On Thursday last week I decided to head down to the beach for a walk and debated whether to take my camera but as I’d seen some egrets on the beach recently I thought I’d grab the long lens and head down. I hadn’t realised the surf was pumping so ended up spending 15 minutes shooting the 2 guys out in the surf having a memorable sunset session. Offshore winds were blowing spray off the top of the waves and the light was perfect for a few minutes as the sun found a gap in the clouds and illuminated the scene for some lovely backlit scenes. A classic Autumnal session that’ll stay long in the memory.
Landscape
Seascapes Inspired by Robert Capa
in Landscape
Perambulating on a recent filthy Summers evening I wasn't expecting to take any pictures so left the house with my older camera and a 35mm lens (not a very versatile landscape setup imo) but then the light got good and there was some drama to shoot. The tide was coming in rapidly and with storm driven waves surging up the beach and limited by my choice of lens I had to outrun the waves to get a shot. Inspired somewhat by Robert Capa’s war photography (obviously my evening stroll was thankfully free of any combat induced terror) his maxim 'If your pictures aren't good enough, you're not close enough' seemed to apply here and I had to risk the horror of wet socks to get the composition I wanted. Shooting at a small aperture to allow a slower shutter speed to capture some of the drama of the waves without a tripod, I accepted camera shake as an inevitability. I'm not drawing a parallel with Capa's images shot on Omaha Beach during the D-Day landings but that's kind of what I had in mind as I took a soaking from a wave exploding against a rock behind me. An element of recklessness can be useful in any artistic endeavour and I suppose that by its nature and despite best efforts there is always a recklessness in war photography as a result of placing yourself in that setting in the first place. In other forms of photography including the usually sedate types like shooting landscapes; embracing abandon is a useful creative venture too but the life expectancy tends to be longer.
A little about Robert Capa. After humble beginnings in Budapest before spending formative years in Vienna, Prague and Berlin, which were important cultural cities at the time, Endre Freidmann relocated to Paris to escape the rise of Hitler. In Paris Freidmann adopted the pseudonym Robert Capa and went on to cover 5 major conflicts in his time before meeting his death by landmine in France's war in Vietnam in 1954 at the age of 40. His description of accompanying a US regiment during the D-Day landings and the 11 photographs that remained after fear, water and logistical challenges had conspired to destroy most of the images he made, are in combination perhaps the most concise insight into the horror of the day. His career first took off with coverage of the Spanish Civil War working alongside his lover and creative partner Gerda Taro who was killed near Madrid whilst on assignment in 1937. He later worked with Ernest Hemingway who was covering the war as a journalist before writing For Whom The Bell Tolls, a great read btw. He was influential in the lives of several great novelists as after WWII he travelled to the Soviet Union with John Steinbeck for his book A Russian Journal. He was a founder member and later president of the Magnum Photos agency. A fascinating life worth reading up on. As an avoider of war zones, consider these shots the best I can do in tribute.
One last thing for music fans who have read this far. Taro by Alt-J is about his death and ultimate reunion with Taro, his lover whose death he never really got over.
Carnedd Meibion Owen
If you’re a regular visitor, you’ll know that if I'm going to go up into the Preselis it's usually on a murky day to get some moody shots but I've got to say it's pretty nice in the blazing midday sun of a summers day. I was up that way last week so decided to pop along to Carnedd Meibion Owen (the Cairns of the Sons of Owen). Legend has it that before humans were around, Pembrokeshire was inhabited by a race of giants. Owen made a basic admin error (not uncommon amongst giants) and hadn't sorted out his will to decide where his inheritance should go. His three sons got quarrelsome about it and had an almighty rumble that involved hurling boulders at each other around the Preseli Hills. It got pretty serious and they all died of their wounds at a spot just above Ty Canol woods. Owen wasn't even dead at that point but it's said he died of a broken heart sometime later. The bodies of the brothers petrified into big piles of rocks and can be seen today. So if you haven't sorted out your will, please let Owen and this post be your inspiration.
There's a nice boulder up there that was dumped there by a glacier (or maybe a giant). It's known as the nodding dog by some. Do you know any better names for it?
Film - Blue Gold
Password to watch : Cleddau
I’ve been out with the drone recently working with artist Tim Williams on a film about the River Cleddau here in Pembrokeshire. As with lots of watercourses in the UK, the Cleddau faces various threats from farm waste, industrial effluent and sewage. The idea was to follow the river, and the plight of piece of common plastic waste as it made its way from a small tributary to the open sea beyond Milford Haven. Tim conducted a number of interviews with long time users and observers of the river to make a record of their thoughts and memories of the river and their feelings about its plight. The river is a favourite part of the county for me, and often overlooked by visitors and locals alike. A spotlight is now beginning to be shone on it as part of a wider movement of concern for our waterways.
Point St John - Between St Justinians and Whitesands Bay
in Landscape
It’s always nice to go back to favourite spots. This little section of cliff between St Justinians and Whitesands Bay caught my eye years ago and I took an all time favourite image there. I love the flakes of pink and purple rocks jutting out of the cliff edge and dotted with thrift at this time of year. I walked out there yesterday knowing that the grey sky wasn’t going to provide much interest but I was still pleased with the shot mainly because it was an excuse to spend a bit of time in this lovely place.
Aurora Borealis in Pembrokeshire
in Landscape
Friday May 10th felt like it had been a long time coming; I used to go out and take pictures a lot at night and on several occasions over the last decade or so I have ventured out especially because there was aurora forecast this far South. When I have been out on those nights I've had a nice time squinting at the sky but more often than not have come home with pictures showing a slight pink colouration and not much else. I went to Iceland a few years ago and came home with some amazing pictures of the Northern Lights in their natural habitat but never thought I'd see such a powerful display here in Pembs.
I headed to the North coast because I've always wanted to get some shots of aurora at the harbour here. I had a go a few months ago when cloud ruined the chance but seeing it was clear and even a nice temperature outside I had high hopes given the reports that contained exciting phrases such as 'huge sun spots', 'solar flares', 'coronal mass ejections' and a 'huge geomagnetic storm under way'. I arrived at twilight and it wasn't long before it was possible to see a pale band of light across the sky which although not that impressive to the naked eye, I knew would show up on the camera and was a good indication that there was some activity. As I jogged over to the other side of the harbour, the night had become darker and arriving out of breath at the top of the steps I could see more impressive pillars of light in the sky. The next hour or so was spent dashing from place to place, trying to enjoy the awesome display, trying to make pictures and cursing the fact I'd forgotten my headtorch, only brought one lens and the fact that my tripod has gone lame in one leg. When things (and I) started to calm down a bit I stood a while and watched the moon dropping towards the horizon whilst gentle bands of light undulated silently in the heavens above a hushed sea.
My gosh it was lovely. Truly one of the wonders of nature. I'm not sure how many reminders Gaia has to send us that the greatest things we see on this planet are not created by us but by the forces around us. I'm not so sure these days that knowledge is power or even sets us free as it feels like there is a lot to be gained by a regular humbling served up by nature that lets us feel our insignificance in this universe as our distant ancestors would have felt before we could explain it all. Would we not be better off feeling a little more fear of our ultimate powerlessness and mortality? The same greens and pinks we saw in the sky on Friday are to be found on the carapace of the tiniest beetles or in the plumage of the birds in our gardens whose interests we are doing such an awful job of protecting. Anything of beauty that humans create is always poor in comparison when we really stop and look at it and it's way past the time we stated treating the planet with the reverence it deserves.
These shots are pretty much in chronological order from twilight and the first flushes to around 1am and the last remnants of the more powerful bursts.
