Just south of Primrose Hill Farm, where Poplar Drove becomes Hale Fen Road, I caught sight of a farm building on the far horizon. I left the car at the side of the track and walked for half a mile across open fields, crunching the wheat stubble and water logged ground beneath my boots. The watery sun was catching the gable end of the barn, and a halo of soft light animated the space around the buildings. I took a series of photographs whilst walking towards the farm and kept my fingers crossed the fast changing skies would leave a window of opportunity. The photograph published here here was one of a series I took at Hale Fen this morning.
Ely Cathedral is an architectural treasure and you certainly should make a special journey to see it. I have looked at the Cathedral in every imaginable quality of light and in all seasons, but nothing reveals the grandeur of this magnificent Gothic structure better than early morning mist in Winter. The detail vanishes in the half-light like one of Monet’s evocative depictions of Rouen Cathedral; individual elements are secondary to the ultimate power and presence of the building.
This image was taken with a Lumix G9 and Olympus 12 40 f2.8 lens.
Photographers know that magical moment when the receding tide of daylight and Edison’s mechanical invention compete for ascendancy. A transient beauty momentarily holds sway in this daily exchange of energy. Ely Cathedral radiates a ‘spiritual’ intensity for believers and non-believers alike as a phalanx of street lamps are recruited as night sentinels, guiding the way.
Marcel Duchamp had a conceptual art piece called ‘Black Widow’, it was a play on the notion of windows and widows, Newnham College in Cambridge is no less surreal with their entry, ‘Autumn Window’. There is an optical illusion taking place here but I can’t quite decide how or why. I guess it has something to do with defeated expectations…we are accustomed to windows as architectural features within the context of a brick or concrete facade These are disembodied windows trapped in autumn undergrowth. The windows appear against a fluid, dissolving and decaying backdrop.
If you believe access to Art is an essential component of a life well-lived – assuming basic critical needs have been met – then you might decide to live in the Northern city of Milan. Architectural beauty exists on almost every street corner in the city centre of this commercial metropolis, and it is a visual and spiritual delight. When you also factor in the high probability of coming across sculptures of this quality, adorning a facade or the entrance to a doorway, you know you are in a place where life and art coexist and complement each other. It was E. M. Forster who said, ‘Only connect the prose and the passion and both will be exalted’. I think he was on to something.