Alright, not quite solitude; rather, eight photographers standing in a row.
But you know what I mean. Eight photographers on a lonely loch beach at dawn, hoping that the drifting rainclouds will cut the island off from the mountains behind it.
I’d never thought much about landscape photography until a recent trip to Scotland. It’s a different way of working for me. And it’s got me thinking about solitude. There’s something really lonely about the landscape photography that I like; I’d love to be able to convey this in my own work.
So I’m hatching a plan to return to the place where I experienced the greatest isolation of my life. Schleswig-Holstein, in the north of Germany, where as a twenty-year-old I lived in a shed, with a radio, a bicycle, and a small flock of geese to watch outside my window.
I didn’t have a camera in those days (or rather, I didn’t have any film.) If I’d had one, I’d have photographed the flat land, the river, the canal, and the endless mist. I might have hoped for a glimpse of a Storm-like Schimmelreiter approaching through the fog on a white horse.
I’ve not been back for over twenty years, but I think it’s about time to revisit, with my camera. And, much as I might like to go with seven friendly photographers, I think this one is a trip to make alone.