photography

North from Porthgain

in

After what seems like a few weeks of wall to wall sunshine, the weather broke with typically British contrast to bring high winds and rain over the bank holiday and into this week. In all the sunshine I’ve barely touched the camera and was beginning to feel a bit lacking in motivation to go out and take a photograph. Sunny weather is for riding bikes. Dramatic weather is not for riding bikes but is for taking photos. Today, I thought it worth the effort to head off to Porthgain. I was intending to shoot a landscape that included the usual coastal spring flowers which are in bloom but I found none on my short walk which became a race to find a nice view before the sun set. In the end I’d virtually given up on a shot as I couldn’t find any flowers and the cloud wasn’t behaving for a shot of the harbour markers which looked good against an incoming storm. A large and annoyingly square patch of bare sky ruined any composition I tried so I decided to look North instead. I managed to take a few frames here before the storm made landfall. Soon after this shot it enveloped the Strumble peninsula and a minute or so after that it arrived with me, hail battering my legs as I trotted back to the car. British weather reminding me that just because it’s May I shouldn’t rule out a good old hailstorm!

Technicals: This is a two shot panorama. I’d decided to take my 24-70 lens but the 24mm composition was a little too tight so I stitched two shots together in Lightroom to get a little extra width on the left of the frame to better show the approaching weather. I was shooting in aperture priority so one of the shots is eight seconds and one is five seconds (f8 ISO100). I should have shot in manual mode to make sure the exposure was even but in the end it didn’t matter and the three second difference in exposure isn’t really noticeable in the textures of the water.

The other version of this story is about inspiration and where it comes from. I was faffing around in the early stages of the evening wondering if I should go out at all. The weather wasn't inviting and I didn't feel like I wanted to drive anywhere if it was going to be a waste of time. In the end, as often happens, music helped get me out of the door. I'd been watching an episode of Classic Albums the night before about the Tears for Fears album Songs From the Big Chair and had already played Head Over Heels a good few times before a Youtube rabbit hole featuring Ian Brown's F.E.A.R and Stardust, Prince absolutely shredding the guitar solo on a live version of While My Guitar Gently Weeps, Massive Attack's Better Things and Home Again by Michael Kiwanuka. The combo was enough to spur me into action and off I went. I got to Porthgain playing the album So by Peter Gabriel at which point I lost phone signal meaning I could only play Don't Give Up on repeat. There's so much to enjoy in that song which has some loose relevance to Porthgain being about the decline of industry (although we can't blame Porthgain's industrial demise on Thatcher). I think it's got to be one of the best duets out there and when that gospel style piano kicks in before Peter Gabriel's penultimate verse, I'm lifted. The bass solo on the tracks outro is beautiful too so with no signal still, it goes on again... and again and again.

Being lost in musical reverie is a great mindset to take photos with. It inspires me to be reckless or meditative, to try and capture the epic or the mundane or sometimes to put the camera back in the bag and shoot nothing at all but enjoy a moment for the soul. When I got home editing was done to Neil Young live at the BBC in 1971 followed by Bill Withers live in '73 by which point it was late and time for bed. So it's thanks to Peter Gabriel, and other music makers and creatives that help me and many others produce our own work by providing inspiration through theirs. I feel that pictures, words, music and art of all kinds are all connected in some intangible way and combining them can be a special alchemy.

A day out in the Preseli Hills

in

The Preseli Hills under blue skies and with a thin coat of snow. We meandered Eastwards between the crags and outcrops that are scattered along the ridge and finished up at Foel Drygarn; an ancient hillfort and the largest in Pembrokeshire, before turning back for home. Carn Goedog was at one point thought to be the most likely source for the Bluestones that were used in the construction of Stonehenge but reading around online it seems that there is still plenty of doubt and opposing opinion on the subject. I expect it’s a debate that will continue for some time. Whatever the truth, the stones have a sculptural quality to them that was no doubt as appealing to ancient civilizations as they are to the wandering photographer in 2021. It seems there isn’t much evidence of any quarrying works which suggests that glacial forces are the most likely explanation for their appearance on the Salisbury Plain. The hills would once have been forested but have been used by humans for millenia and along with the signs of settlement, there are also the lines of ancient drovers routes that can still be seen crossing the terrain. Livestock would have been moved from Pembrokeshire farms to markets further East and many hooves have left scars on the landscape that are still visible now.

The Preseli Hills feel like a miniature version of the larger landscapes of the Brecon Beacons or the Moors of South West England. It’s possible to stroll around the hills in a day and see most of what they have to offer but, like the Cleddau Estuary I wrote about in my last post, the hills are a less explored gem of Pembrokeshire.

I processed these to give a slightly otherworldly feeling as that seemed to suit the collection. Let me know if you think it works/doesn’t work.

Three different moods at Druidston - Workshop

in

On Saturday I went down to Druidston as the main venue for a one to one workshop with a client keen to improve his photography and increase his understanding of technique and composition. We spent a good few hours at the beach; arriving at high tide and shooting further areas as the tide receded and more beach became exposed. We shot a number of different angles and worked on understanding how placement of elements in a frame can make for stronger compositions and more pleasing results. Looking through the few frames that I shot during the afternoon it’s easy to see how different light, technique, composition and processing can lead to a set of images that offers varying mood despite them all being created at the same place within a short space of time. Below are three images, the first is a fairly classic view taking advantage of the low winter sun and dramatic clouds, the second; a longer exposure looking out to sea with a simple composition and the third, a somewhat more extremely processed image in black and white, giving another interpretation of the scene. Which do you prefer?

If you’d like to join me for a workshop either for a small group or on a one to one basis, please get in touch via my contact form for more info.

Llangwm, mid November

in

I often make my way down to the estuary at this time of year. It's a little more sheltered when being on the coast is to experience the sea in its wildest state and it can be exhausting to spend time there; hunkering against sea spray and crashing noise. Standing in the mud on the estuary banks the water is flat and moves slowly. The tide gurgles in gently and not much punctuates the stillness except for the flitting of birds in the gathering gloom. The sucking mud dictates the pace of travel and everything feels slowed to its will. The boats here languish, drained of any memory of tack and jibe. Seeing me taking pictures, a woman emerges from her patio door to tell me she was born in the house and after a time away, has returned. She tells me how the moon had risen behind the woodland on the far bank and how she sees bass and mullet in the shallows sometimes. Her son still fishes the river but his easiest catch was a salmon trapped in a pool above the stepping stones. She tells me she is 93. We say goodbye as a chill breeze reminds us of the cold and the dark. Later, I'm introduced to Poem in October by Dylan Thomas and see some of these moments all over again. Dylan Thomas’ for me is the best voice to describe West Wales. Much of his writing was done in Laugharne, the next big river mouth East of here, and many of the images that he conjures with his words are familiar to anyone who wanders these places.

Midnight in the Ogwen Valley

in

A look at the forecast for the Bank Holiday weekend suggested it would be a good time to head up North to Snowdonia so I did just that and the conditions didn't disappoint. Wall to wall sunshine and warmth by day giving way to clear moonless nights. Trying to combine hobbies doesn't always work out too well. I went walking and scrambling with friends during the day and in such circumstances I rarely get in the zone or position to take photos. I managed some phone snaps in the blazing sunshine but by the time the light began to turn golden, we'd headed down to get a well deserved ice cream and collect our medals. No complaints from me. But as I've discussed here before, going to take photos requires solitude which is usually for the best as it can be a maddening process getting a good shot; Many minutes pass by experimenting with different angles or walking back and forth and around and about trying to get a composition just right, often followed by curses before walking off then returning to the same spot because a more attractive cloud has drifted into the scene when my back was turned. It's not that enjoyable for someone who expects a walk in the style of a normal person especially as more often than not, the results don't please and never see the light of day. This is the only picture worth sharing here after a few days spent in Snowdonia.

At night I said my goodbyes and found my solitude in the Ogwen valley. Stood opposite the grand peak of Pen yr Ole Wen, waiting until nearly midnight before the last of the days light had faded away and let all those stars shine in the deep blue darkness. Adding to the magic of that night, as the last cars headed home down the valley, the aurora lent purple to the palette and a green smudge across the horizon above Bethesda and Bangor.

This shot is taken only a hundred metres or so away from where my last Snowdonia picture was taken in my post from 12th February. Promise next time I'll go somewhere else!

Panning for gold

in

Soundtrack: Kurt Vile - Goldtone

Sometimes (often) I get a bit lost for inspiration; I stand in the kitchen and munch on cashews or glug a cup of tea mulling over where to go and no place appeals. I slowly get my stuff together and sit in the car growing frustrated at my indecision, feeling like I've exhausted all local options, feeling like I can't face the process of finding a spot and creating an image. The light will be bad, the wind will be too fierce, the tide will be wrong.

The light is threatening to disappear.

When the situation starts to become ridiculous I start the car and drive. Left or right is the first decision and the next junction comes before I've reached a conclusion. I start to get a little despairing and often it turns out to be the best recipe for a decent shot. A 'f*ck it' attitude is often useful creatively. Head to the coast, park the car, grab the camera, leave the tripod in the car, watch the sun go and the last light turn to a thin band on the horizon. Golden Hour turns to Blue Hour; waves race out of the gloom. Start shooting.

Panning the camera from one side to the other gives this effect. Waves, clouds and horizon are rendered in silken tones and a sense of the atmosphere of standing beside the water in the gathering gloom is conveyed. Don't you think?

I often listen to music to help find inspiration. The above tune seemed to go well. Thanks to Kurt Vile.