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Extreme Environment Photographer Packs

Extreme Environment Photographer Packs

The Lowepro PhotoSport X Backpack is a lightweight performance accessory engineered with the needs of professional photographers and videographers alike to keep them supported when heading out into the field.

The backpack maintains a lightweight construction that comes in 35 and 45-liter size options, which are both constructed with an X-factor cross-functionality. This enables the pack to perform well in a variety of sporting endeavors, while the overall construction is suited for year-round mountaineering excursions.

The Lowepro PhotoSport X Backpack is crafted with 86% recycled fabric that includes 420D recycled nylon Oxford and diamond ripstop. The use of All Weather AW Coverage gives the pack added protection from rain, snow and dust when taking to a variety of demanding locations.

Sixty people, two churches and no pub: The mysterious allure of the UK’s most remote island

Sixty people, two churches and no pub: The mysterious allure of the UK’s most remote island

Fair Isle might as well have been as remote as Tahiti for all that Sophie Gerrard knew about it. Even in Scotland itself, the Edinburgh-based photographer says, the satellite islands of Shetland, which also include Foula, are romanticised – if they are given much thought at all.

In the case of a treeless lump of rocky moorland, cast adrift between Shetland and Orkney, awareness often starts and stops with its place in the Shipping Forecast (‘gales, soon’). Then there are the eponymous knitted sweaters, whose delicate patterns are much-imitated.

‘When you say “Fair Isle” to people, first they think you’ve said “Faroe” and go, “Is that where they kill all the dolphins?” And you say, no, it’s “Fair Isle”,’ Gerrard says. ‘And then maybe they’ve heard of knitting, but generally that’s it. But it’s an extraordinary island and I’ve always been fascinated to know what it means to come from a place like that.’

Gerrard got her chance to find out in the autumn of 2021, when she and another photographer – Tessa Bunney – secured a creative residency on Fair Isle, one of the most remote inhabited islands in the UK, with its population of just 60.

For a month the pair, who were old friends but had not worked together, lived in a tiny blue cottage in the island’s relatively verdant south. It’s here that much of Fair Isle’s communal farming, or crofting, takes place.

A view north of Fair Isle from Malcolm's Head


A view north of Fair Isle from Malcolm’s Head


Credit: Tessa Bunney

Lighthouses at the southern and northern tips of the island are just three miles apart. Between them lie towering cliffs, a tiny airport that is frequently shut by wind, a sheltered bay where a pier serves a ferry link to Shetland, and a few dozen houses scattered along an asphalt spine.

Other creatives who have spent time on the island have focused on its rugged landscapes. Many come to knit and be inspired by centuries of tradition and Fair Isle’s distinctive colour-rich pattern, which became world-famous in the 1920s when the Prince of Wales (later Edward VIII) wore natty V-necks while golfing.

‘Sheep Hill’, the quarterly gather of the free wandering hill sheep in the north of the isle, is a community event where all islanders take part


‘Sheep Hill’, the quarterly gather of the free wandering hill sheep in the north of the isle, is a community event where all islanders take part


Credit: Sophie Gerrard

Gerrard and Bunney wanted to weave themselves into the island’s social fabric. They set about tentatively making friends. Not everybody wanted to be involved, but the pictures and portraits they took tell a story of precarious yet rich lives.

‘It’s not a romantic place at all,’ says Gerrard, who often worked with her six-month-old son Finn strapped to her chest (‘He was a great icebreaker’). ‘If you’re living there, you’ve probably got five jobs and you’re working at the whim of the elements to an extreme degree.’

Steven Wilson’s family have lived on Fair Isle since 1560. He’s a fisherman, ferryman and crofter with a flock of about 100 sheep. His fishing licence doesn’t yet permit him to sell his catch, so he gives a lot away. ‘I go around all the houses because, at the end of the day, I’m related to most of the Isle so I’m feeding my family,’ he told the photographers, who conducted interviews with residents alongside shoots. 

Steven Wilson, fisherman, crofter and deckhand on The Good Shepherd


Steven Wilson, fisherman, crofter and deckhand on The Good Shepherd boat


Credit: Tessa Bunney

The pair soon became a familiar sight on the island, having boosted its population by just over four per cent the moment they set foot on dry land. ‘People stopped all the time to offer us a lift or just for a chat,’ says Bunney, who is based in North Yorkshire. ‘I wondered whether they would have got tired of all these visiting artists but they haven’t seemed to so far.’

There are currently only four children on Fair Isle, which has been owned by the National Trust for Scotland for almost 70 years. Two of them belong to Eileen Thomson, whose own roots there stretch back at least 400 years. Her father used to skipper the Good Shepherd, the island’s ageing ferry. Eileen went to university in Edinburgh, where she was stunned by the cherry blossom, having grown up without ever seeing a tree.

Eileen Thomson returned to Fair Isle in 2017 to raise her two children


Eileen Thomson returned to Fair Isle in 2017 to raise her two children


Credit: Sophie Gerrard

In 2017, she decided to return home to raise her family with her partner, who works remotely online. ‘In a small and busy community, each person really matters,’ Thomson said in 2021. ‘We all have work that needs to be done to make our little island work. In such a small place you can make such an impact… and the chance to be so useful is a wonderful thing.’

The tough yet rewarding lifestyle has also attracted a surprisingly diverse range of visitors who find it hard to leave. Gerrard and Bunney met Mati Ventrillon, who arrived from Venezuela in 2007 and never left, and Marie Bruhat, who moved to the island from France in 2017. 

Mati Ventrillon


Venezualan crofter and knitwear designer Mati Ventrillon


Credit: Tessa Bunney

Both women now run knitwear businesses, while chipping in with other work; Ventrillon has worked variously as a crofter and school secretary, while Bruhat is also a firefighter. She has come to value the lack of control such a landscape affords its tenants.

‘Every day is determined by the weather, not by your wishes,’ she said. ‘It’s a wonderful way to live, although at times can be frustrating. But then frustration is the result of resistance, so we must learn to accept what cannot be changed.’

Firefighter and knitwear designer Marie Bruhat


Firefighter and knitwear designer Marie Bruhat


Credit: Sophie Gerrard

It would be easy for a place like this to submit to the winds of modernity but Fair Isle and its people have proved stubborn, while also embracing technology when it suits them. Superfast broadband was installed just before Christmas. The old ferry, meanwhile, which relies on a crane and has space for just one car, is due to be replaced after Government funding was secured last year for a roll-on, roll-off upgrade – which may yet change the character of Fair Isle. Meanwhile demand remains high for the eponymous knits.

Above all, the photographers came to understand why such a remote lifestyle is worth preserving, given that it could easily be absorbed on Shetland. As Gerrard says, ‘I think that if we lose these places, you lose this rich tapestry of experience and life, and you will never get it back.’ 

The big picture: Ernst Scheidegger’s back-bending ballerinas

The big picture: Ernst Scheidegger’s back-bending ballerinas
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This picture of young dancers was taken in the mid-1950s by the Swiss photographer Ernst Scheidegger at the Parisian ballet school established by Madame Rousanne Sarkissian. At the time, Scheidegger was an associate of the Magnum agency, working as a photojournalist in France and beyond. Scheidegger had been introduced to the agency by his mentor and fellow countryman Werner Bischof three years earlier. At around the time this picture was made, however, double tragedy ended this part of Scheidegger’s career. In May 1954, Bischof died in a car crash while on assignment in the Peruvian Andes; nine days later, Magnum founder Robert Capa was also killed when he stepped on a landmine in Vietnam. Capa had taken the place of Scheidegger in Vietnam, on commission for Life magazine, after Scheidegger’s visa application had not come through.

The double shock of those events prompted Scheidegger to abruptly leave Paris and photojournalism to take up a position as a lecturer at a visual design school in Ulm in southern Germany. Though he returned to photography throughout his life – including his long series of portraits of his close friend artist Alberto Giacometti – Scheidegger thereafter, until his death in 2016, also worked as a film-maker and an editor, publisher and painter.

He rarely spoke about the deaths of Bischof and Capa, and he archived the pictures he had taken in the early 50s, alongside an unopened box of prints containing work gifted by his former Magnum friends and colleagues. As part of the celebrations in Switzerland to mark the centenary of Scheidegger’s birth, an exhibition – Eye to Eye – presents some of this archived work from the 1950s beside the celebrated later portraits of artists. Some of the eyes in the prints from those early years are looking out at the viewer for the first time.

Charles D’Oyly, the British opium agent who brought together Indian and European artists

Charles D’Oyly, the British opium agent who brought together Indian and European artists

In the year 1824 in the city of Patna, straddling the crossroads of rising European trade and a declining Mughal empire, an unlikely group of people met for an even more unlikely purpose. Under the stewardship of amateur English artist Charles D’Oyly, the group, made up of Europeans and Indians, decided on July 1 to form the Bihar School of Athens.

It was to be an art society for the “promotion of arts and sciences and for the circulation of fun and merriment of all descriptions”.

This Bihar School of Athens, also called the United Patna and Gaya Society, would meet at the Patna house of Raja Mitrajit Singh, the ruler of Tekari, known for his interest in poetry and history. Patna of that time was a city of mixed ethnicity with the factories of European trading companies and their bungalows alongside the lavish houses of Indian merchants and landlords interspersed with mosques and temples.

Glimpses of the bustling city with its crowded bazaar street and picturesque countryside were captured in the artwork produced by members of D’Oyly’s society. Patna of the early 19th century was also a leading centre for the collection of opium – and D’Oyly was Bihar’s opium collection agent. The lucrative crop was cultivated along the Ganga River, processed at the Gulzarbagh factory into balls of opium and shipped in crates to Calcutta.

With the expanding power of the British East India Company and Calcutta’s emergence as a distinct British India stronghold, it was Patna that retained its unique, cosmopolitan character. In a departure from solidifying racial divisions and norms, D’Oyly’s “Athenians” also included “native” Indians.

D’Oyly himself was disdainful of British high society. But it was this disdain that brought together like-minded artists rooted in the liberalism of 19th-century India, leaving behind a unique legacy of British Indian visual history.



A stacking room at an opium factory in Patna. Credit: Lithograph after W. S. Sherwill, c 1850, CC BY 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons

Past and present

As much as D’Oyly may have scorned British high society, he was very much a part of it, having been born into nobility and benefitted from influential connections. He was born in 1781 in Murshidabad where his father, Sir John Hadley D’Oyly, was a resident at the court of the Nawab of Bengal. D’Oyly was the godson of the wife of Governor-General of Bengal Warren Hastings.

D’Oyly’s parents moved back to England when he was four and he completed his education there. When D’Oyly turned 17, he received a recommendation from Hastings and joined the Bengal civil services as the Collector of the Customs at Calcutta.

The time during which D’Oyly grew up as a child in Bengal was that of Hastings’s orientalism that was defined by a keen interest in Indology and the free intermingling of British and Indians. But things had changed entirely by the time D’Oyly returned to serve as a member of the Bengal Civil Services under Charles Cornwallis as governor general.

Cornwallis had a contempt for inter-racial mingling and shunted the British in Calcutta who had married to Indians to the outskirts of the colonial capital. The British-Indian society of Calcutta, characterised by its Europeanness in architectural style and segregation of natives and British, did not appeal to D’Oyly.

D’Oyly was derisive of the British imperialists and the Indian babus in their service. His European in India, published in 1813, was a satirical take on the lives of the British in India as well as a racist mockery of the Indians who served them.

In 1785, Hastings was removed from Bengal and sent to London and would soon face trial for corruption. But D’Oyly had continued his correspondence with the influential British administrator, who suggested that the young Englishman turn to the countryside rather than political Calcutta for his postings.

Artistically, too, it seemed that D’Oyly was becoming inclined towards the Indian countryside. During his tenure in Dacca from 1808 to 1812, D’Oyly had met George Chinnery and later James Atkinson, two leading artists of the time. Chinnery’s lasting influence on D’Oyly’s style of art turned his attention to the picturesque countryside of Bihar and Bengal.

After serving as the Collector of Dacca and later as the Collector at Calcutta, D’Oyly became a commercial resident of Patna in 1820. A year later, he was appointed the city’s opium agent and worked in Patna till 1831, which were his most productive years as an artist.



The Summer Room in the Artist’s House at Patna. Credit: Sir Charles D’Oyly, 7th Baronet, CC0, via Wikimedia Commons.

Patna of the old and new

Unlike Calcutta, Patna was a decadent city reminiscent of the old aristocracy. Segregated due to ethnicity from the times of Cornwallis, it was art that brought literary and visual artists and patrons together in Patna. The creation of a distinct British-India in Calcutta had sidelined Anglo-Indians, many of whom were part of D’Oyly’s circle, or were close to his father and Warren Hastings’s family.

The Bihar School of Athens, thus, was a distinct outlier, becoming an artistic haven for British, Anglo-Indian and Indian artists and migrants.

The Asiatic Society of Bengal in Calcutta, for instance, which had been pursuing oriental research since 1784, admitted only European members until 1828. Similarly, the Indian Museum, established in Calcutta in 1814, did not have any Indian artists in its collection though it held the work of leading European artists of the time.

London, by then, had a history of founding art societies, the most prominent of which was the Royal Academy of Arts. The Academy had art schools that trained students through copying old masterpieces as well as drawing directly from nature.

D’Oyly, in many ways, was perhaps trying to establish a similar art movement in Patna and hoped to train local Indians to draw directly from nature, with accuracy.



A detail from a drawing of a European gentleman with his ‘munshee’ or teacher of native language, from ‘European in India’. Credit: Williamson, Thomas, Captain, The European in India, London: Published and sold by Edward Orme, 1813, via the Yale Center for British Art.

But unlike the Royal Academy, which did not admit amateurs – including D’Oyly – as its members, the Bihar School of Athens was a body of amateur artists interested in promoting art. The “Athenians” included George Chinnery as patron, D’Oyly as president and CW Smith, a bird painter and naturalist, as vice president.

Other “Athenians” were D’Oyly’s wife, Elizabeth Jane, an artist herself, and James Young, an officer of the Bengal Horse artillery and an amateur artist. John Elliot, son of Lord Minto, as well as Mary Fendall, the wife of Sir John Hadley O’Doyly II, were also members. Others such as Sarah Amherst, the wife of Lord Amherst and a botanist, and Robert Smith, an engineer were also part of the group.

Between 1828-’32, D’Oyly set up the Behar Lithographic Press. The Behar Amateur Lithographic Scrapbooks, published between 1828 and 1830, comprise the work of several artists who were “Athenians”. The work of two Indian artists, Shiv Dayal and Jai Ram Das, can also be found among the pages of the scrapbook.



An illustration by Jai Ram Das from an edition of the Behar Amateur Lithographic Scrapbook. Credit: D’Oyly, Charles, 1781-1845, Behar amateur lithographic scrap book, Patna, India, 1830, Yale Center for British Art.

Das, who was D’Oyly’s assistant in the Behar Lithographic Press, was an artist of the Bihar School of Athens and made prints in stone of some of the artworks for D’Oyly. His cousin, Hulas Lal, had moved from Benares and come to Patna where he was hired as a draughtsman by the East India Company. He worked for Indian and European patrons and several of his works have been found dated 1816.

Nisar Mehdi was another artist who migrated from Murshidabad to Patna. He, too, produced artwork as part of the Bihar School of Athens. Mehdi worked about the same time as Sewak Ram, another famous artist who had also moved from Murshidabad to Patna. Mehdi came from a family of artists who had painted for the Mughals and later for the nawabs of Murshidabad.

Fakir Chand Lal, who had his atelier in Lodi Katra where he taught art, also made drawings for Christopher Webb and D’Oyly’s Oriental Ornithology, published by the Behar Lithographic Press in 1829.

During his Patna days, D’Oyly’s Behar Lithographic Press also published the Indian Sports (1829), a visual account of the hunting expeditions of Indians and British, Costumes of India (1830), Sketches of the New Road in Journey from Calcutta to Gyah (1830) and Featherhead Game of Hindostan (1828).



An illustration of the Large Indian Grouse, published by the Behar Lithographic press. Credit: Charles D’O’yly and CW Smith, ‘The Feathered Game of Hindostan’, 1828, Yale Center for British Art.

Art transcends divides

Away from the racial politics and opulence of British Calcutta, the Athenians focused on scenes from everyday life, landscapes and flora and fauna – the three artistic themes in vogue in the 19th century. D’Oyly gained a reputation in England as an amateur artist who had introduced the picturesque to native artists in Patna. But at the same time, D’Oyly was also influenced by the artists of Patna.

Although it is difficult to precisely point out who influenced whom, there are two ways of seeing D’Oyly’s approach: he was either liberal for his era and believed that Indians and the British could both be part of an art society, unlike the segregation in place in Calcutta. Or he felt that Indian artists lacked skills but could be taught in European style, which is symptomatic of the British civilising mission of Indians from the late 18th century onwards.

But there is another possible interpretation, the more likely one, which is that the Patna to which D’oyly had arrived in was already a centre of artistic production blending Mughal, Murshidabad and European styles. Patna was already a centre of artistic pursuit and artists sold their work to patrons on demand. D’Oyly and other European artists, may have been just as influenced by the ancient city and also introduced the European style in art.

The commingling of art with Patna’s other nerve centres was also where the “Patna Kalam” was born, a unique art style influenced by the Mughal era, Bengal’s Murshidabad – another great centre of art – and the Europeans. The Patna Kalam was characterised by its “kajli siayhi”, which literally translates to black ink, the outline

D’Oyly’s corpus of work is replete with the picturesque of the British aesthetic theory and later romanticism and realism. But the influence of the Patna Kalam is evident in the depictions of the everyday lives of people and the streets. It was the demand for artwork from Europeans and a growing Indian middle-class bureaucracy that the culture of consumption of artworks emerged from.

D’Oyly’s influence really lay in his zeal for the promotion of art and the Bihar School of Athens and the Behar Lithographic Press were his attempts to popularise art.

In promoting the free mingling of artists, regardless of ethnicity, and the opening up his residence and studio to anybody keen on art, at a time when racial segregation and pomp of the British headquarters in Calcutta were a norm, D’Oyly also made a political statement intertwined with his rich artistic legacy.

Sonal is an Assistant Professor at the Department of History, Shivaji College, University of Delhi.