There is almost exactly eight years between these two images. The latest image (above) was captured on the 3rd January 2025 and the earlier image (below) on the 22nd December 2016. Clearly both photographs are of the same scene but they are very different. You may want to spend a few moments comparing the two images before reading my own thoughts and observations.
This scene of Chichester Harbour is one I know very well. It’s on a section of path on the eastern side of Fishbourne Creek, between the villages of Fishbourne and Dell Quay in West Sussex. The earlier photograph is one of a collection of images of Chichester Harbour which make up a body of work I titled ‘Still by the Water’. You can view the other images here.
Although the photograph captured just a few days ago is similar to the image of 8 years ago, there are a number of important differences and as a consequence the feel and narrative of the picture has changed.
Both are wintry scenes – one is a bright, cold, frosty but clear morning. The other a misty day with much softer light, which has given some tonal separation between the group of trees in the background and the main subject – the kissing gate.
The group of trees also appear further away than they did in the original image. There is a simple explanation. The earlier image was captured with a 50mm lens, whilst a 35mm lens was used for the image taken a few days ago. When I set out I had no intention of trying to recreate the older image and I only had the one lens/camera combination with me.
My position for the composition has changed out of necessity. Nature in the form of brambles now occupy the ground where I had stood 8 years ago. The footpath sign has been moved and now only has two fingers whereas it previously had three. Nature has again played its part. The sea has eroded sections of the sea wall so one branch of the footpath has been closed and further erosion is inevitable as each winter storm takes its toll.
As well as the light being very different there is an added element to the more recent composition – the prominent spire of Chichester Cathedral. It may be very small in the frame but its placement draws the eye and creates a new narrative, which in my view is made up of four elements.
Firstly the kissing gate which is beautifully illuminated by the early morning light. It encourages me (or the viewer) to walk through the gate, to continue along the path and the journey. There is a feeling of hope as the early morning sun rises at the start of a new day and the beginning of a new year.
Secondly the signpost offers a simple choice of direction along the pathway; which way to continue, left or right? We all face choices in life and we don’t always know the consequences of the decisions we make.
Thirdly the post could be viewed as a cross and the upright section of wood is pointing to the Cathedral Spire. A suggestion perhaps of another but altogether different journey?
Fourthly the unseen changes to the landscape; the eroding sea wall and nature taking back the land on which I once stood. These elements aren’t visible in the frame, but they are reminders that whilst a scene may on first glance be very similar, change is inevitable and given the passage of time nothing stays the same. From one day to the next the weather and lighting conditions will change. Even in the space of a few minutes the sun will move; the direction of light will alter and in this instance the frost will start to thaw.
In photography we are simply capturing a moment in time which is never to be repeated.
This is my first post of 2025, so I would like to thank all of you who follow this blog, particularly those of you who have ‘liked’ or made comments in the past 12 months. I always appreciate your feedback.
Wherever you may be, may I wish you a happy, healthy and peaceful New Year.
For many years I have been making images of my home county of Dorset with the intention of including my favourite pictures in a photobook; not necessarily for publication but simply for my own satisfaction and enjoyment. There are about 140 photographs which I have already short-listed and I have now reached the stage where I can begin making my final selection. Part of this process involves reviewing all the images, to ensure I am happy with how they have been edited and whether or not they could be improved in any way.
As I went through the portfolio there were two or three images which I thought would benefit from a ‘letterbox’ crop or to be more precise a 1×2 aspect ratio. As someone who likes to shoot 1×1 or 5×4, a 1×2 crop is well outside my comfort zone. However as I experimented I found more images which I thought were enhanced by selecting this particular crop.
In this post have included a few photographs which have undergone this treatment. As well a changing the overall feel of the image I like the fact they will add variety and interest to the book.
Some of these images were made some years ago and I think this exercise also demonstrates how a critical and constructive review of an edited photograph can bring dividends.
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I have recently returned from arguably the best photographic workshop I have ever attended. I could stop there but let me explain my reasons for why I feel this way and share with you some of the images I made.
The workshop, or to use the correct term, retreat, was organised and run by Paul Sanders of Discover Still. I first met Paul a number of years ago when I heard him give an inspiring talk at Fotofest in Bath. He explained how being the Picture Editor for The Times drove him to the grip of depression before leaving that role in 2011 and turning to landscape photography. On the ‘About’ page of his website he states:
‘I traded noise and materialism for something far more precious: peace.’
Paul Sanders
The idea of attending one of his retreats only came to me a few weeks ago. Reading its description appealed to me on several levels. Firstly a holiday in a beautiful quiet location, staying in a manor house and enjoying the food prepared by a private chef. Secondly the opportunity to meet like minded photographers and to be inspired by them. Thirdly and out of choice, to have a complete break from all television, news, social media and any of life’s other distractions. And lastly to be encouraged and motivated by a facilitator who’s images I greatly admire and who I thought would adopt a very different approach to the concept of a photographic workshop. This was not about rushing to one ‘honeypot’ photo location, taking a few pictures, then moving on to the next destination trying to find the tripod holes left by the previous group of image makers. The retreat was based at The Stewardry on The Boconnoc Estate in Cornwall and there we would stay for the duration.
The Stewardry on The Boconnoc Estate
On the evening we arrived Paul explained that each participant could take things at their own pace, going to out to photograph when ever they wanted, or just stopping and being quiet to take in the sights, sounds, smells and feel of the nature around us. He made it clear that it was only by giving ourselves permission to stop, look around, touch and listen that our minds would begin to absorb nature and in so doing images might reveal themselves to us.
He reminded us of a quote by the American Photographer Minor White –
‘Be still with yourself until the object of your attention affirms your presence.’
I don’t know why but I was looking through my CaptureOne catalogue a few days ago and came across some images which I had taken in the summer of last year down at Weymouth beach in Dorset. It was a dull, overcast day and without any sun the beach was almost deserted with only a few hardened holidaymakers determined to make the most of it.
I had processed the pictures but they were never included in a post. I guess this was probably because the subject matter (urban/seaside/street) is very different to my usual work. It’s always rather fun to try something new and challenge your photographic eye.
Anyone familiar with a typical seaside resort in England will recognise some of these scenes which are likely to be replicated up and down the land. There is something very British about choosing to park your deck chair right next to a huge litter bin!
All the pictures were taken on the same morning with a Fuji X100v. It’s a great little camera for this type of work. Discreet, quick and easy to use, full manual control if that’s what you want and it produces excellentimage files.
Weymouth is a very popular resort, not too far from home. With Autumn having well and truly arrived here in the UK it is my intention to head back to this location as I find these places more interesting out of season.
Until then here is a selection which makes a change from my usual landscape or church photography.
The days seem to go so quickly that I find to hard to believe that a month has passed since I took my first steps along the Jubilee Trail. You can read about Walk One here.
I decided for my second planned walk that I would effectively continue where I left off, albeit that I would be starting in Cranborne, walking out to Pentridge Hill and returning along the Hardy Way back to the village – a distance of 5.2 miles. I am fully aware that in walking terms this isn’t very far but as I mentioned in the first post I want to take time to absorb and appreciate the landscape as well as finding compositions and releasing the shutter to record what I see.
In many ways these posts, and there will be 32 in total, are as much a travelogue and as they are a photographic experience. Given I have only just completed the second walk it may well take me a year or more to finish the 90 mile trail!
I left the village of Cranborne at precisely 10 o’clock just as the church bells chimed on the hour, and for a short time they drowned out the bird song coming from the trees around me. The sun shone which was in stark contrast to the previous day which had been wet. After all the rain, the gravel path made for good walking but I anticipated there would be muddy sections somewhere along the route.
I soon reached Manor Farm and couldn’t help but notice the signage for The Boot and Bucket Cheese Company. I am a big fan of cheese and I had not come across this artisan food-maker before, so I made a mental note to go on their website when I returned home. I knew it wouldn’t be very long before one or two of their products would be on a plate with complementary biscuits and a glass of red wine.
I passed Manor Farm and the gravel track gave way to tarmac. A surprisingly well maintained road given it only served Cranborne Farm ahead. Two people appeared in front of me, grey hair, one stick and the ubiquitous black labrador. I soon overtook them, said good morning as I did so, and continued along the trail. Pasture land lay to my left, a post and wire fence preventing the curious cattle escaping, telegraph poles as far as my eye could see and a flock of maybe seven or eight white wagtails for company.
Heading north west the mid morning sun was directly behind me and my long shadow led the way. I turned to see if I was still being followed but the two dog walkers must have turned around, continued putting the world to rights, as they made there was back to Cranborne.
After 35 minutes and 1.3 miles, I turned right at Cranborne farm, still on the Jubilee Trail, and began a gentle ascent. I had chosen another beautiful, dry autumnal day and the temperature was rising. I had packed a waterproof jacket, but I was convinced it wouldn’t be required. In fact it wasn’t long before my gilet joined the waterproof in my backpack and I was down to a single layer. Neither saw the light of day until the end of the walk. I couldn’t have wished for better conditions.
Leaving the farm behind me, tarmac had been replaced by a typical farm track, with tractor ruts either side of a wet grass central reservation. Lined by hedges which are great for wildlife but they did mean my view of the surrounding countryside was inhibited. Although there were some muddy sections, the ground was surprisingly good given how wet it had been recently. I felt for all arable farmers who must have had a very difficult time bringing in the harvest and would now be struggling to plough and cultivate the land ready for seed drilling and next year’s crop.
Every so often, the sun would give advanced notice of a gap in the hedgerow and the hidden landscape would be revealed. At one point I could see Penbury Knoll, which I had visited in ‘Walk One’ although I wouldn’t be going quite that far today. This route would take me to the lower slopes of Pentridge Hill where I would turn round and head back to Cranborne. The path was nearly all uphill from now on. The good news is that it would be all downhill on the way back.
Although I had yet to see or hear any pheasants, it was evident that sections of the farmland would be used for game shooting. Strips of land had been left for cover and there were many pheasant feeders dotted around the fields. Game shooting divides opinion but for those in favour it does generate another income stream for landowners and gamekeepers.
I arrived at my next turning point. It was marked on the map as Jack’s Hedge Corner. I enjoyed a good view of the countryside and then realised from looking at the map that I was looking down on Toby‘s Bottom. ‘Oooh Matron’ I said to myself, which will only make sense to those of you who are familiar with Kenneth Williams and the ‘Carry On’ films of the 1960’s and 70’s. Joking aside these are names which are surely linked to people from the past, in particular Jack as there were hedges in all directions.
I stopped to take a few pictures and as I made my way up the hill I thought I could hear voices. My hearing isn’t perfect but the voices got louder and it wasn’t long before I knew that my ears hadn’t been deceiving me, as a group of retired ramblers came into view. A few moments earlier I had only been thinking how this had felt like a quiet place of solitude negating any need to go to places like Scotland and the mountains. I could escape people here in my home county. The ramblers had broken the silence of nature and place, and selfishly I hoped they would be continuing their walk along a different path. I pressed on to put some distance between me and them. I make no apology but I prefer to be on my own.
The slopes of Pentridge Hill lay ahead and a buzzard flew over Blackbush Down. As it turned, the underside of its wings were caught in sunlight, revealing the beautiful pattern of its feathers. The distinctive mewing and screeching on the wing echoes the sound of a cat like call. It circled out of view, its cry falling away in volume as it did so.
Apart from the bird of prey calling there were no more voices to be heard; I assumed they must have turned right at Jack’s Hedge Corner and I rambled off in the opposite direction.
After an hour and 35 minutes I had covered 2.9 miles, and had arrived at the point which I had left the Jubilee Trail a few weeks ago. It was time to turn round and retrace my steps taking in the view across Cranborne Chase. Before doing so I reached into my bag for a drink and half a sandwich, something to refresh me. It was only 11.40am so too early for lunch and I envisaged having the rest back in the village followed by a flat white and maybe a slice of cake at the Cranborne Garden Centre by way of a treat.
I soon arrived back at Jack’s Hedge Corner. By then the sun had moved round and was now illuminating the gate post which made for a much better composition.
This was also the junction to continue straight ahead and follow Hardy’s Way back to Cranborne. ‘Jack’ had without question been very active as the path was lined by tall hedges on both sides of the track and for long sections any view was completely obscured. However I was grateful the sun was still shining, but in some respects I was now looking forward to the end of the walk.
As I descended I had rather hoped there might be a view of the village, perhaps even the church tower but it was not be. Thinking the tall hedgerow would be a permanent fixture for the rest of the walk I was pleased when I came across a pair of double gates to my right and the countryside I had been missing for the past half a mile or so suddenly came into view. I stopped, rested my hiking stick against the gate and admired the scenery. I heard the buzzard again but this time it wasn’t visible, but there was no mistaking its call.
It was at this point that I gave some thought to the camera equipment I had in my bag. My Leica SL and 50mm Summilux lens was all I had used. I had three other prime lenses so why was I carrying all of them? I guess there will be times when I will resort to using them but for the majority of images 50mm is all I need. It is though something to consider for future walks.
The bridleway returned to tarmac once again so I knew the village and the end of the walk couldn’t be that far away. I reached a road and on the corner a finger post confirmed what I already knew; the car would be in sight very shortly and lunch would be my reward.
It’s just before 1 o’clock and I’m back where I started; 5.4 miles according to the App on my iPhone. Before heading to the cafe there was one more place to visit – the church of St Mary and St Bartholomew. There were only a few spaces to park outside the church and a ‘no parking’ cone immediately by the church gate reduced the number of options. A small pick up took up another space with its driver sitting behind the wheel.
I approached the church but unfortunately it was closed for the day. A notice on the door informed me that a funeral was due to take place. This made sense of the parking cone and I could only conclude the grave digger was waiting to complete his work after the service had finished.
As I drove to the cafe the vicar was walking to the church with a small black leather case in his hand. There were two mourners in traditional dark attire at the garden centre filling time over a drink and I suspect retelling tales of the dearly departed. A sombre end to the day but a reminder how grateful I am to be alive, to walk, to see and to hear the beauty of God’s creation which I had witnessed that morning.
I left the garden centre at 2pm and heard the church bells chime again.
alan frost photography 