Julian Köpke
I like to make things visible the naked eye isn't able to see. That's part of my profession as a radiologist, too.
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Moody weather
Stein am Rhein is a town with a northern and a southern part on the banks of the Rhine, which here flows west towards Basel. The Rhine does not form the border with Germany here; on the northern side is Swiss territory. A hotel with historic knight’s armour and oil paintings in the corridors is situated directly on the river.
My wife and I arrived in clear, warm weather the day before. But in the early May morning, it became foggy again, and my desire to get up was limited. On the same side of the river next to the hotel is the monastery of Sankt Georgen, which is nowadays only a beautiful museum.
As soon as I stepped onto the bridge that leads between the hotel and the monastery from the north to the south, I saw the sun standing in a cloud over the Sant Georgen monastery. I had to hurry a lot because the fog was beginning to lift. An HDR shot was a matter, of course, to savour all the nuances of the light later.
I did the post-processing of the HDR manually and software-based, so I had all the freedom to process the image.
Sunrise Stein am Rhein, Switzerland © Julian Köpke -
Calendar 2025
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Lonely tree
Deadvlei dunes and trees in morning light © Julian Köpke How I would love to spend a night in this place: as relentlessly as the sun burns down on us during the day, the starry sky at night is so wonderfully clear and bright in this Namibian place. As an ordinary tourist, you have no chance of being allowed to stay in this part of Sossusvlei before sunrise or after sunset. You arrive in groups after sunrise, in large jeeps through the gates of the national park. After arriving at the Deadvlei dunes at around 9 o’clock, only a few slopes are still in the shade for a short time. These moments are precious and last only a short time.
You have to be quick, follow your intuition, and try it out. The terrain is extremely attractive. The photographers in a group immediately spread out across the plain, as you can easily see in the picture. There are groups of trees, occasionally pairs or single trees, as here. You can’t stand it in the heat for longer than two hours. Afterwards, we had a late breakfast before returning to the hotel and leaving the national park.
The background consists of a band of blue sky without clouds, orange-red sand dunes and the yellowish-white soil of the dried-up riverbed. Rarely does a river die in this depression after a downpour. A long time ago, as evidenced by the dead trees, there was even more moisture here.
I took the picture with my Leica Q without a tripod. This camera has a fixed focal length of 28mm. At f/8 and ISO 200, the exposure time was 1/250s. What was important to me was the completeness of the shadow cast by my lonely tree in the foreground. You can find some of my images published on Landscape Photography Magazine.
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Flash
I have set up a studio of black surfaces where the light falls on my objects from above. All distractions that could interfere with the view disappear as if by magic. There is only the object.
Every ray of light that does not fall directly into the eye remains invisible. Concentrated light such as laser beams is made visible by introducing vapour from CO2 into the beam path, for example, which provides the necessary deflection into the eye or a photographic lens.
For the same reason, light from above escapes the eye of the observer or the photographic lens when viewed horizontally. Only an object deflects the light from above in the direction of the eye or the photographic lens. This is essentially a reflection. Transmission of reflected light can also occur with objects that are transparent. This is the case, for example, with fine petals or glass. Both phenomena, reflection and transmission, are of great aesthetic appeal and therefore of photographic interest.
In the end, there is only the object – or composition. Photographing colored flowers in a dark room has the effect of an apparition emerging from the darkness. And the picture immediately makes you think. These pictures made me think of a quote by Henri Poincaré, whose exact source („The value of science“?) I have unfortunately not found: „A thought is like a flash of lightning in the middle of a long night, but it is everything“.
Brilliant colours of Kniphofia Uvaria © Julian Köpke -
Emotions
Does the photographer manage to create a feeling with his pictures? To arouse interest ? What feeling do his pictures create ? What does the picture do to the viewer ? More than just: „Oh, someone has pressed the shutter of his camera in a beautiful place !“ ?
Irish landscape at Coumeenycorraun (Coimín Uí Chorráin), Co. Kerry. We hiked across a pasture without any trail. Overlook Lough Duff, Lough Gal, Clogharee Lough, Lough Atlea. © Julian Köpke The impressions of the country are as changeable as the Irish weather. Time and time again, you see motifs that you would not have expected. They lead to images that you would have placed somewhere else entirely. In the following picture you can of course recognise an Impressionist motif.
Waterlilies and sedge at Pollacappul Lough on our way to Kylemore Abbey. © Julian Köpke I noticed shipwrecks in Galway harbour, which I took as an HDR series and processed in different ways, sometimes in colour and sometimes in black and white. I like the black and white version best, which looks like a photograph from the turn of the 19th and 20th centuries.
Shipwreck Galway © Julian Köpke The following cloud image loses all reference to Ireland. It could have been taken anywhere. You can recognise a disruption, hard and soft contrasts, an alternation of light and dark clouds, areas with structure and those that look as if they have been painted. Of course, this fits in with Ireland’s changeable weather. The cloud structure in this picture reminds me of interstellar reflection clouds.
Cloud formation on our way back to Castlewood B&B at sunset © Julian Köpke Ireland is the marvellous land of hiking opportunities, which we only used in part. We came across many visitors at special attractions such as O’Brien’s Tower above the Cliffs of Moher, most of whom, like us, were certainly not hiking. Integrated in the picture, they look like busy people with a clear goal, which is probably a false impression.
Colonisation at O’Brien’s Tower, Cliffs of Moher © Julian Köpke More pictures of Ireland in my Flickr album.
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Wild Atlantic Coast
The flight to Ireland from Germany is relatively short. On arrival, you feel as if you’ve crossed a bridge: you’re not far from the start of your journey and yet you’ve arrived somewhere else.
Samuel Beckett Bridge, Dublin, crossing Liffey © Julian Köpke People have passed through garden gates in the course of their lives, but on the Irish island they can give the impression of entering an enchanted world. Not many people visit the gardens that are offered to visitors. This may also be due to the tight schedule of guided tours.
I walked through the gate and entered a magical forest. I soon came across a shy deer, which took off in feathery leaps as I emerged. © Julian Köpke We were travelling on a relaxed schedule, with a reasonable vehicle that was suitable for the terrain and our equipment. Exploratory drives and hikes alternated over the course of the day.
The trees often showed a tendency to be overgrown, which is probably reinforced in the German observer by the fact that we have more industrial forests in our country, with straight trees, rarely with branches. In Ireland, there are families who have dedicated themselves to maintaining their park, which virtually excludes straight-grown trees.
Derreen Garden © Julian Köpke Several times we came across walled gardens that had been developed into attractions. In addition to greenhouses, there were continental elements laid out with almost baroque geometry next to sections of park that appeared almost random.
Leaving walled garden of Kylemore Abbey © Julian Köpke The coast in the south-west has the surprise of looking like a lakeshore for newcomers, even though the Atlantic and its tides wash around the hotel every day. There are plenty of rocks to see, lobster traps at low tide when you go for a walk. And rapidly rising water at high tide.
Wild Atlantic Coast at Parknasilla, Kerry, Ireland © Julian Köpke The island’s coasts are varied, often rocky. At Kinard Beach, the sea is coloured red by the rocks that have been eroded there over millions of years. When my friend Harold and I arrived at this place, we didn’t know what to expect. There was a mixture of serenity from the sea and the erratic dynamics of the crashing waves, which turned red near the rocks due to the force of erosion.
Rough and calm sea at Kinard Beach, Kerry, Ireland. Red rocks colour the water red. © Julian Köpke High cliffs play a role, but they have been converted into tourist attractions, with opening hours, entrance fees and security fences. These can make it difficult for photographers to find a good time and a good location to take pictures.
Cliffs of Moher and seastack, Ireland © Julian Köpke Why is the island green? Because it rains a lot. Golden rule for visitors: if you don’t like the weather: wait 5 minutes. That’s almost sufficient.
Seastacks at Dunquin Pier, Dingle peninsula, Ireland © Julian Köpke More pictures of Ireland in my Flickr album.
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Minimalism in landscape photography
I hadn’t realised that I had taken photographs that had minimalist qualities until I came across a challenge at Landscape Photography Magazine. While searching for motifs, I came across a surprising number of shots, three of which I submitted.
Geographically, we are for the first photography on the so-called elbow of the North Frisian island of Sylt. The beach section in this photo shows the northernmost part of Germany. You can see the sandy south coast of the Danish island of Romo above the centre of the picture. The border between the Kingdom of Denmark and the Federal Republic of Germany runs somewhere in the middle of the sea between Sylt and Rømø.
The North Sea can be very choppy. In the photo, you can see a few waves in this section of the sea, which connects the open sea with the tidal flat side that lies between the islands and the mainland. The cloudy sky also has little structure. Slightly sloping is the sandy beach, with a few footprints on it.
In earlier times, groynes made of stone, wood or iron were built on Sylt to fortify the beaches or to reclaim the land. Nowadays, a sandy beach on Sylt is fortified by means of sand washes. The wooden groynes sometimes stick out of the water like rotten teeth. The iron groynes are rusting and have gaps and holes.
In this photo, a rusty groyne is a welcome break in the vast expanse of sea, clouds and beach. I took the picture with my Nikon D810 A at ISO 200, f8 and 1/350s with a focal length of 52mm.
Two coast lines: Denmark and Sylt © Julian Köpke Iceland is a paradise for minimalist photography. In many places, you hardly have the opportunity to let the landscape have a contemplative effect on you. Because you are rarely alone, however, the lighthouse of Raudinupur in the northeast of the island can only be reached on foot, over dirt roads and sheep pastures, always accompanied by wind.
The change of pace provided by a hike after long stretches by car did us good. An approaching fog bank completely covered the sea, and the way back would be less sunny. It was very bright on our rock; the exposure took only 1/2000s at ISO 800 with an aperture f/11. Without a tripod, I took the shot so that I could always change my perspective quickly.
In no time, the lighthouse disappeared in the fog after I had taken the photo. Minimalism can be that simple: a sheep, a lighthouse and a looming fog bank.
Lighthouse Raudinupur © Julian Köpke I took the last picture of this blog entry in 2012 on Mauna Kea at an altitude of 4000 metres. Two weeks earlier, the moon had given us a beautiful solar eclipse in Arizona. The next morning, a transit of Venus was due to begin, for which we had travelled to Hawai’i.
A transit of the planet Venus that can be observed from Earth occurs about 4 times in 243 years due to the inclination of the planets‘ orbits to each other. The last two transits were in 2004 and 2012, and the next one will take place in 105 years.
We can enjoy a full moon every month – weather permitting. Below the moon you can see the growing shadow of Mauna Kea in the evening sky.
Full Moon on Mauna Kea © Julian Köpke -
Punta della Dogana
At the beginning of the 19th century, William Turner spent a long time in Venice. I always imagine how he had a gondolier take him out into the lagoon to paint his watercolours in the setting sun’s light.
Nowadays, the lagoon’s islands can be reached by vaporettos, an essential part of local public transport. But you don’t necessarily want to see them in a photo in the blue hour.
This is not the only reason why I decided to take a long exposure shot after sunset on the quay wall of the Santa Maria della Salute church. But also to transform the surface of the water into a colourful surface because the movement of the waves always makes the viewer’s gaze wander back and forth restlessly.
Doge Nicolo Contarini vowed to build the church of Santa Maria della Salute after a plague epidemic in 1630 killed a third of the city’s population. It was inaugurated in 1687, 6 years after his death, and is an attraction of the cityscape.
The lighter blue of the lagoon literally illuminates the deep blue of the cloudy evening sky. The white walls of the church complex still retain some warmth
Blue hour at Santa Maria della Salute © Julian Köpke I took the picture with 15s, f/16 and ISO 31 as well as an ND filter. This text was created by me as part of the Blue Hour Assignment and edited by Landscape Photography Magazine, where you can find some of my pictures.
Punta della Dogana is at the end of the quay, if you walk to the left of the columns to the end of the Dorsoduro. It is easier to recognise the character of a point or a pinnacle from San Marco. It is where many people gather.
Santa Maria della Salute with haze © Julian Köpke -
Strawberry pareidolia
This strawberry reminds me of a hand © Julian Köpke I immediately thought this ripe strawberry with its intense colour, which looks like a hand or a baby’s foot, was suitable for being photographed against a dark background. All other tasks were quickly cancelled.
With my IQ4 back on the Phase One, the size of the image exceeds the size of the fruit, so the image fits the definition of a macro. It quickly became clear that by adding small details, the message of the image could be influenced.
At first I thought of a first date for which someone would like to present a bouquet of flowers and scoured our garden for small blossoms. I found the smallest specimens with the light blue forget-me-nots right outside the front door.
Flowers in the studio remain living creatures that constantly reorient themselves in the changing light. The following picture is taken at ISO 800 in 30 seconds. The attempt to photograph at ISO 50 with 8 minutes failed due to the movement of a part of the forget-me-not.
Forget-me-not and strawberry © Julian Köpke To express creativity through a hand, the idea of a painter with brushes in his hand seemed suitable to me. The brushes had to be small, of course. Very small. Fortunately, I found two suitable ones in my wife’s make-up utensils. The metallic finish of the brush hairs created a reflection of the red strawberry in the handle of the brushes.
The painter's hand © Julian Köpke It takes a lot of luck to find a four-leaf clover. They are very popular as a sign of good luck. My wife is a master at finding them. So much luck makes the hand invisible.
Four-leaf clover and strawberry © Julian Köpke In any case, anyone who encounters a real dinosaur needs luck. But the dinosaur is much bigger than the sensor, so it’s no longer a macro shot.
T-Rex eyeballs strawberry © Julian Köpke For me, pareidolia is a source of inspiration or creativity when an image won’t let go of me and I keep searching for an answer or an understanding. With these sweet strawberries, there was a physical pleasure at the end.
Sweet hedgehog © Julian Köpke 
Tasty elephant © Julian Köpke -
Rialto bridge
The Rialto Bridge, as we know it today, is made of white stone and was built between 1588 and 1591 and opened to traffic on 20 March 1591. It connects the Sestiere San Marco with the Sestiere San Polo, which are separated by the Grand Canal.
The term „Rialto“ is probably the short form of Rivo Alto („high bank“) in Venetian dialect. There have been wooden bridges at this location since 960, with an uncertainty of 59 years. The earliest was called Ponte della Moneta, certainly a reference to the local market that has always existed and has survived to this day („moneta“ is Italian for „coin“).
Staircase Rialto bridge © Julian Köpke 
Rialto bridge before dawn © Julian Köpke The early wooden bridges were repeatedly burnt down or collapsed due to overloading and therefore required constant renovation. Beside, the Rialto Bridge was the only footpath connecting San Marco and San Polo until the Ponte dell’Accademia was built in 1854.
Night ends at Rialto bridge © Julian Köpke 
Ponte di Rialto with Acqua Alta © Julian Köpke In the early morning, when photographers are finishing their shots, a stream of pedestrians swells up, consisting of locals and first tourists. Somewhere, work is waiting for these Venetians you wouldn’t have expected.
At the Rialto Bridge on the way to work © Julian Köpke 
At the Rialto Bridge on the way to work © Julian Köpke See more images in my Flickr album.
