Ever Changing Seascape
There's a problem with seascape shots. Where stormy waters aren't involved you can pick a composition that you're content with and wait for the light. Ok, you'll take a range of shots from the golden hour into the blue (or vice versa) and you will probably struggle to decide which one you like best, especially if there are clouds to be considered too. But add the endlessly changing subject of a restless sea and the extra layer of indecision at the point you attempt to decide which shot to work with is guaranteed. In the images where a surge smashes into the cliff you can generally be sure that the rocks will be bare, while when white water is streaming from the latter, that irritating accumulation of brownish foam that has been floating aimlessly amid the scene chooses to sit right in the centre of the shot. The outcome is often well in excess of 100 raw files to sift through, which often results in the computer being switched off in exasperation as the TV goes on in its place. I guess that now England is about to return to more stringent lockdown rules once more, I can start going through the untouched collections of raw files I made during the summer.
Yesterday I found myself at Godrevy once more, initially settling on a composition further back along the path where I watched two Peregrine Falcons dive bomb a group of Oystercatchers that were gathered in a rock that was still just about sheltered from the incoming tide. For a while my attention was drawn by the two Peregrines as they hovered high over me before moving on. It was only when I looked through my shots this morning that I realised the composition was an utter shambles with far too many foreground rocks competing for attention below me. I generally try not to over complicate things so I've really no idea what had kept me there for an hour apart from an avian skirmish and a pair of cavorting seals. I was also standing close to one of the busiest sections of the path, close to the ice cream van. I struggle to concentrate when I'm surrounded by people so I can't really explain quite why I wasted time on a scene that wasn't going to work.
So it was lucky that I'd decided late on to move to a second spot closer to the lighthouse and away from the crowds. From here the scene below me was cleaner, less cluttered and rather more dramatic. I've taken photos from this position only once before, but had decided it would only work on a full tide for the exact same reason that without the sea to cover them there were too many distractions in the foreground. From here I could click away contentedly, hoping there would be a single image that would bring each of the elements I wanted, and would at least temporarily obliterate that aforementioned obstinate area of brown scummy foam. Of course there wasn't, but a bit of exposure blending combined different parts four images taken in rapid succession to produce this result. I preferred the dynamism of the incoming surge in another image taken a few minutes earlier, but I think I just about favour all the other elements of this one. Well maybe I do - I'm still not really sure to be honest. Such is the joy of photographing the ever changing sea.
Ever Changing Seascape
There's a problem with seascape shots. Where stormy waters aren't involved you can pick a composition that you're content with and wait for the light. Ok, you'll take a range of shots from the golden hour into the blue (or vice versa) and you will probably struggle to decide which one you like best, especially if there are clouds to be considered too. But add the endlessly changing subject of a restless sea and the extra layer of indecision at the point you attempt to decide which shot to work with is guaranteed. In the images where a surge smashes into the cliff you can generally be sure that the rocks will be bare, while when white water is streaming from the latter, that irritating accumulation of brownish foam that has been floating aimlessly amid the scene chooses to sit right in the centre of the shot. The outcome is often well in excess of 100 raw files to sift through, which often results in the computer being switched off in exasperation as the TV goes on in its place. I guess that now England is about to return to more stringent lockdown rules once more, I can start going through the untouched collections of raw files I made during the summer.
Yesterday I found myself at Godrevy once more, initially settling on a composition further back along the path where I watched two Peregrine Falcons dive bomb a group of Oystercatchers that were gathered in a rock that was still just about sheltered from the incoming tide. For a while my attention was drawn by the two Peregrines as they hovered high over me before moving on. It was only when I looked through my shots this morning that I realised the composition was an utter shambles with far too many foreground rocks competing for attention below me. I generally try not to over complicate things so I've really no idea what had kept me there for an hour apart from an avian skirmish and a pair of cavorting seals. I was also standing close to one of the busiest sections of the path, close to the ice cream van. I struggle to concentrate when I'm surrounded by people so I can't really explain quite why I wasted time on a scene that wasn't going to work.
So it was lucky that I'd decided late on to move to a second spot closer to the lighthouse and away from the crowds. From here the scene below me was cleaner, less cluttered and rather more dramatic. I've taken photos from this position only once before, but had decided it would only work on a full tide for the exact same reason that without the sea to cover them there were too many distractions in the foreground. From here I could click away contentedly, hoping there would be a single image that would bring each of the elements I wanted, and would at least temporarily obliterate that aforementioned obstinate area of brown scummy foam. Of course there wasn't, but a bit of exposure blending combined different parts four images taken in rapid succession to produce this result. I preferred the dynamism of the incoming surge in another image taken a few minutes earlier, but I think I just about favour all the other elements of this one. Well maybe I do - I'm still not really sure to be honest. Such is the joy of photographing the ever changing sea.