How to Photograph the National Fireworks Championship: Ultimate Guide & Camera Settings
The salt air of Plymouth Sound carries a palpable hum of anticipation. Thousands line Plymouth Hoe and drape over the cliff edges, waiting for that first jagged flash to tear across the August night sky. When the National Fireworks Championship arrives, it transforms the UK coastline into a dramatic amphitheatre of thunder and light.
For photographers, framing a pyrotechnic spectacle against iconic landmarks like Smeaton’s Tower is a dream project. However, capturing a crisp, colourful masterpiece rather than a blown out smear of white light requires deliberate preparation.
A Chaotic, Glorious Month of Stage & Dance Photography
People often ask me whether I prefer theatre photography or dance photography. To which I say: How does one choose between a lovely cup of tea and a brisk walk through a hurricane? They are entirely different beasts.
Photographing live dance is fundamentally an exercise in defying the laws of physics. It’s about freezing a fleeting micro second of kinetic energy, capturing a high leap at the exact moment gravity seems to take a short tea break.
Smeaton’s Tower Sunrise: A Six-Year Wait for a Glimpse of Plymouth Gold
If there were ever a civic referendum to determine the undisputed heavyweight champion of Plymouth icons, Smeaton’s Tower would win by a landslide, probably while looking remarkably dignified in its red-and-white stripes. It is a structure so stubbornly charismatic that even the Beatles, a group not exactly known for being wallflowers, once posed nearby, though they kept a respectful distance, presumably sensing that the lighthouse might effortlessly outshine them
A Fool's Guide to Photography
I won’t lie, there's a small, resentful part of me that always hopes the whole thing will be a bust. That the sky will simply turn to a dull, uninspired grey, just so I can feel smugly justified in my lack of effort. But alas, on this particular evening, my cynicism was thoroughly misplaced. The sky erupted into a riot of crimson and gold, a spectacle so breathtaking it almost made me forget my own grumbling nature. I just stood there, watching the hues deepen, and I couldn't help but wonder if somewhere down in Australia or New Zealand, a fellow shutterbug was cursing their alarm clock for not having woken them up sooner.