I had read about the magical triangle of photography; the science of how much light to be allowed to be captured on to the plate, I had taken photographs before, but to no good effect. I was then more than happy to allow a professional to take the picture.
Henry is from Malaysia, so you would perhaps instinctively expect him to be at home with the electronic technology of the modern day camera. But what you may be surprised by is: his ease of the moment, his calm approach towards me, his sensitive and sensible approach, here in the dark and isolated place, high up on Dartmoor.
We talked of journeys, and of sensations; of how best to capture our memories. We had a mild argument, about the merits of writing; poetry in particular, vis a vis the use of the skills of the artist or the photographer. It might have gone nowhere had the group of ponies not appeared.
In no time at all the tripod was set, Henry marshalled me, and the recently arrived farmer, into the foreground; the moor, and the stream, and the ponies eased into action as the back-drop. Henry's ability, to develop something more than what nature has apparently given, seems to envelop the aim of all artists, it was a most fortunate encounter.
I am reminded of this story as I open my wallet; to some it may appear as no more than a penny postage stamp of apparent blackness, but to me it is a token of the depth of field, a reminder about the importance of construction and focus, and most of all; a memory, that tells of friendship, and the night my fear of darkness was captured.
