When I was reading F. Scott Fitzgerald's The Crack Up in college I came across a line that has always stuck with me: "In the real dark night of the soul it is always three o'clock in the morning...." I think of this often when I wrestle with things late at night. Both thoughts and images can appear very different when shrouded in darkness. Something I might pay no attention to as I pass it during the day, becomes interesting at night. I have passed this building many times and never felt compelled to photograph it. Yet at night with the walkway lights reflected in the snow it looked both inviting and mysterious. The glass blocks added a sense of texture too and all of a sudden I saw things in it that I would never have seen in by the light of day.
Friday, January 2, 2009
AT NIGHT
When I was reading F. Scott Fitzgerald's The Crack Up in college I came across a line that has always stuck with me: "In the real dark night of the soul it is always three o'clock in the morning...." I think of this often when I wrestle with things late at night. Both thoughts and images can appear very different when shrouded in darkness. Something I might pay no attention to as I pass it during the day, becomes interesting at night. I have passed this building many times and never felt compelled to photograph it. Yet at night with the walkway lights reflected in the snow it looked both inviting and mysterious. The glass blocks added a sense of texture too and all of a sudden I saw things in it that I would never have seen in by the light of day.
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