Shingle Street is hard to describe. It rests at the end of a narrow lane, the only buildings are a line of cottages and a Martello Tower. Looking inland are fields and out to sea mostly empty space. Banks of shingle come and go with the tide and change shape with the storms that rage in the North Sea.
With all this nothing what could there be to photograph? We’re so used to being fed information and stimulus we sometimes forget that we can sit, watch and discover for ourselves. Often it takes too long and we have other things to get on with rather than invest the time in ourselves.
On a cold dreary winter morning before the sun had risen I stood on the beach and watched the waves breaking on the shingle. I listened to the sound of the pebbles being dragged back into the sea as the waves retreated. A grating sound that’s hard to describe. The tide was falling and in its wake the shingle banks emerged, all the time changing the pattern of the waves. Gulls settled on the banks before lifting once more into the air.
While all this happened the sky lightened as the sun continued its journey to meet the horizon. Textures started to form in the cloud and colours morphed in the sky, changing all the time.
The sun finally rose above the horizon and Shingle Street greeted another day. The waves, the shingle and the gulls carried on as before but somehow the ambiance changed from soft and gentle to bright and glaring. Another day had begun, Shingle Street returned to the isolated beach you’d expect.
Shingle Streets haunting beauty under wraps for another day.
My time on the pebbles at Shingle Street is part of a journey north along the Suffolk coast from Languard Point at the southernmost tip to its border with Norfolk. Along the way I’ll be exploring and recording what I find and then sharing.