Ears in the grass

The story behind the photo

A roe deer lying in tall grass, visible only by its ears and the top of its skull. The rest of the animal is somewhere in the frame and cannot be seen, and that is the entire photograph.

The composition breaks a rule on purpose. The subject occupies perhaps one fortieth of the surface, it is placed low, and it is surrounded on every side by a mass of grass that the backlight has turned an acid, almost fluorescent green. Nothing guides the eye. You find the animal or you do not, and those two or three seconds of searching are exactly what I was after, because they reproduce the real experience of the meadow.

The light comes from behind and slightly above, and passes through the blades rather than falling on them, so the green glows instead of reflecting. Backlit grass has no local colour left; it becomes pure luminosity, and against it a patch of grey-brown fur is almost the only thing the eye can identify as an object.

What I felt was a reversal of the usual roles. The animal had seen me long before, had chosen not to move, and was watching me look for it. For a roe deer, there is no difference at all between lying down and disappearing.

I wanted to photograph what is not offered to be seen, and to trust whoever looks at the print to find it without help.