Another ‘slow-cinema’ impression of the pastoral pleasures of my local landscape, and this time it’s the rapeseed field by Bysing Wood, alive with the buzz of insects and bird song, and desaturated by early evening sunshine.
A final bunch of feathery foliage and powdery yellow froth from the big field at the edge of Bysing Wood.
A further selection of images from my late afternoon at the edge of a large field of slightly weary rapeseed, playing about with focus, and courting the bleaching effects of the sunshine. I was enjoying all the dry-looking clouds of gold, as if applied to the landscape by the rough end of a yellow pastel.
More chalky puffs of yellow from the rapeseed field by Bysing Wood. I always imagine these images as huge, perfectly matte prints behind non-reflective glass on large white walls in big, softly-lit spaces – as opposed to postage stamps on a mobile phone. I’d love to see them ‘life-size’, standing in front of them, as I originally stood at the edge of the field itself. Until that lottery win materialises, I’ll go on sharing them on here.
The first batch of photographs taken of the big rapeseed field at the edge of Bysing Wood. I know people have mixed feelings about these uncompromising swathes of yellow, and you might observe I’ve been working against the ‘YELLOWNESS!’ by photographing into the sun and shooting for more granular, powdery impressions. In actual fact, the rapeseed was already going over and less intense and profuse than it might have been, which helped it embed a little more convincingly into the environment around it. Ultimately, the colour, the light and the proper punch of heat made for a restorative visit and a lovely sensorial rush.
Mount Ephraim is a family-owned estate set into ten acres of landscaped gardens in Faversham, Kent. We’ve visited there many times, and these photographs date from one particularly perfect late summer afternoon in 2009. The light was hazy and magical, washing out the colour and softening everything it touched. Not pictured is the tea and cake we ate on the terrace overlooking the long lawn and topiary, or the sweet melancholy of a season ending.