When I started out in nature photography, I always had the impressive shots of renowned photographers in mind — pictures taken in the soft light of early morning or late evening. At the beginning of my photographic career, I often tried to capture plants or birds in golden light, experimenting with techniques such as lens flare, shading, and simple portraits. I read articles and tried out the techniques described in them for days on end. I simply used every free minute for photography to understand how such shots are possible.
As it was often difficult to take beautiful pictures in daylight alone, I began to work more intensively with flash photography. At first, however, I felt anything but comfortable walking alone in the woods or a meadow at night. Even the slightest noise caught my attention and made me stop and think. But the darkness of the night had a great advantage: the headlamp and the limited field of light meant that I suddenly discovered things that I would never have noticed during the day. In the dark, new details unfolded, motifs that I would probably have overlooked during the day.
Nowadays, I spend most of my time taking pictures right outside my own front door, or I go to the nearest city park to see what’s new to discover. As soon as an interesting subject catches my eye, I think about the best way to capture it. Should it be a simple, aesthetic portrait? Or perhaps something creative like the open-lens method? Or with a flash and slow shutter speed?
There are countless techniques that can be used today. But what fascinates me most is the story that a picture can tell. Every motif, every scene has its own narrative — the mood of a lonely forest path at night; the hidden world of small creatures in the undergrowth, like the silhouette of a mouse in the rain; or the quiet play of light and shadow at dusk. My aim is not just to create a picture but to capture a moment that awakens emotions and questions in the viewer, giving them a glimpse into a world that is often overlooked.
Flash with a slower shutter speed
Every season has its own special charm for me, but autumn offers a wealth of motifs that are constantly changing. Where before there was only the ground and a few leaves, now countless types of mushrooms sprout in all shapes and colors. There is something new to discover every day. Insects that feed on the mushroom spores or delicate hellebores that grow on the tree trunks. There are no limits to creativity here. By using the flash on the first shutter and a longer exposure time, the photograph quickly becomes a painting — movements become delicate traces of light and color that capture and enhance the mood of the moment. The background blurs into soft nuances, while the main subject emerges clearly and vividly.
Flashing in the second shutter
At some point, I started thinking about projects. What it would be like to design a whole series. One of my longest and far-from-finished projects is bats. Capturing these creatures in flight is anything but easy. I started my first attempts with a short focal length and flash until I finally managed to get a bat reasonably sharp in the picture. But in the end, it was just one of many pictures — a bat in flight, no more and no less.
I quickly had an idea in my head of what the picture should look like. Once all the settings were clear to me, I set about photographing. After countless attempts at pulling my camera along, I finally managed to get the shot I wanted, which not only showed the bat in flight but also captured the dynamics and the feeling of the moment.
Working with the surroundings
Sometimes, you find photo opportunities exactly where you least expect them. That’s what happened to me after my bat project, which was at a busy lake. The area was busy, and the many visitors left a lot of food scraps in the garbage cans, which in turn attracted small animals — including rats. I encountered quite a few during my bat project. So, it can’t hurt to give it a try.
The biggest challenge was to capture these small, agile animals in an exciting way. After observing them for a while, I noticed that the rats were not only scurrying around on the bank but also occasionally swimming to sawed-off tree stumps. They crossed the shallow water and stopped when they found something to eat.
It was at this moment that I had the idea of working with the reflection. The shallow, calm water provided a perfect reflection, but placing the flashes and LEDs was anything but easy. It became a game of patience in which I often had to adjust the positions of the LEDs in order to emphasize the reflection of the rat in the water. The positioning of the two flashes also required careful consideration: If they were too far forward, my subject was too strongly illuminated; too far back resulted in too much silhouette. After each picture, I thought about how I could make it even more interesting. In the end, I was very lucky that two rats suddenly became interested in the remains of the lake visitors at the same time.
Project-oriented thinking has fundamentally changed my photography. Even at the beginning, I had a lot of fun discovering and capturing new motifs. But now that I’m working more intensively with my subjects, the ideas just flow. It’s often enough to take a closer look and let your creativity run wild. I imagine what a picture could look like if I introduce certain elements or use certain techniques. It’s not just about observing but also about exploring the technical possibilities and knowing the limits of the equipment.
Finally, I would like to give you a little tip that I always enjoy and that you can do from the comfort of your own home: Take a look at the galleries of renowned competitions such as Nature Photographer of the Year or Memorial Maria Luisa. It’s exciting to think about how the photographers have realized their pictures technically. Pay attention to the composition, analyze the shapes and colors, and try to understand how these elements harmonize with each other. These exercises can not only be inspiring but also train your own photographic eye.
