Travel Photography

When I first picked up a camera and set out on my journey, I was like all photography beginners - raising my camera to snap away at every beautiful scene. One shot of the mountains, one of the water, and another of the sunset. Later, I gradually discovered that looking through these photos on my phone over and over again, something always felt missing. Until one day, when I began to contemplate the essence of photography, I suddenly realized: travel photography isn't just about pressing the shutter - it's a process that requires feeling with your heart, discovering with your eyes, and creating with your mind.

Everyone can take photos, but not everyone can capture stories. A good travel photo should allow viewers to feel the photographer's state of mind at that moment and understand the emotions they want to express. Like the series of photos I took at the Potala Palace in Tibet - they not only recorded the grandeur of the architecture but more importantly showed the devout faces of pilgrims doing their morning circumambulation through the play of light and shadow, with that serene and peaceful atmosphere palpable.

Cultural Perspective

As an immersive travel photographer, I believe the most important thing is learning to feel the local culture with your heart. In a Yi village deep in the mountains of Yunnan, I was fortunate to witness a traditional coming-of-age ceremony. The local young men wore ethnic costumes embroidered with intricate patterns and hats decorated with colorful feathers, dancing traditional dances in the village square to thunderous drumbeats.

That day, instead of rushing to press the shutter, I first spent half a day chatting with villagers to understand the history and meaning of this ritual. It turned out that this coming-of-age ceremony wasn't just a simple ritual, but an important way for the Yi people to pass on their culture. Through this ceremony, young people not only had to demonstrate their courage and wisdom but also show their elders that they were ready to take on the responsibility of protecting and inheriting their ethnic culture.

After understanding this background, my photography had a clearer direction. I deliberately chose some close-up shots to capture the proud expressions on the young people's faces and the benevolent gazes of the elders. I also used a wide-angle lens to capture the entire ceremonial scene, showing both the details of the people and the solemnity of the ritual. These photos were later collected by the local cultural center, becoming testimony to the inheritance of Yi culture.

At the Acropolis in Athens, my experience made me deeply understand the importance of cultural documentation. To capture the perfect shot of the Parthenon, I did extensive preparation work. I researched a lot about ancient Greek architecture, learned about the temple's construction history, and even memorized the position of every column. I specifically chose to shoot around the summer solstice because the light then was most suitable for showcasing the architectural beauty of the temple.

For those three days, I climbed the Acropolis hill with my equipment at 4 AM every morning. In the cold morning wind, I set up my tripod and waited for the first ray of sunlight to fall on the temple's ruins. When the golden sunlight shone through the ancient colonnade, casting long shadows on the ground, the entire scene seemed to come alive. At that moment, I felt I wasn't just photographing a building, but recording the soul of a civilization.

Macro World

When it comes to macro photography, many people's first thought is photographing flowers and insects. But actually, the charm of macro photography goes far beyond that. It's like being equipped with microscope-like eyes, allowing us to see the beauty in details that are usually overlooked.

That shoot by Qinghai Lake gave me great inspiration. It was a morning with lots of dew, and I originally intended to photograph the sunrise, but was attracted by a cluster of Galsang flowers by the roadside. The sunlight's refraction through the dewdrops created magical light effects on the petals. I quickly switched to my macro lens, adjusted the parameters, and spent nearly an hour lying on the ground shooting.

Macro photography demands patience and attention to detail most of all. To give the image more depth, I specifically chose a backlit angle so the dewdrops would appear crystal clear. Meanwhile, I stopped down to f/8, which kept the subject sharp while creating beautiful bokeh in the background. Finally, I used a flash for fill light to make the light rays in the dewdrops more prominent.

The shoot at Vatnajökull Glacier in Iceland really opened my eyes. Those bubbles trapped in the ice formed astonishing geometric patterns. Some looked like frozen crystal balls, others like lines in an abstract painting. To capture these details well, I had to lie on the ice in -20°C temperatures, adjusting the angle bit by bit.

The final choice of f/16 aperture was the result of repeated testing. Because the ice textures were so delicate, greater depth of field was needed to ensure the entire image was sharp. I also used a polarizing filter to eliminate reflections from the ice surface, making the bubbles inside the ice layer more clearly visible. These photos were later used by a popular science magazine to explain the glacier formation process.

Spatial Application

After taking photos, how to make them more valuable? This question had always bothered me. Until one day, while organizing photos, I suddenly thought: why not use these photos for interior decoration?

So I began trying to combine travel photos with interior design. In my living room hangs a panoramic photo I took in the Maldives. This photo was taken at sunset, with golden sunlight scattered on the azure sea surface, and distant palm tree silhouettes complementing the evening glow. Whenever I'm tired from work, looking at this photo lets me feel the sea breeze's caress, as if being healed.

In the study, I chose a series of photos taken in Nepal's Himalayas. These photos are mainly black and white, emphasizing the mountains' majesty and etherealness. Whenever I work in the study, these photos are like silent companions, bringing me tranquility and strength.

On the bedroom wall hangs a series of maple leaf photos taken in Kyoto, Japan. These photos were all taken with a macro lens, delicately showing the texture and color changes of maple leaves. The warm tones fill the entire space with a cozy atmosphere.

I discovered that different types of photos can indeed create different spatial atmospheres. For example, mountain photos are suitable for spaces requiring focus and contemplation, like studies or offices; while seascape photos are more suitable for leisure areas like living rooms or dining rooms. Forest photos, with their high proportion of green, look more comfortable and are suitable for bedrooms or rest areas.

Practical Experience

These years of travel photography experience have made me deeply understand the importance of adaptability. Each place has its unique geographical environment and cultural characteristics, requiring us to respond in different ways.

When shooting in Southeast Asia, the biggest challenge was the humid weather. Cameras would often fog up due to temperature differences, so I always carried desiccants and a dry box. When shooting in Ha Long Bay, Vietnam, I specifically prepared a rain cover so I could continue shooting even in light rain.

In contrast, the most difficult thing about shooting in Northern Europe was the extreme cold. When photographing the aurora in Finland, the -40°C temperature greatly shortened the camera battery life. I had to carry six spare batteries and keep them close to my body for warmth. Additionally, going from warm indoors to cold outdoors, lens fogging was particularly serious, requiring equipment to adapt to outside temperature half an hour in advance.

Last year's photography trip across Eurasia gave me new insights about adaptability. 14 countries, over 20,000 kilometers of travel, facing new challenges every day. Sometimes it was language barriers, sometimes sudden weather changes, sometimes equipment failures.

I remember shooting in Mongolia's Gobi Desert when we encountered a major sandstorm. I had to wrap the camera tightly in towels, leaving only a small part of the lens exposed. Although all equipment survived intact in the end, that experience of persisting with photography in harsh conditions taught me a lesson: excellent photographs often emerge from the most challenging environments.

Waiting for hot air balloons to rise at dawn in Cappadocia, Turkey, was also an unforgettable experience. To capture the perfect shot, I scouted the location a day in advance to find the best shooting position. That day I got up at 2 AM, set up equipment in -10°C wind, waiting for sunrise.

For three whole hours, I maintained the same position, afraid to miss the best shooting opportunity. When the first ray of sunlight lit up the sky and dozens of hot air balloons slowly rose, that spectacular scene made all the waiting worthwhile. The final photos not only recorded the magnificent scene of hot air balloons rising but also captured Cappadocia's unique landscape in the morning light.

Conclusion

Looking back at these years of photography experience now, each photo is like a time machine that can take me back to the scene when it was taken. Some photos record disappearing traditional cultures, some show nature's magical moments, and others preserve the emotions of specific moments.

Photography for me is no longer just about recording life. It's a process of discovering beauty, creating beauty, and transmitting beauty. Each press of the shutter is leaving a unique perspective for this world, a special story.

So rather than wrestling with whether travel photography is about recording life or creating art, it's better to say it's a perfect combination of both. What's important is that in this process, we can find our own way of expression and create unique visual language.

This is my travel photography experience, and my understanding of photography. I look forward to creating more touching works in future journeys.