Can you have too much of a good thing? In the case of water, the answer is yes. After two days of torrential rain courtesy of “Bronagh” I was curious to see how the river had been transformed. Banks and boughs were adorned with detritus and it was an easy guess how high the water had risen. Falling already, the volume is still too great, the speed of the river too fast to be photographically interesting. I doubt anything from this day will make the final edit, and it’s been easy to whittle down the images made.
#7 – 24 September 2018
Two days later and it’s a different world. The sun shines in an empty blue sky. The water is still higher than it has been for a long time but the music has returned: there is colour and sparkle to be enjoyed. This is light and life as I look for it in the water, and the images feed nicely into a new body of work that I’m incubating. You’ll have to wait for that ;-)
#8 – 26 September 2018
It’s already too late to revisit Monday’s sparkle: the levels have dropped again and the sun is playing hide and seek with cloud. Right now, it’s mostly hiding. I can find little in the water to engage my eye. I ponder on whether you should you allow your image making to be influenced by others? The last image I shared proved popular with its colour and bokeh-bouquet of sun; more so than the earlier darker images which, for me, held the stronger mood and had greater continuity. Do you take note of the popularity of images? Do you let other people’s preferences influence what you do? Where you go? You can’t always get what you want – the ‘popular’ image had been a workaround to that. It reminded me of the importance of looking in other places: look up, not just down, look around, and so I did, playing with the leaf light over my head.
The other question that occurs to me is “Should you try and force it?” Should you consciously steer the direction a project goes in based on your own personal tastes or the preferences that evolve from the early images? You like them, you naturally want (to do) more. To what extent do you control the evolution of a body of work? Do you just water the seed, let it grow and see what direction it pulls you in? How do you view yourself: are you the navigator, the oars(wo)man, or are you at the helm? Perhaps you’re just trailing in the wake?
Wakes remind me that I should examine the potential of the storm’s deposits while they remain, and it’s among the branches and leaves cast against the bank that I find an unexpected answer for this session. It isn’t the images that I’ve worked at, but comes from play without preconception of result. At present questions predominate, and the outcome is less clear. Is this a story in itself or just a chapter in the seasons?