Deep Impressionism revisited

[Rob MacKillop]

This is one of my favourite shots from my year-long study of a river called The Water of Leith in Edinburgh. I was trying to give an impression of how I was feeling when looking at it, rather than trying to give a 'reality' exposure. I called it Deep Impressionism, but maybe Deep Reflection would be a better title. It was one of those moments where I just had no thoughts in my mind, certainly not at the forefront, and had been staring at it for some time. Somehow I had the presence of mind to take a shot. It is what it is.

I shared it here when I first took it, but I've just come across it again, and it gave me a few moments of that stillness I had back then.

 

[Rob MacKillop]

I'm glad it is not in colour - it would have been too much.

 

[Brian Moore]

It's hard to make out what I'm seeing here, Rob. I think its a reflection of trees in water, but it is brilliantly ambiguous. And that it creates an emotion in you, the artist, is a powerful statement. I can appreciate that. I have one or two pictures that pull some emotion out of me. I love them, though I wouldn't expect anyone else to love them. The more I look at your picture of Deep Impressionism the more I like it and the more I can understand why you made it.

 

[Rob MacKillop]

Thanks for the thoughtful comment, Brian. I’ve no idea what other people might see in the image, as they lack the experience I had at the time. Yes, it’s a reflection in a very still river, and the feeling was of nature just holding its breath for a short while, and I fell into a dwam, to use a Scottish word, an almost Zen-like stilling of the mind, as if my brain too was taking a breath. It wasn’t a ‘beautiful’ moment, just ‘a moment’ without words or thinking. Laughingly I think there is a fine line from being in such a state and being a brainless idiot! But I prefer to think the former rather than the latter.
If I ever write an autobiography, it would begin with the day I spent with the family and relations at Ainster beach when I was a kid of about five years of age. We were sitting on a raised dune, looking out to the North Sea. The sun was shining - a beautiful day - but I seemed removed from the scene, observing it from a distance while at the same time being absolutely ‘one’ with it. It was as if I were connected to everything and nothing, with no internal ‘me’ and external ‘it’. But suddenly my Auntie Eileen’s voice broke through to shatter my idyll: “That’s a weird laddie ye’ve got there, Alice!”. LOL! I’ve been ‘at two’ with nature ever since…

 

[Brian Moore]

Thanks for the thoughtful comment, Brian. I’ve no idea what other people might see in the image, as they lack the experience I had at the time. Yes, it’s a reflection in a very still river, and the feeling was of nature just holding its breath for a short while, and I fell into a dwam, to use a Scottish word, an almost Zen-like stilling of the mind, as if my brain too was taking a breath. It wasn’t a ‘beautiful’ moment, just ‘a moment’ without words or thinking. Laughingly I think there is a fine line from being in such a state and being a brainless idiot! But I prefer to think the former rather than the latter.
If I ever write an autobiography, it would begin with the day I spent with the family and relations at Ainster beach when I was a kid of about five years of age. We were sitting on a raised dune, looking out to the North Sea. The sun was shining - a beautiful day - but I seemed removed from the scene, observing it from a distance while at the same time being absolutely ‘one’ with it. It was as if I were connected to everything and nothing, with no internal ‘me’ and external ‘it’. But suddenly my Auntie Eileen’s voice broke through to shatter my idyll: “That’s a weird laddie ye’ve got there, Alice!”. LOL! I’ve been ‘at two’ with nature ever since…

 

[Pete Askew]

I recall this from the first time, Rob and it really is a very striking photograph. It really is quite immersive and I like the way the hight in the reflection draws you in to the lighter patch of trees and from there to the full depth of the image where you become enveloped.

 

[Rob MacKillop]

Thanks, Pete. Appreciated.