My two black-and-white photographs of the day are ruins, and about the second one I have a fun story to tell.
The first one was taken in Sardinia, a large Italian island in the Mediterranean Sea —not Sicily, the other one.
I love Sardinia. I went there several times as a teenager to a Club Med resort that was, back then in the 1970s and until the early 2000s, located on the small island of Caprera, then I went back several times as an adult, on my sailboat or on other people’s, by plane or by car, alone or with wife and family. I have visited the island extensively and know it fairly well by now. It is a paradise, from white sand and emerald water beaches to old abandoned mines, high mountains and breathtaking vistas... with, of course, the obvious advantage of Italian cuisine everywhere. I love seafood and pasta!
Anyway, it was on one of those photo trips in March 2019 that I found this lovely ruined Romanesque church at the far of a deep, silent vale. There was no one else there, and I respectfully took a few photographs. I have another one, showing the apse of the church, which I will post some other day.
Nikon Z7, Nikkor F 19mm ƒ/4 PC-E tilt-shift lens, FTZ adapter. Gitzo tripod, Benro geared head. NiSi S5 filter holder and Ø150–mm circular polarizing filter.
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The next photo was taken but a few months before, in October 2018. I had just retired from work a few weeks before, and as my wife was still working, I left home alone for a tour of Normandy which included a visit of the ruins of the astounding Benedictine abbey church of Jumièges, dubbed “the most gorgeous ruins in France” —and certainly they are most impressive, although I know a few other sites that would dispute the claim.
Now, as I advance in age at the unfortunate but standard rate of 24 hours
per diem, I appreciate my creature comforts as much as the next man; nevertheless, I had done a very careful and detailed research in advance and found a little hotel in Jumièges, way below my usual standards, but seemingly ideally located right across the narrow street and the perimeter wall of the abbey. I had studied satellite photos and Google Street photos and it seemed that one of their rooms on the top floor (well, the
only floor, really, above the ground floor) would allow me to have a perfect view of the façade of the enormous church directly
above that otherwise impassable enclosure wall. A phone call with the hotel owner confirmed my hopes and secured me
the room without difficulty: there wasn’t much competition in October!
Of course, the hotel had no restaurant, the room was minuscule, the bed mediocre and the bathroom was 5 meters away down the corridor, and more generally, everything was shut down in the village. In October, some things would only be open during the week-end, and of course this wasn’t a week-end, I had planned it that way. So, I bought a couple of sandwiches and drinks on the way, and was duly rewarded by the expected magnificent view through my narrow window. I had barely enough room to set up the tripod. I composed the frame, set the shift on the lens, focused it, and when all was ready, I began to munch on my sandwiches until the light became just right.
Then, the miracle happened.
With, who knows? a little nudge from The Great Assistant in the Sky, as I like to call Him, a flight of pigeons suddenly appeared and started to circle the two enormous and tall towers of the abbey church. I only had to wait patiently for the right moment, when they would align themselves just so... and in that instant of grace I pressed the shutter. The result is not too bad photographically, and as a personal memory it will be with me forever.
Nikon D850, Nikkor F 19mm ƒ/4 PC-E tilt-shift lens, Gitzo tripod, Leofoto VH-30R two-way panoramic head.
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