Under the Weather: When a Photograph Waits to Be Understood

Sometimes an artwork waits.

It sits quietly in the archive, unnoticed, or perhaps only partially understood, until something shifts — not in the work, but in you.

Ralph Kerle, “Under the Weather” (77 × 100 cm) Signed Limited Edition 1 of 10

I came across Under the Weather again recently, a photograph I made in September 2013 at 6.45 in the morning. At the time, I was beginning to explore reflections more seriously, drawn to their instability, their refusal to hold the world in place.

Looking at it now, I’m struck by how complete the idea already was.

The boats are there, the rigging, the marina — all the familiar structures of a coastal environment. And yet, nothing quite holds. The verticals waver, the forms dissolve, the image slips away from description.

It is not just a reflection. It is a negotiation with perception.

What interests me now is how naturally the image enters a psychological space. It does not feel constructed or forced. Instead, it feels like something discovered — a moment where the world briefly revealed its instability.

The title, Under the Weather, carries a certain lightness, even humour. But it also suggests unease, a quiet dislocation. To be “under the weather” is to feel slightly removed from oneself, not entirely anchored.

Perhaps that is what the image holds.

Not a place, but a state.