The Sea Refuses No River

The Sea holds an endless but subconscious fascination for me and features again and again in many of my landscape images. I've lived my whole life near the coast, yet have never sailed, never canoed, and indeed nearly drowned as a child in a swimming pool. And yet The Sea draws me to her, she haunts me; calling my name in the sound of angry waves crashing on rocks, just as she whispers to me when the ebbing tide gently laps the sandy shore.

Photographically The Sea presents a wealth of opportunities and a unique set of challenges to work around. I feel I could never convey the breadth of her emotions even if I devoted my life to the task, so how can an exposure usually measured in seconds or the fractions thereof begin to tell her story? You can love The Sea, but she is a cruel and temperamental mistress. The inter-relation of sea and sky is one of the biggest joys in nature for me, and offer the chance for some truly poetic images. The poetry can be for nothing though if you get seasalt, sand or spray in your camera or lenses. I've learnt that the hard way.

Because The Sea reveals her character through her waves, and her beauty is often a reflected glory, she offers something different every single day. Sometimes in photogrpahy you can project your emotions into a picture, The Sea demands you portray hers to the viewer, just as she presented herself to you.

Is it the implication of something beyond, a corresponding shore and maybe even person on that shore? Is The Sea a metaphor for life itself? Is it the actual life she brings to the shoreline, or the mysteries she hides within?

I don't know, but even if i restricted myself to one section of reasonably undramatic shore (say Lepe Beach in Hampshire), I could go there every single day of my life and be content.


Content to see, to be, to marvel, and to try to reveal.

Autumn Song

It's just around a year since I bought my first digital camera, having held off for a very long time. I still love using film, I still USE film, but now for most of what I do I use a digital single lens reflex camera (DSLR). I've loved the freedom it's given me in many different ways, and I've accepted the challenges and limitations it brings too. http://www.robincaddy.co.uk/ remains the premier show case of my images, but this blog will feature new work, things which may not find their way to the main site, and a chance to share more about the way I do things than is possible on the main site.

I remember the excitement of getting my dslr this time last year and the voracious way I devoured the countryside around Hampshire, and into Dorset. A day not out making images, seemed a day wasted. I still feel much the same in many respects. The Autumn sings it's song especially loudly along the South Coast of England, and in The New Forest maybe more so than anywhere. It's like the forces of nature are having one last go at things before winter creeps in.

For me, the light is right, the sunset times are ideal and the position of the sun make it the perfect time of the year. Plans I've made, and images I've mentally prepared can come to fruition - the waiting of summer is over. Vistas I began a romance with last year can be revisited and additional ones sought. One such place is Hatchet Pond, the largest lake in The New Forest, near to the village of East Boldre. I've yet to begin fully exploring around the area, but it's a place of dramatic potential and worthy of further investigation.

I was out shooting another nearby familiar location to me, Shatterford Bottom, the other day and sensed the right conditions for a special sunset over Hatchet Pond. I knew time was tight, so made good time back to my car and on to the pond, passing several promising and previously unnoticed locations on my way.

The shoreline was alive with ducks and ponies (7 of them at one point eyeing me with interest) and I was lucky enough to spend maybe an hour and a half there watching the sun paint the sky with colour and character. The clouds behaved (for once!) and I came away with some images which reflect how I was feeling at the time. You're unlikely to find yourself alone at Hatchet Pond at sunset, but you will find your spirits lifted.