level

Since the dawn of time (or thereabouts), photographing architecture has mostly involved choosing an appropriate viewpoint, carefully selecting a certain moment in time and constructing a specific set of circumstances to give voice to the story of a design. While it is certainly possible to convincingly compress three dimensions down into two, trying to convey some sense of time within still images has always been a little more esoteric a pursuit. Not to suggest that portraying the passage of time can’t be done. Just that the available tools have been somewhat limited for the still photographer.

Recent advances in technology have provided an opportunity to capture and present architectural ideas in a variety of interesting ways. I firmly believe that the skills inherent in producing great architectural images will continue to be of paramount importance. All the astounding new photographic technology in the world is only useful with a creative and experienced eye guiding it.

“Moving pictures do not necessarily have to move.”
Peter Greenaway 1981

Extending the time period over which a photograph is experienced can be achieved using Time Lapse techniques where a large number of images are captured and condensed into a short period of time. Even without moving the camera’s singular viewpoint, some sense of the activity around a building or within a space can offer a broader story of the context within which a project exists.

The Bund, Shanghai   NBBJ

Red Bull Arena, New Jersey   Rossetti

Powerful optical and computing solutions now mean that real-time video footage can be more easily be captured, manipulated and distributed, providing photographers and architects with new opportunities to tell their stories.

ILUMA, Singapore  WOHA

Whereas in the past, a feeling of movement was more often an implied virtue in otherwise static objects, current designs are incorporating dynamic and interactive facades that bring a whole new dimension to the experience of a place. And in doing so, require a whole new language within the imagery being created to describe them.

The next layer of complexity to explore is releasing the camera from its static viewpoint.
But that’s a whole other story…

These days, it’s so much easier to zip around the planet.

While sitting in San Francisco, preparing for final photography on SOM’s China World Trade Centre, the tallest building in Beijing, I dropped in for a quick spin around on the computer. Having watched the building come out of ground and gradually rise to completion over the past five years, I already knew where most of my vantage points would be. But I was looking to solve a specific problem that couldn’t be dealt with from the ground.

My main concern was finding an overall view from the south which showed the full height of the new building without having it chopped off at the knees by the earlier buildings in the development. I’d seen some views from directly across the road which not only flattened the facade of the new tower too much but also hid a good portion of the base behind the older 20+ story China World Hotel.

Consulting the online material, I identified an angle that could work for what I wanted. All I needed now was a building in the right spot!

According to the satellite images there was definitely something built there but we couldn’t go about establishing access until the day of our arrival in Beijing. Further scouting revealed that the building was undergoing a fairly brutal renovation (or possibly total demolition). Our extraordinarily well-connected client liaison went to work on the phones and a short time later, we’d booked safe passage to the rooftop.

The resulting images showed the context of the iconic new tower within the existing China World Trade Centre and firmly established it as the focal point of Beijing’s new Central Business District.

We had followed the autumnal sun as it tracked low in the southern sky, picking up details at ground level as the sea of commuters arrived for work. Up close, these tall towers create an entirely different experience from the distant views. The richness of the textures and the scale of the materials work to amuse the passers by in a much more engaging way.

Later in the day, as dusk approached, we ventured even further afield to another rooftop view to the tower.

In 1993 (yes, last century…), I was commissioned to photograph Frank Gehry’s Weisman Art Museum at the University of Minnesota in Minneapolis. At that time the building was just nearing completion, with many of the interior gallery spaces still to be cleaned up prior to the installation of artwork. The exteriors, for the most part, were largely complete, including the amazing polished panels of the west facade.

As dusk approached, I crossed the Mississippi, scrambling down a rough path to the riverbank opposite the museum. With the last rays of the sun setting fire to the western sky, the reflections off the museum’s facade kept getting better and better, long after you’d expect to be through for the day. My rapidly diminishing supply of film slowed down the shot rate just a little, allowing me an opportunity in between frames to fully appreciate the sparkling jewel on the cliff top across the way.

A few days later it started raining.

And so began the Great Flood of 1993

I figured out later, that according the the water levels recorded at the time, my camera position for this shot would have been at least twenty feet underwater.

Seventeen years later, I was once again in Minneapolis at the University of Minnesota. This time to photograph Kohn Pedersen Fox’s Science Teaching and Student Services building. As fate would have it, the STSS was directly across the road from the Weisman, the two of them forming a sleek and polished gateway to the campus. As before, the Weisman was in the throes of construction, this time for an expansion and renovation to the original. Having delayed the shoot for several days to avoid unseasonably heavy rains, and entertaining flashbacks to visions of flash floods, I was relieved to get a clear forecast for the first part of the week.

After our first day or scouting about the site, sunset brought with it an air of familiarity as we made our way across the demure waters of the Mississippi. The riverbank opposite was now a manicured parkland where earlier in the day, families had been enjoying the crisp fall sunshine. Right on cue, the western facades warmed up for their evening’s performance.

Tempting as it was to stay put and somehow relive a moment of youthful exuberance, the equally polished facade of the STSS beckoned from the other side of the bridge. We set up for the low angle with the river in the foreground and patiently waited for the evening sky to have its way. Perhaps I should have recalled my extended experience all those years ago but as the light fell, I all but lost hope of any magic coming our way that night. The surrounding brick buildings had all but vanished against the darkening sky when the glass and stainless steel of the STSS finally burst into life.

Beyond our project, behind the bridge and just a little way down the genteel Mississippi, I could clearly see the Weisman, still ablaze in a memorable and remarkable sunset duet.

When you’ve been following progress on a building for over two years, it’s sometime hard to come up with a fresh approach. But as part of our continuing association with the California Academy of Science in San Francisco, this is exactly what we were asked to do.

Various parts of the building had definitely matured somewhat since opening day with additional exhibits added along with the filling out of the planting in the rainforest. Filling the entire height (and more) of the interior, it had become near impossible to get an overall view of the dome since the exhibit installation prior to the opening.

June 2008

October 2008

Literally rising to the challenge, we wrangled a scissor lift literally inches from the opposing wall and with several carefully stitched frames, managed to capture the entirety of the glazed ball.

SInce the first Portuguese trading and missionary outposts sprang up there in the late 1500’s, Macau has been known for it’s church architecture. On every postcard, every travel guide, every map, there’s the famed facade of St. Paul’s Cathedral. Actually, the flamed facade is probably a more apt description as it seems this edifice is all that remains after a devastatingly spectacular fire in 1835 .

The Ruins of St. Paul’s Cathedral 1854 by Wilhelm Heine

More recently, Macau’s other houses of worship have undergone their own transformation creating a new explosion of coloured lights across the night sky. Huge casino franchises from Las Vegas and Australia have built enormous gambling palaces which since 2007, have raked in more revenue annually than the entire Las Vegas Strip.

Literally standing out from the crowd, not only because it doesn’t have a casino, is the newly opened Mandarin Oriental Macau, part of the One Central mixed use development designed by Kohn Pedersen Fox.

With subtly angled bay windows scattered across the facade, the passing clouds emulate the broken reflections dancing on the rippled  lake, set in motion by the wakes of a dozen distant dragon boats warming up for the afternoon’s tournament.

Usually wishing for less clouds in the Asian skies, I found myself that evening in the the perplexing position of wanting just a few more to bring a certain spontaneity to the unfolding scene. Evidently, the local deities were all too busy with requests for guidance from the blackjack tables to intervene on my behalf. The wind dropped, the surface of the lake turned to glass and well, I guess I can live with that….

If the notion of a civilized society is one that seeks to provide an esoteric platform, intellectual or otherwise, from which one can clearly view and appreciate the world at large, then the appearance of yet another window cleaning rig must surely be the portent for a brighter future.

As some readers will have noted, I like to figure out the days shoot around the café table, using whatever props may be at hand to create some three dimensional representation of the project. This process somehow reduces even the largest of problems into more manageable, dare I say it, bite size chunks.

Replicating the awe-inspiring engineering prowess of the Burj Khalifa was a challenge in itself but as some say in Dubai. nothing is impossible. The three entrance lobbies, hitherto known as Strawberry, Apricot and Marmalade echoed the Residential, Hotel and Commercial entrances. The colour  and finishes in each providing a different sensory experience to those passing through.

After shooting several less than satisfactory snaps out through the dusty windows of my hotel, a few dangling ropes the following day signaled that perhaps some relief was on the way.

Indeed this proved to be the case and I waved gratefully as my sudsy saviour slipped slowly out of sight to bring a little more sunshine into the lives of those on the floor below. And the floor below that. And the floor below that.

Perhaps the hardest thing to explain to people about photographing architecture is the notion of one being entirely at the mercy of the prevailing elements. There’s none of this taking your time, adjusting the lighting between caramel latte’s in the studio, opening the morning’s mail and then maybe finishing up after a sit down lunch.

On location, everything is in flux. From before the sun is up until well after it is down, the shadows are moving, the conditions are changing around you, requiring an engaged and spontaneous response to capture images that will serve to tell the story at hand. In my experience, assuming you’ve understood the brief, one generally knows what the end result needs to be, just not the exact path you will take to get there.

Most times, the commercial preference is to photograph a project in pristine conditions which in most regions of the world, except perhaps for parts of Europe, would be considered blue skies, crisp sunshine and maybe a few “Simpson’s” clouds to keep it sweet. In Germany, if the much-lauded Dusseldorf school’s output is anything to go by, an ideal day would be flat, shadowless overcast. I mean, shadows are just so subversively opinionated, don’t you think?….. But I digress.

On a clear day, especially in places like California, you know exactly what will happen and while this is certainly good for commercial productivity, it can be limiting creatively as there is always a known, predictable, expected outcome, often well before the images are captured.

My feeling is that unless you are prepared to put yourself out into conditions that are less than optimal, you will never get rewarded with something special, something unique, something unexpected. This somewhat opportunistic approach still requires a deep understanding of the subject, still requires a technical precision and respect for craft, but all in order to respond on a more instinctual level to the unfolding scene before you.

While I’ve long ago given up on the idea that I might manipulate the forces of nature, I’m certainly open to getting out there and mixing it up a bit when the opportunity presents itself. Of course, the majority of what I shoot on assignment is done to show the building in its best light.

Sometimes though, I would argue that it takes the worst light to do that.

It would seem that not everybody who purchased apartments in WOHA’s award winning The Met in Bangkok was keen to move in straight away. For the first time, the building exterior was clean and devoid of the maintenance gondolas that had plagued our earlier visits. From a distance, one could see that many of the windows had been covered with brown paper to keep the low winter sun from directly hitting the floor boards.This somewhat killed the sleek verticality of the lines.

Access to the individual apartments was impossible (and on a 60 story tower, insanely impractical), so there was nought to do but knuckle down at the computer for a few days going window to window and cleaning off the paper. Unlike a flat, glazed facade, this could be no simple cut and paste job as the random patterns of the balconies, cladding and landscaping all needed to be taken into account.

While it got there in the end, there were times whilst sitting glued to the computer with an aching wrist, that I thought I might just….erm, go blind.