Rangefinder Magazine
January 2005

Click Here for printable version of this article.

Profile: Ernie Brooks by Peter Skinner
Silver Seas—Our Underwater World in B&W

After more than 40 years photographing in and around the oceans of the world, well known photographer and educator Ernest H. Brooks II, has created a stunning portfolio of his celebrated black-and-white images in his new book, Silver Seas.

Until the last few years, Brooks was the president of the internationally renowned Brooks Institute of Photography, Santa Barbara, CA. Now, having sold the institute and relocated to Olympia, WA, he has concentrated on achieving another of his long-time goals. In collaboration with Media 27, a full-service photography, design and pre-press production company in Santa Barbara, Brooks has produced a book that is a magnificent collection of rare and sensitive images. It is a work that perpetuates the leading role he has played for decades—that of an ambassador for the fragile marine environment and the species who call it home. Coursing through the pages is the understated message—this place and these animals need our care and attention.

The actual production of the book—from concept, design, image editing and scanning through to supervision of the printing—was undertaken by two of Brooks’ colleagues from Brooks Institute days, Michael Verbois and Shukri Farhad, the principals of Media 27.

The editorial content of the book includes a foreword by Jean-Michel Cousteau and an introduction by Peter Skinner (yes, the same Peter Skinner writing this profile). Brooks says, “I was lucky to have the support of people who have had a long association with me and my work, and it was comforting knowing the project was in the hands of people who really respect my work and were simpatico with my efforts in raising awareness of the marine environment. It was a team effort, and it shows.”

Due to the numerous television documentaries and magazine articles about the underwater environment, the very word “underwater” conjures up images of brilliantly colored fish and corals, magnificent hues of blues and reds. But just as the late Ansel Adams and his contemporary group of followers have done with their portrayal of the natural environment, so has Brooks chosen black and white as his medium. He explains this unusual approach: “I don’t think that blue, an inherent color of the ocean, really adds to many photographs, especially of mammals—sea lions, sharks or people—and I like the quality of black and white. Also, I get the personal satisfaction of working with black and white; being able to control the development and printing.”

But he concedes that color has a rightful place, especially in video, motion picture, and with certain undersea subjects that lend themselves to macro photography. “With the tiny, living things, such as anemones, nudibranchs, small fish—creatures colored with yellows, reds, oranges and exuding warmth—color is definitely the appropriate medium. But for the subjects I like, such as sunlight streaming through the fronds of kelp or sea lions silhouetted against the sky above, black and white is for me the ideal medium.”

Brooks’ love affair with the ocean and its inhabitants goes back to 1956, but it was as a predator, not a photographer, that he began his underwater forays. At that time, the YMCA sponsored spear fishing contests, and Brooks found that he was a natural at the sport. He was comfortable in the environment, and he was a pretty good shot with a spear gun. Fortunately, he became more enamored with the ocean and environs for other purposes, and eventually, just as many a big game hunter has replaced his Mannlicher rifle with a camera and telephoto lens, so did Brooks retire his spear gun to stalk undersea creatures with photographic equipment. “It was a transition many other underwater photographers have gone through, and I guess it’s natural. You never really lose that hunting instinct—you just satisfy it in different ways,” he says.

No one can venture into such an amazing place without unique and indelible experiences. Brooks has had many—some brief but still memorable; others played out in almost surreal ways. One of those was when a baby sea lion whose curiosity overpowered fear, nuzzled up to Brooks, put its little arms out and gently embraced him and looked into his eyes. It was an encounter that lasted just a few seconds—a rare, fleeting moment, probably never to be repeated, but etching an indelible memory in one of them at least.

Even for the widely experienced Ernie Brooks, this encounter was extraordinary. As he admits now, many years after the event, it was a happening that encapsulated and reciprocated the enduring love he has for the marine environment and its multitude of inhabitants. “Anyone who has looked that closely into the eyes of a wild creature and seen the innocence and trust I saw that day would have to be affected in a profound way. Maybe I didn’t appreciate then the impact it would have on me, but I certainly do today,” he says.

Ernie Brooks (left), Jean-Michel Cousteau and Mike Verbois (right) of Media 27 review images and text of Silver Seas.

There are many other times vivid in Brooks’ memory. Once, off Anacapa Island, a burst of sunlight outlined the sleek body of a blue shark whose cold, emotionless eyes were fixed on some distant object, its U-shaped mouth slightly agape. With the confidence of experience, Brooks aimed his pre-focused camera, waited until gut instinct told him the instant had arrived and pressed the shutter.

Electronic flash filled the shadowed areas of the shark’s white underbelly, reducing the contrast between water-filtered sunlight and the shaded area of the shark’s stomach. And, in less time than it took to read these few lines, it was over. The prehistoric oceanic predator disappeared as silently as it came. Coming face to face with sea creatures is not unexpected; it’s one of the goals and is hoped for. And in this case the encounter with the shark was more than a memory. Not only was the image permanently etched in his mind’s eye, the photograph was on black-and-white film, and today is a portfolio image titled Magnificent Blue.

For Brooks, the sea was also a release valve; somewhere to break away from the demands of being the president of a school and providing the opportunity to be with marine biologists, other photographers and students—those who share his love of the environment. To be with, as he puts it, “special people with a common bond.”

This common bond has linked Brooks with many eminent marine specialists—the Cousteau Society which worked with him and Brooks Institute in testing new equipment (Louis Prezelin, a director of photography with Cousteau, attended Brooks Institute), Chuck Davis, Ron and Valerie Taylor, Jim and Cathy Church, David Doubilet, Al Giddings, Chuck Nicklin, Chris Newbert, Jack McKenney, Paul Tzimoulis, Bates Littlehales, the late Philippe Cousteau and Ron Church.

In the early 1960s, when the West Coast was a strong, if not the, center of underwater photography, Brooks, Giddings, Church, Leroy French and others formed the Academy of Underwater Photography to present workshops, seminars, and exhibits. There was an emphasis on industrial work, and these pioneers of underwater photography paved the way in equipment testing and technique. “Of all the people I spent time with, I think I enjoyed Ron Church the most. This is not to detract from the others, it’s just that Ron and I seemed to think along exactly the same lines, and like me, he preferred working with medium format equipment. We were on the same wavelength, and it was always a pleasure working on projects with him,” says Brooks.

The attributes required of an underwater photographer are fairly basic. Scuba diving and mastering the technique can be learned. The others—patience, perseverance, and understanding the environment—usually come with time, but not always. “Obviously it’s an environment foreign to man, and you have to come to terms with that and learn to be comfortable with it. But then there are other difficulties you have to learn to live with—the low contrast, the turbidity, scattering (particles suspended in the water lit by strobe can ruin pictures), the inability to control the environment,” he says.

Visibility, which can range from almost zero to 100 feet, will change quickly—affected by tide, current, wave action and other vagaries of nature. “About the only thing you can control is what you can do, your ability. You have virtually no control over the subject, unless you include factors such as feeding fish to get them closer as control,” he adds.

I have dived and photographed with Ernie numerous times. During a three-and-a-half month expedition to the Sea of Cortez in 1986, I had many opportunities to observe him ply his craft. It was watching patience personified. Invariably he would pick a spot and wait for something to come by, for something to happen that would make the photograph. “Columns of sunlight streaming through a kelp forest make a pretty good picture. But a shot of a sea lion swimming in the foreground of the same scene could be a great picture. It’s not much that separates the good image from the great one. Having the patience, and knowing that it’s possible, can make all the difference,” he says.

As an educator, Brooks has seen hundreds of enthusiastic young students plunge into the ocean from the Brooks Institute research vessel Just Love. With their housings or Nikonos cameras in hand, they invariably rush headlong into an exciting, fascinating environment, their eagerness often overwhelming logic. “It never ceases to amaze me how students will dash off in all directions, as if the best subjects are the greatest distance from the boat, or at the deepest spot. Often my best shots have come from within a few feet of where we’re anchored, and in about 30 feet of water or less.”

Brooks encourages novice underwater photographers to move slowly and look around, being aware of what they’re likely to see. “You don’t have to know the scientific names of thing to have an idea of what they are, to enjoy them, or to expect to see them—a bit of study will give you that basic knowledge. But I’ve learned not to be surprised when someone yells ‘What’s that?’ as a common flying fish goes by.”
However, he well understands the curiosity that induces students to venture away from the boat. It is this same curiosity and sense of adventure that takes the underwater photographer to foreign oceans.

Brooks himself has succumbed to wanderlust. He has dived beneath the northern polar ice cap as a member of the McGinnis Foundation of Toronto’s arctic research team in 1977 (testing a variety of life support systems and diving suits, providing photo-documentation of the exercise, and recording plankton blooms beneath the ice). He has photographed the wrecks of Japanese ships in the Pacific’s Truk Lagoon. He has helped with research on tiny pupfish and created a photo mosaic of a particular limestone cave. He has dived Devil’s Hole in the California desert.

Without a lot of fanfare or drum beating, Ernie Brooks has emerged as one of the great ambassadors of the marine environment. It is a title he probably did not consciously or deliberately seek, but it is one he wears easily—the fit is comfortable. Along the way, he has imbued in others many of his own philosophies and ideals on ecological awareness. In essence he has created a cadre of environmentally aware photographers—ambassadors for the marine environment—who use their skills to communicate their messages. The methodology has been simple and effective, something akin to what evolves from fireside chats between fathers and sons, mentors and students. In this case the fireplace has more often than not been the afterdeck, bridge or cozy cabin of that stately old lady of the sea, Just Love, a 57-foot former purse seine trawler, built in 1930 to plunder the waters of Alaska and elsewhere, which served out her golden years (and is still doing so) as a vessel for education and adventure.

While Brooks is adept at promoting the causes of concerned organizations, he tends to be independent, enjoying the challenge of diving and photographing with a small group of friends. And he still gets excited about exploring the rich waters of the Santa Barbara Channel Islands, home to animal life ranging from tiny plankton through to migrating whales and resident elephant seals.

“You know, people travel the world looking for something new and different, but they often miss the potential in their backyards. I admit being a keen traveler too, but I do know, and appreciate, the treasures I found close to home when the Santa Barbara Channel Islands were my backyard. Sure, the water is cold, and the visibility is often not the best, but those factors add to the challenge. On the other hand, there have been many times when conditions have been ideal—when the sea has been calm, the sun shining, the water clear, the subject matter captivating and fascinating. Those are the best of times.”

And now, in the magnificent images in Silver Seas, and through the text of those who know him well, we can all see how Ernie Brooks capitalized on those best of times. (For more information: www.thesilverseas.com).

Freelance writer/photographer and author Peter Skinner, who has recently relocated to his native Australia, has more than 22 years experience in the photo industry in public relations, media liaison, corporate communications and workshop production and coordination. His magazine articles and photography have been published internationally and he has co-authored or edited numerous publications and books. He collaborated with Don Blair on an upcoming book Portrait Photography: The Art of Seeing Light (Amherst Media). He can be reached at: prsskinner@bigpond.com.