southern colours

In September we get to go to Helford Passage, at the invitation of a generous friend, and that gives me a chance to visit some of the Lizard's coastline. The geology of this southern most peninsula of the UK is complex and distinctive: the tip of the Lizard is not really part of the UK geology at all, much of it having formed on another plate, deep within the earth's crust. I have a geological map that helps the understanding a bit but as it is not thoroughly understood by the experts even, what chance have I?

In the number of times I have explored the Lizard coasts I have come to appreciate the singular extent of colour, shape and bedding of these series of rocks. They never fail to surprise me. This time I visited Kennack again, where late holiday makers were still sunning themselves on the fine sands there, but not so at the eastern end, beyond Caerverracks, which I had almost to myself. Last time I came this way it was raining and the colours were very bright in an otherwise grey seascape . . .

A second excursion took us to Porthleven and I was delighted to be able to shuffle along to Parc-en-Als, ignoring notices above the sea defences in the town about cliff falls to get down on my knees to enjoy the beauty of these most singular ancient and metamorphosed slates. On the way to this favourite place I also admired the exfoliating sandstones close in to Porthleven, on the beach there and according to the OS, called Little Trigg Rocks.

If you would like to see some of the pictures I made in these three places you can click on the links below. I think they will need further sorting and perhaps integrating into the other albums made of Kennack and Parc-en-Als . . . but for now they are compiled by date made.

flickr album southern colours: kennack

flickr album southern colours: little trigg rocks

flickr album southern colours: pard-en-als III

I regret that I can't illustrate this blog more appropriately: upload speeds are so deplorable here in rural north devon these days . . .  that's BT Broadband for you . . .

small landscapes

One of the things I have confirmed to myself since embarking on my picture-making on the shoreline is that large landscapes are made up of numerous smaller ones, and they in turn are made up of even smaller landscapes . . . and so-on. . . to where a microscope intervenes between camera and viewer. I like these minature places as they often have quite close resemblances to the landscapes that contain them. I find it interesting to bring out aspects of ambiguity in the images I make, so that scale may be uncertain, sky may be sea, rock may be water, time short (before the tide returns) and long (so slow is the pace of erosion).

After I have recorded a small landscape I often experiment to place the image in a supporting frame,  both to contain and lift the image from where it was found: I do this here, back on the computer.

I am still learning about this process and endeavouring to find strategies to secure or extend particular planes, shapes and forms, without significently altering them from what I first saw. But what is more subjective about this framing perhaps is how it is going to work contained within an actual picture frame of wood and glass.

The way the lens actually limits what can be secured by the camera often results in a new emphasis. Before the viewfinder or screen frames the small landscape the camera makes,  that image remains situated within all the other overlapping and superimposed landscapes of which it is just one small part, and amongst which it can be so easily overlooked.

Framing, both digital and for hanging, should contribute to the making of a picture. I am a bit late in the discovery of this, perhaps. So at the time of writing this I am setting about framing a number of the images shown in the flickr album linked below; Pool Calm has already received the picture framing treatment, very successfully I think  (sorry— I can't show the result here) which has set me on this track . . .

flickr album: small compositions