do you feel the spectral sounds of yesteryear
leaking through time ...
I posted this composite image of the Blood Moon on Facebook, this time yesterday. It's had over 4.2 million views in 24 hours. The story of shooting it is featured below ...
I spent five hours out in the fields near where I live in Kent (UK) last night watching and photographing the Supermoon Lunar Eclipse. I've never done anything like that photographically before, and have to rely on just a 300mm zoom for the moon shots was a challenge ... one of the most beautiful aspects of the night was how STUNNING the stars became as the moon fully eclipsed, under super-clear skies.
This photo is comped together using a single shot of the local skies & stars (orange ambient glow is from the city of Ashford, some 14 miles from this spot) and then carefully selected shots I took of the moon itself last night.
Yesterday evening I headed to Dungeness to see what the dying of the light would reveal. True beauty.
As you walk into St. Thomas a Becket Church on Romney Marsh, there's a serious calm in the air. Originally built from plaster and lathe back around 1200, it still boasts an interior timber framework that dates back to around 1300, although the exterior was extensively rebuilt in 1912.
I've cycled past this isolated beauty many times at dawn and long since marvelled at its' superb location, raised up just a metre or so above the rest of the surrounding fields - just enough to keep it dry when the floods descend. As I chug past on my bike around dawn, the sun peers out over the horizon and bathes the Eastern face in a warm embrace. On the western fringes, the local drainage ditches send shivers of mist into the chilled morning air.
This weekend I ventured inside for the first time, and it's breathtaking. Complete, calm. Complete serenity. Isolated even from the occasional distant thrum of the combines.
I was experimenting with HDR today.
I barely set foot in the old barn these days, but today I wanted to try out some ideas with texture, and the old barn has it in spades. It's on unsure ground ... a joist has given way and the entire outer hull at one end is on the verge of heading East. Poetic.
A family of House Martins is nesting in the eaves (as they do every year) and the windows rattle as the wind rushes through. Somewhere near the middle, lay 7 used aerosols and a handful of discarded bits of vinyl, for it was here that RVMPD3 took shape. Down at the far end, there are bales of hay stacked roughly, whilst on the other side lies a perfect replica of the original Burning Man DISTRIKT stage (2010-2014). Piece by piece it gathers dust. Poetic.
I set up the camera and take some shots, touching nothing, shooting as is. The paisley carpet and signage from Force Fields (the self-build festival I hosted 2 years back) lie in one corner, whilst the 'bar area' lies in the other, fridge unplugged & lifeless. This place holds a thousand memories in its loose, careworn gaze.