I was reading Michael Freeman’s The Photographer’s Mind last night when I came across his section on what he calls sublime imagery. Now sublime is a word that I’d never given a lot of thought to; I don’t think I’ve ever had cause to look it up, and having sung Crown Him with Many Crowns any number of times in my chorister days the phrase “ineffably sublime” was taken to mean some form of superlative and I left my pursuit of a definition there. The word actually means awe-inspiring.
Freeman talks about it in terms of photographing intensely dramatic scenes dominated by some force of nature; volcanoes, mist covered mountains, oppressive skies. The best mist I ever encountered was on the crater of Ngorongoro, in the days before I was skilled enough to properly capture its majesty – that would have been misty mountainous volcano!
Walking at Seaburn I’m reminded of Basil Fawlty‘s rant at the customer who wants a better view from her Torquay bedroom.
Well, might I ask what you expected to see out of a Torquay hotel bedroom window? Sydney Opera House, perhaps? The hanging gardens of Babylon? Herds of wildebeest sweeping majestically…
Similarly nothing dramatic to be seen here, so I’m reliant upon some clouds to underexpose by a stop or two, and the application of some curves in post processing.
The one soul who came my way whilst at the water line declined my request, which was a shame as her blue eyes and tanned complexion worked well in the fading light. Not to worry though for as I left the beach I spotted Jo at a bus stop. Seems I was shooting in the wrong direction all along.