Thomas Morel

Those who know the way I work will be very aware of my philosophy to, wherever possible, create my images totally in-camera, without the help of Photoshop and with no cheating. However, once in a while I’m faced with no alternative but to resort to a little help to allow a vision to come together, and when I do this I carry out as little manipulation as possible and I make very sure that everyone is aware that some postproduction work has taken place.

In the case of this particular picture I felt I had no option. I had been asked by

Jan Erik Rivelsrud, CEO for Rica Hotels, to produce artwork for two of the new hotels he was developing. One of these was situated in Bergen, and it was called ‘The Eagle’ because that had been the name of the butter factory that had previously stood in this location. My brief was simply to produce a panoramic shot of the city that guests could relate and refer to, but with the name of the hotel in mind I had a vision of going further, and of showing the cityscape from the vantage point of a hunting Golden Eagle.

Now I’m guessing that it might be possible to produce a shot such as this from real life, but I suspect that had I tried to do this then I would be standing there still with my camera waiting for it to happen. Instead I realised I needed a little help, and so I decided to produce the two component parts of this picture separately, with a view to subsequently joining them together.

The shot of the eagle was taken in collaboration with an establishment called the Raptor Farm in Holland, where hunting birds are trained to scare away birds from sensitive areas, such as airports, where they could come into contact with planes. Although it was used to humans this Golden Eagle was still very much a wild creature, and I was warned not to move unexpectedly in its presence in case it decided to attack me. I photographed it using lighting that I knew would match the direction and feel of the light that I would encounter when taking my aerial view of Bergen.

I now needed to plan my shoot of the city, and I chose the date and location very carefully to get what I wanted. I knew that there would be a perfect viewpoint from the mountains surrounding Bergen, so the day before my planned shoot I trekked up there with my nephew so that I knew exactly the point I needed to be at when the sun and moon would be opposite each other at 6.32am. That way I would be sure to get the beautiful colours of the sunrise with the full moon in frame exactly where I wanted it to be.

The next day, my nephew dragged me out of bed at 4.15am to start the hike up the same mountain, and everything fell into place. Subsequently the two portions of the picture joined together exactly as I had envisaged, and it’s now great to see people pointing at the image in the hotel, searching the photograph to find the area where they live or where they want to go. 

For some time the idea of creating an image of a sport that had a three dimensional feel had intrigued me, and I decided that the combination of a rifle, snow and the sheer dynamics of Biathlon would provide a dream-combo of elements for a truly spectacular shot.
Naturally I needed someone who was highly accomplished in this event to be my model, and fortunately Olympic athlete Ann-Kristin Flatland agreed to take part as soon as I put the idea to her. Next the combination of weather and temperature had to be exactly right: anything warmer than -10°C would have meant that the snow would have had a slushy consistency, so I needed to pick a date when the quicksilver had dropped below -19°C. Now I know that Hasselblad’s manual suggests that the camera won’t work at these kinds of levels, but then again I’ve never really taken too much notice of such things and, sure enough, I never encountered any problems.

Once the temperature reached this point I knew the snow would have the beautiful powder-like consistency that I needed, and conditions would be perfect for the picture I had in mind. Now for the bullet: I’d calculated that it could be possible to catch this in flight with a muzzle velocity of 340m/s with a flash duration of 1/8000sec. It would mean that it would have travelled around 4.25cm during the exposure, so I knew it wouldn’t be entirely frozen, but it would still be recognisable despite the blur.

The night of the shoot in Lillehammer I set up my gear outside to let it acclimatise while I had a coffee inside Ann-Kristin’s apartment. I tried to explain what I wanted to capture, and we agreed that we would try to put every element in place while she was still wrapped up in her warmest clothing, and she would only change into her competition gear for the final shot. Because it was so cold we had several rounds of trying to get the shot we needed, interspersed with going back inside to warm up.

So, how did this shot finally come together? One of my big things is the fact that I don’t just piece lots of components together in Photoshop to get what I’m after: rather I look to manipulate the situation so that it’s as close to what I’m after in-camera as it possibly can be. In this case I wanted to capture the shot of Ann-Kristin flying through the air in one take, and to achieve this I had her jumping from a chair placed just outside the frame to the left, landing in a pile of snow to break her fall. She had to do this around twenty times before I had what I wanted, and each time she leapt her boyfriend, Kristian, threw a shovel full of snow to create the effect we needed.

The timing for this was crucial and it had to be slightly early, because it took a little longer for the snow to take up its optimum place in the frame than it did for Ann-Kristin to reach her perfect position. Finally we worked out that Ann-Kristin had to jump on a count of three, with the snow being thrown when we reached two. If you look closely at the image you can see that her rifle is filled up with snow, and that’s the result of some of the many previous attempts we had made at getting the perfect shot before things finally worked out.

The only serious postproduction work carried out here involved adding a separate shot of the bullet. It would have been totally irresponsible to be firing a deadly weapon while airborne, so to protect any hikers or passers-by who might have been in the vicinity we had Ann-Kristin separately fire 10-13 shots into the snow on the count of three once the main part of the picture had been completed. This gave me my image of the projectile, and this was stripped into the final picture. This means that the shot is not manipulated in any way, rather it’s a simple combination of two shots.

More info will follow.

Directly following an assignment I had at the 2010 Winter Olympics in Vancouver I flew to Maui in Hawaii to work with the talented artists from the Maui Theatre. One of the shots I had in mind while I was there was an explosive moment depicting one of the surfers that so regularly ride the waves around this island, but when I arrived I found that things might not be quite so simple as I had envisaged.

It turned out that photographers are not allowed to use the famous beaches and landscapes around the island as a backdrop for their pictures unless they pay the landowners a large fee for the privilege. This meant that each time I set up my gear at whichever location I had chosen to shoot at that some rangers would show up and move me on, and this clearly wasn’t going to work out for me.

In frustration I decided to drop the whole idea, and instead I started to shoot the dancers on the stage of Ulalena at the theatre. We improvised with props and clothing to create intriguing weightless dance imagery, and suddenly we came up with the idea to use fabrics to imitate waves in a surf-scene.

One of the guys ran off to get a surfboard and we started to think about how we could time all the elements so that they would all come together at the exact same time. We had two people holding and throwing the white scarf and another two waving the blue scarf, while my brother had to hold the surfboard in position for the ‘surfer’ to jump onto.

We choreographed everything so that at the count of three everyone started to do their thing, and although it initially resembled complete chaos, after a while it turned into a perfectly synchronised set of combined actions. The timing of the shutter had to be just right: the shot is taken at the moment the surfer barely touches the board with his feet, before the board is crushed onto the floor by the power of gravity. An instant before this shot was taken it all looked a mess, and it all fell to pieces again the moment the shutter had closed. However, for just one split second it just came together. For me that’s what photography’s all about; that single moment, torn out of its context, that reveals an absolute universe of perfection snatched from a sequence of total chaos.

It was a challenge for everyone to dive out of the frame or behind the fabrics when the shot was taken, and we spent several hysterical hours where people were flying everywhere before we got what we needed. A memorable shoot and a great end result.

In an age where digital manipulation is so commonplace it’s easy to assume that the most dramatic pictures have been contrived in some way, and that what you’re looking at isn’t reality but a mock up created in postproduction. I have always tried to rebel against that in my work, and I make a point of trying to capture moments that you think must be unreal and that you cannot see with your eyes in-camera, with no manipulation involved at all.

To do this I often have to take on the role of a director rather than a spectator, making things happen in front of my camera but still honouring reality. In this case I was determined to capture the moment when a Bald Eagle swooped to pick a fish out of the water, and I knew that the only way I would be able to get the bird to do what I wanted in the perfect position just 45cm in front of my camera was to get involved.

I had watched the Eagle fishing before so I knew the bird’s routine. Usually it would fly in low towards its prey and would scoop it up just by lowering its claws into the water while flying by. An amazing thing to witness, but aesthetically it was all a little too dynamic to work in a still photograph: I prefer to look for ‘compact’ action, where everything is taking place in a much more confined space, and to encourage this to happen I had to manipulate the situation so that the bird would dive into a pre-determined place that was just in front of my camera. I did this by having a fish to hand that I could throw into the water to attract the bird’s attention when I knew it was on a hunting mission.

Of course it wasn’t as easy as that, and for things to work I needed to be aware of the Eagle’s hunting pattern, and wait for the right moment when it was flying as high as possible and then throw my fish into the pre-determined spot. It all worked out just as I had hoped: the Eagle was so fixated on its prey that he had to dive almost vertically at the fish, resulting in exactly the moment of high action that I’d been waiting for. In fact he dived into the water with such intensity that he couldn’t actually take off afterwards, and after floundering around in the water for a while he had to make his way to the shore and to dry land before he could fly away. It was a really strange experience out there on that lake, helping an eagle swim to shore.

I had only one chance for this picture, just one shot, before the Eagle understood that I was playing with him, and after that there was no tempting him to repeat the action. The only reason I was able to capture this picture was the fact that I was 100% prepared for the moment, and it’s a little piece of reality that looks almost too good to be true.

Owls on them selves are extremely intriguing and mysterious animals. They radiate a flair of intelligence and are masters of stealth hunting. At the same time, they are extremely beautiful to look at. For this image, I wanted to get as close as possible to the owl, in this case a Bengal Eagle Owl. To do this, I knew I had to be patient, and in a lot of ways lucky. Stubborn as I am, I wanted to take the shot with a 28mm wide-angle lens, which means that chances of failure where much bigger then when using a zoom lens. On the other side, I knew that if I got close enough, the wide angle of view would give an extra dimension to the image as if the bird flies out of the print. It also put some extra difficulties to the focus point, as only a couple of millimetres would be in focus of a bird that travels at high speed towards the camera. Because of this, I had to be as well prepared as I could be, and I knew that I had to wait as long as possible until the bird was only 20-25 centimetres away from the camera. I know how hard it can be to not push the shutter release too early, especially since it is a moment I have been waiting for in high anticipation. The camera only takes one shot at the time, so I knew I would only have one chance.

I often tend to say that to get the best images, you have to change roles from being a spectator to being a director. This is also the case in this image. In stead of being a spectator and waiting for the bird to do what it does, I tried to provoke the bird to do exactly what I wanted her to do out of curiosity right in front of my camera. In a way, I pull reality out of its context, and mould it into my version of an aesthetically correct slice of time.

I already knew that this type of owl closes it’s wings in front of her when she prepares to land. Earlier I had taken an image of a Barn Owl in the same setting, but I quickly found out that it has a rather stiff way of flying, which for me aesthetically isn’t interesting. I was looking for this compact kind of gesture, which I thought should honour the way I think of owls as being mysterious and focussed.

The shot is taken in the evening, as darkness was beginning to settle in. Bengal Eagle Owls are known to be crepuscular, meaning that they are mostly on the hunt at dusk. It was still pretty light, but because of powerful studio-strobes, all ambient light is blocked out of the image, allowing me to focus only on the owl, showing you the animal as I think honors this magnificent creature best.

After the shot was taken, the owl sat down on the edge of my lens in confusion of where the flashlight just came from. We had a couple of seconds together before it flew away again looking for real pray. It scratched up the glass in my lens, leaving a solid memory of this nice encounter.    

Macro photography of a Salmon egg, right before hatching. Shot for SalmoBreed through AlfGundersen AS.

Macro photography of a newly hatched Salmon, shot for SalmoBreed through AlfGundersen AS.

Macro photography of a newly hatched Salmon, shot for SalmoBreed through AlfGundersen AS.

If you were to carry out a poll to discover which creatures are most people’s favourite, then it’s a fair bet that dolphins would be top of the list. They’re intelligent, graceful, appear to enjoy the company of humans and have a face that seems to be perpetually smiling.

In short they are captivating, and they were the subject that came to mind when I was asked by a Rica (Scandic) hotel called ‘The Sea’ in Bodø, Norway, to produce a vertically orientated photographic panel some eleven metres high by four metres wide to stretch up a height of four floors from the lobby area.

The brief was pleasingly open: all I was asked for was an abstract image that reflected the colour scheme that Scenario, the interior designer for the hotel, had decided upon for the lobby. The standard view that we’re all used to seeing of dolphins leaping gracefully from the water would not have fitted into that scenario, but I figured that if I reversed the idea, and instead of capturing them above the water focused instead on the shapes that they made when they re-entered their environment, then I might have something that would fit the bill.

Excitingly I wasn’t quite sure what to expect: this is the moment that we never see, and I didn’t know whether it would give me the patterns and forms that I was looking for, but I knew it would be worth trying out. There was a lot of organisation involved, and I needed to talk to a dolphinarium to get the owners onboard with my idea. The trainers there were used to encouraging their dolphins to jump several metres in the air, and I had to be prepared to capture the point where they re-entered the water.

I crouched at the edge of the pool with my waterproof camera ready for action, and had to judge the right moment to press the shutter. It was really beautiful to see how these amazing creatures interacted with their trainers, obediently carrying out choreography that had taken months to learn. The results I achieved were exactly what I was after: graceful almost unrecognisable forms surrounded by explosive swirls of bubbles, every shot different and unique. 

Without a doubt dolphins were one of the easiest animals I’ve ever worked with. Unlike birds or other mammals they actually seem to enjoy the challenges they are asked to face, and I came away convinced that they had enjoyed the session as much as I had.

Underwater studio photography of people is usually a static gesture that has nothing to do with motion at all. This can be intriguing off course, first of all because people don’t belong in this element that is so beautiful, but also so hostile towards humans.

I wanted to capture a moment that besides showing an elegant and peaceful moment, also happens in just a split second. To do this, I wanted the model to jump into the water, than wait for the worst bubbles to disappear so that I could take the shot right in between peaceful and hectic.

I was looking for a peaceful slice of time that could serve as an ambient and silent decoration for first of all Lustrabadet, a bathing facility at the end of the Sognefjord, as well as other customers who were looking for this kind of expression.

To take this shot, the studio strobes where above water, and I was 4-5 feet under the surface for about 4 hours. Communication is really hard during such shoots, and as I usually have comments after every single shot, I had to get used to silence and just letting it happen. Before I went into the water, I told the model what kind of feeling I was looking for, and where she had to be in regard to the lights at the moment the shot would be taken. From that point on I just had to go with the flow, and let the magic happen.

This was one of those shoots where I got surprised by what actually happened, and I choose to let go of my usual way of directing every single move, and rather let the model find her flow in moving gracefully through the water.

This image is in no way edited or manipulated in postproduction. It is only cropped to create a more balanced composition.

Underwater studio photography of people is usually a static gesture that has nothing to do with motion at all. This can be intriguing off course, first of all because people don’t belong in this element that is so beautiful, but also so hostile towards humans.

I wanted to capture a moment that besides showing an elegant and peaceful moment, also happens in just a split second. To do this, I wanted the model to jump into the water, than wait for the worst bubbles to disappear so that I could take the shot right in between peaceful and hectic.

I was looking for a peaceful slice of time that could serve as an ambient and silent decoration for first of all Lustrabadet, a bathing facility at the end of the Sognefjord, as well as other customers who were looking for this kind of expression.

To take this shot, the studio strobes where above water, and I was 4-5 feet under the surface for about 4 hours. Communication is really hard during such shoots, and as I usually have comments after every single shot, I had to get used to silence and just letting it happen. Before I went into the water, I told the model what kind of feeling I was looking for, and where she had to be in regard to the lights at the moment the shot would be taken. From that point on I just had to go with the flow, and let the magic happen.

This was one of those shoots where I got surprised by what actually happened, and I choose to let go of my usual way of directing every single move, and rather let the model find her flow in moving gracefully through the water.

This image is in no way edited or manipulated in postproduction. It is only cropped to create a more balanced composition.

Image taken on assignment for Asplan Viak Architects, as a part of the decoration of their new bathing facility Aquarama in Kristiansand.

This is a 251 megapixel panorama, shot with a 50 megapixel Hasselblad system. It is manually stitched together of totally 7 individual shots. The model is illuminated by one singe Broncolor lamp head to make her stand out from the environment.

One of my definitive favorite places on earth, just a 20 minute hike away from my home in Norway. This shot is taken for the decoration of Blix Hotel in Vik i Sogn. A slightly altered version of it is also used by Sparebanken Sogn og Fjordane as a 11x3 meter sized decoration of one of their public offices. 

Fun Fact: If you look closely, it has a little flaw: the model does not cast a shadow on the snow behind her. This is because the temperature was so low that I had to get the model back to a warmer spot before the sun started setting. This could easily be fixed in photoshop, but sometimes a little flaw like that has it´s charm. 

While on assignment for shooting the photography for the new tourist book about the Flåm Railway, I shot this image from Høga, halfway the Flåm Railway. 

I achieved this result by combining more then 10 128 second exposures, and one 0,5 second exposure of the train. 

For each exposure of the waterfall, I used a Broncolor HMI 800 continues light to "paint" the water and make it stand out from the surrounding area. In one of the exposures, I also ran up to the road, jumped in my car, and drove back and forth over the bridge to create the stripe of light on the road. 

Finally, I ran up all the way to the train tracks, and put a Broncolor power pack there with one head, pointed at where the train was going to be. There is about 100 meters between me and the power pack, and since the camera was tilted vertically to the left, the transmitter to synchronize the exposure with the flash didn't have any contact with the power pack. To resolve this, I had to manually push the flash trigger button during the 0,5 second exposure. I dont think I have ever been so shaky right before a shot; I knew I only had one chance to get it right since this was the last train of the day, and there where so many things that could go wrong. 

But then again, it is not before you take some risk that you just might end up with a good result. Taking the safe road rarely leads to innovation and creativity.

While I was working on shooting the photography for the new Flåm Railway book, there was a massive flooding in the Flåm valley. 

To illustrate this powerful phenomenon in a "civilized" country like Norway, I wanted to create a colorful and illuminated image of this house that had been taken by the river and swept more than a mile down the river before it was planted here in the middle of the field. 

To illuminate the setting, I put the Hasselblad on a tripod, and set it to shoot 30 images with an interval of 5 seconds between each. I then walked around with a backpack carrying a Broncolor power pack and holding a single lamp head, pointing it at different points of interest. In post production, I put all the shots together to create a balanced feeling around this violent setting. 

This image is basically a big tribute to the masterly dance-photographer Lois Greenfield. This image marked the beginning of my career as a professional photographer, and was the reason why I choose to become a full time action photographer.

For a long time, I had been searching the internet to find images that could inspire me in my way of thinking about stop motion photography. I had a very clear vision in my mind about how an image should look, and what it should express. Suddenly I stumbled upon an image by Lois Greenfield, which I didn’t know about at the time. It was an image of 4 dancers, of which 3 where airborn and one was on one hand pointing towards the other dancers in absolute grace. I was completely stunned by this image, and contacted Lois to find out more about how she achieved this kind of imagery. One week later I was in her studio in New York to learn more about her vision and techniques. I was 18 years old at the time.

After talking about her passion and background, we started working with four professional dancers from NYC ballet who Lois had arranged. On my way to New York, I had made up this perfect vision in my head of how the image I would try to capture would have to look. I wanted to create an uplifting weightless feeling of human bodies floating through time and space. I tried as well as I could to explain this abstract idea to the dancers, and we started to work our way towards the end result by correcting every small detail until it was as how I wanted it to be. As all dancers leaped through the air simultaneously, it wasn’t anything graceful to watch because of the hard landings and heavy breathing. But it’s exactly the beauty of photography to be able to slice away the context and only show an isolated gesture of grace.

The moment I took this image, I closed my eyes because I knew it was exactly as how I had it in my head. As I turned over to the monitor, I saw this abstract idea I had had in my head actually on the screen for the very first time. I still can’t explain this feeling of pure magic that something that I earlier had to spend thousands of words on to explain, suddenly became reality. No words where needed.

I will never forget the words Lois spoke seconds after the shot was taken. She looked at the screen, and instead of saying “great” or “beautiful” as she usually said, she was silent for a while before saying slowly “…..this is a masterpiece… And you are how old?” From this point on, I knew this was my future.

Since then, I had been working closely together with Lois for a while who I still see as one of the utterly best photographers in the world. She came to Norway a year later to host a workshop together with me, and to my surprise she brought me the very image that got me to contact Lois in the first place. I framed it right away, and it is still hanging in my apartment as a reminder of my roots as a photographer.

This image is basically a big tribute to the masterly dance-photographer Lois Greenfield. This image marked the beginning of my career as a professional photographer, and was the reason why I choose to become a full time action photographer.

For a long time, I had been searching the internet to find images that could inspire me in my way of thinking about stop motion photography. I had a very clear vision in my mind about how an image should look, and what it should express. Suddenly I stumbled upon an image by Lois Greenfield, which I didn’t know about at the time. It was an image of 4 dancers, of which 3 where airborn and one was on one hand pointing towards the other dancers in absolute grace. I was completely stunned by this image, and contacted Lois to find out more about how she achieved this kind of imagery. One week later I was in her studio in New York to learn more about her vision and techniques. I was 18 years old at the time.

After talking about her passion and background, we started working with four professional dancers from NYC ballet who Lois had arranged. On my way to New York, I had made up this perfect vision in my head of how the image I would try to capture would have to look. I wanted to create an uplifting weightless feeling of human bodies floating through time and space. I tried as well as I could to explain this abstract idea to the dancers, and we started to work our way towards the end result by correcting every small detail until it was as how I wanted it to be. As all dancers leaped through the air simultaneously, it wasn’t anything graceful to watch because of the hard landings and heavy breathing. But it’s exactly the beauty of photography to be able to slice away the context and only show an isolated gesture of grace.

The moment I took this image, I closed my eyes because I knew it was exactly as how I had it in my head. As I turned over to the monitor, I saw this abstract idea I had had in my head actually on the screen for the very first time. I still can’t explain this feeling of pure magic that something that I earlier had to spend thousands of words on to explain, suddenly became reality. No words where needed.

I will never forget the words Lois spoke seconds after the shot was taken. She looked at the screen, and instead of saying “great” or “beautiful” as she usually said, she was silent for a while before saying slowly “…..this is a masterpiece… And you are how old?” From this point on, I knew this was my future.

Since then, I had been working closely together with Lois for a while who I still see as one of the utterly best photographers in the world. She came to Norway a year later to host a workshop together with me, and to my surprise she brought me the very image that got me to contact Lois in the first place. I framed it right away, and it is still hanging in my apartment as a reminder of my roots as a photographer.

I was asked by the creators of the Lean Busines model to create imagery that they could use as a visually strong conceptual image to indicate the different stages of their business model; Business Model, Business Idea, Overview, Gap and Objectives.

The images where shot primarily for their Business Planning book that was launched fall 2015.

I was asked by the creators of the Lean Busines model to create imagery that they could use as a visually strong conceptual image to indicate the different stages of their business model; Business Model, Business Idea, Overview, Gap and Objectives.

The images where shot primarily for their Business Planning book that was launched fall 2015.

I was asked by the creators of the Lean Busines model to create imagery that they could use as a visually strong conceptual image to indicate the different stages of their business model; Business Model, Business Idea, Overview, Gap and Objectives.

The images where shot primarily for their Business Planning book that was launched fall 2015.

I was asked by the creators of the Lean Busines model to create imagery that they could use as a visually strong conceptual image to indicate the different stages of their business model; Business Model, Business Idea, Overview, Gap and Objectives.

The images where shot primarily for their Business Planning book that was launched fall 2015.

I was asked by the creators of the Lean Busines model to create imagery that they could use as a visually strong conceptual image to indicate the different stages of their business model; Business Model, Business Idea, Overview, Gap and Objectives.

The images where shot primarily for their Business Planning book that was launched fall 2015.