I encountered an unusual space the other day, one that’s around us as an island everywhere but curiously one that very few experience.
It was a bit of a revelation really and made me think a little about how one dimensional most of the subject matter photography actually deals with. The space was brought into stark focus as the tide was coming in on a good sea on the coast of Pembrokeshire. As I stood on the edge of the tide line to one side of me the world lay heavy, seaweed blanketed the rocks and sand lay like drying cement between the immovable stones. If this world was lifted to the vertical all would remain in place, firmly stuck.
To the other side all was flux, a rough sea coming in on a high tide lifted the blanket and put everything in suspension. Both animate and inanimate objects were thrown and tossed together and never had the chance to settle as wave after wave pushed and pulled in a relentless surge. Even the stones that seemed so rooted to the land were now given a lighter touch. It was this side that held my attention.
The space in which this flux was taking place was entirely new to me. I have, of course, swam in the sea, paddled on the edge but never studied this space in any meaningful way before. I worked the area between one wave and another about two feet under the water and was completely transfixed by what was going on.
The colours were vibrant and the light in the water bore little resemblance to the dull overcast and rainy conditions overhead, all was new and I had that wonderful feeling of experiencing something for the first time.
The clear waters off the Pembrokeshire coast were ideal for this type of work which would be impossible closer to home in the muddy waters of the upper reaches of the Bristol Channel.
All the images were taken with the Canon G12 and the waterproof housing