Diving

It was nearly a year later that the my urge to jump came back. I want to explain for those who haven't really understood the point of this blog; I'm not writing a diary about suicidal tendencies - far from it. I am blogging in homage to the art of the jumping photo - capturing something that even the human eye can't really appreciate fully. It's like I've got hold of Bernard's watch and I'm freezing time so that I can look at things in suspended animation.

Anyway enough of that - we're bordering on science fiction and I haven't even shown you the next picture.

Just Call Me Tom Daly...

Andalucia, 2006

This photo was taken on a Spanish holiday where it was far too hot to do anything during the day. The only activity that proved to be enjoyable was taking a dip in the pool. Not content with doing lengths, I tried to do a Tom Daly. By that I mean teach myself how to dive not be an irritating adolescent.

So it doesn't take much to jump. Some people are, undoubtedly, better than others at pulling weird shapes and getting a lot of height, but most people can bend their legs, catch some air, and land again.

Diving, as I soon found out, is not that easy. There is an art to it, and there is a very fine line between diving perfection and a belly-flop. It took me a while to fall (pardon the pun) on the right side of that line. The art in this picture is not in taking the photo as much as it is in the jump itself.

Legs a-go-go and wild hair are usually trademarks of my jumping pictures, but with a dive you have to achieve a certain level of elegance - something that is very hard for me to do. So when you next see a jumping picture, think not of the photographer, though there role is important, but spare a thought for the jumper who might be trying harder than normal to make it all look easy.