Interview with Brian Atkinson

Brian Atkinson is a frequent contributor to Canadian Geographic with more than 20 years of experience photographing in the field in some 55 countries. He has published three books and is now working on a documentary book on Guatemala's recent history.

		PHOTOGRAPHER Based in New Brunswick, Atkinson has covered Canadian Geographic stories ranging from Guatemalan migrant workers in Quebec to the seal hunt in the Gulf of St. Lawrence. Assignments for Equinox, the Ottawa Citizen, CARE International and others have taken him to refugee camps, the jungle and conflict zones in Eritrea and Kosovo. For this assignment, he photographed some of the 1970 hippie settlers in New Brunswick's Fundy Hills. Read more about the Hippie Homesteads in the April 2008 issue of Canadian Geographic. Visit Brian Atkinson's website to view more of his work.
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Q What did you enjoy about this assignment?

A As usual for me, what I enjoyed were the people. Two of them I had never met before, and once I got to know them and saw where they lived and what they did, that, as always, was the thrill for me. It_s always the chance to get to meet some really interesting people. I'm chatty and I'll talk all day to anybody, but if I'm doing that for work, it's like bonus!

Q Did you go out on this assignment with the writer?

A I didn't for this one. When I think about all the articles I've done for Canadian Geographic, I realize only twice I was with the writer, of about a dozen articles at least. One was the seal hunt (Jan/Feb 2000), where we met up with the writer on the ice floe and the other was the five-day hike along the Fundy coast (July/Aug 1994) to do a geographic survey of the area.

Q What are the pros and cons of going on a shoot with the writer?

A(Laughs and clears his throat) I don't always like being with the writer. Sometimes it's really good because the writers treat you with respect and give you some ideas, but because they know you're a professional, they let you go and do what you want. But other writers, because it's their story, they're always telling you maybe you should shoot this way or that way. And pretty soon you feel like you're tied in a thousand knots and can't do anything.

I prefer to talk to the writer on the phone, come up with my own ideas from the story or from the writer, and then try and shoot it. And of course, this happens whether you're shooting for Canadian Geographic or for an advertising company, the people far away in the office have an idea of what they want and you have an idea when you're sitting in your own office, but when you get to the site, it's never like you expect. Then it's just spontaneous and you do what you can do.

Q You have a strong photojournalism background. How do you balance between a documentary approach with a candid feel to it, and a portrait approach with a 'posed' feel to it?

A I do a lot of advertising work and I do a lot of tourism work, where the whole focus all the time is kind of faked portraits. You set things up, you control the light, you have all kinds of reflectors and all kinds of lighting equipment, and yet you still try and make it a natural-looking scene, so that even though everything is perfect, it looks like maybe it did happen that way. When I do a documentary or photojournalism project, like this article or other projects I've done in Africa and Latin America, which are specific to certain people like on this assignment, I don't know where these people live and I don't know what it looks like. I know a little bit about them, but when I get there all of the sudden it's like I have to race, I'm thinking in my feet, I'm making all these decisions right away but I don't want to fake anything.

I've photographed Bob Osborne (one of the characters in this story) for other magazines in the past, and he's just a laid back guy. So he'll do anything, but it's almost hard to get him to be natural. He's done a million magazine articles and been on the radio a trillion times, so for him it's like, "I just stand over here, right?"

Lee Danisch, the engineer, was just hard because there was nothing happening there to make a photo of. It was driving me nutty. Lee's work is cerebral; it's in his brain more than in the world.

In the case of Paul Cunningham, when I got to his place he was really reticent at first. He didn't look like he was real thrilled that I was there. He was kind of like, "Oh, I'm not sure I want to do this." And I'm thinking oh, God, this is a perfect start. He lives in this tiny house, so we just sat in his living room, well, kind of living room, kitchen, bedroom, all in one, and he made me coffee and then we just started to talk. One of the nice things about this assignment was I know the area really well and I know a lot of the people that these people know, so I could break the ice by saying, "Oh, you know Peter and Judith, right?" So we started talking about them and while that was happening, because he had some nice light on him, I started shooting at the table while he was making coffee and pouring it. So while he was getting used to me, I was sitting there and every once in a while I'd snap a picture. I always keep the camera out and I took a lot of those images with the camera not at my eye, but just holding it kind of at my waist. That way I could keep talking to him without breaking eye contact.

Once he got looser we did some stuff outside, and as we talked more, he finally started to say, "Come on, I'll take you down to the creek and I'll show you one of these little machines."

Q What did you do about the shutter noise while shooting at waist-level?

A That's the worse thing. Back when I used Leicas, that wasn't a problem, they're much quieter. They're kind of like "chhhh." Whereas the digital goes "pchhkk pwshhhh!" You feel like a gun just went off. It's a drag, but there's not much you can do about it. All you can do is shoot the camera and then make eye contact and smile. For sure he can hear the shutter, this camera is not quiet, but he also knows I'm a photographer.

Q Speaking of cameras that make noise, what equipment did you bring along with you?

A A couple of Nikon D200, a Nikkor 12-24mm lens, well on a digital it goes 18-35mm. But whenever I go out of the country, the only three lenses I travel with are: a 24mm, a 35mm, and a 105mm.

Q So no zoom lenses when you travel?

A Nooo, I hate zooms.

Q Really? Why?

A Because they're big, they're heavy and they're slower than fixed lenses. And if you're doing journalism or if you're in the jungle for three months, you're always trying to save weight. The other thing is, with those big cameras, those big lenses, when you stick those in people's faces, it's intimidating. I get close with the smaller lenses, because I'm not afraid. Most of the time, they know me or trust me eventually and I can come in closer.

What I hate most about watching some pros and a lot of amateurs is they're stealing pictures with these giant lenses from across the street and I find that distasteful. It looks like big game hunting in a way. I rather the person know that I'm there. I want the contact with the person, and usually you can feel that contact.

Q So how do you warm up people? What's your strategy for "breaking the ice," as you said earlier?

A Nobody believes this anymore, but when I was young, supposedly I was shy. But then I took sociology in university, and half-way through my degree I started doing theatre, and then I went to the University of Victoria to do a Master's in theatre (I didn't finish it, though.) I also hitchhiked across Canada a couple of times when I was a kid, like 19. And so I just got chatty. I also worked everything from ranches to cattle liners, as a waiter and all kinds of jobs. So it doesn't seem to matter if I meet a president of a bank, or say, a fisherman, I can relate to what they do and so I can talk about what they do. Lots of time here in the rural parts of Canada, the CBC reporter comes in and it's obvious they are from Toronto. They don't look, act, or sound like somebody from the area, say, a fisherman, and so they just stick out.

But most of the time in my case, whether I am with refugees or with the guys on this assignment, I don't walk in like I'm the most serious guy in the world and this is the most important thing in the world. I try to make it a little lighter. I don't walk in with a standard joke or anything, but I'll just start talking not too fast if I can help it (I usually talk too fast), and give them chance to answer questions and talk about themselves. And I can always tell stories because I've been to a lot of countries and I've done a lot of things, so we just kind of talk back and forth for a while, and then pretty soon I'm kind of like a friend.

Q Going back to the earlier question about how you balance between a documentary approach and a posed-portrait approach

A Ah, that was the question. I don't want to set up pictures. I don't want to say "Okay buddy, I'm going to take your picture. I'm going to put a light over here. Now you look out the window like you're in a pensive mood or something." Sometimes you got to do things like that, but I try not to do that very often. What I will do is get them in a situation. So Paul Cunningham might not have gone down to the power generator by the creek on that day, but I'm only there for that day, so I'll say "Okay, can you take me down there?" and away we go. And there he was doing things that he would do anyway: he was checking the pipes to see if they were clogged and things like that.

So at the best, I'll set up a situation and let them do it. Sometimes we will do it two or three times if we need to, but the danger is that it can become more like an advertising shoot. Now I never let anybody do anything they don't do, or dress like they wouldn't dress. I'm not going to make them wear a red scarf so the picture looks better.

The challenge in this assignment was there wasn't a lot going on. For instance, it might've been better to shoot Bob Osborne in the spring or in the summer when he's got a whole bunch more activity. Some of the things I know he does up there, including all the flowers, were just not happening that time of the year, because otherwise he could've been bouncing at a tractor and whatnot.

Q What's your advice for overcoming the challenge of having to go on a shoot when it's not the best time to do the shoot?

A The advice comes down to, if you're an amateur, pick your time, pick your light, pick the season if you can. If you're an aspiring professional, come to the realization that you're going to have to work with what's there and find ways to make whatever it is look better.

Lots of time when I was younger, I'd look at a magazine and go: "Oh, well that's shit! The photos are not very good and I don't like them. Why didn't he do this or that?" But as you do a bunch of assignments, you realize that's because you've got all sorts of constraints on you: time constraints, weather constraints; and you simply can't come back over and over. You usually get one crack at it.

If you're shooting for National Geographic, where you got a three-month budget, well, then you can go at a better time. Their articles aren't that much bigger than the ones that run in Canadian Geographic, but their time frame for the photographer and the writer can be months, so they can always get what they're looking for; whereas us, it can be two days. If it's a four-day assignment, that's really long for us at Canadian Geographic.

Q Give us some examples, then, of what you could do to improve your shoot.

A If it's a person, they might not be able to come out with you at seven o' clock when the sun is going down because they got another thing to do. So if I have time constraints, I can shoot them when it's not the best time because at least the person himself or herself and what they're doing will give you the action that will make up for the lack of nice colour.

If it's a landscape, you really are limited. You've got to get the right colour, weather and light, otherwise it dies. If the conditions are really bad, I try to focus more on some details; get closer so I don't have a bleached out sky or something.

If it is people and the light on them is lousy, then maybe I'll try to get close and focus more on their eyes or their face, or take them inside and put them in a shadow or something.

Q A final inspirational message for our readers?

A Let me get a Bible (we both laugh hard.) I want to say two things. One is not inspirational but rather a piece of advice. It's the Robert Capa line, "if your photos aren't good enough, get closer." People have a fear of getting closer of other people.

Q Well, especially in North America, mind you. I'm afraid of getting close to people here where they seem rather cold, private and defensive. I grew up and learned about photography in Venezuela. It's easy to get close to people there, unlike in Canada and the US.

A Yeah, we're the funniest group I know anywhere. We're cold, and I don't know if it's the temperature or the climate (we laugh.)

If you look at most amateur photos, they're not of people; they're of landscapes, flowers or people that are in the distance. But if you want to be a photojournalist, you have to get closer and you have to talk to people. So whether it's through theatre, or whatever it's going to be, you have to find a way that you can learn to break down the barriers and get up close and talk to people. You have to communicate, and you have to communicate from two feet away, lots of the time.

Q How does your approach for photographing people in industrial North America differ from shooting in a developing and tropical country where most people are warm?

A If people are indigenous, say Mayans, they're more like Canadians. They're much more reserved. They don't jump on you and give you big hugs right away, you have to work your way in there. Whereas with most Latinos, yahoo! There's a party fairly quickly. So it does vary a little bit in those situations. I guess in Latin America my advantage is I can speak Spanish. So I can get in and talk and everybody is thrilled that somebody with blond hair can speak Spanish.

In Canada, my English is pretty good and I'm just not afraid to talk to people. But you got to take your time. City people like to get right to the point; whereas in the country, they want to talk to you first and get to know you. And that's the right approach on assignments. You don't just say, "Oh, I'm with Canadian Geographic and I really want to do this picture." You got to chat with them first.

Yeah, Canadians take more effort to photograph, but inside every Canadian lies the heart of a Latino. If you can just warm them up, they're dying to dance Salsa (we laugh).

Q Okay, this time we're wrapping up for real. What's your final word?

A When you tell someone you're a photographer they get all excited because they think it's all glamour. Well, the photographing part is glamour and is great, but I probably spend 80 to 90 percent of my time at the computer, working on stories or looking for new places to work. Right now there are a million photographers. You're kind of doing battle with everybody who's got a camera and thinks they can do your job. So photography is a hard thing to get reasonably successful at, but if you can do it, it'd be the best. I don't think there's anything else I can do in the world than photography.

Interview by Maria-Lucia Castillo.