Chasing clouds

I'm dying to update you on this weekend's trip to Fermanagh for the first stage of my Following Frances project.

But it's going to take a few days to write it all up and edit some photographs, so in the mean time, this was another grand day out last week.

A new lens (Canon EF 24-70mm f/4 L IS USM), sun peering as best as it could round massive clouds of hail, and a fast drive down the peninsula after work to shoot straight west.

Not a single drop of rain fell on me, and I got a very nice beef and mushroom in black bean sauce from the Good Fortune on the way home. A top class outing.

Change the lens

Sometimes you have to stop looking at things in too much detail and give some thought to the big picture. That is all.

Twenty minutes

Twenty minutes. Last night at Ballyhenry Bay, Strangford Lough.

It was totally heart-warming to see such glorious spring light, after a few hours of dodging rainstorms round the tip of the peninsula.

It only occurred to me as I started editing the shots that it would be interesting to show how the light on this particular view changed during the twenty minutes that I spent beside Ballyhenry Island. I wish I'd thought of it at the time and framed each shot exactly the same.

I'm shooting straight into the setting sun, so there are lots of burnt-out patches and flashes of lens flare, but the series makes me happy.

So does this fellow....

...who was perched on the edge of the deck until the final two shots.

November dusk: three gifts

I escaped as quickly as possible from the hectic city centre streets and drove past Comber to chill - which was very much the literal case - in more peaceful surroundings.

I was granted three November gifts. Out on the lough, in front of rolling pink clouds, a single swan fluttered down onto the reeds. Facing east, the colours were cool and dimming.

Facing west, hundreds of smaller birds congregated on the golden water, as the mountains behind reached up to darker streaks of cloud.

And within minutes, as I walked across the drumlins, the sun was blazing like garnets in its final bow behind the horizon.

Matthew Loney on Minerstown Beach

I've been working on a new little project starring Matthew Loney of Kilcloud (you can find out more about him here).

Minerstown Beach proved the perfect location last Sunday for a few shots of Matthew and the Mournes.

The project is a story of emigration, something that's been on my mind recently as I've been researching my own family history. The tale isn't completely in focus yet, but every time I work on it, new ideas come rushing into my head. And my very patient model J has been a good sport about getting into character on freezing cold beaches while I try to organise my inspirations into actual shots.

I've been shooting backwards. I already have my New World images, taken in Florida last October. This afternoon I was thinking of Matthew's farewell to Ireland, imagining what he would do and feel on the last days in a country which he knew he was leaving forever. 

The beach couldn't have looked better, with miraculous fingers of sunlight reaching out of the clouds over the mountains. It seemed the perfect setting for portentous decisions and leave-takings. I'd go there myself now if ever I were to leave this island for good.

Diary entry 76

On Thursday I set out to Ardglass with big plans to photograph some lovely details from the hustle and tangle of all the fishing boats in the harbour. I've done this a couple of times before and it's been very rewarding making something almost poetic from what could be regarded as a mundane commercial activity. It was a lovely, bright, cold day - ideal, I thought, for my purposes.

It turned out it was also ideal for going fishing. There were only two ships in the harbour.

So I went on further down the coast, first to the village of Killough. This is one of the prettiest places in the area, with a lovely sycamore-lined main street. It's easy to imagine what it would have been like in its busy nineteenth century days as a port for grain export.

Feeling a little as if I was in the Van Morrison song "Coney Island" (although if you check the lyrics carefully, his route seems somewhat odd...) I continued round the coast. And the beach at Minerstown provided me with enough lovely shots to compensate for the fishing boat disappointment. It was so cold that my frozen fingers had a lot of trouble changing lenses at one point, and the one that's my pride and joy came close to falling onto the rocks. But every time I was about to leave, shivering and whimpering, the sun would emerge at a new angle and present me with a different kind of beautiful.

On the way home I executed a dangerously sudden stop at Seaforde, with the notion of photographing the picturesque church. The sky was darkening by now, but I tried a few angles and was pleased enough to plan a return in kinder light.

Matthew Loney in his New World

A new World it is.

A Slate, my self, washed clean.

My Journy, under-taken dazed, near forgot.

A Blessing, that, with

Part the 1st

A haze of roiling Waves &

Constant Unstediness &

Griping pain &

Part the 2nd

A Misery

By Carriage &

By Cart &

By my own nummed Feet.

Yet here at new Smyrna

One foot in Sea and one on Shore

I feel Awake again.

I look East.

Kilcloud a tiny Speck

Imagined in the distance

Thru the power of my Wishes

& yet not.

Not.

For Sophia.

For Sophia’s Shell

Is cradled by the Sand there

Dandled by the sea Creatures.

Selkies ring her Knell.

Another Slate to wash.

I read my Book.

I keep my Secret.