The minimalist landscape: The art of less (Part two)

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This is part two of a two part series on minimalist landscapes. You can see part one, from last week, here

Over years of working in landscapes across New Zealand, Japan, and beyond, I’ve developed a set of practical approaches that help me find and build minimalist images wherever I am. These are not rigid rules, but habits of seeing and working that I return to again and again.

Central Hokkaido, Japan. A lone snow-laden tree sits peacefully in the winter landscape, in quiet harmony with the snow-covered grasses in the foreground—two simple elements that together tell a complete story. Nikon Z8, Nikkor 24–120mm f4 lens @ 45mm, 1/800s @ f13, ISO 500.
Central Hokkaido, Japan. A lone snow-laden tree sits peacefully in the winter landscape, in quiet harmony with the snow-covered grasses in the foreground—two simple elements that together tell a complete story. Nikon Z8, Nikkor 24–120mm f4 lens @ 45mm, 1/800s @ f13, ISO 500.

Negative space

Negative space can be very powerful in a photograph; it allows our subject room to breathe and can help to amplify its presence when displayed against a larger canvas.

When working with negative space, we need background elements that will not distract from the main subject—heavy mist, fresh snow, and flat overcast light all work brilliantly, as do coastal landscapes where the sea or an expansive horizon fills the frame.

Consider also how you position your subject within that space: a central placement creates stillness and isolation, while shifting toward the edge introduces a sense of movement or a little more tension in the frame.

Taranaki coastline, New Zealand. Two lone rock stacks sit isolated by a long exposure that smooths the sea to a silky plane, the twin forms floating in quiet solitude against a minimal sky. Nikon D810, Nikkor 70–200mm f4 lens @ 112mm, 30s @ f11, ISO 100.
Taranaki coastline, New Zealand. Two lone rock stacks sit isolated by a long exposure that smooths the sea to a silky plane, the twin forms floating in quiet solitude against a minimal sky. Nikon D810, Nikkor 70–200mm f4 lens @ 112mm, 30s @ f11, ISO 100.

Lens choice

While wide-angle lenses can produce stunning landscape results, without careful intention they tend to fill the frame with competing elements and leave the image without a clear subject.

I find many landscape photographers will seldom reach for a longer lens, and yet this is often the most effective way to simplify a scene. By working in the 70–200mm range, you focus on a smaller area of the landscape, reducing competing elements and giving your subject room to breathe.

Longer lenses also compress distance, which can be used creatively—stacking layers of a landscape, or drawing a distant subject forward into elegant relationship with the space around it. The next time you arrive at a location, try leaving the wide-angle in the bag and working only with a longer focal length. The discipline alone will change the way you see.

Central Hokkaido, Japan. Picking out a smaller part of the landscape with a longer lens, two lone grasses rise from the snow, their warm golden tones the only detail in an otherwise pure white world. Nikon Z8, Nikkor 100–400mm lens @ 340mm, 1/320s @ f8, ISO 500.
Central Hokkaido, Japan. Picking out a smaller part of the landscape with a longer lens, two lone grasses rise from the snow, their warm golden tones the only detail in an otherwise pure white world. Nikon Z8, Nikkor 100–400mm lens @ 340mm, 1/320s @ f8, ISO 500.
Ashburton Lakes, New Zealand. A single branch hangs down into the frame from above, floating in negative space above a distant treeline softened by mist, the simplicity of the composition drawing the eye to the delicate detail of each twig. Nikon D850, Nikkor 70–200mm f4 lens @ 80mm, 1/25s @ f8, ISO 64.
Ashburton Lakes, New Zealand. A single branch hangs down into the frame from above, floating in negative space above a distant treeline softened by mist, the simplicity of the composition drawing the eye to the delicate detail of each twig. Nikon D850, Nikkor 70–200mm f4 lens @ 80mm, 1/25s @ f8, ISO 64.

Long exposures

Long exposure photography can be an excellent way to help minimise a landscape, especially when working around water. By using longer shutter speeds, we can render out distractions—ripples on the surface, the restless movement of the sea—and turn these into a smooth, blank canvas.

When your main subject is framed against this simple background, it becomes more clearly defined, and the image takes on a calm, meditative quality that is very much in the spirit of minimalism.

Long exposures also introduce a sense of time into a still image—the blurred movement of water or sky suggests atmosphere and mood that a single frozen moment cannot, adding an emotional layer that is particularly valuable when so few elements are carrying the weight of the photograph.

Doubtful Sound, Fiordland, New Zealand. The islands and hills blend into one as mist simplifies this complex landscape, reducing it to a series of layered tones receding into the distance. Nikon D810, Nikkor 70–300mm lens @ 70mm, 1/800s @ f5.6, ISO 400.
Doubtful Sound, Fiordland, New Zealand. The islands and hills blend into one as mist simplifies this complex landscape, reducing it to a series of layered tones receding into the distance. Nikon D810, Nikkor 70–300mm lens @ 70mm, 1/800s @ f5.6, ISO 400.
Ashburton Lakes, New Zealand. Misty peaks blend into the sky, the mist stripping the scene back to a delicate pencil-like sketch in tones of white and grey. Nikon Z8, Nikkor 300mm f4 lens with 1.4x teleconverter @ 420mm, 1s @ f10, ISO 64.
Ashburton Lakes, New Zealand. Misty peaks blend into the sky, the mist stripping the scene back to a delicate pencil-like sketch in tones of white and grey. Nikon Z8, Nikkor 300mm f4 lens with 1.4x teleconverter @ 420mm, 1s @ f10, ISO 64.

Use of colour

Minimalism is also about the careful use of colour. Colour can make a photograph feel complex even when the composition is simple, with competing hues pulling the viewer’s attention in different directions.

A black-and-white photograph has the luxury of removing this entirely, which is why monochrome and minimalism have such a natural affinity—instantly, form and shape do all the work. The colour minimalist has to work harder. A limited, harmonious palette where tones sit close in temperature and saturation allows shape and form to lead without the distraction of strong colour.

The soft light of early morning or last light, and the flat neutral tones of an overcast day, tend naturally toward these quieter palettes—making them not just an aesthetic preference, but a practical tool for the minimalist photographer.

Poulter River, Arthurs Pass, New Zealand. A misty morning over the Poulter River where water blends into sky, the vivid blue glacial flow contrasting against the dark gravel banks. A simple but striking study in tone and colour. Nikon Z8, Nikkor 300mm f4 lens, 5s @ f8, ISO 32.
Poulter River, Arthurs Pass, New Zealand. A misty morning over the Poulter River where water blends into sky, the vivid blue glacial flow contrasting against the dark gravel banks. A simple but striking study in tone and colour. Nikon Z8, Nikkor 300mm f4 lens, 5s @ f8, ISO 32.
Castle Hill, New Zealand. Thick morning mist layers through the trees, transforming a complex landscape into a simple, ethereal composition of soft blue tones and ghostly forms. Nikon D850, Nikkor 70–200mm f4 lens @ 165mm, 1/25s @ f11, ISO 64.
Castle Hill, New Zealand. Thick morning mist layers through the trees, transforming a complex landscape into a simple, ethereal composition of soft blue tones and ghostly forms. Nikon D850, Nikkor 70–200mm f4 lens @ 165mm, 1/25s @ f11, ISO 64.

Avoiding distractions

A good composition is determined by what we leave out just as much as by what we include. We can change the viewer’s entire reading of a scene by choosing to exclude—those power lines to the right of the frame or the patch of bright of light.

Even subtle distractions, while not always immediately obvious, can catch the eye in a way that quietly pulls attention from the intended subject—a stray blade of grass at the bottom of the frame, a small highlight on a background rock.

Central Hokkaido, Japan. Two solitary trees set against the winter snow become one as their branches intertwine, their delicate forms standing together in quiet harmony against a vast white canvas. Nikon Z8, Nikkor 100–400mm lens @ 400mm, 1/8s @ f11, ISO 64.
Central Hokkaido, Japan. Two solitary trees set against the winter snow become one as their branches intertwine, their delicate forms standing together in quiet harmony against a vast white canvas. Nikon Z8, Nikkor 100–400mm lens @ 400mm, 1/8s @ f11, ISO 64.
Fiordland, New Zealand. Light breaks through the mist as it slips toward the horizon, adding contrast between the receding ridgelines falling into shadow and the warm glow beyond, naturally simplifying this complex landscape into bold, graphic shapes. Nikon D850, Nikkor 70–200mm f4 lens @ 200mm, 1/320s @ f8, ISO 400.
Fiordland, New Zealand. Light breaks through the mist as it slips toward the horizon, adding contrast between the receding ridgelines falling into shadow and the warm glow beyond, naturally simplifying this complex landscape into bold, graphic shapes. Nikon D850, Nikkor 70–200mm f4 lens @ 200mm, 1/320s @ f8, ISO 400.

Training yourself to scan the entire frame before pressing the shutter, rather than just checking your subject, is a discipline that takes time but will transform your images.

If you can learn how to create compelling minimalist photographs that have real depth, you will learn the building blocks that define how you communicate your message as a photographer—what you really wish to say and express to the viewer.

Minimalism is not just a style. It is a functional understanding of how you compose any photograph, whether you choose to embrace it to create harmony within the frame, or break it to create dynamic tension and power.

The lessons it teaches—restraint, patience, deliberate seeing—will stay with you long after you put the camera down.

You can see more of Richard's work at Richardyoung.co.nz
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