this is absolutely gorgeous. and a little frightening; ominous.
photography is a funny thing. it sometimes reveals things we don't see while standing there present with our eyes upon things. instead, it can be like a revelation, as though someone else speaks through the camera. as i was looking at these ferns, of course, they were lit, but the sun was setting and the angle of light beneath that low rock (which you can't see but which is just overhead) illuminated the ferns in a glowing light. and so i set my speed high because i knew the world, even then, was too busy, and i wanted the world to slow and only the ferns to be. that one part of the fern curled is everything to me here in this picture. it is intimate, isn't it? they are alive and with one another. thanks andreas. it is a special shot for me.xoerin
this is one of my favorites of your images ... i admire your bravery in keeping that tall field of gorgeous black ... very dynamic ... and this is the way being happens, it just is, out of the dark ....
james, is this brave? i'd never have thought of it this way. i am simply drawn to the absences, white or black. xoerin
it is brave, i think, yes ... i see so many pictures by people who are afraid of absence, of silence, who nervously try to fill the frame with detail (the frame of the photo, the frame of their lives...) ... but you seem to know how essential absence is, how it shapes these ferns ... i value this in your pictures ...
without absence, james, presence doesn't mean a damn thing. (thank you))xoerin
"Words at the limit of hearing, attributable to no one, received in the conch of the ear like dew by a leaf." (philippe jaccottet) or even a quiet presence is appreciated))