsm Hahnemuhle Photo Rag Baryta paper
Edition of 12 plus 3 artist's proofs
74 x 71 in. (framed), 59 x 56 in. (print)
54 x 52 in. (framed), 39 x 37 in. (print)
55 x 52 in. (framed), 40 x 37 in. (print)
Skogafoss in southern Iceland is a familiar destination for us, we have filmed there a few times over the years and know its potential and also its challenges. The waterfall...
Skogafoss in southern Iceland is a familiar destination for us, we have filmed there a few times over the years and know its potential and also its challenges. The waterfall is aesthetically without equal in Europe and the backdrop offers the chance of an arresting photograph, especially as the foreground gives a platform on which to add narrative. The waterfall itself is of little interest to me; it is photographed thousands of times a day by good photographers with good cameras. It must be used as part of the story, not the whole event.
The riddle is how to manage the distance between the camera and the point of impact of the huge volumes of water that smash onto the ground. To work too close risks not just losing perspective, but having spray, quickly rendering the camera inoperable. To work further away is more practical, but then the distance compression can dumb things down and lose the sense of immersion and importantly the scale.
We now know our spot and our lens choice, but this was the first time we had put it to the test in the snow, when Skogafoss becomes a three-sided winter vortex; a bit like a deep freeze with the front door removed. It certainly requires a few hand warmers and a load of towels to survive even 10 minutes.
Tourists started to arrive at around 9 am, which meant we were wrapped before most people were up, but that is often the way in Iceland. We had a small window and we used it well.
This photograph should really be credited to the horse farmer who finished off being absolutely drenched. They make them tough up in Iceland; he didn’t complain once and found the whole experience rather entertaining.
When I looked at this image for the first time on a big screen, I saw the seagull soaring half way up the waterfall. I had no idea that it was there at the time and I think it lends further sense of scale to an extraordinary location. That is pure luck.
The riddle is how to manage the distance between the camera and the point of impact of the huge volumes of water that smash onto the ground. To work too close risks not just losing perspective, but having spray, quickly rendering the camera inoperable. To work further away is more practical, but then the distance compression can dumb things down and lose the sense of immersion and importantly the scale.
We now know our spot and our lens choice, but this was the first time we had put it to the test in the snow, when Skogafoss becomes a three-sided winter vortex; a bit like a deep freeze with the front door removed. It certainly requires a few hand warmers and a load of towels to survive even 10 minutes.
Tourists started to arrive at around 9 am, which meant we were wrapped before most people were up, but that is often the way in Iceland. We had a small window and we used it well.
This photograph should really be credited to the horse farmer who finished off being absolutely drenched. They make them tough up in Iceland; he didn’t complain once and found the whole experience rather entertaining.
When I looked at this image for the first time on a big screen, I saw the seagull soaring half way up the waterfall. I had no idea that it was there at the time and I think it lends further sense of scale to an extraordinary location. That is pure luck.