Before the pandemic hit, Charles Brooks captured dramatic scenery and astrophotography while touring the world as an awarded cellist. When the world shut down, Brooks opened up a completely new one when he started experimenting with probe lenses and old instruments.

Please take us back to the first time you picked up a camera in the mid-90s. Do you remember the first things you photographed?

”When I was 15 my school offered a three-day course on photography with celebrated New Zealand photographer Kevin Capon, it was a choice between that or an advanced math course. My mum found an old Minolta and I was quickly hooked. We covered an astonishing amount of material in those few short days, from basic camera settings, and flash photography, to film development and darkroom prints! I was immediately drawn to photograph my cello (I was already studying cello at University alongside regular subjects at school). I remember taking a multiple-exposure shot of my cello in a dark room: ghost-cello images on a series of chairs. Unfortunately that negative is long lost... A few days after my course the art teacher in my high school resigned. They bought in someone new but forgot to check whether he knew anything about photography. He quickly took me on as his assistant, having me teach the technical aspects to the class while he focused on aesthetics. So I found myself teaching my own photography class after just a few days of experience with a camera. I was ’paid’ in darkroom paper and it became a life-long love affair.”

LOCKEY HILL CELLO CIRCA 1780

How did you first come up with the idea of shooting the inside of instruments? Were you already aware of photo stacking and the Helicon Focus software at that point?

”As a concert cellist, you become intimately familiar with the outside of the instrument, as it’s in your hands for hours every day. But you only ever see the inside when it's undergoing serious adjustments or repairs. In my 20-year music career, I only saw inside my cello twice. What was really going on in there remained a bit of a mystery. I'd been working with the Sao Paulo Symphony in Brazil where I'd progressed from photographing landscapes and cityscapes to photographing the musicians I was working with, mostly for security reasons as carrying a camera around the streets of Sao Paulo can be extremely dangerous.

”When I moved from Brazil back to New Zealand we were suddenly hit with Covid Lockdowns. My musician clients were either trapped in Europe or unemployed! So I turned my camera to the objects around me. At the same time, new lenses were on the market, namely the Laowa 24mm probe lens. I was trying to think of creative ways to use this unusual glass and ’probing’ instruments seemed logical. In my first attempts, it quickly became clear that depth of field would be a big problem. The lens itself is very dark (f/14-40), compounded by the limited light inside the instruments. You end up with an in-focus area of just a few millimetres per frame. I had played with focus stacking in some of my landscape and astrophotography, but it was clear that Photoshop wasn't up to the task of merging the hundreds of frames necessary for a clear shot. So I turned to Helicon Focus after scouring through macro-photography forums looking for the best solution. It's truly remarkable software.”

“Their strong geometric forms and unusual curved surfaces naturally feel like something extra-terrestrial, simply because no similar space exists.”

FINE WOODEN FLUTE

Some of the instruments’ inside almost look extraterrestrial. Do you think that your interest in astrophotography (or perhaps sci-fi and popular culture’s depiction of space) has affected the way you depict them?

”I think this goes both ways. Many famous sci-fi set designers have been influenced by everyday objects. Some of the Star Wars ships were famously based on throwing darts and outboard motors. When I’m photographing these spaces I have a goal to make them seem as large as possible, as if you were walking through them. Their strong geometric forms and unusual curved surfaces naturally feel like something extra-terrestrial, simply because no similar space exists. This is especially strong when you combine their apparent scale with the exotic ebony, gold or brass materials. I'm particularly fond of the Australian Didgeridoo photo for this effect, as its own folk history also ties into space: Aboriginal lore says that the first Didgeridoo was discovered when a group of hunters came across a log hollowed out by the white termites. A hunter pointed the log to the sky and blew through it to remove the termites, and incredible music was produced. The termites themselves flew into the sky and became the stars. In the photo, we can see the strange organic forms of the hollow that the termites created, which gives it something of an HR Giger feel. Red ochre from the wax around the mouthpiece and a bright white light shining through the far end create a photograph that might be mistaken for a Nebula at first glance.

”Astrophotography techniques also find their way into these images. The use of dark frames to eliminate noise, dithering to increase resolution, and dealing with hundreds to thousands of frames for a single shot, all come from my experiences in astrophotography.”

“I feel that many of the photos would make great entranceways into grand theatres. I imagine the action of a Fazioli Grand Piano as the walkway towards a stunning modern concert hall”

TAYLOR GS MINI GUITAR

Some of your ’Architecture in Music’ photography also look like concert halls, recording studios, or old Scandinavian wooden churches. Out of all the instruments you’ve captured, which one would you like to perform a concert in?

”As a musician, this is a tough question. Whilst I’d love to play my cello inside a giant cello, I feel that the acoustics would be too vibrant, with all the hard flat surfaces. Most concert halls are designed to push the sound away from the player towards the audience, whereas the instruments are made to amplify the sound as much as possible. However, I feel that many of the photos would make great entranceways into grand theatres. I imagine the action of a Fazioli Grand Piano as the walkway towards a stunning modern concert hall or the CG Conn Saxophone as a green and gold metro station delivering you to a stunning art-nouveau theatre.”

You’ve said that The ’Architecture in Music’ series is an ongoing project. Is there an instrument that you haven’t photographed yet that is on top of your list?

”I’d love to do a series on the inside of the remaining Stradivarius instruments. Some of them have extraordinary histories that would be visible in the shots: The Stradivarius Duport cello has repair marks where Napoleon once sunk his boot spurs into the edge of the instrument, another once fell off a wagon in the entourage of Catherine the Great and was found being gnawed on by wolves (attracted by the leather of the case).

”There are eastern instruments such as Ouds with their intricately carved sound holes that would project exquisite patterns of light through the instruments. Many of these can't be accessed with commercially available probe lenses, so I’m teaming up with Medical Imaging specialists to see if we can adapt Laparoscopes and Endoscopes for this purpose. There's also an issue with heat from the tremendous amount of light needed to photograph these spaces, this can damage the varnish, so I'm looking into medical-based solutions for that also.”

THE EXQUISITE ARCHITECTURE OF STEINWAY, PART 1

And outside of instruments and music, are there any other objects that you want to photograph?

”If you can imagine yourself being shrunk down into any space and strolling through it, then I want to photograph it. I’m attracted to complexity, the fine gears of a watch, the inner workings of a high-performance engine, or the incredible complexity of early computers such as the Babbage engine.”