I really love emptiness. It must be because of all the signals I receive throughout the days and weeks, overpoweringly present, like a crazy child yelling in my ear while I am just trying to focus on this one thing that is important. And I’m not talking “business important”. Just the thing that makes sense to me, right now, as a person, a human being.
The good thing is that I see “empty” more and more as a way to express myself. Walking along a beach I seek the softness of nothing special, instead of roaring waves, towering cliffs, vibrating crowds.
I was in Burnie, Tasmania, and my compagnons (all lovely people) were busy talking about opportunities, futures (there are more than one, as we all dream a slightly different scope) and how to connect so that it would be valuable.
I just saw this beach.
Perhaps I was just tired. Of all those signals. Or more basically, of flying in early after a night of not having slept enough. Or just bored and trying to find something worthwhile.
The good thing is that I get to express myself.
Not so bad …
When you think about how important the weather is for us, it is rather amazing that most people don’t think about how it comes to be. Of course we all have that weather app (or if you are like me, you have about five of them as they all tell a slightly different story for today’s weather).
And we read about – better: skim over – climate change, El Nino and all other things we take for granted. But most of us don’t look any deeper. It rains today, bugger.
Any sailor and any pilot will have a different view. We are deeply interested in the weather, now, in an hour and for the duration of the trip. And we want to understand where that weather originates, what makes it happen. Because we know that with the slightest change of factors, the weather changes also.
It’s not magic. It is all about systems, lows and highs, cyclonal and anticyclonal movements, air movements, air density, humidity, wet bulb temperatures and a bit of a guess. The last is what the weatherman does. And if he or she is good, that’s magic.
Melbourne is a bit awkward. We are close to the roaring fourties, have an awful lot of water around us and have a desert – or better: an overheated dry land mass – starting less than an hour’s flight away. That’s why you read things like “four seasons in one day” and “if you don’t like the weather, wait 15 minutes”.
It makes for beautiful skies though. So sitting in my fav seat and just staring out of the window is never dull.
When asked and when actually having taken notion of what I do photographically, most people will say that I’m a landscape photographer. The light touching far away ridge lines, the perspective leading the eye into the picture. But I see the light also in smaller detail, sometimes captured and mesmerised by small waves of glimmers playing over the tiny heads of grass stalks. Spickle spackle catching my eye. And the wind creating this slow movement, undulating, like waves rolling into some coast. Catching, above all, my imagination.
I’m always a bit at loss when I see other people just walking by. As if that detail doesn’t exist. At best someone stops and looks at what I’m doing, not seeing. Hesitatingly questioning my actions.
No bloody use trying to explain.
But sometimes I see a smile, a nod. That’s … golden. We are sharing these little glimmers of light. Seeing the beauty of what’s around us, right at our feet.