Exhibition showcases Sydney’s powerful storm surge caught in the headlights

• Henry Zwartz

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Australian photographer Greg Weight's latest series The High Sea captures a powerful storm surge that hit Sydney in June this year, with massive waves lit up by headlights.

Weight has been documenting landscapes for decades, and is known for his stunning night sky images taken in Australia's red centre.

Carol Ruff, who runs Gallery East, a small suburban institution that's been around for two decades, said of Weight's latest work: "Greg's work is always moving forward, he is not a formulaic artist. His inventiveness and commitment as a photographer of many years continues to surprise me."

Fairfax Media sat down with Weight to discuss The High Sea.

The words that come to mind when looking at these images are "beautiful" and "scary". Is the juxtaposition on purpose? Between the sort of soft, cloud like spume highlighted by the light, the power of the waves and the immovable rock in the foreground?

Isn't the world both terrifying and beautiful at the same time? I think so. The photographs were taken on the evening of Monday June 27, 2016, during a three-day lashing of the eastern NSW coastline from huge seas generated by a tropical cyclone off the coast of Queensland. The terrifying and beautiful aspects are incidental effects of the moment. Terrifying at the time because the ever present roar of the ocean was a reminder that big swells were forming out of sight in the blackness and heading towards the coastline.

There was no way of knowing if the next big swell would bring an unexpected giant wave moving through the night towards me, and beautiful because the effect of the waves crashing against the solid headland created a spectacular visual result. People say they look like paintings, I take this as a compliment, but I think they succeed in particular because they are photographs, and not paintings, which makes the reality in them even more significant. As an artist, the power of beauty and terror combined are always going to be a good mix for thought provoking images.

How did you get this lighting effect on the storm surges? Walk me through how that came about.

The huge waves attracted crowds of sightseers, they left their car headlights on and that was my lighting. Different cars appear to have slightly different colour temperature headlights, thus creating different hues of light, not to mention the rainbow effect that happens when light rays are refracted through cloud like plumes of water. The headlights and the enormous waves combined to create the effects in these images.

Where are these photos taken, how did this series come about?

They were taken near the car park at south Clovelly headland. When a visitor from Bronte told me the waves were enormous, I went to the headland with my camera. The rest is history.

Is there an underlying message in this series?

I'm not inclined to say what I think about the images I make, apart from the fact that I would not put a work up unless I think it "works". There is no doubt that these images are about the power of the ocean, the sea has its own significance as a mythical creature, as a source of great pleasure and of great destruction. I nearly drowned twice, as a child and an adolescent, so I learnt early to respect the ocean.

If an image is viewed by 12 people it is likely to get 12 different readings. I prefer viewers to read an image in whatever language it speaks to them, which is why I don't want to lead anyone astray with my opinion. Having said that, I will go as far as to add that I believe "climate change" is a reality, caused by lack of respect for, and exploitation of the world's resources, and when I look at these images, they remind me of some very likely consequences, unless we all make an effort to change. OK, there is a message…

You mentioned to me about being in the right place at the right time when taking landscapes. What do you mean by this and how does this statement work into this series?

For about 12 years I taught photography at various Sydney art colleges, during that time I also studied the work of master photographers. I taught the things I practiced, which was to be prepared, and to understand what one's specific interest in photography really is. It could be portraiture, landscape, documentary or something else, and of course putting yourself in the right place at the right time. The importance of the latter is major. If something is happening that I want to make a significant image out of I have to be there to make it happen. Then I have to recognise the essential visual ingredients and hone those ingredients, like sculpting or writing. It's not all that much different.

What advice would you have for photographers documenting landscapes?

Try to use the highest resolution camera you can afford, and an equally high quality lens. Think a lot about what it is you are trying to say about the landscape and know the importance of prevailing weather and lighting conditions.

Why is the light in some of these images a different colour? From white, to blue, to reddish yellow?

I avoid too much technical information about images, it's like asking a painter: 'What size brush do you use?' for me it seems irrelevant. It is purely the image that is of importance. If it moves you or if you feel offended or delighted, those things I'm happy to discuss. However, I respect this form of curiosity, which happens ceaselessly, as a form of engaging in a conversation. I often say something like the exposure was 50 years at f11. That gets a laugh and we move on. I want people to look with a deeper level of intelligence at art, because the answers are in the artwork. When light hits clouds at a certain angle we see a rainbow. These photographs are not different; my camera is sensitive enough to register the subtle changes in the refracted light spectrum. Then I ever so slightly push each colour in the direction it wants to go. It's about creating an image equal to the experience.

The High Sea is on at Gallery East, Clovelly, until November 6