Photos: Seashore Abstracts

A set of photos taken at Staffin beach as I narrowed my attention to small sections. Pattern, texture, and colours. I took these after I’d walked along the beach and back; I don’t get to a beach and ignore the wide views and sea to focus in on smaller things immediately.

Photos: My Snow Day

Woke up to a world of white, to the view being transformed into almost monochrome, shades of “interesting whites”. And silence as the wind has dropped. After giving the studio cats breakfast and putting the kettle on, I went out to enjoy that crunch-crunch of snow underfoot. Friends who lives in latitudes where you sit in snow for months will have to indulge my excitement as it’s rare for me to have it at garden level.

Looking northwest towards Camus Mor
Wider angle on the same view
Looking west
These pawprints most likely belong to Buffycat, who likes to be outside in all weathers
The sea turns the most beautiful colours under snow showers; this photo doesn’t do the blues and turquoises justice. A real-life Mark Rothko colourfield in blues.
Guess it snowed from the west last night.
Bracken is such a beautiful colour this time of year.
Creeping thyme

Photos: A Few Moments of Calm

This time of year, this far north (57°N), the sun sleeps in late (sunrise today 08:58), doesn’t stay for long (sunset today 15:40), and doesn’t get very high in the sky. It makes seeing sunrise/sunset easy, and for a moodiness during the day. Driving around the “north end” this morning to see a friend, I stopped a few times to snap some photos.

First the Trotternish Ridge, looking south:

Then reflections in a little loch:

And then low-tide reflections at the beach at Staffin:

Interrupted By a Caw

I was at one of my favourite, albeit rarely sketched, locations…

… absorbed by the colours and textures …

… and that blocked-up door …

… when I was startled by a loud, single “caw”, from above me. Glancing up, there was a crow sitting on the top of the wall, looking down at me.

I’ve probably watched too many programmes where birds are harbingers, but right now the photo below feels like it’s the image for the cover of a book I will one day write with the art and poetry from this year that I’m not yet ready to share.

Photos: Colours of Autumn

A stroll down the road to the postbox this morning became a stroll in the colours of autumn, of greens giving way to yellows and browns, of moss clinging to fenceposts and dead branches, and reflections in the surface water on the road. Steps taken amidst small joys.

Photos: Rock Watching, Again

The location: Camus Mor, Isle of Skye (again)
The time: Mid-afternoon, low tide (felt like it was the lowest I’ve seen the tide here)
Supposed to be doing: Painting some magnificent seascape in oils (always approach a painting with optimism!)
Actually doing: Being distracted by the patterns in the rocks and listening to the waves (never gets old)

Black and grey and yellow and green and blue
I didn’t get a photo with a “nice wave” crashing on the shore, so you’ll have to imagine it
Didn’t get very far with this painting; will try again another day
Not the eyes of a monster trapped in the concrete
Built vs Nature
I see your dark cracks and raise you a thin white stripe

Reflections & Old Boats

These photos were taken at the top of Loch Harport (look for Carbost on a map of Skye), heading towards high tide, on a windstill morning. Some were taken as a reminder of the context of the other photos, some as information or photos references for paintings, and some I think work only as photographs.

The latter got me thinking about the differences in composition between paintings and photos, not only cropping a scene but also depth of field (what’s in focus and what isn’t). I also realised how much easier I find it to narrow my focus on details when I’m exploring a landscape with my camera, or just walking along looking, than when I’m sitting with a sketchbook and tend to feel I want to get “everything” in.

The reflections in the mirror-still sea make me want to add the caption: “Don’t sneeze!”

What the photos don’t show are the midges, which love summer windstill days. I’ll be back in the autumn when they’ve gone and the hills are wearing different colours.