With so many images hitting us every day it’s impossible not to be influenced by some of what we see and, as photographers, absorb something of the styles of others albeit perhaps unwittingly. There are undoubtedly several photographers who I admire greatly. I don’t set out recreate the work of another photographer but I can’t deny that sometimes a particular image might come to mind as I look at a scene. It’s a bit like having a tune pop into your head. Once it’s there it’s almost impossible to let it go or to unthink it. Particularly irritating if it’s a tune you hate!

Whilst I guess I sit mostly in the landscape photographer camp I also love the work of documentary photographers such as Don McCullin, James Ravilious, Toni Schneiders and of course Henri Cartier-Bresson (how could I not). I don’t often try to take pictures that could be described as documentary. I’m not sure why. Maybe I just feel uncomfortable doing so as inevitably it involves taking photographs of people which I simply don’t have the confidence to do. But the natural environment feels like home to me and as a result I’m influenced more by photographers of that ilk. So I’ve long admired the work of Paul Sanders, Michael Kenna and, more recently, Adrian Otero Vila (more commonly known simply as AOWS). However, if I had to pick one photographer above all others whose approach to a scene appeals to me the most that would be Bruce Percy.

Bruce Percy has developed an increasingly minimalist view of the world. His images are stripped back to the most essential of ingredients. Nothing is included in the scene unless it has a purpose. A role to play. Colour becomes subservient to shape and form. In some of his images the colour is so subtle, so desaturated that the viewer is left wondering whether there is indeed any colour present. In his latest book, Hálendi, there is one particular image where there are what appear to be three black brush strokes slashed across a blank canvass. It looks like a charcoal drawing. A piece of abstract art. But it is in fact a few streaks of the black volcanic rock of the moutainous interior of Iceland in the depths of winter, laid bare of snow by the howling wind. A scene discarded of any unnecessary elements. It is simply beautiful.

And so to the scene in this image. Snow is rare where I live. When it finally arrives I try to be prepared. To have in mind scenes where the landscape is stripped back to its simplest elements. I know this place intimately. It’s the nature reserve where I’m a volunteer. I’ve titled this image “Pointless…”. Maybe the title is a subconscious metaphor? But this fence seems to serve no purpose other than as a scratching post for the sheep. It sits in splendid isolation on the side of the hill, keeping nothing in, keeping nothing out. In front of it is the slightest of bumps. Another even less evident just behind. These are small neolithic barrows, possibly the final resting place for someone around 5,000 years ago. But in the snow the barrows are all but invisible. Only the fence remains.

I have to confess when I framed this photograph all I could think of was how Bruce Percy would approach it. Because I just knew that was the look I wanted. Not necessarily Bruce’s look but my interpretation of it. My rendering. The result is almost exactly what I was after. Its minimalism will appeal to few. But for me, it’s what I aspire to. What I struggle to achieve.

Who was it who said “Good artists borrow, great artists steal”?!