The surge of beauty and tranquility emancipated from a sunset is far more powerful than anything you may find coming out of a plug socket.
7:45 AM. I’m slumbering like a wild hybernating bear when all of a sudden my subconscious ears hear the words “woah, look at that sunrise!” cascading up the stairs and into my room from below. My mother found it bewildering, so there’s a strong chance that I would too.
Inspired by her words, I sprung out of bed, grabbed the camera sleeping at the end of my unit, flung open the window and caught the sun dancing with the silouette of the trees.
This is a photography series where I dig up some of the old photographs found on the half-broken netbook that I used to use and store my work on two years ago. Tonight, I present an image that I snapped on a muggy winter night of 2012 while cycling down the coast of North Quensferry, Scotland, in an ambitious attempt to capture a picture of the famous Scottish Forth Road Bridge, which connects the county of Fife to the capital of Scotland, Edinburgh.
Evidently, there was subtle editing applied to this image upon it reaching the netbook I was using at the time, hence the sleek plummy purple and garnet red colours that flow through the sky and water of this image. This not only invigorates the night scene with a sophisticated amount of energy and rigor, but also symbolises the pure tranquility and peacefulness that I personally felt at that moment, braided in the deep silence of the night.
This is an exuberant sunset study taken from my bedroom window one late October evening in the late autumn of 2012 with no equipment aside from a basic Pentax bridge camera.
I could have very easily boosted the depth of field before taking this picture in order to give the image a cheerful 3D profile but looking back, I’m very relieved that I didn’t as it’s the simplicity of this image that allows the viewer to concentrate more on the vivid colours of the sky rather than the detail of the trees and clouds.
But the most striking thing about this image by far is the vicious attack conveyed between the broiling hot colours of red, and the arctic glacier colours of blue, both of which are complimentary to the conflicting dark woodland silhouette that sits at the base of the picture, posing as a further contradiction between the splashy colours of the sky and clouds in this photograph.
This evening I found myself curiously rummaging through an archive of lost content discovered on a forsaken netbook that I hadn’t seen in almost two years. Along with finding a massive heap of useless pictures and videos from my earlier teens and more porn than any man knows what to do with, I stumbled across some old pictures that I’d snapped with a bridge camera two years ago. And I am genuinely stunned by the quality and creativity of the work that I had little confidence in at the time. It wasn’t until now that I realised that these pictures might legitimately be worth sharing.
Here’s a photograph I snapped during the winter of 2012. One of my best ever photos, taken merely with a standard Pontax bridge camera while out and about in the snow one blissful winter morning.
Trudging through the vast blankets of snow, and completely unaware that I’d be digging this picture up for an online blogging site two years later, I captured this winter scene only while passing a small slip street while trekking to a more desirable location for photographs, the forest. It wasn’t until I was back into the comfort and warmth of my house with a sweltering cup of tea by the fire that I realised, the other pictures that I had taken in the forest that morning were nothing compared to the split second I’d captured on the way to that location.