The quiet calm
I’ve been in a contemplative mood recently. Searching inside myself for what I see and what I feel in my photography. More so in my landscape photography than anything, as this is where I can really take my time and make images purely for myself, which is my catalyst for everything else that I create. And this contemplation is rendering itself in the subdued images that I am creating. Nothing showy or fancy, just the quiet calm of internal space.
Part of this quiet calm comes from the camera I started using about two years ago, but which I feel I am only just accepting. Having to allow the craft of photography to be as much a part of the process as the artistic vision. Forcing you to slow down your thoughts and your actions, and to find yourself wholly embraced by the image on the ground glass.
When I was on the Isle of Harris recently with my large format camera, it wasn’t the golden sandy beaches or the fortuitous sunshine bouncing off the turquose sea which is so typical of these Hebridean islands that called out to me. Instead, it was the bleak and barren side of the island that I felt drawn to. The rocky moonscape where growth only occurs with a struggle. Where the desolation is all encompassing. Where nothing is easy and hardship is a way of life.
But dotted around this bleakness were signs of hope. Nature was winning against the elements and the small but tangible beauty was thrusting its head above the nothing. Small lochs filled with waterlilies about to burst into flower were around almost every turn. Hope in the bleakness, and beauty winning against the struggle.
Photograph of me and my large format camera (elsewhere on the Isle of Harris) by my good friend Lesley Chalmers. Thank you for listening without judgement and encouraging me to find the artist within.
29 June 2012