We Put In What We Take Out

There are fewer places on earth that calm, nurture and inspire the human spirit more than the ocean. The rhythmic beats of the rolling waves as they sweep across the sand; the faint cooling breeze as it brushes your face washed with a summer sunset. The ocean is our greatest source of life, comfort and fun; it centres the mind, and like all great partnerships we take out what we put in. There are few photographs which remind me of that notion than the one above – and the irony is, it wasn’t planned.

On the Island of Jersey, the largest of the Channel Islands sitting just off the coast of France, there is an anomaly called ‘The Golden Hour’. On a clear night, when the clouds are sparse and the sun begins to fall beneath the horizon, the sky turns a deep topaz, the ocean glistens and the silhouettes of the local Island surfers sporadically cover the shore. ‘The Golden Hour’ is not a rarity on Jersey, yet it feels sacred to witness – and more so to shoot.

Taking my camera (Canon 750D) to the 5-mile-long beach of St Ouen, I set about with a simple mission – capture a photograph which encapsulates the beauty of humanity’s relationship with the ocean. Underline that saying – we take out what we put in. It sounded simple enough, so I began clicking away.

Most experts will say that patience is a founding element for photography. Wait for the perfect scene, lighting and tone, take your time. These are sentiments which ring true, but patience has never been much of a virtue I have willingly exercised. My technique has always been; look, point, click. It’s a simple rule and one which has worked for me time and time again. But not on this night standing beneath the Summer sunset of ‘The Golden Hour’ of St Ouen.

Every image I took just didn’t feel right. Sure they were striking with the topaz sky and the dominating sun. ‘The Golden Hour’ was easy to capture, but the theme I had set for myself, to showcase that unique relationship between humanity and the ocean, was missing.

That was until the final few minutes of the sacred hour of the summer sunset. Walking into frame were three surfers. I watched as they confidently headed to the rolling surf talking animatedly about the perfect conditions for riding the waves. My lens trained on them waiting. For once I had listened to the experts and instigated the art of patience until they stood in perfect silhouette against the fading sunlight. I clicked. Just once. That's all it took.

I pulled away, waiting for the image to appear on the small preview screen. I felt the smile cover my face. The image I had been hoping for looked back at me. Elation surged through every vein in my body as I surveyed at the photograph which, to me, defined humanity’s relationship with the ocean. Here were three men, locals to the Island, using the surf as a way of community. Whether it be through exercise, socially or just for fun, the ocean had provided a moment of togetherness for three strangers who took out what they put in.

After ‘The Golden Hour’ had ended my dormant impatience returned. I couldn’t wait to see the image on a large screen, so I could fully marvel at the composition.

Once home, I looked at whether any improvements were needed – there were a few, though not enough to take away from the natural impact of the image. I darkened the contrast through Adobe Lightroom, making the silhouettes of the surfers more striking. The sky was slightly brightened to emphasise the golden colours, and I cropped out a large section of the sand. This was an image about humanity and the ocean – not sand.

I titled the photograph ‘We Take Out What We Put In’; a nod to the task I had set myself earlier that night. From then onwards those three surfers, who too this day remain strangers, have provided me comfort in a way they’ll never fully know.

We all have moments when we question our relationship with the natural world. Plastic pollution, natural disasters caused by climate change; it seems as if we revel in the destruction of the place which has sourced every aspect of our lives. Our nourishment, our materials to build, the sights of which we marvel at and are inspired by; there are too many who willingly take out but never put back in. This photograph reminds me that not everyone does.

There are some who still enjoy our natural world, who revel in the opportunities it can bring. They don’t seek to destroy, but to partner with respect. Those surfers used the waves for innocent enjoyment, and my camera was fortunate enough to capture the oldest relationship we human beings have maintained (sometimes unsuccessfully) for millennia – humanity and the ocean.

When we see the destruction of our forests, jungles and wildlife. When the ocean vomits forth the excessive plastic we have thrown willingly into its belly, and we start to question whether we’ll ever respect the ocean again, think of this photograph. Hear the faint breeze, the rolling waves and feel the summer sun against your skin. And remember that through the lens of a camera three surfers remembered: we take out what we put in.