“It’s 7:30 in the morning. The two peaks of Errisbeg are behind me and I’m on the descent back to Roundstone. Even in late May it’s still cold this high up, this close to the Atlantic. The light changes by the minute, and with it the entire mood of the landscape. Not long ago I was standing on the west peak, looking down at the white sand of Dog’s Bay and the clear blue water of the ocean to the south. To the north the peat bogs glint as they are caught by the occasional sunbeam, but beyond them in the distance the peaks of the Twelve Pins have not revealed themselves, remaining shrouded in low cloud. For now my gaze is to the East, over Roundstone and Inishnee towards the Maumturks.
There’s no-one else on the mountain; I could almost believe there is no-one else at all. The longer I spend in this landscape, the more I feel distanced from the trivial worries and concerns of modern life. Where I’m going ceases to matter, and I begin to be at peace with where I am. It’s not a feeling of a different time, but of time played out on a different scale. A welcome chance to feel the vastness – in size, but also in past and future – of this space we live in that is often hidden amongst the neon signs and city lights.”
It is this feeling that draws me back to the countryside, and it is this feeling that I try to capture in my landscape photography. I try to make images that I can look at, step into, and lose myself in for a few moments. I hope you can feel some of this when you look at them, but maybe I’m just getting carried away. I hope you like them anyway.
Thanks for looking.