Fog
Fog
By: Ben deHoedt
My photographic essay is something to be seen and not heard – so I will keep my voice low and quiet, and say as little as possible. The photographs tell the story better than any words I can conjure.
One night in Winter, I found myself surrounded by a beautiful fog. I hadn’t seen such a dense mist since I was in Edinburgh some years ago, and it felt as if a ghostly old friend had come to visit. Streetlamps and headlights were rendered spectral as night fell.
I was on my way back to Kensington, driving through Carlton North and North Melbourne, my head full of trouble and desire and the desperate need for sanctuary. My recent eviction preyed on my mind like a tiny vulture and I was feeling consumed by this city. The bitter cold was sweetened by a gentle mist that had begun to form over the streets. The mist grew thicker as I reached my house and as night began to fall I collected some camera gear and quickly rode out to an overpass that I had been admiring for some weeks. This was the perfect opportunity to capture some of Melbourne’s grand industrial landscapes through the diffuse light of low clouds.
As the night darkened, lines blurred and artificial lights glowed supernaturally. Beneath these shimmering globes lay a restless sleeper, a city called Melbourne.
Beset by cold devils, I brandished my tripod and photographed the scenes before me as they gradually disappeared into nebulous streams of vapour. Trains and cars emerged from the glowing darkness like quickening breath.
The sprawling Melbourne CBD flickered like the embers of a dying fire as its spectacle was consumed by the night fog, and I was left to admire streetlamps and the play of light in close reflections.
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