Should a Figure Be Part of the Photograph?

There is a question I return to regularly when I am working on a landscape.

Should the photograph contain a person?

The answer is not as straightforward as it might seem. A figure can give a landscape scale, direction and emotional tension. It can suggest a story without explaining it. But a figure can also become too dominant. It can tell the viewer how to interpret the image, leaving little room for uncertainty or imagination.

The photograph that prompted this article is called Contemplation.

I was photographing a shoreline when a person wandered into the scene. They did not appear to be posing, and they were not part of any arrangement I had planned. They simply arrived and stood very still for quite a long time.

At first, I considered waiting until they had left. The landscape had been quiet before they appeared, and I was unsure whether their presence would disturb the balance of the image.

But as I watched, something changed. The person no longer felt like an interruption. Their stillness began to echo the stillness of the water and the atmosphere around them. They became part of the rhythm of the photograph.

I decided to make the exposure.

The figure as a point of scale

One of the simplest reasons to include a figure is to show the scale of a landscape.

Without a person, it can sometimes be difficult to understand how large a space really is. A distant human form can tell us something about the size of the shoreline, the height of the cliffs or the emptiness of the surrounding land.

But scale is not only a practical matter. It also creates an emotional relationship between the viewer and the place.

A small figure within a large landscape can suggest vulnerability, solitude or humility. The land appears to continue beyond the edges of the photograph, while the person seems temporary and fragile.

This is one reason I am drawn to solitary figures. I am not interested in depicting a character with a clear personality. I am more interested in presence, scale and the feeling of one person existing quietly within something much larger.

The figure as narrative

The moment a person appears in a photograph, the viewer may begin to construct a narrative.

Who are they? Why are they there? Are they waiting for someone? Have they just arrived, or are they preparing to leave? What happened before the photograph was made, and what will happen afterwards?

This can make an image more open and engaging. The viewer brings their own experience to the photograph and begins to imagine what cannot be seen.

However, narrative can also become a distraction.

If the figure is too recognisable, or if their gesture is too expressive, the photograph may become a scene about that person. The landscape becomes a backdrop, rather than the subject itself.

For this reason, I often prefer figures who are distant, turned away or partly absorbed into the atmosphere. They remain present, but they do not explain themselves.

The argument for an empty landscape

There is also a strong case for leaving the figure out.

An empty landscape can offer a different kind of freedom. Without a person to follow, the viewer may move through the image more slowly. Attention can settle on the light, the water, the horizon or the silence between objects.

An empty place does not necessarily feel empty emotionally. It can suggest memory, absence, waiting or the possibility that someone has just left.

Sometimes a landscape becomes more human when there is no human being visible within it.

This is particularly true when the photograph is concerned with solitude. A person may express solitude directly, but their absence may express it more subtly. The viewer is left to feel the space rather than interpret a figure within it.

The danger of adding a figure deliberately

There is a temptation, especially in contemporary landscape photography, to include a person because the image seems to need a story.

But a figure should not be added simply to make a photograph more interesting. If the person has no relationship with the atmosphere, light or structure of the image, they may feel decorative.

The strongest figures are not ornaments. They belong to the visual and emotional logic of the photograph.

This does not mean that the inclusion must be planned. In my case, the person in Contemplation was unexpected. What mattered was that I recognised the relationship developing between their stillness and the surrounding landscape.

The figure was not there to provide an explanation. They became another quiet element within the composition.

What should the viewer be told?

The title Contemplation suggests that the person is thinking or reflecting. But I do not know whether they were. That is part of the photograph’s uncertainty.

A title can guide the viewer, but it should not close the image down completely.

I could have called the photograph A Person on the Shoreline, which would have been accurate but emotionally neutral. I could have given the figure a more specific story, but that would have imposed something I did not know.

Contemplation sits somewhere between observation and suggestion. It offers a possibility without claiming to reveal the truth.

That is perhaps what I value most about the presence of a figure. They can introduce a human question without providing a human answer.

The final decision

There is no rule that a figure should always be included or always left out.

The decision depends on what the photograph is trying to hold.

If the image needs scale, a figure may be essential. If it needs a sense of solitude, the figure may intensify that feeling. If the image is concerned with pure atmosphere, the human presence may interfere with its quietness.

The important thing is not whether the figure creates a narrative. It is whether the narrative remains open.

When the person wandered into my scene, I initially saw them as an interruption. After waiting and watching, I began to see them as part of the composition.

They did not give the photograph a complete story.

They gave it a question.