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    tiny lighthouse by huge sea and sky

    And This Amazing Blue

    Seeing the Creator through Landscape Photography

    By Paul Sanders

    June 8, 2016
    5 Comments
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    • Martin Harris

      Thank you Paul. Just discovered this and you put into words exactly what I am feeling towards in photography.

    • Charlie Carini

      Good for you Paul - welcome to the real world - live your life simply. Any media world rarely produces simplicity. Besides every individual is an Stieglitz - it's only the media elite who claim otherwise. Cheers

    • Stewart Patrick

      Thank you for sharing this testimony. Truly, the writer is experiencing the the wonderful truth we all share in, "Christ in you, the hope of glory". And... Colossians 1:15-17 NRSV (15) He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation; (16) for in him all things in heaven and on earth were created, things visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or powers--all things have been created through him and for him. (17) He himself is before all things, and in him all things hold together.

    • Shannon Johansen

      I really like the photographs and the article. I never get tired of looking at the blue sky or the ocean, it is about the light and the feeling it gives you.

    • Kelly

      I saw this yesterday, Wednesday evening and was almost in tears in awe of the beautiful blue. And the caption touched me deeply. About 30 minutes later, at church, I opened to our second hymn and was SO touched I couldn't even sing. I thought you would appreciate my story and the lyrics: Hymn 340 There's a wideness in God's mercy, Like the wideness of the sea; There's a kindness in `Love's` justice, Which is more than liberty. For the love of God is broader Than is seen by human mind, And the heart of the Eternal Is most wonderfully kind. If our love were but more simple, We should take `Love` at `Love's` word; And our lives would be all sunshine In the sweetness of our `Soul`.

    When I joined the London Times in 2002, it was my dream job. Soon, however, the pressures of heading up a department with a million-pounds-per-year budget and a staff of thirty-three were overwhelming. Every day I looked at between seventeen and twenty-five thousand photos. I soon went from a ten-hour day to a twelve-hour day, to a fourteen-hour day, to a sixteen-hour day. I stopped eating and sleeping properly and my marriage fell apart. I ended up having a nervous breakdown. In 2011 I decided to leave. Looking back, I don’t regret it at all.

    It came to me when I attended a friend’s wedding, and they introduced me, not as their friend Paul, but as the “picture editor of the Times.” I suddenly realized that the job completely defined me. I was no longer a Christian; I was no longer a father; I was no longer a friend: I was just the job. I had been so frightened of losing that job because I would lose the salary, which would mean losing the house and then losing my family. I lost my family anyway as, sadly, my wife and I separated.

    aerial view of patchwork fields by sea

    For the first three or four years of my son’s life, I wasn’t a dad; I was just a person in the house who occasionally ate with the family. I was always busy: talking on the phone, answering emails, watching the news, and reading the newspaper. I spent all day rushing and trying to sort things out. As soon as anything newsworthy happened, that was it. Now my son is the most important thing in my life and we spend a lot of time together.

    When I first started taking landscape pictures I tried to emulate photographers I admired. I bought similar equipment to what they used, and drove around a lot, but I didn’t take many pictures and it only made my depression worse. I got to a place where I just wanted to end it all.

    One day I went down to Beachy Head on the South Downs to take pictures. The camera was a big, square thing that takes plate film. I had a light meter and put it on the ground beneath the tripod. When I moved I kicked it and it went over the edge of the five-hundred-foot cliff. I reached to grab it and I suddenly had the heart-stopping moment of – “What are you doing? There is so much more to life than what you’re stressing over. You’re going about it all the wrong way.”

    photograph of sea

    I’d been a Christian on and off since the mid-nineties. More off than on if I’m honest; the media world doesn’t really gel with being Christian. So I picked and chose when I believed in God, usually when I wanted to ask for something, but never when I had done something that I needed forgiveness for. I didn’t expect to feel anything when I was sitting up there on the cliff because I felt so alone. But then I felt as if there really was somebody next to me, telling me to find a different path. It was as if someone was saying: “You have got more to give. You’ve put your values in all the wrong places. There are people around you who love you if you let them love you. You need to just open your eyes.” I went away feeling completely different.

    I started going to church again, but told the minister that I didn’t come very often because I have a little boy on alternate weekends. He told me that God isn’t just in church, and that if I find God when I am out taking pictures then I should do that. That was when I started shooting purely from the heart, and stopped worrying about the technical side of things. Now I go to places and I wait to feel moved. I try to show the emotional and spiritual moment I am in. Sometimes I pray that the light will improve. It is a matter of connecting with what I’m photographing: the world that God has created.

    pebbles and pier on shore

    Even in taking pictures, which is such a small part of life, you’ve got to have a faith, something that holds it all together. My faith
    in God centers and grounds me. I used to think I was the most important thing in the world. Now I see myself as a small part of something enormous.

    And I think God looks after me. Wherever I go, my eyes are open to different things. It might be just a curve in a river, light through a tree, or even shadows. I’m in awe of all the beauty I see. I have been guided to it, and I concentrate on that.

    Leaving my job flipped my life on its head. Getting rid of everything I had valued made me realize the value I placed in things. Why do we run through life blinkered on the money? Life is so much more than that. By photographing ordinary things – a pole in the sea, some trees on a mound – I can show people that there is so much beauty around. I used to drive to work at eighty or ninety miles an hour. Now I don’t drive over fifty, partly because it is more economical, but more because I look around. If I come to a corner and see something that surprises me, I stop for a minute and admire it. It doesn’t have to be as pretty as a field of poppies. It can just be the light through trees.

    I always come away from a shoot smiling. It might be an inside smile because most people think you’re mad if you walk around smiling all the time. But it’s the sheer joy I get from seeing the waves breaking on the beach and the shape they make when they curl, or from watching clouds move and how, when the light in them changes, the shadows become menacing. And from the way the colors change from blue during the day to purples, oranges, reds, and this amazing blue after the sun sets.

    tiny lighthouse by huge sea and sky
    tiny lighthouse by huge sea and sky
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    Contributed By

    Paul Sanders is a landscape photographer in London. This article is based on an interview by Joe Hine for Plough on May 14, 2015.

    5 Comments
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