I’m fascinated by reflections. Yes, it’s yet another cliche and I know that, but hey ho, I like them and I don’t care. At the moment I’m particularly enjoying taking shots of the sky reflected on the ground. Perhaps it could be classed as a variation on my Fallen series – pieces of fallen sky.
When I was about eight years old I went on a bike ride with my older cousin. It was a sunny day, but there had been a lot of rain and there were puddles everywhere. Cycling along a country lane we came to one puddle that was several inches deep and spread right across the road – it was really more like a small pond. The air was still, and the clouds, sky and trees were perfectly reflected, as sharply and smoothly as if in a polished mirror. I looked into it and felt like I was falling into the sky.
I couldn’t go through it, I simply couldn’t – I froze, there at the edge. My cousin did everything she could to persuade me, even cycling back and forwards through it herself to show me it was all fine. But even with ripples, it looked far too real. I knew I’d fall into the sky if I tried it. We turned round and went back.
Later, I found out that fear of falling into the sky is a recognised phobia – it’s called casadastraphobia. People who suffer from it commonly fear that the earth will flip and that they’ll fall into an endless sky. I can relate. Nowadays, though, I rather like the idea of falling into the sky and losing myself in it.
These shots were taken at Talacre Beach, at the same time as I shot the lighthouse reflections.