Articles & Interviews

Studio Photography & Design
July, 2000

The Earth’s Pulse
Documented by G. Brad Lewis
Text by Alysha Sideman

Kilauea Volcano, located on the big Island of Hawaii, gushes several hundred-thousand cubic meters of molten lava from its vents daily. It spews even more from its cones and fissures. The conditions on its surface can be so caustic that exploration requires a gas mask and boots with extra thick soles to buy time before the blistering surface melts them down to the naked heels.

But photographer Brad Lewis finds the volcano’s monstrous beauty unmatched, and leaves wondering if the mythological god of fire, Vulcan, has his hand in all this cataclysmic drama. It is fitting that this dauntless artist has devoted his life to documenting the changes in and on Kilauea. Some years, up to five of Lewis’ Nikons and at least one Pentax succumb to this blood of the earth. Although he needs new equipment more frequently than many of his colleagues, he wouldn’t give up his “studio” for anything. His greatest challenge is to be on the volcano as frequently as possible to avoid missing any fireworks Kilauea may decide to unleash that day.

“You have to be right in the action to capture it. I am still in awe of it. The work never becomes boring. I never have expectations when I go out there. To start having expectations is a danger because by nature this work is so unpredictable. I have rented a helicopter for $2000 and got nothing out of it. I consider it a gift when I do get a stunning image,” said Lewis.

Out of the planet’s 1500 known active volcanoes, Kilauea is the most active and one of the most user-friendly, making it ideal to photograph and document. Its lava tends to “flow” rather than “blow,” making it, in the natives’ term, a “drive-in” volcano. Hawaiian volcanoes are renowned for their rather benign eruptions. When Kilauea’s eruptions can be seen, people tend to converge around the volcano to view the fiery show. If it were an explosive volcano, natives and tourists would, instead, run for their lives.

Much of the beauty of Kilauea’s changes occurs in the restricted area, out of the sight of most people. Lewis has worked extremely hard to gain access to remote areas of the volcano where trespassing is forbidden. He does this by assisting the USGS scientists at Hawaii Volcano Observatory by documenting Kilauea’s changes in a scientific photographic style. For this type of work, Lewis tends to favor 35mm cameras because they’re more compatible with scientific equipment.

For his own more artistic images, however, Lewis uses the Pentax 6711 which he boasts is a “powerhouse” because it survives the corrosive elements so often fatal to other cameras. He believes its genius is its simplicity -- lack of many electronic gadgets that could malfunction and cause you to miss the shot. Lewis always uses Fujichrome because he believes it captures the brilliance of the lava better than any other film.

For transporting his gear, which often entails more than 10 miles of walking on the volcano’s surface, he utilizes the Art Wolfe backpack because of its “hardiness.” He usually brings two Gitzo tripods as well; the metal spikes on them are idea for the conditions. Lewis adds that he uses one to hang his bag on because the ground is so hot. He favors a 30-second exposure with a short lens and prefers to have two camera bodies working at the same time, especially during explosive opportunities. “I don’t want to miss anything.”

Yesterday Lewis was able to capture molten lava as it silently streamed into the cool ocean. After driving as far as he could, it was only a 20-minute walk to where two of nature’s most extreme elements combined. “I am so fond of that interaction--the liquid light of the lava interacting with the opposite element of the ocean. It is my favorite zone to photograph. It’s like witnessing the pulse of the Earth,” said Lewis.

But the ease of yesterday’s “drive-in” shoot is not always the case. In fact, photographing Kilauea Volcano can be quite risky. When a surge of molten lava is chasing you and you get a chance to look back, the scenery is reminiscent of primal times and the essence of our planet’s creation. A fiery world, not much unlike Jupiter, is a daily reality to Lewis.

His closest call came when he first began shooting out at the volcano about 16 years ago and went hiking near a vent. Suddenly it began to overflow with lava surging from its mouth. The patch of ground where he was standing began to melt underneath him, forming an island with huge pits around it. “I almost got trapped on the island. I was so invigorated by the whole experience that I ran seven miles down the mountain to the coast.”

Forging a relationship with LIFE magazine early in his career (he planted a seed with his volcanic images before explosions became a real issue in the media and the world in the 1980s), Lewis has been privileged to photograph for some of the most intriguing publications around. Finally recognized as one of the leading volcano photographers, his lava-flow images have appeared in National Geographic, Time, Life, Newsweek, GEO, Omni, and others. His work has been used commercially and for books, calendars, and stock photography. His collection of fine art prints, known as LAVART, is shown in exclusive galleries and displayed in museums and private collections worldwide. His images have even documented issues for Congress and were exhibited at the Earth Conference in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. Just last month, Lewis was featured in a special NBC “Today Show,” broadcast from the volcano’s base.

While Lewis’ adventurous spirit may seem romantic (after falling in love with Hawaii on vacation 17 years ago, he moved there from Alaska), he has experienced grief when it comes to his colleagues. Because the network is unique and small, most know each other. Lewis has lost several of his friends to the wrath of other erupting volcanoes.

“Patience and intuition are two musts in this business. When I get a vibe I can tap into it and know when I should go out there to photograph and when it’s time to go home.” It’s not an obvious vibe, though. Seemingly poor conditions such as heavy rain and winds can create a mental barrier to wanting to be out on the flow. “But I have seen some of my favorite sights by going for it anyway,” said Lewis. By the same token, checking the earth beneath him for heat, vibrations, and tremors, or noticing a certain configuration of cracks on the volcano’s surface, can signal treacherous territory. And when the summit vents open up, Lewis equates the sound to that of jet propulsion. He said the few people living near that remote area have become so inured to the volcano’s frequent cries that they simply close their windows to the clamor. At times, the sounds of lava flow into the ocean can also be extremely loud.

“These vents are so incredibly noisy. It’s like a jet taking off right in front of you. As you see new vents being created, new fissures opening up and cones falling, creating pit craters, you begin to realize that you’re just one little element in all this, just recording it all. You realize there’s a bigger picture. It’s pretty humbling.”

Sleepless nights of camping out on the volcano’s flank and rising at dawn is a common way of life for the explorer who recognizes volcanic activity’s “raw power.” “The low light of dusk and dawn provide the best setting for capturing the reflections of the lava into the water. The first glow of morning provides the creaminess of the waves as the water spits up and mixes with the lava,” he said. But because of the crisp atmosphere of the island (being so near the equator makes it the most remote, nonpolluted air in the world) the air becomes crystal clear very early as the sun has nothing to shine through. This light is too sharp for his photographs so Lewis prefers the glow of dusk. Dusk is his natural diffuser and provides for longer photographic sessions than are available at dawn.

As Lewis watches new rainforests emerge from the ash and debris, he is all too familiar with the art of detachment which allows him to live on the ever-changing landscape from day to day with his wife and six-year-old daughter. He must recognize, too, that his home on the volcano’s flank may be gone next month or next year -- its remnants, the birth of another rainforest and new life.

“The life of the volcano gives, the volcano can take away at a moment’s notice. We live together in a sort of symbiotic relationship. Giving up my home to Kilauea is something I’m prepared to do.”

Brad Lewis’ Gear Box
35MM Camera(s)
Nikon N90s with Nikkor lenses

Medium-Format Camera(s)
Pentax 6711 with Pentax lenses

Film
Fujichrome Velvia 50