Cadbury Castle Dawn
Dawn over Compton Pauncefoot from Cadbury Castle, Somerset, England, 05:05, 25th July 2017
The creative process for photographers is a long and enduring affair, but David Noton explains why printing off your work is considered one of the biggest payoffs in the workflow
04:30 25th July 2017
Cadbury Castle, Somerset. Getting up before 4am to climb a hill in the darkness before dawn is the most natural thing in the world to do, isn’t it? There’s something special about a dawn patrol; it feels like an adventure, even after all these years, and despite the fact I’m only a few miles from home.
On the drive over I saw patches of mist forming in fields. Now I’m trudging up to the iron age hill fort that could be Camelot as darkness lifts. Through the trees I gather glimpses of the mist shrouded landscape; this is looking good. My pace quickens; I’m panting in my eagerness to get there and set up. No matter how much time I allow I always end up rushing – desperate not to miss a thing.
The reward is an ethereal, unforgettable view of islands of trees poking up through a sea of mist that’s gracefully veiling the rolling farmland around Compton Pauncefoot, all backlit by the soft dawn twilight. Going tight with the compressed perspective of the 100-400mm lens is the way to go… no tricks, no filters, no gimmicks, no tampering with the light of the blue hour; this morning is all about being here. When is it not? But I’ve been shooting this landscape for well over 20 years now and have never seen anything like this from here before; it just shows I must never stop exploring the visual potential of this, our own home patch.
Two hours later I reluctantly tear myself away. The light has been past its best for sometime now, but the scene is so beguiling I lingered on. This morning has been special, and a reminder of how I don’t need to travel to the far side of the world in search of inspiration and adventure. In fact, quite the reverse is true; the advantage of local knowledge is such that I know some of my best work has been done here. Here, in the green and pleasant rolling landscape spanning the Somerset/dorset border. I shoulder my Lowepro, collapse the legs of my Gitzo and plod along the ramparts of the hill fort, back towards home and the ever growing lure of a delicious breakfast.
11:00 20th April 2018
I’m looking at a print from that dawn Cadbury session now. How good is it? Enough time has now passed that I can be objective. A dispassionate assessment soon after capture is almost impossible; I reckon at least six months needs to pass before I can be completely impartial about my own work. And looking at an image as a print, as opposed to on screen, helps. There’s something tangible and incredibly beautiful about a print; they’re what got us into photography in the first place, aren’t they? Maybe not for the current and next generation of photographers, in which case they’re missing out. For me though, making a print of a successful image is the consummation of the whole, often long and laborious, process. For someone with memories from the ’80s and ’90s of how frustrating and expensive it was to produce prints from transparencies, the ability to make prints with a few clicks of the mouse seems crazy. And, if I’m honest, I print as much for my own satisfaction as anyone else’s. I think it is vital to enjoy, to the maximum, the fruits of our creativity, not to mention labour and persistence. This simply must be done if we are to sustain our enthusiasm, and printing is the final and often most satisfying step in the workflow. Seeing the fruits of our creative labour is an essential step in the whole creative process. So, to answer my own question, how good is it? Put it this way: it’s definitely going on the wall.
Next month Durdle Dor