Seascape With Crow

...abstraction, my soft spot for absences;
cloudwatcher, seawatcher, open to the slow
shift of light, the waves' always present tenses...


Every morning I drive pass this low wall, on my way to leave my son into the creche. The road is dangerously lined with parked cars and I have to make a conscious decision to watch for impulsive pedestrians, because the view pulls at me, so I usually drop a gear and slow to a crawl to snatch a few furtive glances. I could look at the sea all day (or so I like to think, not having had the opportunity for some time).

I have often tried to photograph this view, with little success. 'Picturesque' sea-views are often quite dull to photograph. The calming immensity of that flat, crinkled surface, constantly retraced by sun and cloudlight, just doesn't come across, unless you're a painter and can filter it more thoroughly, translate it into your vision, your slant.
Many photographs of the sea are either wannabe paintings or postcard shots of the sea doing its usual, boringly beautiful thing.

I guessed I would know what kind of photograph I wanted to take when I saw it; the sea has so many faces it could be anything. This morning (or rather yesterday morning since it's after midnight as I write this) I think I just may have caught something: a strange convergence of sharp details on the horizon, held in a shaft of light, a wonderful overall pewter colouring (like a faded postcard) and a crow in the corner.