The most interesting line in Steve Mandel’s Antarctic photographs is the one that will not stay still. It bends across the middle of the image, separating a pale sky and exposed ice from the blue world underneath. Suddenly an iceberg is more than a shape on the horizon.
Mandel’s split-view photographs show what lies above and below the water surface in the same frame. His photography portfolio is the primary destination for his work. The pictures here revisit the original Antarctic gallery, including photographs of the equipment used to make it.
A different viewpoint needed a different rig
In the interview accompanying the original gallery, and in PetaPixel’s report with comments from Mandel, the photographer described a Canon 5D Mark III in an underwater housing, mounted on a long pole and controlled remotely from a boat. He used an iPad for a view of the scene and prepared the setup before travelling. The account also described a limited opportunity for these pictures during a longer Antarctic trip.
The working images help explain the result. The camera could meet the surface without the photographer having to hold their face at the waterline. Position and timing still mattered: a small wave could change the dividing line, hide part of the scene or introduce droplets in front of the lens.
Above water is only part of the composition
Compare the iceberg’s outline above the surface with the shape visible below. They belong together, but they do not make a simple mirror image. Perspective, moving water and the limits of the frame affect what can be seen. These photographs reveal a submerged portion; they do not measure the full depth or volume of each iceberg.
The word matters, too: an iceberg is a floating body of ice that has broken away from a glacier or ice shelf. Calling every floating shape a “glacier” loses the distinction between the ice still connected to land and the piece now moving in water.
The waterline gives the pictures their energy
In some frames the surface is a thin curve. In others it becomes a broad, textured band. The grey sky makes the underwater colour feel even richer, while the split view gives the eye two places to explore without turning them into separate pictures.
A useful viewing exercise is to imagine cropping away either half. The remaining photograph might still be attractive, but the relationship disappears. That is the idea the series makes visible: the boundary is as interesting as the objects on either side.
For another way to read blue and white forms, explore David Burdeny’s iceberg photograph and Ferryland iceberg story. Different viewpoints can change the story dramatically without changing the ice itself.
The camera rig solved a viewpoint problem
Mandel’s account describes a camera in underwater housing attached to a long pole, with remote operation from an iPad Mini. The important idea is the separation between where the photographer could remain and where the lens needed to be. The equipment made a viewpoint near the waterline possible without requiring him to occupy that exact position himself.
His reported two-hour opportunity during a much longer trip also changes how the gallery should be understood. These images were selected from a narrow interval when the conditions worked, not evidence that the water around an Antarctic iceberg is always calm and transparent. Preparation and waiting are part of the photographs even though they remain outside the finished frame.
The line dividing the two parts of an image is a moving water surface, not a fixed architectural boundary. Above it, the eye recognises sky and exposed ice; below, the submerged shape extends the subject into a less familiar space. That is the series’ particular contribution: it encourages viewers to think of an iceberg as a volume in water, rather than only the bright profile visible from a passing vessel.
Preparation happened before the Antarctic journey
Before Antarctica, Mandel practised with the setup in Monterey Bay. That sequence makes the technical story more interesting: first an unusual viewpoint, then a way to position and operate the equipment, and finally a limited opportunity during the trip. The pole, supports and remote control each helped solve part of the problem. Look at the finished waterline with that preparation in mind. Its apparently effortless division of two worlds depended on work done well before the iceberg entered the frame. The waterline divides the composition without separating the two subjects entirely; the same ice body connects the visible worlds above and below it.
Sources, photography and further reading
Original feature and image attributions:
- Steve Mandel
- My Modern Met.
- These 9 Before And After Photos Of Melting Glaciers Tell A Shocking Story
- Collapse Video Of A Glacier The Size Of A City | You’re Going To Find This Hard To Believe!
- We Went Camping On Alpine Glaciers To Capture The Beauty Of The Starry Skiesd
- Giant Iceberg Splits From Argentina's Uppsala Glacier Then Flips Over In The Water With A Roar.
- Steve Mandel
- PetaPixel’s report with comments from Mandel
- David Burdeny’s iceberg photograph
- Ferryland iceberg story
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