STEPHEN RUSSELL SHILLING

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Island Beach State Park, 2018

You can feel out of place as a photographer. I often I do. You’re a detached participant, an observer. You’re a follower lead by whatever you find interesting. You follow the light, follow the activity. You hope to find the poetry of it all.
I followed families, fish and feathered gulls. I followed sand pipers and footprints. I followed plastic bags, the castaways of midday meals. I followed fisherman that moved, fighting the wind, the rain and the spray of splashing waves, and those who sat statuesque in their status surveying their surroundings. I followed paths and walked along fences that disappeared into dunes, man’s hand buried by time.

Filename
IBSP-NJ-35-4-022_Final_Display.jpg
Copyright
©2022 Steve Shilling Media, LLC
Image Size
5400x3767 / 10.7MB
Contained in galleries
Island Beach State Park
You can feel out of place as a photographer. I often I do. You’re a detached participant, an observer. You’re a follower lead by whatever you find interesting. You follow the light, follow the activity. You hope to find the poetry of it all. <br /> I followed families, fish and feathered gulls. I followed sand pipers and footprints. I followed plastic bags, the castaways of midday meals. I followed fisherman that moved, fighting the wind, the rain and the spray of splashing waves, and those who sat statuesque in their status surveying their surroundings. I followed paths and walked along fences that disappeared into dunes, man’s hand buried by time.