The Glen Etive waterfall is probably the most photographed waterfall in all of Scotland. And it’s not just the fall itself, but the surroundings add to that photogenic scenery. The Buachaille Etive Mòr mountain rises majestically in the distance and forms a dramatic backdrop. Add to that the typical redbrown colours of the Highlands and the often threateningly dargrey clouds, and all you have to do is push the button to get that “wow” photograph.
It’s more than a half hour before sunrise, and I take in this half dark scene sitting on a stone some 30 meters from the fall. The Etive is not carrying much water today and that makes it all less dramatic. There’s no one else around, to my surprise; Etive attracts many photographers, like a magnet, even in early March on a cold morning. This is the 5th time this week that I get up well before the first sunlight to see what the conditions are like, and although I managed to get some really good compositions it’s not what I had in mind. And that’s exactly what’s wrong. This place is photographed to death and all I’m doing is adding one more cliché to the heap. In every aspect the conditions were perfect: the low sun beams moving across the mountain, the dark clouds with a lot of articulation, and a huge amount of water finding its way down with a thundering force. And even as a cliché they’re still pretty good landscape photographs that most people would react to with a big “wow!”. But still cliché, and therefore disappointing because I missed the flexibility to use my own creativity.
The Glen Etive waterfall with a cliché “wow” factor.
“Arriving at the rim of this famous landmark, they shuffle about, searching for a sign that says “shoot here”. With one preset image labeled GRAND CANYON in their minds, blinding them to what lies below, they search for the one and only “right” spot to stand.”
Joel Meyerowitz
The first photographers have arrived and are scouting the area looking for a composition. Men (where are the women?) with rucksacks and tripods, trying not to get their Wellies stuck in the soggy patches. I hear them complaining about the evenly grey sky and the volume of the water in the Etive. Fat chance of a “wow” image today, folks. They find there way to the places for the best vistas, perforated with tripod marks and boots’ prints; the Etive version of a Shoot Here sign.
I take my gear to a less marked spot without any tripod holes and foot prints. From here you don’t have the grand vistas, I can’t even see the Buachaille. I climb down, carefully placing my feet on the slippery rocks, when I see a small fall. It is in a dark and wet alcove, hardly visible from above. The darkness gives it an eery and mysterious atmosphere. There’s only the sound of the small stream, nothing like the roar of the big waterfall. The place is so cramped that it’s difficult to move around, no place to sit. I lean against the wall, contemplate and breathe in the scene. What a peaceful spot. Like Gaugin I close my eyes in order to see, a light breeze on my face, a tear in my eyes. It feels like I’ve found “my” Etive waterfall. Everything is as it should be, I don’t need anything else but be here and now. The photograph has found me.
A Yugen style image, dark and mysterious.
The image is dark and suggestive. The Japanese concept of Yugen refers to “dark”, “obscure”, mysterious. It refers to a beauty that can only partially be seen; much of it is hidden. It’s power is suggestion.
Kamo no Chōmei, a hermit and writer, described Yugen in 1212 as: “It is like an autumn evening under a colourless expanse of silent sky. Somehow, as if for some reason that we should be able to recall, tears well uncontrollably.”
Yugen appeals to our imagination; it suggests, does snot make explicit. Because of its mysterious character it is sometimes interpreted as something transcendental, otherworldly. On the contrary. Yugen gives our own world a deeper meaning.