From beginning to end, I love the process I went with to produce this photograph. In late September 2019, my friend and I paddled into Algonquin Park for a short week of canoeing and camping.
On the hazy day I took this picture we were lounging on the tiny bit of beach by our campsite and I decided to roll up my pants and walk out to this little atoll of rocks and grass. Even though it was fairly warm, the water was freezing and the rocks slippery. I felt like a daring 8-year old all over again. No tripod, just hand-held playing in the water, barely keeping my balance but having a ball.
When I got home, I was a bit disappointed that the pictures didn’t seem to capture the wonder of my experience. But I pulled out this one from among the dozens I’d taken and there it sat. Periodically, over the seven or eight months since, I’ve looked at it, but couldn’t figure what I wanted to do with it or, indeed, if I wanted to do anything with it at all. But a few days ago, I thought I’d just play with it in the same way I’d taken the picture in the first place, without worrying whether it would be a “masterpiece” or not. Typically, I have a more structured approach when I work in post, a kind of beginning, middle and end process that I like to follow. But this time I just tried stuff, imagining that if I hit on something, I would go back and do it “properly.” As I played with luminosity, clarity and contrast in Ps, I started thinking about one of my photography heroes, Keith Carter. Although, until very recently, his photography has been exclusively black and white, all his images elicit a kind of dreamy, almost melancholic nostalgia that I wanted to capture in this image – the kind of wonder and attention to the world around me that I had when, at 8 or 9-years old, I first paddled in this park. And that train of thought led me to think of a favorite poem of mine – T.S. Eliot’s “The Four Quartets”. There is a short bit that goes:
“And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.
Through the unknown, remembered gate
When the last of earth left to discover
Is that which was the beginning; …”
Not to overinflate myself, but that’s what I am trying to capture in this image (and maybe every image I will every make). And so, I have called this photograph “The Unknown Remembered Gate.” I would love to hear your feedback as to whether, in your experience of this picture, I’m approaching the mark.
And, P.S., I didn’t go back and do it “properly”.
Very peaceful and elegant. Not a big deal, but I might clone out the leaf/pad intersected by the right of center reed (one of four). Somehow to my eye, that complicates the presentation. As said, not huge. I quite like this one.
This is a fine scene, captured with sensitivity and skill. I take particular pleasure in scanning the many elements beneath the water and reflected off the water.
As far as offering suggestions for an image that you have been conversing with for months ( or really since you were 8 or 9) that is a humbling prospect. I have only been conversing with this image for a couple of hours.
To my eye, the brightness of the reeds is the major attraction of the image. If that is what you wish, then fine, but if that is toned down a bit, the eye more naturally finds the reflections and submerged beauty of the scene.
I was also struck by the reeds going to both the left and right edges; looks a bit like my hair now months from a barber. The standout reed is the bent yellow reed. I tried to give it a bigger role. The revision did what I wanted it to, but may not approach your desire.
For me, this photo has an intimate, reflective and calm feeling to it Kerry. I like the T.S. Elliot poem also it is wonderfully thought provoking.
I really enjoyed the story behind the image, and the poet you added to make your point. You’ve found a nice and peaceful scene, where I like the small floating leaves surrounding the main subjects, and that one brown reed!
This is quite a scene. Very peaceful and I think that emotion in the poem is shown through the image. If it were my image, I think I will soften the vignette a little bit, Kerry, But I think you are almost there with this image. I also like what @Dick_Knudson did with flipping the image. I really like the sky on the LLC as it leads in my eyes and brings me to the bent reed.
I get a tranquil feeling when looking at this image. I like how you’ve processed the reeds. The is enough tonal separation from the centre reeds to the outer reeds that my eye bounces from the centre to the outer and then rests on the central reeds
@Harley_Goldman, @Dick_Knudson, @linda_mellor, @Ron_Jansen, @Adhika_Lie, @Nathan_Klein - Once again, I thank you all for your kind and considered feedback. Harley, I took your advice and did, indeed, remove the offending leaf. A small thing but God is in the details 
Dick, I did take your advice and flipped the image horizontally. It’s always hard to tell once my eye is used to seeing it one way. But after a while, once I got used to seeing it “backwards”, it is clear that it flows better along the diagonal from left to right. Adhika, I don’t usually go with a heavy vignette but this was a case where I wanted the feel of looking through a glass darkly. I know to some it would seem over much but sometimes the “rules” are meant to be broken. I have included my revised version amended to the original post.
What a neat find Kerry. I think this is a good example of how you have let images “age” for a bit before processing. With the luxury of time on your hands, you found a way to make this work that you might not have seen otherwise. The light and colors here are very eye-catching. I love the luminous look of the reeds, and agree that a really strong vignette helps accentuate that look. In fact, I might even consider further burning down the highlights in the LLC of the flipped version. The brightness of that area pulls my eye away from the reeds, and the submerged rocks, which for me are the best parts of this scene.