The online presence of Tim Collier. Photographer, course leader, lecturer and blogger.To see beyond the surfaces of things is to understand that the world around us is made up of much more than the perceived whole. The spoken word often denies us the opportunity and willingness to look beyond names and to see and experience ‘things’ as they exist outside limiting parameters, in short language ‘labels things.’
This sort of looking is often termed abstraction, denying location and recognisability and working to a set formula. It can be much more however.
Much of my photography is merely an extension of the way I explore and enjoy looking at what could be called ‘natural form.’ In that sense I generally, but not exclusively, spend the majority of my time in areas we would generally called ‘landscape’, another label with so many contradictions and uncertainties.
‘Anything’, a word I actually enjoy in this context as it easily moves outside labels, that explores the essential elements and their relationships to each other, is the basis of the work in this section. Seeing freely within the limitless confines of scale allows for new realities to be found. This way of looking is endless and always with me, thus opening up the environments I find myself in and to see ‘beyond the surface of things’
I’m currently reading ‘The Nature of Autumn’ by one of our greatest nature writers Jim Crumley, seems apt just now, and came across a small piece about nature’s national flag and Mark Rothko. In my previous post ‘Clarity, Colour and Emptiness’ the last image could easily have accompanied Crumley’s thoughts on, ‘the triple expanses of sand and open sea and open sky’
We walked onto the small stone jetty at Droman, a couple of miles north of Kinlochbervie, and were struck at once by the phenomenal clarity of the water and the breathtaking colours that were refracted through its glass like qualities.
A last post on the Kylebhan series and a one unashamedly celebrating colour’s relationship with age and weathering. The next series of posts will not be necessarily chronological, but will all be related to the five weeks we spent in the high north after the Kylebhan experience.
Iceland for me was beautifully articulated by one of my favourite nature writers, Jim Crumley. He was referring to Skye in his book, Barn Owl, when he said,
Sort of Chronological from the time spent in Iceland. Second set today. These give a little more context to the images that are making up the folio. A bit of a flavour as to where both Brendan and I were working.
I’ve been out and about a bit in the last few months, infact I managed to find myself in England, Ireland, Scotland and Wales in four consecutive days last month!
I have read and been told that the road out of depression is one of ups and downs, with the ups slowly outweighing the downs.
Sometimes everywhere you turn light seems to be doing something extraordinary and it can happen when you are in the perfect place. It happened this summer in Glen Etive, one of the very best glens in the highlands of Scotland.
There are a few occasions when light seems more, much more than simply the everyday occurrence that we take for granted.
Never believe the weather forecast! It was going to be a terrible day, thunder, heavy rain and the risk of floods. We had a plan B, never sure quite what is was though and I put the canon into its underwater housing!
I encountered an unusual space the other day, one that’s around us as an island everywhere but curiously one that very few experience.
The relationship between the cliff top and the sea has always fascinated me. The space that divides the two is somewhere we rarely venture. I’m not a rock climber and even then you’re still grounded, all be it to a near vertical incline.
Much of my work over the years has been coastal, it’s somewhere were so much is going on; so many processes and changes, it’s continual and in constant flux and has the capacity to take you into a different space and time.
The hour and a half Brendan and I spent on the beach with the tide pushing us back towards the cliffs took me back to my work at Druidston in Pembrokeshire (more posts to follow).
All of these photographs were taken on Druisdtone beach in West Wales and show what can be achieved when you really “work” your subject and strive to see things in new and unconventional ways.