Summer VIII. Heat + light

Intro & Preface & Contents

Previous: Summer VII. International politics + war, revisited

In this hot weather I like to walk at times amid the full glow of the sun. Our island sun is never hot beyond endurance, and there is a magnificence in the triumph of high summer which exalts one’s mind. Among streets it is hard to bear, yet even there, for those who have eyes to see it, the splendour of the sky lends beauty to things in themselves mean or hideous. I remember an August bank-holiday, when, having for some reason to walk all across London, I unexpectedly found myself enjoying the strange desertion of great streets, and from that passed to surprise in the sense of something beautiful, a charm in the vulgar vista, in the dull architecture, which I had never known. Deep and clear-marked shadows, such as one only sees on a very few days of summer, are in themselves very impressive, and become more so when they fall upon highways devoid of folk. I remember observing, as something new, the shape of familiar edifices, of spires, monuments. And when at length I sat down... it was rather to gaze at leisure than to rest, for I felt no weariness, and the sun, still pouring upon me its noontide radiance, seemed to fill my veins with life.

That sense I shall never know again. For me nature has comforts, raptures, but no more invigoration. The sun keeps me alive, but cannot, as in the old days, renew my being. I would fain learn to enjoy without reflecting...

Alpha.

By chance, one of my few visits to England took place in mid-summer during a spell of fine weather. I have fond memories of lounging in the back garden of a townhouse not far from Hampstead Heath on a stifling, but lovely, late afternoon. Also of roaming amid the stones and houses of Avebury on another delightful afternoon when the puffy, white clouds seemed to roll past no faster than the puffy, white sheep.

Of course this idle was soon followed by my racing back to London on a crowded motorway while crammed into a tin-can Austen Mini. An ordeal that would undoubtedly have undone Henry Ryecroft once and for all.

Whether because of our latitude or our climate I don’t know, but I notice the changing angle of the sun on buildings here especially during the autumn and spring, not the summer. Every day and every hour of every day the angle of the sun on the towering buildings near my apartment alters. On occasion I will notice the light perfectly illuminating the terracotta tiles that envelope the finest of the older buildings. You could take a picture from the same position, of the same building, at the same time of day, every day for a year and rarely get the same image. Of course weather would counter sun on some days, and full shade is full shade regardless of the exact angle of the sun. But there might be other complications, like light reflecting off windows of other buildings onto your subject.

People seem to think they are taking pictures of “things” but in fact they are just capturing light. Unless you are in a position to provide your own light -- or wait for the right light -- you are usually better off looking for good light rather than for good “things” to photograph.

Next: Summer IX. Anabasis.