In this post I’m sharing a few examples of photos that include at least some and maybe a lot of empty space or background. It’s my hope that the background space in my selections adds interest to the photographs, and either compliments or adds emphasis to the subjects. Besides cloudy-day seascapes from a morning stroll in late October, I’ve included some scenes from a glary cloudless mid-November morning when shadows were the prevailing theme. I’m still exploring my use of background space in photography, but I feel like it’s possible the clouds of October drew me to the seascape side while glare and shadows in November pulled more to close-ups. (To be fair, the beaches in the two sets are different, so maybe it’s merely a matter of opportunity.)
October 26, 2023 dawned under partly cloudy skies leading to semi-dramatic clouds later. I took the three photos in this set between 8:14 am and 9:18 am and they are shown in sequence.
If rocks can be friends, this one’s mine. We’ve been at it a while. Here, it juts from the sand, filling a good chunk of frame; pretty much the perfect amount to accommodate a background that also called out for a seat at the table. The right-hand side of the image has it all; in the foreground, curves in the sand literally vibrate and the patch of blue off the tip of the rock compliments all the other elements. In a just world, this would be my sole entry, but in the cause of my entry into background space, I’ll press on.
In the image below, all the drama is in the cliff’s eroded contortions. Yet, it gets less than half a frame. The rest is interesting background. The seaweed-covered rocks in the foreground, the surf zone, distant headlands and the clouds exert just enough pull to keep my eye moving around the frame until, eventually, they lead back, without conflict, to scabrous subject—host, you will notice, to two precarious wind-beaten spruce trees, rather gnarled in their own right.
The subject in the scene below is off at a rather great distance. Compared to the space surrounding it, it’s but a speck in the middle distance. There’s a pleasure to be had letting the sand’s swash-and-backwash-driven ripples, or the cloud’s lines, lead to the Lion. Back on the beach, though, while ripples in sand and the clouds will come and go, the surf and that enduring headland will team up perpetually in daily cycles to accomplish the same task every day, as long as the Lion presides.
On November 16, 2023, dawn broke clear and before long the beach was aglare and shadows hid behind every rock and ripple. The photos in this set lean to minimalist. They were all taken before 9 am and I show them slightly out of order because they look best to me as shown.
In the pair of images below, the wad from a spent shotgun shell and a windblown spruce branchlet tip cast their shadows. Wads wash up abundantly on northern Oregon beaches. The band of surf above the spruce tip adds a ton to that scene.
Sometimes, my sense of empty space is enhanced in black and white, but I’m not experienced enough to predict it. Either way, in color versus black and white context, I’ve found a more powerful presence than I imagined. I’m not saying better or worse; mine is just a comment on the power of context. In the upper left-hand panel, drift logs come and go fall through spring. In the upper right-hand panel, a venerable clam shell (looks like a fat gaper, but I make no promises). And finally, at the bottom, coyote tracks lead off on the southbound.
Note: I took the header image while looking north from the base of that gnarly cliff in the middle image of the October 26 set.