Photographer Christopher Wilson Pursues Beauty as an Antidote to Darkness

Christopher Wilson’s photography speaks to tranquility and hope in a chaotic world. His work aims to serve as what he calls “a counterweight to hate,” creating visual poems that resonate with the heart. Drawing inspiration from masters like Irving Penn and contemporary artists like Paolo Roversi, Christopher’s process involves meticulous attention to postwork and printing, believing that’s where “the score transforms into music.” From shooting moody landscapes in Nova Scotia to formal portraits of Indigenous tribes in Tanzania, Christopher pursues personal projects that allow him to deeply explore and document the world’s quiet moments.

Introduction by Sandro Miller, Photographer

Christopher Wilson is an image whisper. He tames the light and softens the mood. His compositions are well thought-out, elegant, perfectly arranged, and so pleasing to the eye. When I examine Christopher’s work I feel he must have a deep sense of spirituality about himself. His work is ethereal, celestial, and almost heavenly. My favorite image of his will always be that cowboy standing on his horse. Like Christopher, the cowboy is a curious wanderer, a seeker of knowledge and peace. You see it vividly in all his images. There is never a dark moment in his photography. A fairy tale story lies in every image. His work is a wonderful departure from the sometimes over-documented hardships of the world. I feel at peace and safe looking at his work and for this, I thank you, Christopher Wilson.

What inspired or motivated you in your career?

To be honest, I didn’t make a conscious decision, ever, to become a photographer. There was no jumping into photography on my part. What is more true is that I fell into photography. I was working as an art director at Team One in LA, helping them create a new campaign for the Ritz-Carlton. I shot some images for my layouts. The campaign died, but the agency liked my imagery enough that they asked me to photograph another campaign for the Ritz-Carlton in Vietnam. And that was the beginning. I had no idea what I was doing. I couldn’t have told you the difference between an f-stop and an ISO for the life of me. But somehow, wonder of wonders, it all worked out. And it led to another project. And then another. And then I woke up a couple of years later and discovered I was making more money shooting than I was art directing or writing. Life is funny that way. You start off thinking you’re going down a certain path and you’re going to do this thing, and then the path twists and turns, and you end up going down another path, and before you know it, years have passed, and you’re doing something you never imagined you would be doing. That’s the way life has been for me. And now, looking back at my life, it all makes sense to me. Everything I’ve done in my life, whether I succeeded at it or failed miserably, has informed who I am now as a human being and as a photographer, and I’m grateful for it all.

What is your work philosophy?

I don’t think I have a work philosophy per se. All I know is that I’m always trying to create something that resonates with the heart. I fail way more often than not, of course, but always—no matter what I’m shooting—that is my intention. Robert Frank once wrote, “When people look at my photographs, I want them to feel the way they do when they want to read a line of a poem twice.” How wonderful, as that is exactly the way I would love my photographs to be “read,” if you will—as a beautiful poem. The Irish poet Seamus Heaney also wrote that poetry can be a powerful counterweight to the evil in the world. I love that, as I would love my visual poems (if I dare call them that) to be a part of the antidote to the hate that surrounds us. Again, I fail more often than not, but it is the driving force in me now, and it has allowed me to be a better father, a better husband, a better friend, and a better human being, really. And unquestionably, it is the driving force for me as a photographer. I don’t care what I’m shooting or if I’m shooting for a client or not. I am always looking for something that, in its own small way, could live as a counterweight to hate.

What artists inspire you?

I look at many, many artists, past and present, for inspiration. Some artists, whether they be photographers or painters, I look at for composition and points of view. Others I love because of their use of color. Others still for their use of light and darkness. Sometimes, it’s just their spirit I love. Nadav Kander, for example, I love for his restlessness. I feel he is constantly searching to create something fresh. I don’t always love his imagery, but I love his spirit of experimentation. I also love Irving Penn for the same reason. He could photograph anything and make it art. I love Albert Watson for his black-and-white portraiture. There is an edge to his work that I am always drawn to. None of my imagery could ever be compared to these photographic giants, of course. Never. And I have no desire to be them. It’s their spirit and passion that inspires me. My only desire is to somehow be me, whatever that may mean. It’s a constant trying to strip away to be as authentic as possible. Mostly, I fail. Sigh. But I keep working at it. Maybe when I’m old and decrepit, I’ll get there. I also find myself looking much more to paintings than photography for inspiration these days. It doesn’t matter what period or style; I’m curious about it all, as somehow I would like to take my photography in a more painterly direction. I’m not sure what that means yet, but it’s what interests me most right now. 

Who among your contemporaries do you most admire?

There are so many photographers I admire that it would be impossible for me to recount, let alone remember them all. However, here are a few I love:

For fashion photography, I love Paolo Roversi and Sarah Moon for their old-world sensibility. I think Nick Knight, the British fashion photographer, is brilliant. More recently, I’ve discovered a younger fashion photographer, Erik Madigan Heck. I love the way he pushes his colors around to make his images so vibrant. All of them do beautiful, beautiful work.

For automotive photography, I love some of the work of Agnieszka Doroszewicz and Patrick Curtet. In particular, I love how they’re willing to NOT show the whole car, with much of the machinery hidden in the shadows. Patrick’s work for the Mercedes-Benz Vision Gran Turismo, for example, borders on art for me.

I love how Bruno Aveillan creates such impressionistic photographs by throwing glass in front of the lens. I think Christian Tagliavini’s whimsical reimaginings of Renaissance portraiture are magical. I greatly admire Pieter Hugo, the South African photographer. His work documenting the “Hyena Men” of Senegal, for example, is riveting. The landscape photography of Arnar Kristjansson is wonderful—I find his imagery of Iceland breathtaking. Jeremy Snell’s portraiture is dark, moody, and utterly captivating.

Some photographers I love for their composition and points of view. Others I love because of their use of color. Others for their use of light and darkness. But mostly, I love these artists—and the hundreds of other photographers I didn’t mention—because of their seemingly endless curiosity about the world. I am inspired by their restless spirit and what I perceive to be a constant striving to make their imagery authentic, alive, and true to themselves.

What is the most difficult challenge you’ve had to overcome? 

For me, the most challenging part of being a photographer is sitting down to do the final postwork after a shoot, as I do all of my own coloring and retouching. The only time I bring in my retoucher (who is brilliant, by the way) is when I don’t have the time to fine-tune a composite, which is often. Sometimes, I get to a final look that I love very quickly. Other times, however, I have to really massage an image to get it to where I love it, often creating multiple versions before I’m happy. And it never gets any easier, damn it. In fact, if anything, it’s the opposite. I’m much more critical of my work than ever, as I am of the belief that if you aren’t getting better as a photographer, you’re getting worse. There is no such thing as hovering. Ansel Adams once said, “You don’t take a photograph; you make it. The negative is comparable to a composer’s score. The final print, as the result of working in the darkroom, is the music.” I love his analogy, and I believe it to be absolutely true. There is no such thing as a great image straight out of a camera, at least in my experience. The postwork in the darkroom (whether digital or otherwise) is where the score transforms into music. It can be an extremely time-consuming, frustrating process, but when it all comes together—when, somehow, miracle of miracles, the image starts to sing—well, I live for those moments. They feel like little epiphanies to me. I also print every image I work on as part of my retouching process. The reason is that I always see something I need to work on when an image is printed—contrast, coloring, composition, clean-up, whatever—that I won’t see on my computer monitors. In fact, I find retouching solely on a computer to be a bit of a cheat, as even a poorly retouched image can look decent on a monitor. Printing, however, is a completely different beast and requires much more attention to detail. Plus, there’s something absolutely wonderful about seeing—and feeling—your final image on a beautiful stock. The image may never live on paper, but I always make it live on paper, as that (for me, at least) is where a photograph truly comes to life and feels real.

What would be your dream assignment?

Well, I’m not sure I have a dream assignment. What I do have is a ridiculously long list of personal projects that intrigue me, many of which I collect on Pinterest—a fantastic vehicle, I find, for flushing out ideas. Most of the ideas involve traveling to the third world, such as India or Africa, or traveling to remote locations during the worst time of the year (winter) when nobody is around. Mongolia in winter. Tibet in winter. Scotland in winter. I just returned from a project in New Brunswick and Nova Scotia, for example. For the most part, it was cold, raining, and absolutely miserable. Everything was shut down for the season. Nobody was there. And I loved it. All the rain and fog made for some wonderfully moody imagery, which was exactly what I was looking for. With regard to these projects, I always have something very specific in mind I want to do. I never just travel willy-nilly. For me, I find I need the freedom of a tightly focused photographic brief, as it gives me time to breathe and truly explore a world I’ve never seen before. If I can stay still in one place for a long time, the better the stills I walk away with. For example, I went to Tanzania a few years ago with the sole purpose of shooting formal portraits of Indigenous tribespeople in a pop-up studio, having been inspired by Irving Penn’s portraits of tribespeople using his north-light tenting. We spent about 10 days there, shooting hundreds of portraits, and that’s all I did, period. I couldn’t have been happier with my time there (which was magical) and the results. Another project I have in the hopper right now involves going back to Jamaica to photograph formal portraits of Rastafarians. Not the rent-a-dreams, as the locals call them, that you see on the beach. But the real gurus who live in the mountains. I find their disciplined, monastic way of life inspiring. Another, more local, personal project I’m working on involves photographing soap-box derby cars. Having done a number of projects for car companies, including Fiat, Infiniti, BMW, and Ford, I love the idea of shooting these toy cars in a similar way that I photograph real cars. I think that would be great fun and lead to some really beautiful imagery. I’m also planning a project with a dear friend of mine who is a passionate motorcyclist and bespoke bike builder. I want to document his personal road odyssey through Bolivia, where the journey through these barren landscapes becomes the outward manifestation of an inward journey of self-discovery. And lastly, I’m working on a journal that I hope to publish quarterly. I’d love this publication to be a printed community, if you will, for visual inspiration. Anyway, the world is big and beautiful, and I just want to get a good look at it before it gets dark—and this is just my way of doing that.

What do you value most?

Integrity. Kindness. Persistence. Patience. Humility.

What interests do you have outside of your work?

Well, when you’re running your own production company, you’re pretty much working all the time. I’m either finishing up a project, prepping for an upcoming project, working up treatments for a possible project, promoting my work through portfolio reviews and advertising, reworking my website… the list goes on and on. And if I’m not working, I’m thinking about work. It’s endless. But that’s okay. I feel blessed to be able to do something I love with every fiber of my heart. And I get to do it with my wife, who also happens to be my executive producer and the business end of our company. She’s brilliant. I call her the Fifth Beatle, as she’s the one who gets no credit for my success but deserves much of it. The only thing I do outside of work when I am home—and I do it religiously—is yoga. For me, it is essential to my well-being, and I can’t imagine my life without it. It’s the closest to church I get.

How do you define success?

When I was younger and just starting out as a commercial photographer, success meant financial success, of course. Success was also tied to acknowledgment—winning awards and getting press for my work. However, as I grew older and more comfortable in my skin, and more confident in my abilities, my definition of success has become more personal, if you will, and more about what I can do to contribute, in my own small way, to the world around me. Is this the best I can be? Can I be stronger? Kinder? More compassionate? A better father, husband, citizen of the planet? Can photography act as a counterweight to hate? Can my camera be an instrument for change? How the hell do I do that? Stuff like that. For at the end of all my days (and stealing a few words from Maya Angelou), I would like to be known as a man who was taught to be a human being. Don’t get me wrong, I still need to be financially successful, as I have mouths to feed and a mortgage to pay. And I still love the accolades that come from doing good work. Absolutely. I’m a Leo, after all. However, after all these years, I don’t feel so attached to or defined by financial success or acknowledgment.

What advice would you give to students starting out today? 

If a student asked me for advice, this is what I would say, as cliché as this will all sound: Don’t be in such a panic to figure everything out. Slow it down. Breathe, kid, breathe. It takes a lifetime to create a life. Really. Embrace the unknown. Let life surprise you. Take it one step at a time. Be persistent. Be patient. Be gentle with yourself. And please, please ignore what everyone else is saying and doing, which means putting down your cell phone, turning off the TV, and avoiding social media like the plague. Comparison is a direct path to despair. You are not in competition with anyone. Just work your butt off to outdo your past, not other people, and your life and your work—regardless of whether it’s photography or not—will reveal itself, I promise.

After 15 years in the advertising world as a writer and art director, Christopher jumped off a cliff to start Christopher Wilson Photography in 2003. As an advertising creative, he created a vast portfolio of powerful campaigns for some of the most recognized luxury brands out there, including Audi, Infiniti, Jaguar, Nikon, and Ritz-Carlton, to mention a few. Now, Christopher is bringing all that experience and passion to his photography. He is an obsessed mountain biker and enters races whenever he can, which is never because he is too busy working and taking care of his two beautiful daughters, which are by far the best things he has ever created. His wife, Cathy, lives in the center of his heart.

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Discover more photographers and other creatives in The Graphis Journal #360.