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Behind the Lens: Medusa

Behind the Lens: Medusa

By Rachael Talibart | 5 September 2023

This photo is one of a series called Sirens, photographs of monstrous storm waves named after mythological beings. I grew up sailing and would often pass long voyages by watching the waves and imagining strange creatures in the shapes, telling myself stories in the way children do.

It isn’t so surprising, then, that I have made the ocean, and specifically waves, the focus of my photography. Sirens was born out of long winters revisiting a storm beach on England’s south coast.

By the time I captured Medusa, I had already published much of the project but Storm Brian, in October 2017, brought particularly good light and added several of the most popular images in the series. This is probably my favourite because it most closely connects to a myth, that of Medusa, the maiden cursed to have snakes for hair and whose gaze could turn men to stone. 

The skills needed for this sort of photography are more like those needed for wildlife or sports than for landscape. I had a target shutter speed of 1/1000s and wanted a fairly narrow aperture to get as much detail as possible front to back. Timing was everything, and I had to concentrate hard not to miss the best shapes.

It helped that I had by then spent a great many days at that location in storms, so I had a reasonable idea of when a good wave might be coming. It was important to get as low as I could so that the waves stood proud of the horizon.

This also helped me cope with the force 10 winds – holding the camera steady and shooting for almost six hours was a good biceps workout! The biggest challenge came from the spray. The wind was almost directly on shore, blowing spray straight onto the lens. I wouldn’t have captured any decent frames without my lens hood, but I still had to spend a lot of time cleaning the glass.

I do all my processing in Lightroom. As you might imagine, I made a lot of photos that day, so I had a job on my hands going through them. I don’t enjoy trying to create good light when there wasn’t any in the frame so, going through the images captured, I sought great shapes with great light.

Medusa was the first frame I edited from that day. I kept things natural, making slight tonal adjustments only with just a nudge of clarity.     

Canon EOS 5DS R, Canon EF 70-200mm f/2.8 L IS II USM lens @ 160mm. 1/1000s @ f9, ISO 200, handheld.
Canon EOS 5DS R, Canon EF 70-200mm f/2.8 L IS II USM lens @ 160mm. 1/1000s @ f9, ISO 200, handheld.

Bird Photographer of the Year 2023 winners announced

Bird Photographer of the Year 2023 winners announced

TheBird Photographer of the Year 2023 winners have been unveiled. Photographers from all over the world entered more than 20,000 images into the competition, each with their eyes on the £5,000 grand prize. But who were the winners?

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An image of a peregrine falcon tackling a brown pelican that ventured too close to its nest has taken the grand prize in the world’s largest bird photography competition.

Photographer Jack Zhi, from the USA, was declared this year’s grand prize winner for his dramatic image takenin Southern California. He also took the prize for Best Bird Behaviour photograph

Gold - Bird Behaviour

© Jack Zhi / Bird Photographer of the Year

“For four years, I attempted to capture the rare sight of the female falcon attacking large brown pelicans withincredible speed and agility,” says Zhi. “I love the eyes of the pelican in this image-surprised and scared. Theaction was fast, and over in the blink of an eye. But I’ll remember that moment forever.”

“Each image is not merely a testament to the immense talent of our photographers, but a poignant reminder of the breathtaking beauty of birds,” says Will Nicholls, Director of Bird Photographer of the Year. “The astonishing calibre of these photographs underscores a vital message: let us champion the cause of conservation, so that future generations can marvel at the real-life inspirations behind these extraordinary images.”

Gold - 15-17 years

© Anton Trexler/ Bird Photographer of the Year

The Young Bird Photographer of the Year 2023 was awarded to 17-year-old German photographer Anton Trexler for his incredibly atmospheric image of a blackbird silhouetted against the moon.

Photographers competed in 8 different categories in the adult competition: Best Portrait, Birds in the Environment, Bird Behaviour, Birds in Flight, Black and White, Urban Birds, Conservation (Single Image), and Comedy Bird Photo. There was also a Conservation Award, Portfolio Award, and Video Award.

The category winners

Urban bird winner

Great Grey Owl Strix nebulosa. Helsinki, Finland

Arto Leppänen, Finland.

Gold - Urban Birds

© Arto Leppänen/ Bird Photographer of the Year

‘During winter migration, owls from northern Finland often head to the south where they can find more food due to less snow. This Great Grey Owl chose a cemetery with abundant voles as its hunting ground. While hunting, the owl would often stop on tombstones or other structures to observe the area.

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‘Keeping a safe distance, I followed the owl and managed to capture a fleeting moment when it landed briefly on a beautiful angel statue.’

Canon EOS 5D Mark III with Canon 600mm f/4 lens. 600mm; 1/50s; f/5; ISO 1,600.

Comedy bird winner

Purple Heron Ardea purpurea. Lake Chiusi, Italy.

Antonio Aguti, Italy.

Gold - Comedy Bird Photo

© Antonio Aguti / Bird Photographer of the Year

The Purple Heron is a migratory bird that nests in the lake basins of the Italian Peninsula and feeds mainly on fish, although it also preys on mice, snakes, toads and other creatures. In this shot, the heron caught a large Crucian Carp (Carassius carassius) and voraciously swallowed it after several attempts to turn the fish onto its side.

Sony A1 with Sony 600mm f/4 GM lens. 600mm; 1/4,000s; f/4; ISO 320.

Black and white winner

Musk Duck Biziura lobata. Perth, Australia.

Jason Moore, Australia

Gold - Black and White

© Jason Moore / Bird Photographer of the Year

‘A young Musk Duck seems mesmerised by a drop of water falling from its mother’s mouth. Of course, it’s actually interested in the morsel of food that she has in her bill. Their coloration may be drab, but they more than make up for it with their beautiful expressions and fascinating displays.’

Sony A1 with Sony 600mm f/4 G lens. 600mm; 1/1,250s; f/4; ISO 1,600.

Birds in the Environment winner

Brambling Fringilla montifringilla. Lower Silesia, Poland.

Mateusz Piesiak, Poland.

Gold - Birds in the Environment

© Mateusz Piesiak / Bird Photographer of the Year

‘Flooding meant that a field of sunflowers could not be harvested, and thousands of birds, including Greenfinches (Chloris chloris), Goldfinches (Carduelis carduelis) and Bramblings, flocked to it in winter.

‘Despite their colourful plumage making them easy targets, when foraging their colours blend with the surroundings, making them hard for predators to spot. Using a wide- angle lens masked with snow and dried sunflowers, I photographed a flock of Bramblings from their perspective, with one perched in front of my camera.’

Fujifilm X-T2 with Fujifilm 10–24mm f/4 lens. 10mm; 1/680s; f/11; ISO 1,600.

Birds in flight winner

Sword-billed Hummingbird Ensifera ensifera. Bogotá, Colombia.

Rafael Armada, Spain.

Gold - Birds in Flight

© Mateusz Piesiak / Bird Photographer of the Year / Bird Photographer of the Year

The Sword-billed Hummingbird, common in the Andean forests, has the world’s longest bill relative to its size. This bird’s unique bill, adapted to feed on flowers with long corollas, makes it a vital pollinator, as bees and butterflies can’t reach the nectar and so don’t pollinate these plants. This image captures the bird approaching a feeder, with natural backgrounds and lighting.

The sword-billed hummingbird has the longest beak in the world

Canon EOS R5 with Canon 600mm f/4 III lens. 600mm; 1/1,000s; f/4; ISO 5,000.

Bird portrait winner

Glistening-green Tanager Chlorochrysa phoenicotis. Mashpi Amagusa Reserve, Ecuador.

Nicolas Reusens, Spain

Gold - Best Portrait

© Nicolas Reusens / Bird Photographer of the Year

Venturing into the tropical forest, I was excited to spot the rare Glistening-green Tanager. After hours of waiting, I saw the vivid-green bird on a perfect heart-shaped leaf. Its shimmering feathers reflected a dazzling array of colours. I captured every detail, grateful for this magical moment amid the lush jungle backdrop.

Canon EOS R7 with Tamron 100–400mm f/4.5–6.3 lens. 213mm; 1/500s; f/7.1; ISO 400.

12-14 years old winner

Arctic Tern Sterna paradisaea and Common Tern Sterna hirundo. Örnsköldsvik,Sweden.

Harry Sedin, Sweden.

Gold - 12-14 years

© Harry Sedin / Bird Photographer of the Year

In a small inlet in Örnsköldsvik, there are terns everywhere during summer.So, one afternoon on an overcast day, I headed down to the water with the goal of photographing terns in flight.Instead of that, I ended up photographing an Arctic and Common Tern perched together on a railing. By utilisingthe white of their bodies, the overcast weather and the bright reflections in the water, I captured a high-key image of the two terns.

NikonCoolpix P1000. 324mm; 1/100s; f/8; ISO 200

11 and under winner

Verditer Flycatcher Eumyias thalassinus. Pelling, Sikkim, India.

Arko Saha, India.

Gold - 11 and under

© Arko Saha/ Bird Photographer of the Year

Pelling is one of the most beautiful hill stations in India. I observed so many birds when I visited the area. I snapped this very colourful bird in a garden near our hotel. The extremely vibrant blue colour makes this bird so beautiful.

Canon EOS 80D with Canon 100–400mm f/4.5–5.6 II lens. 400mm; 1/400s; f/5.6; ISO 500.

Conservation winner

European Turtle Dove Streptopelia turtur. Southern Malta.

Ewan Heath-Flynn, United Kingdom.

Gold - Conservation

© Ewan Heath-Flynn/ Bird Photographer of the Year

‘A Maltese hunter stands proud, having legally shot a European Turtle Dove, a prized quarry on the island. European Union legislation bans the hunting of Turtle Doves in the breeding season.

‘Nevertheless, across the Mediterranean, an estimated 0.34–0.87 million are killed every year. Generations of Maltese have hunted this species on migration; a few continue to hunt and follow tradition. In 2017, Malta introduced a spring hunting moratorium, which left some hunters feeling their ‘traditional’ way of life had been spoilt.

‘Unfortunately, the ban was lifted in 2022, allowing European Turtle Doves to be killed once again. The decision has the potential to dramatically impact and further damage this beautiful bird’s chances of survival and drive it further towards extinction. BirdLife International and their partner BirdLife Malta both condemn the hunting.’

Canon EOS 5D Mark IV with Canon 35mm f/2 lens. 35mm; 1/200s; f/8; ISO 800.

Bird Photographer of the Year has conservation at its heart. This year, the competition donated £5,000 to partner charity Birds on the Brink, which provides vital funding to grass-roots bird conservation projects around the world. (www.birdsonthebrink.co.uk)

All awarded images are published by William Collins in a hard-back coffee-table book, which is now available online at birdpoty.com. Foreword by wildlife cameraman and presenter Gordon Buchanan (HB, £30).

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The 2024 competition is now open for entries at birdpoty.com, and invites photographers of all experience levels to submit their best bird photos.

Bird photographer of the year 2023 winners

Bird photographer of the year 2023 winners
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Southern boobooks (Ninox boobook), the smallest Australian owl species, are often brought to veterinary hospitals after car accidents. Their large, outward- projecting eyes, which are adapted for low-light hunting, make them vulnerable to injury. In this image, Dr Luke Gregory is examining an owl named Rocket, focusing on the posterior eye, where injuries can be less visible. Location: Bonorong wildlife hospital, Brighton, Tasmania, Australia

Edith Grossman, Who Elevated the Art of Translation, Dies at 87

Edith Grossman, Who Elevated the Art of Translation, Dies at 87
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“You are my voice in English,” Gabriel García Márquez told her. She insisted that her name appear on the covers of books she translated, including with that of Cervantes.

Edith Grossman, whose acclaimed translations of “Love in the Time of Cholera” by Gabriel García Márquez and “Don Quixote” by Miguel de Cervantes raised the profile of the often-overlooked role of the translator, died on Monday at her home in Manhattan. She was 87.

The cause was pancreatic cancer, her son Kory Grossman said.

An earthy, tough New Yorker who was known as “Edie,” Dr. Grossman dedicated herself to translating Latin American and Spanish authors at a time when literary translation was not considered a serious academic discipline or career.

Translators had long been seen as the “humble Cinderella” of publishing, she said in an interview for this obituary in 2021. But as she wrote in her groundbreaking book “Why Translation Matters” (2010), she saw the role “not as the weary journeyman of the publishing world, but as a living bridge between two realms of discourse, two realms of experience, and two sets of readers.”

Dr. Grossman was among the first to insist that on any book she translated, her name appear on the cover along with that of the author, a practice that publishers had traditionally resisted for both financial and marketing reasons. They liked to think that they could wave “a magic wand” and turn a book from one language into another, she joked in the interview. “And no human is involved. No human who needs to be paid?”

When her translation of “Don Quixote” appeared in 2003 — with her name on the cover along with that of Cervantes — it elevated not only her own career but also helped raise the stature of literary translation. Her “Don Quixote,” published by a HarperCollins imprint, became widely admired as the definitive English version, and she went on to inspire a new generation of translators.

“Though there have been many valuable translations of ‘Don Quixote,’’ the critic Harold Bloom wrote in an introduction, “I would commend Edith Grossman’s version for the extraordinarily high quality of her prose.”

Getting her name on the cover was just one issue that Dr. Grossman had with publishers. She also wanted them to commission translations of more books and accused them of “linguistic isolationism” for not doing so.

Not only did they not want to pay translators adequately, she said, but in her view they were ignoring a global conversation that builds mutual understanding through the exchange of ideas, culture and a shared love of literature.

Dr. Grossman’s translation of “Don Quixote” — with her name on the cover alongside that of Cervantes — became widely admired as the definitive English version.

Dr. Grossman believed that translation was a creative act undertaken in harmony with the author, the way an actor speaks the lines of a playwright. This view of translation reflected her own method, which she described as an auditory process.

“I think of the author’s voice and the sound of the text, then of my obligation to hear both as clearly and profoundly as possible,” she wrote in “Why Translation Matters,” “and finally of my equally pressing need to speak the voice in a second language.”

Her technique helped make her one of the most sought-after translators of Latin American literature in the 1980s and ’90s. She was among those who gave English-language readers access to the works of Gabriel García Márquez, Isabel Allende, Carlos Fuentes, Laura Esquivel and others who were writing in an entirely new genre known as magical realism.

Dr. Grossman became Mr. García Márquez’s preferred translator after an agent who lived in her building on Manhattan’s Upper West Side asked her one day, “Would you be interested in translating García Márquez?”

“Are you kidding me?” she recalled responding.

She sent in a 20-page sample of how she would translate Mr. García Márquez’s masterwork “Love in the Time of Cholera,” which was originally published in Colombia in 1985, and thus began her lifelong collaboration with him, a Nobel Prize-winning author whose work she found both exhilarating and challenging. Her English version was published by Alfred A. Knopf in 1988.

Translating him, she said in the interview, “was like doing an intense crossword puzzle.”

He later paid her the ultimate compliment, telling her, “You are my voice in English.”

”Would you be interested in translating García Márquez?” Dr. Grossman was asked. “Are you kidding me?” she responded.

Dr. Grossman was born Edith Marion Dorph in Philadelphia on March 22, 1936. Her father, Alexander Dorph, was a shoe salesman and union organizer who eventually owned his own shoe store. Her mother, Sarah (Stern) Dorph, was a secretary and homemaker.

It was Edith’s high school Spanish teacher, Naomi Zieber, who inspired her to major in Spanish at the University of Pennsylvania, and she started doing translations as an undergraduate.

She received her bachelor’s degree in Spanish language from Penn in 1957 and her master’s in Spanish literature in 1959. She spent a year in Spain as a Fulbright scholar in 1962 and two years at the University of California, Berkeley, before returning to New York to earn her doctorate in Latin American literature at New York University in 1972.

While a graduate student at the start of her teaching career, Dr. Grossman encountered a bias against women in academia.

“I had a professor who once said to me: ‘You know you’re taking the space of somebody who’s going to go on in the field, and you’re just going to get married and have kids,’” she recalled to the online magazine Asymptote in 2019. She added, “I told him, ‘You have no way of knowing what I am going to do.’”

But her phone kept ringing with translation work, and by the 1970s she decided to step away from the academic track and try translating full time.

“What you lose in financial security you gain in intellectual independence,” she said in the 2021 interview.

The gamble paid off. As her reputation grew, Dr. Grossman accepted part-time teaching positions at N.Y.U., Columbia University and other colleges in the New York area but spent most of her career working as a translator.

It took two years to translate “Don Quixote,” but she derived enormous satisfaction from it. “Going to the 17th century with Cervantes was like going there with Shakespeare,” she said. “Sheer joy.”

Dr. Grossman’s many honors and awards included the PEN/Ralph Manheim Medal for Translation; the Arts and Letters Award in Literature from the American Academy of Arts and Letters; and the Officer’s Cross of the Order of Civil Merit awarded by King Felipe VI of Spain.

Her marriage to Norman Grossman, a musician, in 1965 ended in divorce in 1984. In addition to her son Kory, she is survived by another son, Matthew, and a sister, Judith Ahrens.

Despite her international reputation, Dr. Grossman hated to travel. But she enjoyed close relationships with the authors she translated and spoke with them regularly by phone. Her authors knew how devoted she was to them, as they were to her.

It was a measure of that devotion that one day, while she was immersed in translating “Don Quixote,” the phone rang. It was Mr. García Márquez, sounding like a jealous husband. “I hear,” he said, “you’re two-timing me with Cervantes.”

Alex Traub contributed reporting.

Avoid Landscape Photography Frustration and Enjoy the Journey |

Avoid Landscape Photography Frustration and Enjoy the Journey |

As a landscape photographer, do you feel frustrated when things don’t quite work out? Maybe the weather wasn’t cooperating or despite your best efforts looking for an engaging composition, you couldn’t find one before the light faded. Learn to enjoy the journey and watch the frustrations fade away.

For the landscape photographer, many components need to come together to capture that great image. Weather can come into play — sometimes, we want a partly cloudy day to get interesting light, other times, we want an overcast day for a softer overall light. At sunset or sunrise, we often look for just enough interesting clouds to give us texture but enough of a break towards the horizon to let some light through to provide us with beautiful red, orange, and purple colors. 

That is just the weather. Then we have to hope we can find an interesting composition — the right angle, the right camera height, maybe an object of interest in the foreground, or a leading line or a texture that works with the scene. When photographing in a new location, finding these things the first time there can be challenging.

As you can see, there are many variables that must come together to get that portfolio shot. When things aren’t working out just right, it is easy to start getting frustrated. 

I have watched landscape photographers get frustrated when things aren’t working out right. Their whole mood changes. They get grumpy and start moving from place to place, almost frantically trying to make something happen — sometimes completely changing locations hurriedly hoping to find the right conditions, only to get even more frustrated when things don’t work out there.

Don’t Forget the Why

I spend a lot of time outside practicing my landscape photography. I very rarely get frustrated with how things are going. Why?

Because I enjoy the process of landscape photography and all that it entails. I enjoy being outside with my camera. I enjoy the hikes I take to get to locations. I enjoy sitting there listening to the sounds of nature, watching the scene unfold (even if it is a cloudless sunset), and feeling the breeze on my face. 

I suspect many landscape photographers started the hobby because they enjoyed being outside. Don’t lose sight of the reason you got started! Even on the days where you don’t capture anything extraordinary — you still likely enjoyed a hike, sitting outside, and soaking in the sights, sounds, and smells of nature. What could be better? Focus on the process and the journey and the portfolio-worthy images are just a bonus!

My Journey

There is a place in West Virginia where I have lost count of how many times I’ve visited, chasing a fantastic sunset where the sky lights up, my composition is dialed in, and all of the pieces line up. I often visit this spot multiple times per trip if I think I can dodge the crowds.

I’ve been there on evenings when there is barely a cloud in the sky. I’ve shown up when the clouds were so thick you couldn’t see more than twenty feet in front of you. I’ve hiked in during the rain. I’ve been there in the wind and cold. And I am still chasing my perfect photo from that spot. But I’ve enjoyed every single trip to the overlook — even though I sometimes walk away empty-handed.

On my most recent trip, some friends and I made the half-mile hike, I perched up on one of my favorite vantage points. At times, the clouds looked like they were going to cooperate. Then they looked like they weren’t going to cooperate. Then we got rained on. Then the sun came out for a bit. Then the clouds rolled back in too thick to let the good golden hour light through.

The friends I was with said they were sorry I didn’t get the sunset I wanted. I replied, “No worries, any evening outdoors, camera in hand, with the smell, sound, and sight of nature is a good evening and time well spent — portfolio image or not!”

And that’s how I avoid frustration. I remember why I started the hobby of landscape photography and that at the root of it all – the enjoyment of being outside and witnessing the moment is the reward. The portfolio images are a bonus.

Do you enjoy the journey of landscape photography? Let me know in the comments below!

The Saudi artist who does it all

The Saudi artist who does it all
RIYADH: Growing up in an artistic household helped multidisciplinary Saudi artist Azhar Saeed to flourish, allowing her to see life in a multitude of colors and draw inspiration from the beauty