Embracing failure
And the art of distraction
Hello, I’m Gill and I write a photography blog inspired by the landscapes of Suffolk and beyond. Please subscribe to read more of my writing and visit my website to view my images.
It is nearing the end of a long, hot summers day as I trudge across the shingle beach towards the sea. It is June 10th and the sun is due to set at 9.13pm and the (almost) full strawberry moon is due to rise 3 minutes later. The sky is looking good with lots of high level cloud out to the west and although I have another hour and a half until sunset I am hopeful that I will get some colour.
I have come to my local beach with the idea of working with the shell line that crosses the shingle. 300 yards of bleached white whelk shells twist and turn over shingle ridges from the coastguard cottages to the sea. Created by two childhood friends who both received cancer diagnoses within a few months of each other, the line represents a journey back to recovery and the healing power of friendship.
Morphing and changing, as transient as the beach upon which it sits, the shell line is never the same from one year to the next. I love the story behind this evolving piece of beach art and often find my way here to photograph it.
On my last visit to the beach I noticed a beautiful star had appeared at the end of the line - a perfect foreground for a sunset and a moonrise.
So this was the reason I now found myself back here with my head full of imagined images.
I look around and contemplate my options. The beach is undulating but overwhelmingly flat. It is also vast with few features, but I think that is part of its charm. I place my camera on its tripod, spend a while finessing a composition and then sit back in the low evening sun to wait for the light. Overhead skylarks sing, joyful notes full of summer flood back down towards the beach. Behind me the waves rush up the steep shingle ridges clutching at stones, pulling them back towards the sea, tumbling, skittering and chattering as they go. It is good to be outside and I can’t think of anywhere else I would rather be.
Unfortunately for me on that evening the joy of being out was as good as it got. The high-level clouds that once looked so promising seemed to merge into one dense band on the horizon and the sunset colours I had envisaged never materialised. Meanwhile out to sea a bank of cloud quickly built on the horizon obscuring the rising moon.
I made one image, not because I felt inspired but because I felt I should and I returned home feeling a bit dejected. I’d had a lovely evening but I had come home with almost nothing. And maybe that didn’t really matter, but recently I have been feeling the pressure to create and I know that is not a good place to be.
The following morning I got up early and went for a walk. The sun had risen an hour earlier, the day was calm and bright and I felt the need for some nature therapy. I picked up my camera and my 100-400mm lens, and headed out of the door and down the path to the river.
I hadn’t gone all that far when I stumbled on a field of wild flowers. I knew it was there, but I hadn’t seen it for a few weeks and wasn’t prepared for the combination of colours and blooms that greeted me. All of a sudden I felt inspired and reached for my camera to make some images.
I often find photography goes like that. Imagined images never seem to work for me and if things don’t go to plan it is hard to seek alternatives. However when I stumble across something without any forethought I find I am more inspired, maybe because I don’t have any preconceived ideas that I need to live up to.
I consider myself to be a landscape photographer, but that doesn’t mean I can’t focus on other things when they present themselves. Flowers inspire me and I love working with them. There is a joy in capturing their beauty and a different approach to photographing them. It is this challenge that I love.
I often feel I can be more creative with smaller scenes and I love experimenting with low viewpoints and getting right in amongst all the foliage especially when shooting with a longer lens.
I find this kind of photography very mindful. It is something that is completely absorbing and I don’t have the time or inclination to think about anything else. There are also some surprising moments that can never be planned and are just the product of quick reactions.
I returned home from my walk with hundreds of images on my memory card. Many were just experiments but some I really liked and after the disappointment of the previous evening that was a real bonus.
Sometimes when things don’t go to plan it is easy to doubt myself, to doubt my abilities and sometimes even my career choice. But in reality I know we all have photography sessions that don’t go to plan and actually these are just part of the journey. I think we need the frustrations to give us some perspective, just as much as we need the distractions to help us grow.
If you would like to join me for a flower workshop I am running a session at the renowned Beth Chatto’s Garden in Essex on 3rd September.
I am sure everyone has had their share of frustrations where photo shoots don’t go to plan so if you would like to share your stories then please feel free to comment below. Similarly it would be great to hear about your photographic distractions and where they have led you.
Thank you very much for reading and until next time enjoy your photography.
Gill
There’s much to relate to here on the frustrations of that low band of cloud on the horizon. However, despite how often as it happens, that one time it doesn’t is well worth the perseverance and the reward. In fact, I always think that if it was easy, it wouldn’t be as rewarding.
Beautiful images and very relatable storyline!