PetaPixel recently published an article entitled Why Do My Photos of Famous Places Look Bad? by Jeremy Gray. It’s basically a rehashing of an article by The Guardian entitled Why do photographs of beautiful scenery never do it justice? I don’t want to go into the details of those articles; instead, I’m going to simply answer the question.

Interestingly, photographer Chuck Abbott addressed this very question in the September 1955 issue of Arizona Highways magazine, in an article called You’ve Got to Go Back to Get the Good Ones. For those unaware, Arizona Highways has a long history of great photography. It was the first nationally circulated magazine to have an all-color issue (way back in December of 1946). Ansel Adams was a regular contributor, as was Barry Goldwater. Chuck Abbott and his wife Esther Henderson were both long-time contributors. To this day, Arizona Highways is a great place to discover excellent photography, and I often find inspiration within its pages.

“‘Oh, Mr. Abbott,'” Chuck wrote in 1955, explaining a question that he had been asked often, “‘how do you get such good pictures? I was there and mine didn’t turn out at all well.'” He was asked the same question that The Guardian and PetaPixel put forward; however, Chuck’s answer was different than theirs. While there are a thousand ways that the question could be answered, I believe that the most profound was stated back in 1955 by Chuck Abbott.

“My answer is invariably the same,” Chuck said. “You’ll have to go back and try another day, another light, another season.” He continued, “Meanwhile, I am mentally recalling that ‘good’ picture; was it really good, couldn’t it have been better, and shouldn’t I go back again and do it over?”

“For that’s the trouble with this picture business,” Chuck added, “there is so little satisfaction in it! You are always beset with the haunting thought that every picture could be improved, if not by you, then by someone, sometime; so you end up traveling in a circle, periodically returning to do a better, or at least a different, interpretation of the subject. Perfection, of course, is the goal.”

He goes on in the article to provide some practical advice, which applies much more to photographers of a bygone era than today. For example, there’s no need to rely on friends in a certain region to obtain a weather report. You also don’t need to worry about burning through film, unless, of course, you’re shooting with film instead of digital. But a little while later Chuck states, “Providence, equipment, legwork and viewpoint; to me these are the four indispensables in picture-making. You may get fair results with lesser combinations but you can’t click completely without all four.”

And that’s the answer: you need a bit of luck, quality camera gear (which most equipment nowadays is), do some research before heading out, and find good compositions; when that fails or even when it succeeds, do it again another day, in a different light, during a different season. Then your photos of famous places will look good. That’s the advice Chuck Abbott gave, and I think it is just as true today as the day it was published in Arizona Highways.

In the comments section of the PetaPixel article, someone stated, “Those fantastic examples didn’t come straight out of camera looking like that. It takes work and skill to coax what our eyes see at a scenic place from what the camera saw at the same place.” While the sample pictures in the article were indeed most likely edited, I disagree that RAW editing is any sort of prerequisite to great photographs. In fact, all of my pictures in this article are unedited camera-made JPEGs using my Film Simulation Recipes. So it is, in fact, completely possible to have pictures “come straight out of camera looking like that.” You can make the camera “see” what our eyes (or our mind’s eyes) see at a scenic place (or any place) if you want to, and Fujifilm cameras plus my Recipes make it easy. The hard part is up to you: returning to places you’ve already been to capture a better, or at least different, interpretation of the subject.