On the right track
AP’s Michael Topham recently fulfilled a lifelong ambition – to photograph the iconic Flying Scotsman locomotive. He explains the story and lighting technique behind his images
The Flying scotsman in all its glory, as photographed by Michael Topham
My love of locomotive photography has been with me since I was very young. My father handed his SLR down to me when I was 10 years old (he was, and still is, a very passionate photographer). Back then, we would explore preserved railways all over the country. He showed me around, taught me all about trains and explained how to use the camera. That instilled in me an interest in railway photography and it’s a passion that’s continued ever since.
Railway photography challenges me as a photographer more than almost anything else, but that's what makes it so inspiring, too. There are several considerations to take into account when planning a shoot. First of all, you’re often dealing with a moving subject. Second, they’re incredibly large subjects to photograph. In my experience, however, access is probably one of the biggest challenges you’ll face. This also involves trying to get into the right location at the right time.
The other major factor is lighting. This forms a huge part of railway photography. The fact is, anyone can go down to their local railway and take a photograph of a train. That’s actually quite easy. But lighting is what will make your images stand out from the crowd. The sheer size of locomotives requires you to understand exactly
where the light will land. You’ll be dealing with such problems as reflections on shiny paintwork and on the details such as the coupling and wheels. I had to consider all these things when I took these images of the Flying Scotsman.
Gaining access
The Flying Scotsman is a locomotive named after the London-to-Edinburgh rail service, which has been running since 1862, and was the first train to complete the 392-mile route non-stop on 1 May, 1928. The locomotive has recently been restored to the cost of £4.2 million. It’s rightly seen as a national treasure and an iconic example of British engineering. Ever since it’s come back on to the tracks, many people have photographed it and attempted their own take on it.
Back when I was studying photography at university, I was lucky enough to meet an engineer called Ian Riley, who works for a company called Riley & Son (E) Ltd. It's probably the biggest engineering facility in the UK to restore steam locomotives back to their former glory. Ian liked my work, and suggested going to his engineering workshops to have a look at how such trains are restored. I travelled up to Manchester, where he allowed me to photograph the engineers hard at work. I was able to see everything that’s involved in
the restoration process – it was a fascinating visit. Someone once said to me, it’s not necessarily what you know, but who you know. I’ve often thought about that message and consequently always kept in contact with Ian. As a result, I’ve done a lot of voluntary work for him over the years.
As it turned out, Ian Riley was the engineer who picked up the contract of restoring the Flying Scotsman. I contacted him, and he put me in touch with the engineers looking after it at the Bluebell Railway in Sussex. Having agreed to take a few images for Ian and supply him with some prints, I had my access.
When planning the shoot, it was the American photographer O Winston Link, who took such haunting images of locomotives travelling at night, whose work I turned to for inspiration. His contrasty style has influenced me a great deal, and his images have a particular style of lighting that I’ve aimed to emulate for years. I wanted to look at the way he approached this, then transfer it to the way I photographed the Flying Scotsman.
Facing the challenges
When I arrived at the Bluebell Railway, the engineers couldn't have been more helpful. As I said, one of the biggest hurdles you have to overcome when you’re photographing something as iconic as the Flying Scotsman is getting past security. The locomotive was guarded all night by two security guards with dogs, so I had to work alongside and cooperate with them. When I arrived, I found the locomotive was cordoned off by metal barriers. Thankfully, and very helpfully, the engineers and support crew moved them all out of the way for me. That gave me exclusive access to photograph from a very close distance without any distractions.
Because the locomotive was located in a working shed where a number of different engines are stabled overnight, some were in the way of the shot I wanted. I spoke to a couple of drivers who then moved the other locomotives out of the way just so I could get a shot of the engine all on its own.
Once the engine was in position and had been cleaned by Ian’s team of engineers (something else I’m eternally grateful for), I was then able to set up the camera on the tripod, and start to work out lighting and exposure times.
When you paint with light, ideally your subject should be in complete darkness, to give you complete control. Because I was in a working shed, there were floodlights, so I had to ask for these to be switched off too.
Towards the end of last year, I wrote a light painting round-up (AP 26 November 2016), which looked at a variety of light sources. One of my favourites was the Westcott IceLight 2, an LED light tube that gives a constant source of light and enables the user to paint anything in front of them. Having used the IceLight 2 quite regularly, I've found it does have quite a wide spill of light. What that means is you can easily see where you’ve been waving the light stick around in the images. To get around this, I ended up
‘When you paint with light, ideally your subject should be in complete darkness’
creating a bit of 'guttering' around the outside of the tube. This simple addition allows me to paint the subject without any of the light movements being caught on camera.
The IceLight is very versatile and incredibly easy to control. For a large locomotive like the Flying Scotsman, I found I was using it between a setting of 5 or 6, which is around its mid-power range.
I knew I wanted an exposure time of around two minutes, as this would give me plenty of time to walk down the side of the locomotive with my light and illuminate the different areas. With that in mind, I dialled in an aperture of f/11 and ISO 100. The length of exposure meant I could look at where I was painting with the light, then carefully retrace my steps, all before the exposure came to an end. I spent 30 to 45 seconds walking down the engine, illuminating the boiler barrel. Then, when I got to the far end, having illuminated the tender, I returned to paint light into the wheels. I needed to spend a little longer in this area, because it was very dark, with deep shadows. In the end, I was able to return to the camera with around 10 or 15 seconds to spare. I then reviewed the image and repeated the process until I was happy with the final result.
Light painting is a very timeconsuming activity, especially when you're dealing with two-minute exposures. In the period between 8pm and 11pm, when I finished the shoot, I’d probably only taken between 30 and 40 shots. This isn't many, so you need to be very careful to make sure you’re getting the images you need.
The camera
While at university, when I was making documentary images of railways, I would always use medium-format cameras. I’ve always had a particular fondness for using them for this type of subject. At the time of shooting the Flying Scotsman, I was fortunate enough to be reviewing the Fujifilm GFX 50S (AP 27 May), which is a sensational camera for many reasons. Most of all, it allows you to capture incredible detail. For a subject such as the Flying Scotsman, which has so may intricate parts, I wanted to make sure I captured every single component. It also has an extraordinary dynamic range, allowing you to pull back detail in the areas where you think it may have been lost. Even though I was incredibly pleased with the images straight out of the camera, I was still able to bring out a little more information in sections such as the running board. I probably wouldn’t have used any other camera for this shoot. It’s incredibly versatile and was a joy to use in this demanding but satisfying experience.
The original shot I had planned isn’t actually the one I walked away with. Originally, I had wanted to shoot a side-on profile shot with the locomotive lit in a similar way to the final image you see on the opening spread to this article. However, that wasn’t possible in the end, so I had to think on my feet about the best angle from which to shoot. While I couldn’t photograph it from the side on, hopefully it’s a shot I’ll be able to get in the future. As you can see, I went for a front three-quarter shot and also carried out a few different detail shots – its motion, its wheels and the nameplate on the side.
The most important thing I wanted to take away from the shoot was a striking image I hadn't seen before. For me, that comes down to the technique – not so much the angle, but the lighting.
I sent the final photograph to Ian and he was thrilled with it. He’s since asked me to produce a large print for his workshops so all the engineers who have been involved with this project over the past few years will be able to appreciate their hard work. I feel proud that the image will be displayed in the workshops where the locomotive was restored.
Ultimately, this is the most challenging subject I’ve ever had to paint with light. While I know I executed it well, I still feel, given another opportunity, there are a lot more ways of tackling it. In the end, I really have to thank Riley & Son (E) Ltd for making this amazing opportunity possible.