Ephemeral canvasses, unsigned

Ripples on water, gently kissing land. The of fiery crests on soft sand creates addictive photography sessions for me. I just can’t stop. Each wave from the ocean seems to create something special. I cannot always capture it like I see. The water is faster than my phone camera or I’m not in the right place. It’s almost always happening more dramatically in spaces away from me. I keep moving this way and that trying to get that perfect shot. Then stand in the same spot and wait and wait and suddenly I’ll be blessed with something that sends waves of delight through every fibre of my being. Uff! It’s magical. 

I shoot thousands of frames in a hour and when I get down to editing, I delete a ton, but there are still many more where I think there’s potential even in similarity. 

These photos have been taken on what’s called Sandbar island. It’s actually a river bed that’s like a massive sand bar which gets exposed during low tides. The surface is very soft, filled with river silt and minerals. 

I take a boat or kayak to the island and love having no-one around me for miles. At sunset, droves of seagull come to fish. They sit on the sand, half submerged in water, paddling or swimming and then fly as the whiff of the catch takes them. It’s a mesmerising sight, but to record that you need a really good camera. I like the phone camera for its size and convenience. 

The ever-changing vista is  like a story emerging, where; Gently she kisses the shore, blowing bubbles onto the sand. The wind is gentle this evening A soft cloud cover dims the bright radiance of the sun and there are few and feint dapples on the surface of water and sand.

Soft sand, so soft that my feet sink into a cushion of mud ankle deep. I look back and it’s like I’ve never been there. The sand shifts back into shape effortlessly. My steps un-recorded. But even so the sand ripples are not easy to erase. Not with the soft bubbly ripples of an otherwise raging Arabian Sea, that lick the land, upon where I stand.

These marks fascinate me. They seem to be almost scars of the interaction between land and sea. Welts and ripples of rebellion. They also look like the deep wounds of being that are seemingly never erased, the indents always felt in the body, possibly recorded as welts and ripples in the surface of the brain. 

Everyday the pattern changes. Everyday the quality of light changes as does the velocity of the wind. And each day they paint a thousand canvasses anew. Ephemeral, unsigned, no care for posterity or fame or what their contribution counts for or is valued at. Born as wind, sand, sea, they behave like wind, sand and sea. As they were created to be. Doing what they must. 

It always makes me wonder why we compare ourselves with others? Why we don’t spend the energy on knowing ourselves with such confidence, strength and lack of inhibition that they do. Just being and doing as they are meant to do and be. Nothing to be noticed or ignored. Nothing except being. 

It’s so easy for nature but incredibly hard for the minds of men. To know the peace of such an existence would be nirvana. And maybe we can get there 

But, in the meantime enjoy the images they create when they meet and chat, argue, battle and shine. A panorama of engagement that never offends, never held against each other. Just flowing with wind, water, light and sand. 

All photos shot on i14pro 

All photographs are subject to copyright