One Pond at a Time

Chasing Monet, One Pond at a Time

I have always loved Claude Monet’s paintings of ponds—especially his water lilies. There is something deeply calming about them. They are not just paintings of water and plants; they are paintings of light, time, and quiet observation. Monet did not merely see the pond—he felt it, returned to it again and again, and allowed it to reveal itself in layers.

I am not an artist. I am, however, an amateur photographer. And through photography, I have found my own way of paying homage to Monet.

Instead of canvas and oil paint, I use my camera. Instead of brushstrokes, I rely on reflections, textures, colours, and framing. When I photograph ponds, I am not trying to document them realistically. I am trying to interpret them—just as Monet did.

The pond in this photograph is ordinary. Lily pads float quietly on the surface. Dry reeds stand along the edge. Fallen leaves drift without direction. Yet, when light hits the water at the right angle, the pond transforms. Reflections blur the boundary between what is above and what is below. Colours soften. Shapes lose their sharpness. Reality begins to dissolve into something more impressionistic.

At that moment, the pond no longer feels like a subject—it feels like a painting waiting to happen.

I deliberately compose my shots to remove context. No sky, no horizon, no landmarks. Just water, plants, reflections, and colour. By doing so, the photograph becomes less about where the pond is and more about how it feels. The viewer is invited to slow down, to wander visually, much like how one’s eyes drift across a Monet painting.

Photography, for me, is not about perfection or technical excellence. It is about seeing differently. A pond that most people walk past without noticing becomes my quiet studio. Light becomes my collaborator. Time becomes my teacher.

Perhaps this is my way of painting—without paint.

In a world that moves too fast, ponds remind me to pause. To observe. To appreciate subtle changes. To find beauty in repetition. Monet returned to his pond thousands of times. I return to mine whenever I can, camera in hand, chasing that same sense of calm, wonder, and timelessness.

I may not be an artist in the traditional sense, but through photography, I get to experience what I believe Monet felt—standing by the water, watching light dance, and turning an ordinary pond into something quietly magical.