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  • The simplest forms and patches of light became my escape from fear. The sunshine was my saviour, the way it permeated through everything, casting light and positivity wherever it landed.
    GD002463.jpg
  • Lockdown Day 6 <br />
<br />
A different part of the garden today and a different emotional attitude from me. Today I’m more resigned to things taking their own time. Yes we have to push to get things in progress but after that momentum has to continue with others.<br />
In this part of the garden a tree has been growing for ages and plants come and go within weeks and months, but they all aim upwards, they all want to live. We place walls and barriers around them but still they want to live and they do, unless cut down by others. Amongst what man has created, nature’s beauty always excels and will always excel behind our own existence. I don’t want to die, but I’d die happier knowing the planet was improving not getting worse.
    AOP-15-GD002461.jpg
  • Lockdown Day 6 - South Africa<br />
.<br />
When you are in such close confines every day you do start to see things that perhaps you need to see? This tree and plant against a wall became a desert landscape with sand dunes and cool shade. I simply loved the single, round headed plant and it’s shadow companion but equally I live all the shadows, shadows that wouldn’t even have existed if it were not for that wall. Don’t ask me ‘why’ the wall has a graduated sunset appearance, but it did! .<br />
No news again today about any rescue flight, it’s Grounded Hog Day every day - but we have heard the lockdown in South Africa is about to be increased 😞
    AOP-16-GD002454.jpg
  • I was fascinated by the gentle, minimal arrangement of the buoys below Bangor Pier but the two gulls suddenly coming into view in the morning fog, completed a wonderful oval arrangement.
    GD002769.jpg
  • Lockdown Day 9 - South Africa<br />
<br />
Shot on my Sony for a change - so many metaphor rich images in this project. Can’t wait to be flying, though super nervous about being amongst so many potential carriers alongside us!
    AOP-23-GD002478.jpg
  • Lockdown Day 4<br />
Evening sunlight through a rusted garden lantern. Love the warm evening light here.
    AOP-14-GD002462.jpg
  • One of a long series of images taken during complete lockdown, stranded in South Africa
    AOP-20-GD002456.jpg
  • An expansive and sunny promenade on the city sea front at Las Palmas in Gran Canaria. Lots of lovely wide seats so sit on whilst enjoying the view of the Atlantic Ocean waves.<br />
.<br />
Most of the waves crashed against the sea wall without any drama, but occasionally some would just slap the wall at the right angle and send a surprise salty shower over the unwary!
    Surprise
  • Even as I stood under my huge brolly, with the rain lashing at my back, the wind eddied rain drops onto my lens regardless. This is one of the most popular bucket & spade beaches on Ynys Môn hence my usually giving it an extremely wide berth, but today, even without continued lockdown, the rain kept most people away. I actually loved the view; I loved the minimalist simplicity of it all; the vast stretch of water, the ship in the distance waiting for pilotage to Liverpool; the gusts of wind ruffling the surface of the Irish Sea, and the misty distant island headlands. For the first time in years, I felt connected to this beach, a place I could relate to and allow my mind to wander in. In the silent downpour I felt peace.
    GD002495.jpg
  • Simple minimalism of a lone figure jumping waves at Porthcurno in South West Cornwall.
    GD001495.jpg
  • Delicate minimalism in the desert landscapes of Fuerteventura.<br />
<br />
It always feels biblical to me, wandering the desert landscape and coming across life growing in the middle of arid nothingness. The tenacity to survive against all odds, and such gentle, subtle beauty in such a hostile environment. The breeze is never ending on this island, and the leaves rustled over the cool shadows beneath the tree.
    GD001444.jpg
  • Delicate minimalism in the desert landscapes of Fuerteventura.<br />
<br />
It always feels biblical to me, wandering the desert landscape and coming across life growing in the middle of arid nothingness. The tenacity to survive against all odds, and such gentle, subtle beauty in such a hostile environment. The breeze is never ending on this island, and the leaves rustled over the cool shadows beneath the tree.
    GD001442.jpg
  • The story goes that someone tried to drive his 4x4 across this vast lake bed, and was never seen again’ <br />
<br />
A hundred million years ago this huge basin in the Etosha National Park was a lake, fed by the Kunene River in Angola, but 16,000 years ago, due to tectonic plate movement the river was diverted West to the Atlantic and gradually the lake dried up leaving this vast lake bed. At 4800 km² this saltpan, the largest in Africa, can be seen from space.<br />
<br />
I’d wanted to see this surreal landscape for a long time, and surprising though it may seem to others, this appealed to me even more than seeing the wildlife in the park! There is this deep need within me to experience vast empty spaces; it’s all part of that humbling vulnerability that I seek. I wanted to feel minute, isolated and insignificant in every possible term. It was difficult of course with anyone else around but fortunately I had a sense of it with just Jani and her two cousins around. We drove out onto the lake (on an ‘official’ stick marked track) and stepped into the baking heat. There was simply nothing ahead of us, almost 50kms to the far side and almost 60 kms to the left and right – it was vast indeed.<br />
<br />
The earth was soft and crumbly rather than rock hard. I can imagine in rain it would get very soft indeed. I’ve read that in prolonged heavy rain the whole lake bed floods up to 10cm deep creating an incredible mirror –like surface which attracts thousands of migrating flamingos.
    GD002263.jpg
  • Delicate minimalism in the desert landscapes of Fuerteventura.<br />
<br />
It always feels biblical to me, wandering the desert landscape and coming across life growing in the middle of arid nothingness. The tenacity to survive against all odds, and such gentle, subtle beauty in such a hostile environment. The breeze is never ending on this island, and the leaves rustled over the cool shadows beneath the tree.
    GD001627.jpg
  • A heart pumping ascent; cold air stabbing the lungs; boots slipping on wet rock - why do we do this? The reasons are many, but for me at least it’s that vague hope that a blanket of grey turns to a theatre of dramatic light, an opportunity for me to revel in the ever-changing performance of the weather on the landscape stage. Yes I also know it’s doing me good, keeping me fit, healthy and mentally balanced, but honestly it’s mostly the hope of finding genuine visual excitement in the natural world.<br />
<br />
So much ‘landscape photography’ these days is about creating fake dreams through software, landscapes that bear no resemblance at all to what the human eye saw and it dumbfounds me. There really are amazing, mind-blowing miracles of light and weather to be observed so why do so many accept the con of the social media fakery? Have we truly lost the human ability to see the beauty in the world about us, and can only ever get our fix from fabricating over-processed lies?<br />
.<br />
I choose to continue to look for miracles that anyone can see when they stand next to me. Yes I need to know how my camera works and how to reproduce that beauty in file and on paper; yes I have no choice but to minimally & judiciously develop a digital file, but for me, it has to be a celebration of the real world and the magic that actually exists.
    GD002344.jpg
  • It was a surreal surprise to find a ram’s skull staring at us from the apex of a derelict tin mining power house. This area is littered with the remains of an historical tin mining industry; exploration shafts now just lush grass-covered conical depressions in the wet moorland. Once a noisy hive of activity and ore crushing, but now just the sounds of the wind through gaps in the walls. Likewise the bleating of sheep still echo across the open landscape, but this poor soul has long past, the bone bleached and dripping with hill fog. It’s strange but there is such peace now on the moors and even the saturating low cloud creates a sense of calm not panic, silence not noise. I felt a deep connection with history and the spirit of the place. Dartmoor is minimal and mesmerising.
    GD002324.jpg
  • This image is from another day trialling the Sony A7R2 with 16-35mm lens. This time I was shooting from the high cliffs of North Anglesey, during an intense sunlit afternoon.  <br />
<br />
Mega impressed with the sharpness and contrast and level of detail. I am also impressed at the minimal flare both with and without filters in front of the lens. <br />
<br />
Less impressed by the canned camera profiles supplied, which when pulled down in ACR are either dull, too high in contrast or too saturated. <br />
<br />
The canned profiles for the Fuji were so damned close to the real scene, and looked acceptable on both the EVF and on the profiled Eizo back at base. <br />
<br />
I’ve been given some custom camera profiles from a fellow pro but they are not being recognised from the library folder I’m placing them in. I’ve heard from a few pros now that Sony colour profiles are just not what they could be.  I’m happy to hear from Sony users who have resolved this issue. <br />
<br />
I have to spend quite a time making adjustments now in Camera Raw AND PhotoShop to get back to what I saw in real life.
    GD002210.jpg
  • A hundred million years ago this huge basin in the Etosha National Park was a lake, fed by the Kunene River in Angola, but 16,000 years ago, due to tectonic plate movement the river was diverted West to the Atlantic and gradually the lake dried up leaving this vast lake bed. At 4800 km² this saltpan, the largest in Africa, can be seen from space.<br />
<br />
I’d wanted to see this surreal landscape for a long time, and surprising though it may seem to others, this appealed to me even more than seeing the wildlife in the park! There is this deep need within me to experience vast empty spaces; it’s all part of that humbling vulnerability that I seek. I wanted to feel minute, isolated and insignificant in every possible term. It was difficult of course with anyone else around but fortunately I had a sense of it with just Jani and her two cousins around. We drove out onto the lake (on an ‘official’ stick marked track) and stepped into the baking heat. There was simply nothing ahead of us, almost 50kms to the far side and almost 60 kms to the left and right – it was vast indeed.<br />
<br />
The earth was soft and crumbly rather than rock hard. I can imagine in rain it would get very soft indeed. I’ve read that in prolonged heavy rain the whole lake bed floods up to 10cm deep creating an incredible mirror –like surface which attracts thousands of migrating flamingos.
    GD002260.jpg
  • I am really enjoying my gentle excursion into minimal landscapes, an approach I used many years ago in art school. This time I feel I am seeing far more though, in these vast tracts of sand and sky and sea. I seem more acutely aware of the myriad of intrinsic details that make up the surfaces. Maybe it’s because my long distance isn’t what it was, and the foreground details seem even more relevant than before :-)<br />
<br />
I am seeing escape. Days like this on an empty, wild windswept bay are precious to me. I can sense society not far away, the noise of traffic and the chatter and incessant debates between increasingly indifferent people, but I’m grounded here. I feel security in the earth and in the elements that have preceded us all and that forever will outlast us all.
    GD002192.jpg
  • Such a huge range of colours and textures within this mid-winter Welsh mountainscape. The light was fleeting on the summits as clouds scudded by in the bitter cold high winds. Strangely the lower slopes looked almost autumnal.<br />
<br />
I can never get out of my head, that the visual surface of the earth, is only skin deep geograhially, and that just a few feet beneath, it’s solid rock. Life does indeed cling to the most exposed and seeimgly inhospitable places, it is a minimal surface zone between rock and air (or water) - I think of it as the ‘life zone’.
    GD002174.jpg
  • I think most of my family, friends & followers of my work have seen how far I’ve been sinking since lockdown started back in Africa in March. I haven’t coped that well with losing access to one of the main cures for my darkness, getting out into the landscape & nature. It’s been a real battle internally and I felt I was losing a grip on what life was about, so many waves of loss, fear and entrapment. <br />
<br />
So with the latest minimal change to Welsh lockdown rules, and the ability to drive five miles to meet friends or get exercise, it’s been euphoric for me. My first walk up a small hill, just to be in the mountains again, was as if it was my first time! My heart literally was pounding with excitement and I found myself grinning constantly as I ascended the hill. I found it remarkable to just watch my feet in their walking shoes, taking steps up rocks and grass covered slopes. The wind was cold and I’d delayed the start of the walk to allow a heavy hail shower to pass over, but when the June sunshine appeared it bathed me in warmth and joy. <br />
<br />
From the summit I was able to see all the major peaks, the Carneddau, Tryfan, the Glyderau, Yr Wyddfa, Garnedd Elidir, and even Yr Eifel on the Llyn. A couple passed me on their way down and after an awkward, socially distanced acknowledgement as is the way these days, I saw no one for the rest of the time in the hills. It was the sort of solitude I yearn for, the solitude of choice not the solitude of jail.   <br />
<br />
Shortly before another heavy hail shower, which lasted almost half an hour, I found myself enchanted by the morphing dark clouds over the Carneddau, even their ominous depth seemed magical and awesome. Quite suddenly an intense beam of warm sunshine split the sombre scene and caressed its way up and over Foel Meirch until it ticked the shrouded summit of Carnedd Dafydd. It was my perfect light, theatrical and dramatic, a play with no characters, just backdrops. <br />
<br />
I sat on the summit, alone and happy in my own thou
    GD002484.jpg
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Glyn Davies, Professional Photographer and Gallery

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