Monday, 29 September 2014

Hunting Sun: Photographic Essay by Andreas Romagnoli

"You put yourself at the centre of a 5000 year old ring of dolmens, with no other human being around, and you feel the millenniums passing through your veins like flashes in a thunderstorm..."
Andreas Romagnoli roams the sinuous hills, stony coasts and bristling seas of the Scottish Highlands and Orkney Islands, immersing himself amid the brooding moods of the wild and intoxicating Northern landscapes

“Thinking goes on in your head. It is not really deep into the roots of your being; it is not your totality,”  writes Osho in  Yoga: The Alpha and the Omega, Volume 10


And he is right.

The strong wind, the vibrant colour of the grass, the sense of wide open spaces somehow stops you thinking or maybe just touches different parts of your inner self. 

You are alone, but not completely. Every single image in front of your eyes passes directly through your heart, opening wounds or giving you new hope. 

You are alone in the tempest, four days of consecutive tempests, and you’re hunting sun. The few lights coming from the ocean remind you that somewhere, somehow there should have been a twilight, a sun sinking over the deep waters.

And you wonder how it would have been watching that sun falling down, slowly, gently caressing the sea in a progression of red and black clouds.

The wind never stops blowing here, in the Orkney islands. It has a cathartic effect, smoothing the angles of your soul – regrets become experiences, fears become opportunities.

All of the roads here seem like eternal, ethereal passages to a new level of awareness. The rain stops a bit, and you’re hunting sun. Sometimes the wind is so strong you cannot hear your own scream: it seems that nature wants to be sure you'll fully respect her magnificent beauty. 

You put yourself at the centre of a 5000 year old ring of dolmens, with no other human being around, and you feel the millenniums passing through your veins like flashes in a thunderstorm.

Past and present are absorbed into each other; no thinking, not even a “ thought” emotion, just a sense that unfortunately not even the best storyteller can describe. It must be lived. It must be breathed.

The rain has stopped, but the sun has not revealed itself.
The search goes on….

Click on photographs for full screen slideshow



















































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