reflections

on photography and life

Gilbert Lennox 18/11/2020 Gilbert Lennox 18/11/2020

The Old Man and The Sea

You would think I would have known better. Paid closer attention. Especially as I know only too well that every couple of minutes there comes a wave bigger than all the rest. I lost a camera to such a wave back in March. But no. I thought I was at a safe distance, not even on the shelf where I normally stand but behind it, higher up on a grassy bank. I turned my back - to change a filter with my bag open on the ground before me. I was alerted by the angry snarl of the sea behind me but it was too late.

This was the scene inside the harbour. Fortunately all boats had been removed to winter storage! — This was the scene **inside** the harbour. Fortunately all boats had been removed to winter storage!

I had gone to Ballintoy in the morning, excited by the prospect of big waves and armed with a super telephoto lens recently purchased precisely for such a day. And the day didn’t disappoint. Huge waves battered the rocks around the tiny harbour delighting the many who had come to witness the spectacle. My objective was to photograph waves. To zoom in close, freeze the motion and capture the power of the sea.

One of the spectacular waves that greeted me on my arrival at my location near Ballintoy Harbour.

By lunchtime I had already a number of shots I was pleased with, so I took a break and went to a local cafe where they were serving Covid-secure coffee. Two coastguards were in the queue ahead of me, reminding me of my brief conversation with them earlier at the harbour. “I hope you’re not too busy,” I said. “Busy enough,” was the reply, and it’s to get worse later as the tide comes in.”

Music to my ears, hoping, of course, that everyone would stay safe. So I returned to my spot hoping for that one big wave. And sure enough it came, an enormous sea monster that through the telephoto lens seemed to be about to consume Fairhead.

My favourite shot of the day. At 268mm on my Sigma 100-400, f8, 1/1000, ISO640

With so many dramatic photos already captured and with the light beginning to fade I was considering packing up to go home. How I now wish I had! But at that moment a rainbow appeared right over the section of sea I was shooting. It was too good an opportunity to miss. But a change of lens was required.

The benefit of the Sigma 100-400 was particularly apparent in images like this. 400mm, f11, 1/1000, ISO640

The sudden burst of sunlight and the appearance of a rainbow meant I needed a wider lens!

Changing a lens and then adding a filter required me to set my backpack down, open it to hunt for a filter and my day’s photography was over.

I stood helplessly as the sea water swirled around me, knocked the camera onto the ground, picked up my bag and swept it down into a rock pool, where it floated like a sinking boat rapidly taking in water. “No, no, oh no!” was all I could manage as I finally reacted and fished my semi-submerged bag out of its briny coffin.

A shocked photographer who had witnessed the entire scene kindly supplied some cloths so that I could at least attempt to dry my gear. One lens seemed to have remained above the tide. But the rest told a different tale. I looked into the lens that I had on my camera. Sea water was sloshing around behind the front element. When I switched the camera on only the shutter actuated, firing constantly at high speed. Later I would discover that the Sigma was also dead.

One rogue wave - a wave I should have expected but hadn’t seen because my back was turned - probably the biggest wave of the entire day had exploded on the rocks behind me, sending a river of water up the bank at considerable speed.

It took a while to sink in. Not simply that sea water and electronics don’t mix. But that had I been any closer I would have discovered that sea water and 67 year old grandfathers don’t mix too well either. (My wife helped me to see the point!)

An old man - well heading that way anyway - and the sea. And a lesson hopefully learned.

Gilbert Lennox 31/12/2019 Gilbert Lennox 31/12/2019

Review of the Year 2019

At the end of each year I take time to go back over the photos I’ve taken to see which are my favourites. It’s a bit of fun, especially as it gives me an opportunity to remember the experiences that accompanied each photo. It is also quite helpful as a means of getting under the surface of my photography to see what (if anything!) I’ve learned and to detect any new directions I might like to pursue in the following year.

Selecting ‘favourite’ photos is similar to but not quite the same as selecting ‘best’ photos. To choose my best, I would need to be more rigorously objective and perhaps even involve others to make the final assessment. My favourites might not be my best, depending on what criteria are being used. But they are the ones which speak most loudly to my heart and which best encapsulate the experience of being there and releasing the shutter.

A light in the darkness. Ballintoy Parish Church, 30/1/19

This first photo was taken hand-held with a borrowed lens in a snowstorm! A gap in the clouds out of frame to the left allowed the sun to light up the church while the snow was still driving down upon us from dark and heavy clouds above. A special moment.

This photo has come to have immense symbolic value for me, which I will no doubt write about at another time. Suffice it to say that the light is not coming from the church, but to the church from beyond it - indeed from beyond the planet. Without that light the church would also be dark - a challenge at the end of this year as I think of what it means to be light in the darkness. But even without the significant overtones of light and darkness, storm, church the photo would I think rank amongst my best.

Joshua Tree National Park, California, 5/3/19

The second photo is from my visit to Joshua Tree National Park in March. I have written elsewhere of how this was a fulfilment of a dream. It was almost thwarted by bad weather - yes, it rains in the desert! But we finally succeeded. It was worth bringing my 18mm lens all the way from Ireland just for this shot.

The third photo vies with the first as my favourite of the year. It is also the photo that now hangs in prime location over the sofa in our lounge. This first day of May promised mist, which is why my photographer friend Steven and I headed out to this location. The mist did not appear, but the sun did, creating beautiful streaks of light across the forest’s carpet of bluebells. This panoramic image is made up of five separate shots stitched together in post processing. I had it printed 48” wide and then mounted in a white box frame as a Christmas present for my wife. (She loves it!)

Remarkably this photo was taken on the same day as the previous one, but at sunset rather than at sunrise. Dunluce Castle is always magnificent and I have other images of it with much more vivid sunset colours. But I like the contrast between this and the others, especially in colour palette and also in the small details of the foreground flowers, for example, the stones on the beach and the white trails on the sea. Above all I like the mood produced by the menacing clouds, which is perhaps more representative of this green isle.

Dunluce Castle creeps in again, this time as seen across the sea from Whiterocks Beach. I took dozens of similar photos until I managed this one where the setting sun lights up the castle and the foreground waves create a pattern to lead into the photo.

The Wishing Arch, Causeway Coast, 21/6/19

An amazing summer sunrise, as the sun pierced through the rain creating a spectacular orange glow which contrasted beautifully with the white and green of the limestone cliffs and the sea. This photo is special to me as it reminds me of the exhibition in October which raised so much money for Hope365’s work with street children in Ethiopia.

Another summer sunrise! On this occasion, as is often the case, the glorious light lasted only for a few seconds but the early start and lengthy walk along the coastal path from Dunseverick Castle were amply rewarded with another favourite photo of the year. The star of the photo is also the smallest part of it - the little red-roofed bothy.

I’ve made a number of attempts over the years to photograph what must be one of the most spectacular views in Ireland, Malin Head with this year’s attempt being by far the most pleasing. But who knows, I might try it again next year! It is quite a hike to get there from the visitor’s car park as it is well off the beaten track, but the breathtaking views west and south make all the effort supremely worthwhile.

I made a new discovery this year: the Breen Oak Wood, which is near Armoy in Co Antrim. This photo of lily pads in the small pond at the edge of the wood represents a very different type of photography for me involving intentional camera movement (ICM). Often the results are simply terrible! But occasionally, as in this photo, the shapes, colours and movement come together to create something worthwhile. Perhaps this is a pointer to some more experimentation next year.

As woods tend to be, the Breen Oak Wood is a challenging place to photograph with its dense undergrowth and general chaos. This ancient moss covered oak caught my attention as a sliver of sunlight pierced the canopy of leaves and branches above.

Deep in the heart of Tollymore Forest Park this magnificent gnarled oak tree dominates the river like a mythical monster. The Kraken comes to mind! From this angle it appears to reach out to pull me into the photograph.

I end this review of 2019 as I began it, with light and darkness. It is from my last shoot of the year and the first after surgery. This copse is normally unremarkable, but the addition of mist with the rising sun makes all the difference. It reminds me of Dickens famous beginning to his novel ‘A Tale of Two Cities’ which I read many years ago in English class at school: “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times… it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness…” On this occasion the light prevailed and the sun shone through.

I hope you have enjoyed this selection. And a very happy New Year to you!

Gilbert Lennox 18/10/2019 Gilbert Lennox 18/10/2019

Beginnings

I can trace my adventures in landscape photography back to May 26th 2010, and to this specific photograph, for this was the first time I can remember packing my gear in the car and deliberately setting off with no other agenda - not even to buy milk at the local garage - than to try to create a landscape photograph.

My first year in landscape photography

It was an early Spring evening of dramatic showers. I headed for the most photogenic spot I knew within reasonable distance (we were not living near to the North Coast in those days), Slemish mountain. I well remember negotiating some unfamiliar narrow and twisting roads in driving rain, desperately searching for a composition that included Slemish, when the sudden appearance of a vivid rainbow made my quest even more urgent. Eventually I noticed a view of Slemish that involved going into a farmer’s yard, Thankfully the farmer was perfectly happy for me to take advantage of the viewpoint. and I came away soaked but with this photograph and very content!

I learned a lot from that one experience. That I should be better prepared the next time! That having a microfibre cloth is much more efficient than using the tail of my shirt to wipe the front of the lens. That light matters. That I needed to get to know my camera better. Most of all I learned about myself: that I loved being outdoors, with the camera.

The Slemish experience was, of course, not the first time I had attempted some landscape photography. Over the years, with various cameras, I had made some half hearted attempts. Then, some months previously, I found myself in Colorado Springs with my eldest daughter and her husband. Despite the outside temperatures and having a heavy cold, Kristyn took me to visit the Garden of the Gods, where I made a few attempts to capture what I saw. So my interest had already been growing quietly in the background. Slemish made clear to me that this is what I really wanted to do.

Portstewart at sunset. The first landscape photograph that made it to the giddy heights of a canvas print!

This coincided with more frequent trips to the Causeway Coast, since my daughter now had a house there. And that renewed my love for the ragged edges of this island.

Ballintoy Parish Church, photographed with a long lens (at 240mm) so that the Rathlin Island lighthouse and bird observation station appear very close.

Possibly my first attempt to photograph the Giant’s Causeway, our only World Heritage Site. I deleted most of my photographs from my first year doing landscapes, but I kept this one as a memory of a glorious evening walk with one of my sons, Michael.

I’ve always loved snow. It doesn’t snow often in Northern Ireland, and when it does it tends not to last. But I was thrilled to have a snow day in December 2010 and used it to explore the Six Mile Water, not far from where we lived at the time.

I was beginning to appreciate the quality and colour of light at the end of the day, as the river and the tree covered bank turned gold in the low winter’s sun.

Snow, mist and the setting sun combined to transform this normally fussy and unremarkable scene a short walk from our front door.

These are among the few photographs from 2010 that have survived my regular process of ‘culling’. I can remember the circumstances of each one, and the feelings I had at the time as I pressed the shutter release. And that’s one of the many attractions of landscape photography. It makes you stop. observe, wonder, feel the moment. And taking the shot etches the moment into the memories that contribute to building life and a deepening appreciation of beauty.

Gilbert Lennox 18/10/2019 Gilbert Lennox 18/10/2019

Joshua Tree

The name had been in my life at least since the U2 album of that name appeared in 1987, with a lone Joshua Tree featured on the album graphics. (Not actually photographed in Joshua Tree National Park, but in the Mojave desert.) Perhaps before that, because copies of the National Geographic Magazine came into our home every month as I was growing up and I used to pour over the photographs, dreaming one day of being able to visit some of these magnificent locations.

My childhood dreams finally began to be realised this year when we found ourselves staying only an hour’s drive from the entrance to the National Park. I had been hoping to book a photographic workshop in the park at night with a well known professional photographer to capture the night sky with the iconic trees in the foreground but unfortunately the weather turned inclement - it actually rained - the workshop was cancelled and the photographer concerned went to Arizone instead!

However, thanks to my son-in-law’s willingness to accompany me and to a change for better in the weather, the first clear night found me hunting for compositions in the dark! This is not what I would recommend, but it was all I could do. Fortunately there were other photographers around so that helped alert me to where some of the better locations might be.

I was amazed at how cold it was in the desert - 7 degrees centigrade. I had brought a jacket just in case, which helped a little but I was not well prepared! (Next time!)

Our time was very limited - around 50 minutes in the park itself - so there was no question of driving into the more remote areas where there is less light pollution from the surrounding towns. Fortunately we didn’t have to go far before spotting a perfect subject conveniently growing at the side of the road, with Orion shining above it. Initially I shot a couple of silhouettes but then I decided to use the light from a Lume Cube I had brought with me, diffused through a paper handkerchief! That provided just enough illumination to make the Joshua Tree stand out from its background. (It took several attempts before I got the balance where I wanted it.)

There was a final opportunity to pay another brief visit to the park on our way back to LA. We managed to time this for sunset. Once again it was a bit of a scramble to find compositions but I was very happy with the results, given the time constraints.

This first view of the park gives an idea of the rough desert terrain and the chaotic nature of this challenging landscape. Unlike anything I had ever experienced.

A low sun was still shining as I got out of our van and tried to make some order out of the rather chaotic landscape, while avoiding the many tourists who were there - and the barbs of the cacti!

Shooting with the sun provided the best lighting. There was no time to use a tripod. All sunset photos were taken with the Sony 24-105 lens which is exceptionally versatile.

In addition to the trees one of the main attractions of the park are the amazing rock formations. I would have loved to have explored these more.

Joshua Trees are not really trees! They are a type of yucca, a perennial shrub that only grows in the American South West. It grows to a height between 5 and 16 metres tall, and takes on a variety of shapes. Some are quite thick, others are rather spindly in form. And they are as prickly as they look! Many of them were in bloom when we were there in February, which was a nice bonus. While the specifics vary, the name ‘Joshua’ appears to have been given to the tree by early Mormons who saw the branches of the tree as arms outstretched in supplication, like the biblical Joshua.

I just managed to capture the setting sun before it disappeared behind a bank of cloud. I would have preferred to have stood a couple of metres to the right but the spot was already occupied!

When the sun went down the other photographers immediately packed their gear away. I stayed and was rewarded with some beautiful light.

The setting sun was still lighting up the clouds as once more I shot with the light.

Meanwhile my grandchildren were having great fun in this startling landscape. I was able to get them to sit still for a few seconds to grab a shot I will long cherish. If you get the impression that they were cold, you are right!

I found Joshua Tree National Park to be a wild, rough, bleak yet beautiful place. I would love to return to experience it all over again and to explore deeper into its vast territory. As a first visit to a National Park in the USA it could hardly have been more inspiring. I’ll leave the last word to the iconic ‘tree’ that gives it its name.

Gilbert Lennox 08/10/2019 Gilbert Lennox 08/10/2019

If you go down to the woods today...

Drone photo of the Breen Oak Wood, Glenshesk, Co Antrim

Today, in early October, I had the joy of exploring a location I had never visited before and which is less than 10 miles from my home in Co Antrim. The Breen Oak Wood.

Going down to the woods is not as easy as it once was. This island used to be covered in oak wood, but only small pockets remain. What trees there are in this most deforested part of Europe consist mostly of ugly commercial plantations of spruce and pine trees, in uniform rows, tightly packed together so that wildlife can scarcely breathe let alone live and which, when cut down, leave behind an apocalyptic landscape. (You can tell I’m a fan!) So it was such a joy to find this gem of a wood so close to home.

At the entrance to the wood lay a pond, overhung by a variety of trees, reeds and grasses. Parts of it caught the mid-afternoon sun and while it was still mostly green, there was a hint of autumn colour.

The Breen Oak Wood pond showing some autumn colour in the October sunshine

The wood lay beyond, dense and mysterious, with various walking trails snaking through the undergrowth of bracken, bluebell leaves and wild blackberries, inviting me in. Trees are old friends. In my childhood home I was surrounded by trees, wonderful lime trees, lofty scotch pine, an iconic monkey puzzle tree, chestnut and the crowning glory, a huge copper beech, in which there was a make-shift tree house, stage for many tales of galant knights rescuing damsels in distress. Stage too for water fights! Trees filled many of the poems and the books I read, especially Narnia with its talking trees. Breen Wood was just such a place where trees whispered to each other. And, turning suddenly at a cracking twig, I wouldn’t have been surprised to see Treebeard himself.

Woods are not neat. There is no order here and in the glorious chaos it was difficult to isolate a single tree, let alone make some kind of compositional sense of the scene before me. A little fog or a good snowfall would make an enormous difference (mental note taken!). But the tree scented autumn air and the creative challenge were good for me and a healthy distraction on a day when other news was not so good.

After much scrambling, adjusting, checking angles, readjusting, here are some of the compositions I came up with on this first visit. I had decided to travel light: just one lens, the Sony 24-105, my tripod and a polarising filter to cut the light reflected from the foliage and deepen the colours.

A rare opportunity to capture a single tree (or at least part of one.)

The twisted shape of this oak looked to me like some exotic wild animal, surveying the woods beyond, ready to pounce on any unsuspecting intruder.

This is my favourite photograph from the day. I like the impact of the golden bracken in the foreground and connection between the two oak trees, like an old and happy couple, arm in arm, holding on to each other whatever the weather throws at them.

This photograph really does illustrate the chaos of the forest. The criss-crossing moss-covered limbs provided a clear structure on which to anchor the composition, but even it is broken by the twisted and dead branch.

I hope to return soon to see if I can improve on my compositions. But in the end, as so often happens, the photography was secondary to the experience of being immersed in this small patch of woodland. To be continued…