The street lamps cut passages of light through the alley and beyond, casting a incandescent glow on the leftovers of the snow. Chunks of white hang like strange constellations and shapes along the branches of the trees. And here the softness of night combines with light and reverie. I can only guess what the shapes in the distance might be or what the scenery looks like during the day. I realize there are many ways of seeing, of recording in the mind what each view can become in time. With the camera and an undeveloped theme, the broad strokes of the darks and lights form islands and seas of shapes; the softness and hardness of the edges become trails in the dark; and the colors vibrating in the electric current of night sinks into my thoughts. It is not enough to click the camera, not enough just to look--for each time I am gathering in another riddle in order to stay fresh and curious. It's like throwing a net of attention over a slippery scene. Just the idea, that this journey keeps unraveling like a twisted thread, with no end in sight, can only mean that "wonder and surprise" are allied to each other during these scattered moments here. Yet too soon, with a thin slice captured on film and eye, these hours will transform themselves into new awakenings. Should I return another day, what I have witnessed here and now will be gone. And then something new will take its place. Sure, there will be the darkness, the electric night, and snowy nights again, but this mood and moment will have passed away.
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
The Electric Night
The street lamps cut passages of light through the alley and beyond, casting a incandescent glow on the leftovers of the snow. Chunks of white hang like strange constellations and shapes along the branches of the trees. And here the softness of night combines with light and reverie. I can only guess what the shapes in the distance might be or what the scenery looks like during the day. I realize there are many ways of seeing, of recording in the mind what each view can become in time. With the camera and an undeveloped theme, the broad strokes of the darks and lights form islands and seas of shapes; the softness and hardness of the edges become trails in the dark; and the colors vibrating in the electric current of night sinks into my thoughts. It is not enough to click the camera, not enough just to look--for each time I am gathering in another riddle in order to stay fresh and curious. It's like throwing a net of attention over a slippery scene. Just the idea, that this journey keeps unraveling like a twisted thread, with no end in sight, can only mean that "wonder and surprise" are allied to each other during these scattered moments here. Yet too soon, with a thin slice captured on film and eye, these hours will transform themselves into new awakenings. Should I return another day, what I have witnessed here and now will be gone. And then something new will take its place. Sure, there will be the darkness, the electric night, and snowy nights again, but this mood and moment will have passed away.
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I really like this picture
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