20. Ice Clouds
- Tom Payne
- Jul 10
- 3 min read
Updated: 4 days ago
This second diagram is enlarged admirably by Mr. Arthur Severn from my sketch of the sky in the afternoon of the 6th of August, 1880, at Brantwood, two hours before sunset. You are looking west by north, straight towards the sun, and nearly straight towards the wind.
From the west the wind blows fiercely towards you out of the blue sky. Under the blue space is a flattened dome of earth-cloud clinging to, and altogether masquing the form of, the mountain, known as the Old Man of Coniston. [1]
The top of that dome of cloud is two thousand eight hundred feet above the sea, the mountain two thousand six hundred, the cloud lying two hundred feet deep on it. Behind it, westward and seaward, all’s clear; but when the wind out of that blue clearness comes over the ridge of the earth-cloud, at that moment and that line, its own moisture congeals into these white—I believe, ice-clouds; threads, and meshes, and tresses, and tapestries, flying, failing, melting, reappearing; spinning and unspinning themselves, coiling and uncoiling, winding and unwinding, faster than eye or thought can follow: and through all their dazzling maze of frosty filaments shines a painted window in palpitation; its pulses of colour interwoven in motion, intermittent in fire,—emerald and ruby and pale purple and violet melting into a blue that is not of the sky, but of the sunbeam;—purer than the crystal, softer than the rainbow, and brighter than the snow.
But you must please here observe that while my first diagram did with some adequateness represent to you the colour facts they're spoken of, the present diagram can only explain, not reproduce them. The bright reflected colours of clouds can be represented in painting, because they are relieved against darker colours, or, in many cases, are dark colours, the vermilion and ruby clouds being often much darker than the green or blue sky beyond them. But in the case of the phenomena now under your attention, the colours are all brighter than pure white,—the entire body of the cloud in which they show themselves being white by transmitted light, so that I can only show you what the colours are, and where they are,—but leaving them dark on the white ground. Only artificial, and very high illumination would give the real effect of them,—painting cannot.
Audience reflection and creative response, Yaxin Hu, BA Geography student, University of Manchester, following Storm-Cloud: Observations of the Sky at Manchester Metropolitan University, Wednesday 12 November 2025
My name is Yaxin and I am a Geography student at the University of Manchester. I attended your Storm-Cloud: Observations of the Sky performance at Manchester Metropolitan University on Wednesday 12 November 2025, and I wanted to share my reflections as well as my creative response.
What stayed with me most in the performance was the atmosphere you created through the smallest details. I was deeply moved by the simple gesture of placing a glass of water on the table. That single, quiet object seemed to hold the entire performance together. As the images shifted behind you and your voice carried Ruskin’s urgency, the water became a kind of living barometer, still, reflective, vulnerable. It made me suddenly aware of how water changes, how it records movement and disturbance, and how the atmosphere leaves traces even in a cup sitting on a desk. That moment opened something inside me. Thank you so much!
For my contribution to the creative brief, I would like to submit two photographs I took recently at Blea Tarn in the Lake District. Both capture fleeting transformations of the sky, which reminded me strongly of Ruskin’s attention to subtle, transient atmospheric changes.
Rainbow in the mountains: This image records a shifting rainbow that appeared for only a few seconds after a passing shower. Its unstable presence echoed Ruskin’s sensitivity to ephemeral signs in the sky. Those are moments that vanish almost as soon as they emerge, yet reveal something about the atmosphere’s inner movements.
Sunlight breaking through cloud: The second photograph shows sunlight piercing through layered clouds, casting strong crepuscular rays across the valley. The contrast between shadow and illumination felt connected to Ruskin’s writings on the expressive “moods” of the sky, and how atmospheric light can carry an emotional or moral register.
As a Geography student, I was deeply inspired by the way your performance bridges scientific observation, environmental history, and creative interpretation. These two photographs are my small attempt to respond to how we read the sky today, how we sense change, and how atmosphere shapes our understanding of place.
Thank you very much for the performance and for the opportunity to contribute.