Seeking Solace in Silence

My task this month is to photograph 'silence'. I looked the word up in the dictionary as a starting point: 'A near or complete absence of sound'. Photographs are silent, they do not make a noise. So, that is my first challenge. How to represent silence through the image? Maybe I need to photograph something that does not make a noise, or a scene of stillness. I go in search of a place of peace and tranquility, and naturally head to Dartmoor. But initially, instead of silence, I encountered the crackling sound of the fire of some swailing:

Wondering about the nesting birds being displaced, I walked on up to Haytor Quarry, a previous oasis of calm. But this time there was a group of walkers celebrating a 40th birthday with lots of laughter and chatter! It was cheering, but in pursuit of silence, I waited until they moved on. The tranquility returned, and I started to photograph the still waters with a rock reflection:

Then I noticed the water start to ripple, creating wonderful patterns. A wild swimmer had entered the water. Slowly, mindfully. Her presence changed the reflection:

As I walked back down the tor, I played around with using negative space to convey a sense of silence. A lone tree in a bleak space:

Converting the image to black and white can focus the eye on to stillness, so on my next visit to the sea, I had a play. I was helped by the emptiness of the scene, apart from the two people sitting peacefully:

I then went to visit the Forest Fungi with two close friends, to learn about farming mushrooms. I was struck by the prolific growth in the dark and the silence. In turn I was reminded of the long traditions in various religions of silent meditation and the power in ordinary human relationships of sometimes being together in silence with ones that we love, without having to break or fill that silence with empty chatter. Human beings tend to see a productive life in terms of light and sound but so much that sustains life on earth happens in the dark under our feet. Fascinated, I took home with me a 'log' infused with fungi spores, watered it daily and was delighted when it flourished:

On a day when the warmth of the sun tempted me to think that Spring was truly here, I sat in the garden and marvelled at the speed of the changes, the buds that had silently opened in response to the warmth of the sun:

The blossom on the trees, still and calming:

And the tiny yellow flowers emerging from fluffy willow buds. I wondered if this happens with no noise at all, or is it just that human ears can't hear it?

Once again, what started as a simple photography task has led me down a complex pathway of experimentation and philosophical musings. I have been in a creative dip recently, with a lot of negative thoughts about my photography. Paul Sanders writes about the constant internal noise of his inner critic, and recommends listing ten things that are positive about yourself. I got to six and stalled. Instead of indulging my inner critic any further, I changed tack. I tried something new - watercolours! I embraced the unpredictablity as I created an image of some pebbles, and blended a photo of it with a photo of a Dartmoor stream:

I now have an image of still pebbles under gentle rippling water that I created silently and meditatively. And my mantra for the month ahead? 'Just do what you can today. It will be enough'.

Some ideas to follow up. Visit Paul Sanders website and wallow in the calm.

How Silence Can Change Your Photography by Tatiana Hopper

I enjoyed watching how Simon Burn approached the creation of images in this video

Photographing Seaside Silence. He took his time, carefully framing his shots, reminding me again how important mindfulness is.

And I recommend Creative Abstract Watercolor by Kate Rebecca Leach if, like me, you are taking your first tentative steps into watercolours.

#silence; #dartmoorcalm; #dawlishwarrenstrolling; #peaceinpetals; #playingwithphotography