It has been sitting in the closet for a few years. When it was new, I often took it with me on photo trips, and the wow effect was undeniable. But as time passed, it came out of the bag less frequently. After that, it was relegated to the back of the closet. If it had its own will, it would probably have preferred a different owner. But after all, it’s just a piece of technology.
Of course, I’m talking about my little drone. A small thing weighing 249 g. A remarkable piece of technology that hasn’t earned a permanent spot in my camera bag. I have mixed feelings about drones. They actually go against my approach to photography. When I’m out in nature photographing, I always try to be completely still and get as close to my subjects as possible. Drones are noisy and create a natural distance from your subjects. Since I can’t get up close to my subjects with it, I can instead rise to 100 meters and gain a new perspective on my surroundings. At that height, the sound of the drone doesn’t bother anyone—neither people nor animals.
Catching the right moment
Autumn is a beautiful time, especially from above. The mosaic of the treetops is fascinating. When flying with a drone, you’ll find yourself dazzled by the new perspective, and everything seems amazing. But it’s not if you don’t remember the usual ‘rules’ of photography. There must be a clear subject, the light needs to be favorable, and the timing must be right. This also applies to drone photography. The picture above was originally taken on an overcast day. It was still beautiful, but a bit flat in contrast. So, I had to come back another day. Here you see the result of the morning sun kissing the treetops. Timing here refers to the white car. There were other cars in different colors that appeared in the forest, but I knew a white car would look best, so I had to be patient and wait for the right moment.
The illusion of Denmark’s nature shatters
The new perspective has made me see nature in Denmark differently. When I go for a walk in the forest, I always seek out areas away from the paths, into the most peaceful spots where people rarely come. Here, I sit down and enjoy my coffee in complete silence. After a while, the animals start moving around nearby. I get the feeling of being deep in the wilderness, even though I know I can be home in 15 minutes. I can wander here for hours without meeting anyone, solely focused on my next subject. I’m intent on being present in the moment. But when you take a drone’s perspective, you quickly see that the illusion of wilderness and endless nature shatters. From above, you see small patches of disconnected nature. And if you tilt the camera slightly up to include some horizon, you see well-groomed fields, buildings, power lines, roads, and parking lots. Endless nature, as far as the eye can see, is not something we have in Denmar – at least not from 100 meters up. With a background in geography, I know that Denmark is one of the most cultivated countries in the world, one of the countries with the least contiguous nature. From the drone, this reality hits like a punch to the face. You’re suddenly ripped out of your illusion about Danish nature. Ouch!
