Mark Bramley’s portfolio is full of flawless shots of gleaming cars. When he has time off, though, he shoots landscapes like these.

Some are exquisitely composed shots of impressive manmade works.

Others have a subtler, simpler poetry.

But all share a softness and a sense of mystery.

"I always prefer to travel by myself," says Bramley, "which I think brings a certain solitude to the images."

"I guess I’m drawn to quieter scenes that make you think a little more."

Here, a traffic cone--but not a car in sight.


Haunting Landscapes, Filled With Lonely Echoes Of Manmade Life

Mark Bramley takes magazine-ready photos of new cars for a living. Then he takes a week or two off in search of sublime shots like these.

The first section of Mark Bramley’s website is dedicated to his photographs of cars. In some of the shots they’re racing down sinuous mountain roads as they do; in others, they’re stationary, parked gleaming in front of pristine white buildings and other curiously empty architectural spaces. In every one, Bramley manages to make his automotive subject look very good—clean and strong and shiny in all the right places, which oftentimes is pretty much everywhere.

His shoots take him to sublime locations all over the world—when you photograph cars professionally, it’s only a matter of time before some client sends you to the salt flats—but he rarely has time to train his lens on anything other than the machine at hand. So every so often, he’ll take a few weeks off in search of scenes that move him, and that’s when he captures landscapes like these. They’re just as striking as his automobile photography, but in a totally different way. The cars are sharp and precise. The landscapes show us a far hazier reality.

"I can travel for days on these trips and not find anything I want to shoot," he says. But eventually he’ll turn a corner and see something that hits him like a punch to the gut. Sometimes the beauty is obvious—a stunning feat of human engineering, say, like an elevated roadway stretching off into the distance. In other cases, it’s a more subtle bit of poetry, like the lonesome gas station throwing out a halo of light into the dusky night.

Many shots share a soft color palette, a holdover from his days of shooting on color negative film, Bramley explains. But they’re also linked by a sense of mystery, a sort of eerie stillness. "I always prefer to travel by myself," he says, "which I think brings a certain solitude to the images. I guess I’m drawn to quieter scenes that make you think a little more." That very palpable sense of quietness is another thing the landscapes have in common. Even at the gas station, there’s not a car in sight.

See more of Bramley’s work here.

[Hat tip: It’s Nice That]

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  • rmintzes

    These are beautiful, but some of the more architectural photos irk me when the vertical lines of the structures or building facades aren't perfectly vertical. I hate to nitpick on something that might otherwise be considered so minuscule, but when the angle of the structures off the vertical is so small, it's more bothersome than if he had been looking up at a more extreme angle...