Into the Unknown with Doug Derksen

Over the past several years, few people have offered me guidance and mentorship like Doug Derksen. A master photographer with an abundance of knowledge, and seemingly endless patience, Doug has helped transform the way I see my subjects and edit photos. An intellectual with an eye for the art of capturing light, Doug is a truly passionate photographer, and one whose work I am overjoyed to share with you.

Born in Ontario, but currently residing in Manitoba, Doug has spent a lifetime exploring the intricacies of light and shadow through his camera. An avid outdoorsman, Doug’s dedication to photography has allowed him to develop a deep and thoughtful body of work centred around his love of the natural world. Join Doug as he ventures Into the Unknown to share how passion and planning coalesce into craft.

Above and beyond taking singularly stunning photographs, you are also driven to create a body of work that encapsulates a cohesive thematic intent. Why do you think it’s important for photographers to examine their work as part of a whole rather than just as individual, unconnected photos?

At first, I really didn't understand bodies of work and resisted the idea. Many artists kept telling me that the way to improve was through producing bodies of work. The idea of working on one subject seemed too restrictive. The prompts often used, like “photographing circles”, seemed contrived. After all, I like spending time exploring nature in interesting light. I like big landscapes, which didn't seem to fit bodies of work. However, when people look at my photos, they often see themes and subjects that I returned to frequently - that is, unintentional bodies of work that came together because of an intentional passion for specific landscapes and light.

I have taken a number of courses from the Canadian photographer, David DuChemin (all excellent, by the way). One course really stressed bodies of work, so I chose subjects that I was interested in and started to put bodies of work together. Sometimes this meant dedicating an outing to shooting a particular subject, using a particular format, a specific lens, etc. More often, it meant I needed to keep in mind that, if I wanted to build a larger body of work, I needed to return to that particular location when the weather or light was right. My photos definitely improved. Rather than drive-by shooting, my photos became more intentional. I often spend a morning exploring a location, finding different compositions, and waiting for different light.

During the last course I took from DuChemin, he asked us to submit bodies of work. I pointed him to my website and several galleries that I thought of as bodies of work. However, he picked out a series of images from different galleries that were big sky landscapes and suggested I take time to develop a larger body of work around that theme and ultimately a 200-page book with similar photos. Interestingly, these are my favourite photos: the ones that mean the most to me, the ones that best express my connection to nature, and the ones that I most want to continue taking.

For the moment, I have called this body of work the Horizon Project, and you can see the idea as it is developing on my website. I have chosen a 65x24 panorama aspect ratio under the categories of: The Far Horizon, The Near Horizon, The Wild Horizon, and The Night Horizon. The aspect ratio and categories may change, but I wanted a framework to start. David suggested that this project will likely take five years.

So why bodies of work? They push me to be more creative. For example, I spent one month only taking black and white landscapes. This forced me to look at composition more than the richly coloured light that attracts me. My ability to see what was actually in a composition really improved.

Bodies of work have led to exhibitions. Since the work is on one theme, there is an appeal and continuity. My current show “Along the Souris” is running at Section 6 Brewery here in Brandon from April to the end of June (2024). It has images taken along a five-mile stretch of river either in the morning light or at night all with similar look and feel.

You often return to the same location when photographing. What are the benefits to exploring a singular locale over time, and how does returning to a location change the way you photograph it?

I used to think that new places, especially iconic places, were the best to photograph. I had some major health issues that meant I could no longer travel to distant locations. In fact, at first, I could only travel 20-30 minutes by car, take a few photos, and then return home to recover for a few days. Consequently, I found locations close by and returned to them frequently. My photographs dramatically improved.

When a storm comes up, or when fog is predicted for the next morning, or a clear sky is predicted that suits astrophotography, I know where good locations are. Going back to locations has pushed me to explore farther: physically to find new compositions at a location, photographically to try different techniques, and emotionally to experience and explore these locations in new ways.

One of the unexpected benefits of going back to the same location has been good wildlife photographs. I have come to know the haunts of certain species. As I move between landscape shots in areas where animals frequent, I put on a telephoto lens so I am ready. I have taken some great pictures of otters and elk. Like us, they are creatures of habit.

Over the last couple of years, you have developed a gorgeous portfolio of astral photography. How does pre-planning your night shoots change the outcome of your shots?

Astrophotography has been a great adventure. I have taken photos of aurora for at least 20 years, but I started to become interested in the Milky Way and star trails about five years ago. Capturing the experience of being alone in wild places, especially in interesting light, really motivates me. I hope people experience the awe and wonder that I do.

One day I asked myself, what is the colour of the night? Obviously the aurora are very colourful, but there is a lot of subtle colour in the sky and landscape at night. I set out to find out how to capture it.

There was a whole new set of problems to solve, things to learn, and new ways to explore nature. Fantastic. Night photography is more demanding. It requires a lot of pre-planning, especially for Milky Way and star trails. On a moonless night, it is really difficult to sort out compositions in a new place. Using apps like PhotoPills to set up a composition is key. You can use the app to find out when the best dark sky conditions occur, what time of night the Milky Way will be highest, and then use the night augmented reality (AR) feature to compose. Night AR projects the stars as they will appear at a specific date and time onto the scene that you point your phone at. So you can line up a night composition in the middle of the day, even months earlier, and then be ready on a cloudless night.

I enjoyed expanding my understanding of camera settings for night photography. Youtube videos and a book by Alyn Wallace gave me the underlying principles and practical details. Getting my camera set up ahead of time and knowing how to use it in the dark was key.

Initially, I went out alone and really enjoyed it. I have always been comfortable in the dark. Recently, I have been going with a friend and fellow night photographer. It is easier to get up a 2am when you’ve agreed to meet someone. Another, not so insignificant reason, is for safety or at least the feeling of safety. We have gone out in grizzly bear country in the middle of a moonless night, waded thigh-deep across the Souris River in inky blackness, and stood on a dark river bank as foxes screeched at us. All part of a good adventure and a way to get to new and interesting photos.

Looking at this photo specifically, can you explain your process from inception to final edit? What goes into creating a photo with lasting appeal?

Red Rock Coulee is at the western end of the Cypress Hills in southern Alberta, a place where grasslands meet badlands, a place of coulees and coyotes, a place where large red rocks are strewn around the landscape. This photo was taken at the end of a five-day photography trip that involved being up early and late for magic hour, as well as up at night for Milky Way photography. Needless to say I was tired; however, after photographing the usual red rocks close to the parking lot, the bottom of a distant coulee looked worth exploring.

I didn’t expect to take a great photo since it was late afternoon, but the forest fire smoke on the horizon created interesting light. I took a lot of sketch photos as I explored the area. David DuChemin uses the term sketch photos to describe the process of exploring with your camera. The goal isn’t portfolio images, but rather exploring what you see and experimenting with your camera to best capture the scene and experience. The notion takes away the pressure of focusing on taking one amazing photo and provides freedom to just be in the moment.

I noticed a large “island” of badlands in the middle of the valley at the bottom of the coulee. As I moved around it, this scene hit me; it literally stopped me in my tracks. A feeling of awe and deep connection filled me. I began photographing it, changing lenses, moving around until I stopped here. I was perched on the side of the hill, one tripod leg very short and horizontal, the other two precariously sticking to the edge of a steep drop. Using spikes instead of rubber feet at the end of the tripod legs has really paid off.

Maximizing image quality means that I usually shoot landscapes with a tripod so I can use the lowest possible ISO, here 100, and the slowest shutter speed, here 1/40, to get the greatest light saturation on the camera sensor. The lens was a 14-30mm set at 14mm. F16 was used to get a large depth of field. It also caused the star burst effect of the sun.

Post processing was straight forward. I brought the exposure of the sky down so it wasn't blown out, selectively increased the contrast to enhance the effect of the leading lines, and deleted a couple of very minor distracting elements.

For all intents and purposes, you are a perpetual student, always looking to learn new skills, techniques, and philosophies. How do you feel the act of learning changes photography from a hobby to a craft?

Interesting question. Yes, I am always looking for new ideas, new insights, and new underlying concepts. This didn’t always go well when I was a student in public or high school but has served me well since. I take one or two photography courses a year. Youtube videos are helpful for learning specific techniques, but I like longer courses to really learn underlying principles. This has taken me from a recipe approach to a creative place of changing camera settings to suit a situation and create a certain feel.

Understanding and being good at the craft of photography, whether the use of a camera, being skilled at post processing techniques, or the honing the art of composition, is critical for consistently creating interesting images. When I first started using my camera, some images were great but many were not. However, often I wasn't sure why. I seemed to have an intuitive sense of composition, but that didn’t always get me the images I wanted. Asking what made one image better than others and understanding what craft was involved or what craft I needed to learn, took my photography from a hit and miss hobby to a serious pursuit. It is nice to pursue excellence for its own sake. Not to say that everything I do is excellent but the pursuit is an adventure worth taking.

A number of years ago, I was exploring Toaist philosophy. The concept of Wu Wei resonated. It can be translated as effortless action, doing everything to doing nothing, etc. In essence, it is about doing the work, whether the discipline of daily martial arts exercises or learning the craft of photography, and then effortlessly doing it without forcing. It comes from within and being in the moment, which is all predicated on learning craft, honing skill, and then letting go.

The part of photography I love most is being in a flow state as I feel the landscape, feel the colours, feel the shapes, feel a connection to what I see, all while the logical part of my brain is thinking about camera settings to best capture the moment. Left brain/right brain, it is the dance of logic and intuition, thinking and feeling. The process is key for me. I strive to have an image reflect that process rather than create it to just gain likes or impress someone. In my experience, the dance is worth pursuing. There is always something new for me to learn and a new awareness that I can bring to my process of photography.

Thank you so much Doug, for taking the time to share thoughts about your work and the craft of photography as a whole. If you enjoyed Doug’s interview, please consider checking out his website and Facebook page, and if you are near Brandon, Manitoba stop by his exhibition “Along the Souris” at Section 6 Brewery or The Art Gallery of Southwestern Manitoba to see the group exhibition “Problem of the Moon”, which features his work.

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