Another Planning Committee Meeting
Well in the days of working for a living, any mention of things like planning committee meetings would have had me quivering in my shoes and sweating in anticipation as I searched for the exits. But these days it just means that the three of us are convening to take pictures at the coast before washing away our poor compositions with something warm and hoppy. Much more like it. The planning? Oh yes, we’re off to Dartmoor again soon to take photographs up on the moors and down in the dells for a few days. And then there’s that East Anglia winter adventure that’s currently threatening to germinate into reality from the seed of inspiration in Lee’s brain. Where shall we go to discuss these lofty notions? How about Holywell Bay on a Monday evening? Something for everyone. Lee can hide up on the dunes and point his long lens at unknowing subjects as they walk their dogs across the beach. Dave can find beauty in a clump of maram grass that nobody else can see. And I can potter about on the sand looking for suitable lead ins towards the sea. Perfect.
Remember a few months ago when we gathered at Godrevy? Probably not. I don’t think either of the other two produced an image from that outing. Not one that they shared, anyway. Dave had disappeared off towards a gully to try and photograph the waves swishing through it and wasn’t seen until some time later. Lee was using a new camera for the first time - one that in time honoured tradition he’s already moved on in favour of his recent bargain basement Pentax acquisition. It’s nineteen years old and has barely been used. Apparently you have to wind it up with a big brass key and hide under a black curtain to get it working. It only has a few more pixels than my last film camera did. Along with the Pentax he picked up a similarly economical lens and is currently having a lovely honeymoon period with his new set up. One man, one camera, one lens. Will he still have it by the time we set off for Dartmoor at the end of August, or will he have replaced it with an Instamatic? Only time will tell.
Ok in the last paragraph I wandered off topic completely. I’ll try again. That Godrevy gathering at the end of April was the last time we’d met before this evening at Holywell Bay. Every so often I try to rouse the troops, but standard procedure is for one of them to be chirpy and enthusiastic while the other may have expired for all we know. Both of them are able to swap over and adopt either of these polar opposite roles at any given time, and after a while I generally give up and move on. But just now and again, the stars align and both of them land on their heads as they get out of bed in the morning and start displaying intentions to renew acquaintanceships with cameras. And now was one of these rare occasions. Besides which, we'd booked an AirBnB in Tavistock and it might be a good time to start talking about what we want to take pictures of when we get there.
And so we went to Holywell Bay, where roles were strangely reversed. It was Dave who took pot shots of beach strollers from high up on the dunes, while Lee found foregrounds in the sand. I’m a sucker for the latter at this beach, so at least one of us remained true to form; intransigent and dully predictable, with no Plan B. But I like how much variety there is on this beach, even when I’m using the same formula most of the time. Every low tide is different from the last. You just have to find a suitable patch of interesting looking sand without any footprints on it. And this evening there was a hint of colour in the sky too.
At the end of the evening, by which point the sun had disappeared behind the obligatory bank of low cloud that was sitting on the horizon and refusing to budge, we opened three bottles of Dartmoor Ale and toasted the forthcoming trip.
Another Planning Committee Meeting
Well in the days of working for a living, any mention of things like planning committee meetings would have had me quivering in my shoes and sweating in anticipation as I searched for the exits. But these days it just means that the three of us are convening to take pictures at the coast before washing away our poor compositions with something warm and hoppy. Much more like it. The planning? Oh yes, we’re off to Dartmoor again soon to take photographs up on the moors and down in the dells for a few days. And then there’s that East Anglia winter adventure that’s currently threatening to germinate into reality from the seed of inspiration in Lee’s brain. Where shall we go to discuss these lofty notions? How about Holywell Bay on a Monday evening? Something for everyone. Lee can hide up on the dunes and point his long lens at unknowing subjects as they walk their dogs across the beach. Dave can find beauty in a clump of maram grass that nobody else can see. And I can potter about on the sand looking for suitable lead ins towards the sea. Perfect.
Remember a few months ago when we gathered at Godrevy? Probably not. I don’t think either of the other two produced an image from that outing. Not one that they shared, anyway. Dave had disappeared off towards a gully to try and photograph the waves swishing through it and wasn’t seen until some time later. Lee was using a new camera for the first time - one that in time honoured tradition he’s already moved on in favour of his recent bargain basement Pentax acquisition. It’s nineteen years old and has barely been used. Apparently you have to wind it up with a big brass key and hide under a black curtain to get it working. It only has a few more pixels than my last film camera did. Along with the Pentax he picked up a similarly economical lens and is currently having a lovely honeymoon period with his new set up. One man, one camera, one lens. Will he still have it by the time we set off for Dartmoor at the end of August, or will he have replaced it with an Instamatic? Only time will tell.
Ok in the last paragraph I wandered off topic completely. I’ll try again. That Godrevy gathering at the end of April was the last time we’d met before this evening at Holywell Bay. Every so often I try to rouse the troops, but standard procedure is for one of them to be chirpy and enthusiastic while the other may have expired for all we know. Both of them are able to swap over and adopt either of these polar opposite roles at any given time, and after a while I generally give up and move on. But just now and again, the stars align and both of them land on their heads as they get out of bed in the morning and start displaying intentions to renew acquaintanceships with cameras. And now was one of these rare occasions. Besides which, we'd booked an AirBnB in Tavistock and it might be a good time to start talking about what we want to take pictures of when we get there.
And so we went to Holywell Bay, where roles were strangely reversed. It was Dave who took pot shots of beach strollers from high up on the dunes, while Lee found foregrounds in the sand. I’m a sucker for the latter at this beach, so at least one of us remained true to form; intransigent and dully predictable, with no Plan B. But I like how much variety there is on this beach, even when I’m using the same formula most of the time. Every low tide is different from the last. You just have to find a suitable patch of interesting looking sand without any footprints on it. And this evening there was a hint of colour in the sky too.
At the end of the evening, by which point the sun had disappeared behind the obligatory bank of low cloud that was sitting on the horizon and refusing to budge, we opened three bottles of Dartmoor Ale and toasted the forthcoming trip.