This information is provided exclusively for consumers’ personal, non-commercial use. It is believed to be reliable but not guaranteed. The source of the displayed data is either the property owner or public record provided by non-governmental third parties. Listing Courtesy of Howard Hanna Rand Realty The lost souls seem at rest here.No guarantee, warranty or representation of any kind is made regarding the completeness or accuracy of descriptions or measurements (including square footage measurements and property condition), such should be independently verified, and Compass expressly disclaims any liability in connection therewith. Valhalla is a fitting name for this lovely place. It is not a simple image, yet it can be "read" at length and leisure. A bit of playing with position and the interplay of light and dark images (and the juxtaposition of the dour and doubtful with the forthright and sinless) and the image was done. Let the faces speak.īack at the computer it was a (relatively) quick matter to resize them all to a common format, import them into Photoshop and construct a new document to hold the grid of images. Just straightforward pictures, no gimmicks. Once that notion was fixed in my mind, the photography was simple. Or at least I might glimpse the hopes and fears, aspirations and inner doubts of another age.
I thought I could see behind the painted carvings to the real people of another time. Mostly I looked into the eyes of the ships' figureheads. To some degree I stepped back in reflection rather than observation. So I set out to rethink where the soul of the Valhalla collection in Tresco Abbey Gardens could be found. Always on previous trips my images had been big, sweeping, get-it-all-in shots that recorded everything and perhaps revealed nothing. I'd never managed to capture this element before. In each face there is something of that age-of innocent optimism, stoic bravado, or even tearful foreboding. Thanks to Augustus Smith of Tresco Abbey, "Lord Propriety" of the Isles of Scilly, the man who collected them, their stories live on. And here is the alabaster-white River Lune, gazing wistfully skyward but hopelessly lost in thick fog on July 27, 1879, when the lookout sighted rocks all around them. Over there is Palinarus, which met its fate at Lion Rock in 1848, her crew of 17 drowned. There is the Mary Hay, which hit Steeple Rock and sank while returning from Jamaica with a load of rum and sugar. Displayed under a low roof, the light is soft on the statues visitors instinctively speak in hushed tones. I was no longer in a garden but among lost souls. I'll never forget the first time I saw the collection, rounding a corner of the gardens, expecting yet another magnificent rhododendron or some improbable palm tree, when I seemed to step, without warning, into another era altogether.
In the day, ships were decorated and ennobled with personal character. Each one proudly graced the prow of some merchant ship or ship of the line that sailed these waters in the 19th century. Here the fallen are the poignant figureheads from ships wrecked in these treacherous waters off the English coast. No, this Valhalla is a quiet museum collection tucked away in the Tresco Abbey Gardens in the Isles of Scilly. I do not refer to the mythological Valhalla of Norse legend, Odin's majestic "hall of the slain" wherein those who die valiantly in combat find honor in the afterlife. Once you go to Valhalla, return is not an option.
His photos appear frequently in National Geographic magazine. Contributing editor Jim Richardson is a photojournalist recognized for his explorations of small-town life.
0 kommentar(er)
