Suriname's Embrace: The Journey Begins
Suriname hugs the northeast coast of South America, a place of untamed nature, warm people, and unforgettable food. During my trip, I set my sights on Brokopondo Reservoir, formed by the Afobaka Dam from 1961 to 1964.
In most reservoirs, valleys are cleared before flooding to keep the water clear for use. Here, the trees were left to save costs, and now they rise like silent sentinels from the surface. This creates a haunting kind of lake art, where shape and space tell their own story.
Reaching it demands a guide, a sturdy car, a boat, and basic camp. Outside Paramaribo, roads fade into jungle tracks, though logging has carved a few paths for heavy trucks. The isolation sharpens your focus from the start.
I arrived expecting something special, and the vast water dotted with half-submerged trees delivered. Yet finding the one element to anchor my lake art proved harder than the scale suggested.
Our guide knew the waters well and claimed some photography know-how, though mostly with drones. I took it with caution, as many do. We pushed the boat into the lake, wind whipping our faces under a high sun, fully exposed to the elements. Scanning for composition, the midday light and dense tree clusters offered little promise that first day.
The Chase for Solitude: Why a Single Tree?
Day two brought no better luck. I described my vision to the guide, who promised a tree on the final leg that might work. Reassuring, yet doubt lingered—two days in, and nothing fit. With sunset nearing, worry set in; we had covered so much ground already.
Day three dawned as we broke camp from our island spot and headed back, the promised tree still ahead. How could perfection hide until the end? I had only one frame so far, and it fell short. Eyes strained across the water, ready to accept less.
Then the captain eased the throttle. The lake opened, revealing a lone tree rising tall and elegant above the surface, perfectly isolated.
The landscape teemed with stumps—some logged, others intact—but their density cluttered the frame like a busy forest. Lake art demands reduction, a single form separated just enough to breathe against the water's mirror. Simplicity pulls the eye, stripping noise to reveal essence.
We angled the boat carefully, clearing foreground distractions so the tree stood dead center against distant hills and clouds. Not barren minimalism, but depth through restraint.
The Panoramic Frame: A Study in Minimalism and Isolation
Bringing the Hasselblad XPan was no accident here. Its width stretches the lake's vastness, granting the subject room to dominate through sheer emptiness. Scale hits hard without obvious markers, yet the frame conveys it intuitively.
On narrower formats, I rarely center subjects. But the XPan—and its cousin, the Fuji TX-1—changes that. The expanse amplifies isolation; negative space dwarfs the tree, etching solitude into every inch.
Film commitment
Film costs demand commitment; I load a roll and see it through, a habit that sharpens choice. Here, halfway through Portra 400, midday light pushed the ISO higher than ideal.
Still, it let me stop down to f/22 for edge-to-edge sharpness. The grain adds texture where details are few, turning constraint into quiet strength. I metered the light repeatedly, recomposed with intent, then released the shutter. Point of no return.
Post-Production as Preservation
The negative arrived true to the moment. After scanning the film, dust needed clearing and a slight straighten. Portra's warm reds begged for balance—I cooled them toward blue to echo the reservoir's mood.
Editing honors vision, not alters it. The subtle shift deepens the lake art, preserving the scene's honest chill.
The Final Image
From distant hunch to finished print, this became a lesson in patience and presence. Brokopondo's expanse, the stubborn hunt, film's limits, and careful finishing wove into one piece of lake art.
The image proves analogue's truth: process and print are one. Like my favored Ilford XP2 frame, it reminds us visions persist through doubt.
What lake art have you chased to the edge, where turning back wasn't an option?
