Articles & Interviews

Photographer’s Forum Cover photo and “The Volcano Man Shoots Hawaii”

Spring, 2002/February

From the Heart of the Earth
by Rosalind Smith

“It has been a formidable challenge to capture striking images of this mountain of fire. The dangers are extreme at times. Thin-roofed lava tubes and spontaneous pit-craters are a threat. Where the lava flows into the ocean, huge benches of land break away from the coast and fall into the ocean. I tread lightly and travel by intuition.”
-G. Brad Lewis

Twenty years ago photographer G. Brad Lewis left Alaska, where he had been pursuing his photography career though archaeology and geology jobs, to take a two-week vacation in Hawaii. The two-week vacation never ended.

“The Big Island grabbed me,” Lewis says. “It was mesmerizing and seductive. Once I saw Kilauea, the world’s most active volcano, and absorbed what was happening there, I better understood the dynamic creation of our planet.”

Lewis, who has become Hawaii’s leading photographer of volcanoes, lives and photographs on the flank of Kilauea (pronounced Kilowayah). Though each volcano is unique, Lewis believes that Kilauea is relatively safe since it is a shield volcano. The word “shield” refers to its shape. Kilauea is built up by flow after flow of gentle eruptions rather than explosions like Mt. St. Helens. “The constant eruption relieves the pressure of the volcano on a consistent basis so it doesn’t build up and explode,” he explains.

Living in the shadow of a volcano that has been erupting since 1983 may seem a strange choice to some, but Lewis loves it for the sheer interest and the beautiful images offered by the volcanic activity. Through his photographs he is creating a visual diary, shooting in the light of sunrise and sunset when everything is saturated with its own color and texture -- when it is not quite black nor is it light.

The huge variety of activity from the vent where molten lava comes out of the earth and travels into the ocean is a seven-mile event. Sometimes the lava explodes hundreds of feet in the air, and other times it falls gently and quietly into the water. All of this furnishes Lewis with not only the visual dynamics of the lava’s travels, but also the opportunity to watch new acres of land appear moment-by-moment. “I get to a site, and by the time I leave there will be a bench 50 feet across. Land is created right in front of my eyes.”

Though Lewis doesn’t like to focus on close calls, he describes how he was in an unfamiliar area in Hawaii at a new vent starting to overflow. Overcome by the beauty of the panorama, he didn’t notice the lava flowing around him until he picked up his pack. “It was so hot on both sides, the bottom almost melted out, and I realized the temperature was increasing and I had better get out. I was almost on an island of lava that was about to detach from the land. I was so moved and excited by this brush with the living Earth that I walked seven miles down the coast and felt an aliveness within me I can’t put into words.”

Don’t get the idea that Lewis is a thrill-seeker. He’s not. Capturing the essence of all this in a safe manner is important. “I have a family,” he says, “a wife and eight-year old daughter, and I will not take risks. This is my job and my specialty and above all, my passion. Fortunately, I live just a couple of miles from where the lava goes into the ocean, and I witness the splendor of it all every day.”

There are times when Lewis helicopters in to the big vents, some 3,000 to 4,000 feet up the mountain. The helicopter drops him off for four to five days at a time with food, water and a ton of film. Choosing a site where he can minimize the danger of the fumes, he sets up base camp right on the main vent. “I choose sites where I can always have an escape plan if I have to move fast. Also, I use the proper equipment to keep a safe distance.”

Lewis carries 80 pounds of equipment, including three camera bodies, eight lenses and two tripods. His main camera is the Pentax 6711. “My camera is crucial to what I do, and the Pentax is my workhorse because it is so well built. It’s a simple yet sophisticated camera without tons of electronics to go wrong. Activity is hard on the equipment. The conditions are often terrible for cameras. Acid steam fries electronics and pits lenses. The Pentax is well sealed, and the fumes don’t tend to get in as much. And the metering system is extremely accurate. I really believe that my career has grown because of the camera I use. Publishers and editors seem to like the format. I have had covers and double-page spreads in LIFE, GEO, Travel Holiday, Nature's Best, Omni, Outdoor Photographer, and dozens of other publications.”

Brad also records the activity with a Nikon 35 mm system with an arsenal of lenses from 16 mm to 500 mm. For his 6x7 system, he includes lenses from 45mm to 400 mm, but no filters. “I like to capture what’s there - it’s such perfect and dramatic color that I don’t need to enhance it. I usually shoot from two tripods at the same time since my favorite exposure is 30 seconds. That’s where the images are really happening because I get movement and emotion.”

He adds, “Fortunately my friend, the renowned photographer Art Wolfe has developed an awesome backpack system that he has shared with me. The pack is super-rugged and built to protect everything. When I get to where I’m going, I easily reach in and take out the equipment I need.

“I do go through lots of boots, though. Many times I’m walking over lava that is so hot that I can smell the rubber as the soles of my shoes melt. Sometimes my wife and daughter Heather join me, but when the rocks begin to melt Heather’s shoes, she goes up on my shoulders. We choose our time and often make a family event out of these hikes -- though I will say there aren’t many other families out there.

“But, after all, this is how Hawaii got here. Without volcanoes there would be no Hawaiian Islands. Hawaii owes its beginning to a ‘hot spot,’ a plume of seething magma below a weakened area of the earth where lava erupts. Right now, though it is still many feet under the water, another island is forming about 40 miles off Hawaii.”

Lewis observes, “People who live here accept volcanoes as part of their daily lives. We watched the entire town of Kalapana wiped out by a tongue of lava just one mile from where we live. We have seen houses burn down, and my favorite surf spot was covered by lava. But we understand the volcano and know it’s not going to kill us. It may take our home, but we can walk away. There is plenty of preparatory time. It’s like a glacier of lava that moves slowly. We have known people who even picked up their homes and moved them.”

Taking his family for a stroll on hot lava might seem a perfectly natural activity for Lewis, but we can’t help but wonder how he might recognize any potential danger. Outside of checking seismic data periodically, Lewis assures us that he tries to notice indications of change such as vibrations or noise. “Mainly,” he says, “I rely on that little voice inside, my intuition, and if ‘it’ says it’s time to leave, I don’t question it. There have been times when everything seemed to be set up right, but I’ve had a little uneasy feeling. I honor that.

“Usually there is some kind of indicator. The most dangerous area is where the lava goes into the ocean. The new land may collapse off the coast because it builds up so quickly that it fractures. There could be a shelf of lava the size of a football field that falls into the ocean. Anyone on it would have little chance of survival. There is constant steam where lava enters the ocean and creates sulphuric acid and all sorts of bad stuff, so basically you have to avoid the steam. It’s like acid rain and it can dissolve your clothes. I have gone through many photo vests. I wear a respirator any time I’m in caustic conditions, though I do try to avoid being directly in front of where the lava hits the water. I stay upwind of whatever is going on. It there’s a particular shot I need in that area, I move fast.”

Lewis is a born naturalist. This day in October as we speak, he is sitting on the deck of his Utah home set high in the Wasatch mountains. “The aspen leaves are turning and winter is coming,” he says. “I love it here. I grew up nearby, the mountains are familiar and it’s the best skiing in the world.” Lewis spends three or four months of the summer here and two months in the winter. Currently on a five-month vacation, he recently returned from Alaska where he maintains a third home overlooking the ocean and the glaciers.

He is consumed with the aesthetics of the phenomena that he witnesses. On his website at www.volcanoman.com, he writes: “The goal of my photography is to further the viewer’s understanding and appreciation of the natural world and to contribute on a global scale photographs that help us comprehend the bigger picture. In this series of images, ‘LavArt,’ I utilize movement, light and texture of volcanic activity to open human emotions to the pulse of the Earth. I have chosen Kilauea Volcano on the island of Hawaii as my primary subject. Nowhere else on Earth is creation happening on a continual basis at such a rapid rate. I find it crucial that there exist visual reminders that the Earth is alive and fulfilling an agenda of its own. It is my desire to continue generating positive inspiration by focusing on photography that captures this essence of creating, beauty and raw power.