Chasing aurora

From crossing lava fields in Iceland to enduring subzero temperatures in Canada’s bear country, in issue ten photographer Rebecca Douglas reflects on her lifelong obsession with chasing the Northern Lights.

My fascination with the night sky started on balmy summer evenings in my childhood. The Perseids meteor shower falls during the school holidays, and Dad used to set up sun loungers and duvets and we’d lie there for hours staring at the sky, gleefully pointing out the flashes of light.

This fascination continued into adulthood, but took a different turn from meteor showers. I am now obsessed with chasing aurora borealis, also known as the Northern Lights. Every chase is so exhilarating, and I never know what the night will hold. It’s not without its challenges, particularly in subzero temperatures in the Arctic wilderness (down to -22C so far), when you’re reminded of the fragility of the human condition, and have to read signs in nature and know when to adapt your plans. But in the face of adversity you learn a lot about your own resilience.

Ultimately I think that dramatic build-up is what draws me into the awe and intensity of witnessing such an incredible celestial event. It is a total sensory experience – something that moves me to tears.

To find the truly dark spots, I’m often out in the far northern remotest corners of the globe, in the wee hours of the night. Undulating lava fields in Iceland, or ominous moonlit human-shaped silhouettes in the distance – it’s easy to see how so many folk tales were born in these rugged landscapes that flirt with your imagination.

The enormity of the star-laden sky weighs down on me, putting an end to my internal chatter. It’s often a strange connection between letting go of fear of the unknown and being totally absorbed in the moment. But oh, how those moments can be abruptly interrupted by the unexpected, from fending off two lone farm dogs on a Faroese Island, one attached to each arm, to trying to collapse your tripod faster than the speed of light when you hear a guttural growl from the bushes in bear country. Nature reminds you of the fragility and beauty of life all at the same time.

This is an extract from Rebecca Douglas’s feature about her obsession chasing aurora borealis – the full article, including a guide to seeking the Northern Lights, will be published in issue 10 of Ernest Journal. Available to pre-order through our Crowdfunding campaign: ‘Ernest Journal: help launch our 10th edition’.

PICK UP A New limited edition reward on the Crowdfunder campaign!

The Northern Lights bundle, £25

To tie in with her story ‘Chasing Aurora’ in issue 10, photographer Rebecca Douglas has donated six fine art matte mounted prints captured at Jökulsárlón in Iceland, which is part of the Vatnajökull National Park – a UNESCO World Heritage site. The bundle includes a copy of issue 10 plus a 6”x4” Fine Art Mounted Print of ‘Jökulsárlón Finally’ – a shot that took eight visits to the glacier lagoon across multiple trips – printed sustainably on the finest quality matte fine art paper.

Meet the maker: Aidan Meighan

For our crowdfunding campaign to send issue 10 to print, we asked long-standing Ernest contributor Aidan Meighan of Whereabouts Maps to design our Trail Tea enamel mugs inspired by foraged teas you can make in the great outdoors, including common gorse and Norway spruce. Join us as we enter Aidan’s Somerset studio and find out more about the illustrator and cartographer

Ernest Trail Tea mugs, engraved by Cut By Beam, designed by Aidan Meighan

Ernest Trail Tea mugs, engraved by Cut By Beam, designed by Aidan Meighan

Aidan, you designed the beautiful Trail Tea mugs for our crowdfunding campaign. Please take us through your design process.

When Ernest got in touch to discuss a 'trail tea' article for issue 10 I was excited as I love drawing plants! The conversation got even better when they told me about the brilliant engravers 'Cut By Beam'. By the time the conversation had reached its conclusion and I realised my plant illustrations were going to be engraved on enamel mugs for the upcoming crowdfunder, I was halfway out the garden door to take plant cuttings to draw from.

Where possible I like to draw from the real thing, but when this isn't possible, I try to find appropriate references in books or online.

I think it is important to cross reference as much as possible – if we all draw the first image on an internet search, before long all our drawings will start to look the same!

These plant drawings were really satisfying. Following out from the stem of the branch you organically fill in the forks, leaves, fruits and flowers. Just like with nature's methods, you end up with a completely unique structure.

You've been working with Ernest since issue 1 on a variety of features – what have been the highlights for you?

My favourite maps I've drawn for Ernest are probably 'Mapping Antarctic women', 'Brutalist London', 'Doggerland' and 'Scottish Bothies'. As for illustrations, I really enjoyed the 'The Egg Collectors of Skúvoy' triptych in issue 9, 'The Orford Merman' and a man being 'defenestrated' (thrown from a window) in Prague.

Aidan’s ‘Brutalist London’ map for issue 3 of Ernest

Aidan’s ‘Brutalist London’ map for issue 3 of Ernest

You describe yourself as a cartographer and illustrator – how did your love of maps begin?

Pattern and mark making have always been principal components of my style and this led to me being a good fit for map commissions in the early stages of my career. Over time I developed a reputation as a map maker. Nowadays most of my commissions are maps with an illustrative component.

I've loved looking at maps for a long time. They are a beautiful muddle of maths, science, politics, history and art. They can be fantasy or fiction, but every map takes you on a literal or metaphorical journey. I always find myself getting lost in maps, an irony that pleases me.

What's your favourite map ever made and why?

'Mapping Antarctic Women' was a project undertaken by humanitarian, writer and activist Carol Devine. Maps are often snapshots of history; changing landscapes, politics and territories. Often their agendas and inaccuracies can be carried forward from map to map. This map reevaluates history and pays overdue tribute to the brilliant women involved with the history of the continent. They have been forced out of the limelight by their male counterparts. Thankfully, this map challenges that! It was a joy to map the success of these inspirational women explorers, scientists and innovators.

Aidan’s ‘Mapping Antarctic Women’ for issue 7 of Ernest

Aidan’s ‘Mapping Antarctic Women’ for issue 7 of Ernest

Any other interesting projects you're working on at the moment?

I had quite a few jobs lined up before lockdown that were either paused or cancelled, so I'm relieved to see that work has slowly begun to pick up again.

Currently I'm gearing up to do some illustrations for issue 10 of Ernest, and I'm drawing a map of the Mediterranean coast for American travel magazine Stranger Guides.

Where do you turn for inspiration, particularly when you're in a creative lull?

My trick is to keep active and busy. If I'm overwhelmed by a project I usually find the best method is to reset my brain by going for a nice walk with my dog, a run or pottering about in my allotment.

My wife is also an illustrator and we both use each other as a sort of backboard to bounce and generate ideas off.

When I can, I visit exhibitions, and make the time to draw for pleasure – both of these are brilliant for inspiration. It can be tricky to motivate yourself when drawing is your 9 to 5, but it’s always rewarding when you commit.

What have you taken away from the lockdown experience?

It puts life into perspective. I could easily be anxious about work quietening down, but there are far more important things to focus on. It has made me very grateful for what I already have.

My wife and I have been relatively lucky living in the countryside, with each other and our dog for company.

It is mind boggling that the effects have been felt by almost every person across the globe, and in some ways that is unifying. I hope this is the beginning of a new chapter and that we can take positives away from the situation. We now have the opportunity to change the things that weren't working before.

I worry about ongoing mental health implications and worsening austerity. But countering this, I think there has already been a restored sense of community, self sustainability and enhanced recognition of shared challenges ahead such as our huge battle against climate change.

Tell us about your studio space. How does it reflect you?

We moved into a new house in March and one of the silver linings of lockdown has been finding the time to decorate the house including our studio room.

We have two desks and a shared shelf of curiosities, trinkets and favourite books. In my book collection there are a lot of map books and atlases and of course a shelf dedicated to Ernest issues.

On the walls there is a 1960s leaflet unfolded to show illustrations of Swiss mountains, some Poole pottery plates and a Glastonbury Free Press poster from 2013 saying 'I love the smell of ink and paper in the morning'.

We also share the space with some of my favourite house plants including a purple shamrock, string of hearts and wilful rubber plant. All of which we have grown from cuttings, a hobby that has 'grown' out of control.

When my wife and I aren't taking it in turns to play music and podcasts the room gently vibrates to sound of our snoring dog Bryher. Bryher is a much cherished part of the team and is equal parts adorable and mad.

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To get your hands on our exclusive limited edition Trail Tea enamel mug gift set (£32), designed by Aidan Meighan and engraved by Cut By Beam, head over to our crowdfunding page.

A glossary of fog

Lose yourself in a world of creeping sea mist and mysterious booming sounds, but beware the luring ‘white women’

Images by Laura Pashby

Images by Laura Pashby


niflheim

Means ‘World of Fog’ and is one of the Nine Worlds of Norse mythology.

larry

A land fog that moves down the estuary at Teignmouth, as distinguished from a sea fog moving up the river.

camanchaca

A creeping fog that forms on the coast of Chile, then moves inland in the form of immense cloud banks. In the Atacama desert, one of the driest places on Earth, fog catchers capture water droplets from the fog to irrigate crops.

mistpouffer

A mysterious booming sound that can he heard over the ocean in quiet, foggy weather. Derives from the Dutch mistpoeffer, which translates as ‘fog swelling’.

karl

Yes, San Francisco’s famous fog is named Karl and it has its own Twitter and Instagram accounts.

witte wieven

A low-flowing mist. Translates from Dutch as ‘white women’ – according to local folklore, the ‘white women’ lure people to follow them, who are then lost forever.

pea souper

Also known as the Great Smog of London, this was a severe air-pollution smog that disrupted the city in December 1952, when many homes had coal fires. The particles of soot gave the smog a yellowish tinge, hence the nickname.

roke

An East Yorkshire word for sea fog, believed to derive from the Swedish röka, meaning smoke.

haar

A thick sea fog and fine drizzle that creeps inland from the North Sea to the east coast of Scotland and northeast England

This is an extract from ‘Lure of the Mist’ feature in issue 9 of Ernest Journal, all images by Laura Pashby @circleofpines

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Enter the forest

Photographer Ellie Davies’ work explores the fabricated nature of landscape by making a variety of temporary, non-invasive interventions in the forest, placing the viewer in the gap between fantasy and reality. Her small interruptions have involved building structures out of found materials, creating pools of light on the forest floor and introducing starscapes taken by the Hubble Space Telescope. Ellie tells us more about her spellbinding images...

Stars 8, and all images below, by Ellie Davies

Stars 8, and all images below, by Ellie Davies

I LOVE THE RANGE OF RESPONSES MY WORK GETS. Some find it really uplifting, others find it dark and sinister. I think that says more about the viewer than it does about the work. While the images explore my own experiences of the woods – and I have a very positive relationship with woodland – the forest is a place that can bring different levels of unease. You often see this played out in the way forests are portrayed in storytelling and mythology.

I THINK THIS HISTORICAL PORTRAYAL OF WOODLAND IN STORYTELLING came about when communities were living in tiny settlements within predominantly wooded landscapes, and to stray beyond the boundaries was potentially dangerous. Since then, woodlands have become an emotive metaphor for all sorts of other things, relating to the subconscious, and these get woven into stories that can really ignite the imagination.

I GREW UP IN THE NEW FOREST AND SPENT MOST OF MY CHILDHOOD PLAYING IN THE WOODS WITH MY TWIN SISTER. You need that in childhood. I think children’s memories of woodland are so vivid because these experiences are often their very first explorations and adventures, and this plays such an important part in children working out who they are and gaining self confidence.

IN THE NEW FOREST YOU FIND WONDERFULLY MATURE, ANCIENT WOODS FILLED WITH BEECH AND OAK. I get such a different feeling in these woods, compared with being in a pine plantation. This is often the starting point of a series – thinking about the atmosphere a particular area has, the colour palette, the composition of the space, and age and character of the trees.

AFTER MY SON’S BIRTH, I had a period of time where everything felt different. This was probably due to postnatal depression. I wanted to make new work and I missed being out in the woods all day, but I think as a new mum it’s hard to find the headspace to develop ideas, especially to execute them. I realised that I just had to trust in the process and let things take their course. During that year I made Another Green World, and when I look back at those images I think ‘God, what was I doing?’. I kind of love them but they’re not like anything else I’ve made. They’re strange, alien creatures. At the time I was feeling a bit like that about motherhood. Of course I loved my son enormously, but nothing about motherhood was how I expected – it was all just alien. I suppose these things come out in my work and I can’t see it clearly until I look back later.

I LOVE DOING WHAT I DO, ESSENTIALLY GOING TO THE WOODS TO PLAY. My Between the Trees series was the most fun but also the most challenging to make. These images explore the nature and meaning of ‘forest’ by considering the experience of standing alone in the woods: the eerie sensation that time has slowed down, and that the forest and everything within it exists in a different state. I used smoke to fill the space between the trees, but I won’t tell you how I did it. It was a chaotic process and I probably looked very silly while I was doing it.

I’VE ALWAYS WANTED MY WORK TO BE SCULPTURAL AND HANDMADE; to make sure everything in the image was actually there in the woods, albeit temporarily.The Stars series was a departure from that. The idea first came to me when I was riding an escalator out of a London tube station at night – there was a display of lightbulbs in the window reflecting on the glass of the escalator.These amazing little flares of light against the black background looked like a starscape. I started to think about how I could recreate that photographically. I experimented with things like pricking holes in fabric and light shining through, but nothing quite worked. Then I realised that as it was stars I was trying to create, I should work with the real thing. I came across the Hubble Space Telescope images on the NASA website and I asked their permission to use them in my images. While Stars was an interesting departure, I don’t want to overuse Photoshop. I still feel that a big part of my work is the sculptural, handmade element.

FIRES WAS MY PROJECT LAST YEAR. Fire links modern man to the earliest inhabitants of Britain’s forests. With symbolic narratives spanning the human and natural world, it brings together the opposing themes of life and death, creation and destruction, love and loss, nature versus culture, and numerous other meanings we ascribe to it. The small fires present in my images cast the forest in a warm light, holding back the dark, bringing a sense of safety and comfort, temporarily altering it. A man-made fire must be built and lit, tended and fed. Its mere presence implies the existence of people and the human narrative remains despite their absence in the image. The viewer is invited to weave their own experience into the woodland, to sit down, be silent and still, and become a part of it.

I WORK WITH A SMALL CAMERA KIT – a Pentax 645Z, two lenses and a tripod. I can carry everything on my back or on my bike, and I’m free to walk or cycle wherever I want to go. In the past I’ve considered expanding my production – using lighting, assistants and bigger setups but in the end, I just love being on my own in the woods. A lot of it is trying to find that quiet connection – walking slowly, looking for specific places or ideas, or just waiting for inspiration to come.

This is an extract from an interview that originally featured in issue 9 of Ernest Journal. See more of Ellie’s work, including her latest series, Seascapes, at elliedavies.co.uk.

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