In the depths of Southern France there’s a scene that’s kept me entranced for many a lazy afternoon over the years…
Hérault Mountains, France, 1999
I’ve photographed the view many times, even made a time lapse once, but none of them encapsulate the feelings evoked as neatly as this one.
Now available as a Platinum/Palladium print, Hérault Mountains joins a growing collection of photographs using this very traditional printing method — read more about the process by clicking here.
Print detail…
If you’re thinking of buying any of my prints as Christmas gifts, please allow as much time as possible — now is a good time to order.
I do hold a small amount in stock but Platinum/Palladium prints such as these can take a little while to make.
If you would like to buy Hérault Mountains as a signed, numbered and embossed print, you can find it nestled here in my Platinum Collection.
If you’re a photographer, you might empathise with this — occasionally (or regularly) making a photograph that you know you like but you’re not quite sure how or what will be the right way to finish it off, to properly close the loop…
I must say, it doesn’t normally take as long as fourteen years to come to a decision.
However, back in 1999, I captured the layered platform rooves of Paddington Station, a mainline railway station in West London.
Although I loved the graphic simplicity of the scene, it was an image that went on the back-burner.
Finding the photograph a couple of weeks ago put me straight into the mindset of a vintage Paddington Station.
Some of the buildings are clearly more modern but nevertheless it reminds me of a time gone by.
I’m not sure why, maybe it’s the weightiness or the puff of white rising from one of the platforms; maybe it’s simply the fact that it was shot on nostalgic ol’ black and white film with my Nikon.
Whatever the reasons, I knew instantly that it would make a fine Platinum/Palladium print.
I set to work making the Digital Negative and sent it off to Richard (take a look at the process here).
When Prints No.1 and No.2 arrived back, I was over the moon — just what I’d hoped for:
In hindsight, I think I was a little ahead of myself when I released the shutter on this scene.
Rather than the photographic tastes I had then, it was as if I was seeing ahead to the tastes I would have now with an older head on my shoulders.
Perhaps that’s why it’s taken so long for me to close this particular loop.
Anyway, I managed to find a clip of The Last Journey, a story about Bob Holt’s last journey as a railway engine driver before his retirement.
The clip depicts Paddington in the 1930s, a time when Platinum printing had already become scarce due to the war effort, and a good example of the station back in the day:
If you would like to buy one of these beautiful signed, numbered and embossed prints, you can find it nestled among others here in my Platinum Collection.
One of the photographs from that camping trip has always stuck in my mind — the view over Peel Island (of Swallows and Amazons fame) on Coniston Water.
Over a year on, I’ve finally made the time to work on the print of this photograph, one that encapsulates so many of my experiences and feelings about the Lake District.
Largely, as you can see from the sky, I guess those feelings tend to revolve around an imminent drenching.
Indeed, at the time, I mentioned beauty in dankness.
For those who don’t know — if you’re vaguely dry in the Lake District, it’s about to rain. If you’re soaked to the skin, it’s raining already…
