A Few Thoughts on Travel Photography: How Travel Changed My View of Photography
At the start of 2022, I was chatting online about photography with a group of Leica enthusiasts, and I dug out photos I had taken with my Leica ME and Leica Q from different eras, discovering that my approach to travel photography has changed quite a bit. On the first day of the new year, as I looked at old photos and told the stories behind them, I wanted to explore the methods and meaning of travel photography with fellow travelers who love photography—how to follow our own hearts while avoiding falling into the same traps, not repeating past mistakes, and breaking free from lingering struggles.
Travel and Photography: A Perfect Pair
Travel and photography are like two inseparable brothers. Without photography, as time passes, the places, people, and moments would gradually fade from memory, leaving only a vague trace of the journey. Without travel, never stepping out, photography might be confined to a certain area, stuck in a particular style, or even stagnate in self-satisfied overconfidence—becoming a gear enthusiast who takes pictures of dolls at home, trash cans at the doorstep, and bicycles on the street.
No Longer Arrogant
Back in the day, I bought a semi-professional camera and was full of confidence. I carried a tripod, used an ultra-wide-angle lens, and cranked the aperture down to the smallest setting, thinking that was how I could capture the world’s best landscape masterpieces. I obsessed over so-called "purity" in the frame, refusing to let a single person appear in the viewfinder, even waiting an hour to make sure tourists moved out of the shot. I’d take a "perfect" landscape photo with no people, process it to be sharp and vibrant, and zoom in to 100% to admire myself. I didn’t realize that the smallest aperture not only gives "great depth of field" but also causes "diffraction" that degrades image quality. I didn’t know that excessive sharpness might reduce texture and layering, and I certainly didn’t realize that overly vibrant colors could become cloying.
Simple and Easy Isn’t Always Best
Interestingly, when I first started shooting, I loved square, symmetrical compositions and disliked tilting or curved lines. In truth, I didn’t really know how to shoot or compose, so I treated simple beginner techniques like symmetry and balance as sacred rules. It wasn’t until after taking countless photos that I realized, almost unintentionally, how stiff my pictures looked. Photography often hits a plateau, leaving you confused and directionless. So I tried shooting different landscapes, going farther away to more niche destinations, capturing rarer scenes—all in an attempt to break free.
Going All Out Doesn’t Always Bring Change
That year, I trekked through the Qizang Valley and Zecang Sea, spending four or five days in the wilderness. On the sixth day, at the Zecang Sea camp, everyone was exhausted and fast asleep in their tents, unwilling to move. But at a little past six in the morning, I followed the guide and hiked for over an hour at an altitude of over 4,000 meters to reach the source lake, just to take a photo of the sunrise on the golden mountain. Then I hiked another hour back to camp to rejoin the group, continued hiking through the snowy wilderness for a whole day, and arrived in Huanglong at midnight covered in mud, my shoulder carrying the camera bag completely numb. Shooting in places where few people can go is more challenging and lets you capture scenes that few have seen, and it did bring me a certain sense of satisfaction.
Sprinkling a Bit of "Cultural Heritage" Pepper
Sometimes, when I didn’t know what else to shoot, I’d go looking for historical sites. I love any place with history, thinking that UNESCO World Heritage sites add a layer of cultural significance to the scenery—like sprinkling some pepper. I’d often endure cold and hunger at scenic spots, waiting for the magical half-hour around sunrise or sunset, willing to do anything to get the shot. In Yogyakarta, Indonesia, I got up at 4 a.m. to go to Borobudur to photograph the sunrise over one of the four great wonders of the East. At Prambanan, to capture the largest Shiva temple complex in Indonesia, I stayed from 3 p.m. until nightfall. The effort paid off, but only in terms of light and shadow—my shooting philosophy didn’t really change.
Avoiding the Trap of "Unpopulated Scenes"
True landscape photography requires a high level of professionalism and is no easy task. The obsessive focus of landscape photographers is certainly commendable. But for ordinary travelers, only shooting landscapes during a trip is somewhat narrow. A long time ago, an editor from a travel magazine told me that every one of my photos looked like it was taken in a "place with no people." That’s when I realized I was missing "people." When I photographed the Lewis Headland on the Outer Hebrides in Scotland, I deliberately included two travelers standing on the headland, making them look like tiny blades of grass to emphasize the headland’s immensity. But I also found that adding a touch of humanity to a landscape often serves only as decoration, not the main focus. If you want more visual impact, you need to take close-ups of people during the journey. Even the most pristine landscapes can’t compete with the attraction of people.
Waiting for the Right "Shadow"
Gradually I began to appreciate people in landscapes, even setting up photography "traps"—adjusting aperture and shutter speed, pressing the shutter, and deliberately waiting for someone to appear in a certain spot. In Matara, Sri Lanka, there is a temple on the sea that has long been an internet-famous spot. I took a bus alone to Matara, slept in a humble beachside inn, and the next morning walked along the beach to the bridge connecting the temple to the land, waiting for sunrise. My patience paid off: in the morning light, a monk draped in a red robe crossed the bridge and entered the temple. As he reached the middle of the bridge, a ray of dawn light fell on him…
Overcoming the Psychological Barrier of Travel Photography
At first, I was afraid to photograph people, especially when traveling with a single 28mm or 35mm prime lens. I didn’t dare face strangers, especially abroad where my language skills were poor. Besides fearing rejection, disgust, and contempt, I was even more afraid of being taken away by the police—because I knew of someone who had been reported and taken away for photographing a beautiful woman on the street. The cure for this psychological barrier was Southeast Asia. I traveled there often, and the simple, warm-hearted locals gave me the courage to photograph them face to face. Many children and even adults would voluntarily ask me to take their pictures. If I had a sudden impulse to shoot, I would ask them, and even if a very few were unwilling, they never refused rudely. So these kind people helped me overcome my inner obstacle and take the first step in photographing people.
Daring to Face Strangers
My mental toughness for photographing people improved; my skin grew thicker, and I dared to shoot beautiful women directly. At the Mahane Yehuda Market in Israel, I saw a gentle, beautiful woman walking through the market with her phone and wallet. I asked in broken English, gesturing with my camera, and she agreed, smiling at me from beside a table while I took a picture. Another time in Pamukkale, Turkey, I wanted to photograph locals in the travertine pools. I first approached a beautiful woman, and she even reached out to "hold" the snowy mountain in the background for my shot. Then I spotted a man with his girlfriend in a bikini playing in the water. I told him in English that his girlfriend was beautiful and I wanted to photograph her. He didn’t quite understand at first, but he put his arm around her and posed for a picture. After I took a couple’s shot, I asked him to step aside, and the girlfriend struck a cool pose in the water for me.
Don’t Have Unreasonable Expectations
However, when someone agrees to be photographed, don’t make excessive demands. For example, asking them to perform specific actions, hold something, smile a certain way, or strike a pose—especially things beyond their understanding or role. During a Sino-American new media exchange event at the Indigo Hotel in Los Angeles, I was at the bar drinking coffee and wanted to photograph the bartender, but he had no customers to serve. So I ordered a cocktail he specialized in just to capture him mixing it. Of course, sometimes you might think a business owner would appreciate free promotion from a photo, but they simply ignore you. Or even if you don’t make any unreasonable requests, you might still be refused. You have to be mentally prepared for that. In Kyoto, Japan, I was turned down a few times when trying to photograph women in kimonos on the street.
To Tip or Not to Tip
In some impoverished areas, people may let you photograph them in hopes of getting a tip. Posed shots involving money always leave me with mixed feelings. On the negative side, you think they’re being friendly, but after you take the picture, they demand a hefty tip, leaving a bad taste. On the positive side, you can pay and shoot freely, possibly capturing unexpected great shots. When I rented a car to tour Bohol in the Philippines, the driver took us to a small roadside hut where a few children put on a performance for tourists. If you tipped them, they would smile and pose for pictures or let you take photos with them. In the moment after their forced smiles ended, I captured a look of exhaustion and confusion in the children’s eyes… Should I have taken that photo? I still don’t have an answer.
Don’t Hurt People with Aggressive Photography
In the ancient city of Fes, two Moroccan street musicians were parading down the lane, beating drums and singing. Taking their pictures required a tip. I followed them, snapping several shots. One photo is particularly memorable. The old musician shook the tassels on his shell-decorated hat while singing local ballads. I was so focused on shooting that I ignored the proper distance. Looking back at the photo, taken with my 28mm lens at close range, I could see the old man’s resigned acceptance of life and his helplessness at being photographed. I can’t even imagine the harm caused by aggressive photography without prior consent. The famous Japanese street photographer Tatsuo Suzuki faced backlash and criticism for his aggressive approach toward pedestrians, ultimately leading Fujifilm to terminate its contract with him.
Using a telephoto lens to shoot from far away has very little intrusion, and the subject doesn’t even know, but it’s still candid photography. I’ve had friends who took street photos of locals and were chased down and forced to delete the images. That kind of embarrassment is indescribable, and I feel that sneaky telephoto shots are worse than just openly asking. When traveling abroad, never photograph children without permission—getting caught can lead to serious legal trouble. At Universal Studios in the U.S., I saw a cute little girl looking through a telescope she could barely reach. I gestured to her father, got his consent, and snapped a quick shot. Then a guide came over and sternly warned me not to take photos of minors without permission. When I explained that I had already asked the father, she apologized.
Street Photography: Love and Fear
One weekend, I spent an afternoon at Borough Market along the Thames. Sneakers, shorts, T-shirts, and baseball caps were standard for the stylish men, while women carried shopping bags, weaving through the food market. Londoners shed their suits and walked through the slightly chaotic old streets and alleys, revealing the city’s ancient yet modern sides on weekends. Sometimes I’m fascinated by the feel of street photography, but I can’t get past the “people” factor—it’s both a love and a fear. I can’t do without people, yet I’m afraid to photograph them. Generally, when shooting at close range, I make sure the subject knows, even if the shot is fleeting; I’ll tell them afterward. But there’s still risk. If someone spots you before you can tell them, at best it’s awkward; at worst, it’s illegal. Some countries even explicitly forbid street photography of people without their consent.
Even where it’s not banned, you can’t use the images commercially or even publish them in books or magazines without a signed model release. National Geographic photographers carry a release form and have every subject sign it. When I do street photography, even without a release, I signal or ask verbally, and I try to shoot wide scenes where individuals aren’t clearly recognizable. Every photographer who uploads commercial images to Getty Images knows that if the photo contains a person—even yourself—you need a model release.
Avoid Shooting Performances
I’ve watched many shows and performances around the world, but almost all forbid live shooting, let alone using flash. I remember visiting the Friedrichstadt-Palast in Berlin to shoot the show “The One.” We obtained official permission before shooting, but they made it clear we could not photograph during the performance. The theater staff gave us a tour of the venue, stage, backstage, and dressing rooms, and even brought out the lead performers for us to photograph, but we were absolutely not allowed to shoot the live show. That evening, during the performance, ushers patrolled. When someone took a quick phone snapshot, an usher would silently stand in front of them holding a tablet displaying a large “No Photography” icon.
Let Joy Spread to Others
Regardless of whether people are poor or not, joy is always the most infectious. When I first started photographing people, I was inevitably drawn to beggars, homeless people, and the lowest classes. Their tattered clothes and weathered faces, depicting lives I had never known, were always powerful. I’ve shot many documentaries, but as I shot more, I began to prefer photographing ordinary mainstream people, capturing their happy expressions. In Siem Reap, Cambodia, while driving to the filming location of Tomb Raider, I saw a mother riding a scooter with her child. I waved to them, and they happily waved back. The scene was so warm that I had to stop the car and take a picture.
Avoid Photographing People Who Are Too Worldly
When traveling, you can’t be indiscriminate in choosing subjects. I like to observe and select who to photograph. I try to avoid people who are overly worldly or slick, and instead choose those who are simple but not too shy. Overly worldly people will give you the expression they think you want—more insincere than genuine. Overly shy people are also not ideal because their nervousness prevents them from showing their true selves. While waiting for a train at Ella Station in Sri Lanka, I saw an old man sitting on the ground waiting for the train. His clothes were shabby, but his eyes were bright, his weathered face and resolute gaze showed neither humility nor arrogance. I decided I had to photograph him. He spoke no English, I spoke no Sinhala. I sat down beside him, offered him a cigarette, and we smoked together. Then I gestured with my camera, and he agreed. The result was just right—neither overdone nor lacking.
Document Extraordinary Moments
People and events during tough journeys are especially meaningful to document. Photographing fellow travelers is more authentic and simple. While climbing Haba Snow Mountain in Yunnan, a porter helped me carry my crampons. His weather-beaten face left a deep impression. He carried simple gear but helped us successfully reach the 5,396-meter summit. Walking on a steep slope below the snow line of Haba Snow Mountain, with light snow falling and mist all around, I was exhausted and stopped to catch my breath. I took out my camera to photograph him. My hands were frozen stiff, and manual focusing was slow. He smiled and said, "My face is black; it won’t come out completely dark, will it?" I said no. Many years later, that expression on his face is exactly the essence I want to capture.
Persistence in travel photography is hard, but giving up is easy. Only a few hundred meters from the summit of Haba Snow Mountain, at 5,000 meters, extreme oxygen deprivation caused some teammates to give up and descend. Everyone moved step by step, taking breaks. I myself considered giving up several times—both the summit and the photography. But thinking that everyone’s cameras had frozen over and no one would record this arduous yet meaningful moment, I gritted my teeth and kept pulling out the camera to shoot along the way. In minus ten degrees Celsius, my camera bag felt like an icicle, and batteries died after a few shots. I had to take them out, stuff them under my armpit inside my down jacket to warm them before shooting again. Later, when I looked at the photos from above the snow line, they seemed precious. But I also have regrets. During a 46-day Pacific voyage, I kept switching between cars, boats, and swimming in the sea, finding the camera too cumbersome, so I only used my phone. Later, I wrote over 100,000 words of travelogue, but a magazine wanted to publish it, and I had no proper camera photos.
The Hardest Part Is Being Unique
Extreme travel photography is hard, but ordinary travel is even harder. In places that have been photographed by countless people, capturing something unique is often extremely difficult. In extreme travel, the challenge lies in physical limits and suffering, but the highlights are abundant and easy to capture. In everyday travel, however, the relaxed atmosphere makes it tough to produce standout images. I’ve visited Hong Kong’s Victoria Harbour countless times—by day and by night, with its towering skyscrapers along the Fragrant Harbor and dazzling lights—yet I still haven’t taken a single unique photo to describe it.
As age and experience grow, travel styles change, gear and techniques evolve, and the concept of travel photography keeps shifting. Sometimes it improves, sometimes it stalls, or even regresses. When discussing photography techniques, the key is still to follow your own heart. Both photographic philosophy and technique are merely tools to reach that goal. Travel and photography cannot stop. Travel may only have unreachable destinations, and travel photography may be an endless journey of exploration.
