The Leap

The scene unfolds in a single, suspended moment. A figure has already left the rock, arms extended, body committed to the fall. Behind him, another person stands at the edge, watching. Below, the ocean moves with energy and unpredictability. There is no hesitation captured here, only the instant after decision and before whatever comes next.

This was not a photograph I set out to make. It was taken early in my time behind a camera, during a family holiday in Kauai, Hawaii. The photo was more playful than deliberate. The moment passed quickly, with laughter and movement, no careful planning. Only later did I realise how naturally the image lent itself to a Vertique interpretation, how the height, space, and pause carried more weight than I first understood.

What gives the image its tension is not danger, but choice. The leap itself is already complete. The body is midair, but the commitment was made earlier, unseen. That split second became familiar to me later in a different form: the decision to move away from conventional landscape presentation and step into Vertique. A quieter risk, perhaps, but a leap all the same.

The photograph holds a playful ambiguity. The figure on the cliff may simply be filming the moment, or, with a hint of humour, seem almost responsible for the jump. The image does not ask for certainty. It allows lightness to sit alongside vulnerability.

Seen through Vertique, the composition stretches the distance between land and sea, action and outcome. It becomes less about the jump itself and more about the space between intention and arrival. In that space, many viewers recognise something of their own lives. Moments when moving forward requires letting go, and trusting that the shape of things ahead often reveals itself only after the leap is underway.