Reimagining Arctic Narratives with Film Photographer Catherine Lemblé

As the days are shorter and winter has officially started, it’s the perfect time to introduce Brussels based Catherine Lemblé, a photographer who embraces the cold like no other. She finds beauty in capturing breathtaking analogue landscapes and portraits in extreme temperatures. Catherine’s work involves challenges, such as waiting for hours when her camera mechanism freezes.

We sent her the LomoGraflok to test in these beautiful landscapes. Today, she’s here to share the results, along with insights into her creative process and the inspirations behind her stunning work.

Hi Catherine! Could you start by telling us a bit about yourself and how you got started with analogue photography?

I grew up in an industrial town in Belgium, spending my summer holidays hiking in the mountains. I started taking pictures at 15 in the Alps with my mom’s small digital camera, captivated by how reality translated into photographs. During this time, I often visited a local thrift store that sold Time-Life books like The World's Wild Places and the American Wilderness Series, filled with beautiful, analogue color images of American landscapes from the '70s. The grainy photos stirred something within me, they offered a glimpse into a larger world. So I began collecting them and sometimes I cut out the photos to create my own landscapes.

At 17, I enrolled in evening photography classes at the local art school, where I learned to photograph with black-and-white film and developed my images in a darkroom. I later studied Photography at Luca School of Arts in Brussels, where the first year focused solely on analogue photography. Initially, I struggled with the assignments and with feeling motivated, but I rediscovered my passion when we gained more creative freedom in later years.

My master's year brought me back to the mountains and inspired me to travel alone with my camera and film rolls. I loved the solitude and the slow process of analogue photography, and by traveling alone, learned to rely on myself. The sense of solitude I found in the mountains, paired with the slow process of film photography, deepened my connection with my surroundings and myself.

For a long time, I focused on landscapes with a man-made element in them. Recently, however, I’ve been more drawn to photographing people, realising that my choices in photography often reveal insights about myself before I consciously understand them.

You use analogue photography to explore the evolving relationship between humanity and the natural world. What fascinates you about this theme?

Over the decades, our relationship with nature has changed in different ways, shaped by both societal values and environmental crises. In William Cronon’s essay The Trouble with Wilderness, he argues that our concept of ‘wilderness’ as untouched, pristine land is more a cultural construct than reality. Once viewed as threatening and inhospitable, wild places became romanticized and admired as humanity's antithesis, a space to escape urban life and reconnect with the so-called ‘authentic.’ This transformation in perception is mirrored in how people viewed the Alps: once seen as forbidding, then celebrated as sublime landscapes.

However, this distancing, treating nature as ‘other’ rather than as part of us, created the illusion of separation. Rachel Carson's Silent Spring shattered this illusion by showing how pesticides did not respect the boundary we imagined. Her work was important in revealing that our actions, no matter how industrial or ‘civilized,’ are inevitably intertwined with nature's cycles and that the consequences of our exploitation ripple back to us.

Protecting the environment is no longer a matter of preserving picturesque landscapes for their own sake, it’s about caring for the health, safety, and well-being of people everywhere.

Besides the images we use to frame nature, I’m also interested in the language we use to describe nature and that also plays a big role in how we perceive nature. Annette Kolodny wrote about how metaphors and language we use to describe nature were often about dominating it, taming it, especially in patriarchal terms. For instance, describing landscape as ‘virgin’ wilderness reinforces this exploitative view, framing nature as something to be possessed or controlled, or today: to be saved. Such language, even unconsciously used, fuels the way we think about and treat nature as a resource rather than a relationship, a friend, someone we love and want to care for.

What I really like about photographing with an analogue medium/large format camera is that every picture requires patience, thought and a commitment to be fully present. The process allows me to slow down and echoes the way we need to approach nature—with respect, mindfulness, and a sense of humility.

Your work often takes you to cold regions like the Arctic, and your project Only Barely Still highlights women in these areas. Could you tell us more about what inspired this focus and what you aim to convey through these images?

In 2017, my sister told me about Sarah, her sister-in-law, who lives in Svalbard and worked as a ‘polar bear guard’ at the campsite. Now she works as an expedition leader on a ship and she’s an artist as well.

My only reference of the Arctic were stories of white expanses, extreme hardships and polar explorers. The discrepancy between the absence of women in these stories and all the amazing women I met during my stays in Svalbard sparked the inspiration for this project.

I wanted to highlight the presence and experiences of women in Svalbard, and challenge the stereotypical view of women as absent or subordinate in so-called ‘untouched’ landscapes.

Through these images, I want to convey the diversity of women’s experiences in the Arctic, portraying them as active participants in their environments rather than passive observers.

What challenges have you encountered while shooting in these environments, and how do you overcome them?

The first challenge that comes to mind is dealing with a frozen camera. I use a Pentax 67, an analogue medium format camera. It’s a beast and fully metal. When it gets extremely cold, the mechanism can freeze—a ‘cold soak’—causing the shutter to jam. This means I often have to ‘simply’ wait a few hours for the camera to warm up before I can use it again. Another technical limitation is the slow shutter speed when it’s darker, since I don’t use a flash or a digital camera or high speed film.

Another challenge is not being able to go out alone without someone with a gun. In Svalbard it’s not allowed to leave town without a flare gun and rifle (for polar bear protection). This means I either need to go out with a guide or find friends to join me, making me reliant on others. Of course, the other option is learning how to shoot and gain the confidence to venture out on my own.

In the Arctic, it's essential to keep an open mind. The unpredictable weather means that plans often change, which I both like and find frustrating at the same time. I recently returned from a five-day field trip with an amazing researcher and incredible woman. I was nervous at first, the thought of covering long distances through snow, rocks and ice with a heavy backpack, not knowing what animals we’ll encounter. However, I learned that both the mind and body adapt far more easily than expected. This experience taught me the value of resilience and flexibility in challenging environments. I also like how these landscapes humble us.

Are there any current projects you're working on that you'd like to share with us?

I’m currently creating the final images for my project Only Barely Still, which I’m excited to turn into a photo book with a fantastic publisher next year. While I focus on this, I’m also exploring some new projects, though they’re still in the early stages and a bit too vague to discuss at the moment.

You recently used our LomoGraflok in the Alps. How did you find the experience of 4x5 photography, and what did it add to your creative process?

Using the LomoGraflok allowed me to become more familiar with my 4x5 inch field camera. It provided a great opportunity to learn how to work with it without the pressure of using expensive film sheets. This freedom encouraged me to experiment more creatively, taking pictures without the constant worry of needing a perfect shot to justify the cost. Additionally, it’s very nice to hand someone a physical photograph right after capturing their image; that tangible connection adds a special dimension to the experience.

Is there anything you'd like to share with our community?

I feel like the analogue photography community is a very welcoming and supportive space. In Brussels, I’ve found that many people within this community know and support each other. If you’re in Brussels and looking to develop, print or scan your film, there are a lot of places that offer high quality service and are very friendly and accommodating. Having access to high quality scanning and printing services contributed to the overall quality of my work. Some places in Brussels also offer workshops on analogue printing, alternative analogue techniques and so on, like Mori Film Lab and l’Enfant Sauvage.

Thank you Catherine for these inspiring insights! Make sure to follow Catherine on Instagram and check out her website to stay updated on her projects and perhaps gain a new appreciation for the upcoming winter.

Also don't forget to check out the LomoGraflok if you want to experiment with large format photography!

written by lomocato on 2024-12-23 #gear #people #places #large-format #instant-photography #instant-back #arctic #lomoamigo #lomograflok