Do not ask me where, but I remember reading that someone’s dad said that the best times to photograph outside is in foul weather. Foul weather is interesting weather, it produces intriguing light. I think I know what he meant.
Whilst sorting through the month’s work I stumbled across photo’s that I completely forgot about. I didn’t really forget, just did not think they were anything to fascinate the eye. That must be the lucky packet phenomenom photographer’s so readily speak about, because I was delightfully surprised.
My friend and I were heading out of town. It was already late during the day and the car found it’s own way up the hill, climbing altitudes, leaving behind an ever shrinking town.
What is it about open spaces that fascinate us so? How is it that open spaces make us feel safer than contained, framed ones like cities? Or maybe it is not the space or lack thereof we fear, but what is held within. Could it be that the barreness makes us see with something other than our optical eye? Is it because it makes one see differently? And the lack of silence... does it awaken the voice of the self and do we like what we hear?
We parked the car and began ascending on foot. Now the late afternoon became unpleasant, the wind picked up some pace. We were talking about wishes we were afraid to utter otherwise, I think it is because we knew the wind would sweep those words away as soon as they were spoken. Some of hers I heard, some I didn’t. It doesn’t matter. It’s more important to know that you spoke them. Those words are out there, spoken, like a message in a bottle and someday when the time is right, the message will be found, encrypted.
As we walked back, and all our words flew south or east or wherever the wind took them, I felt lighter(it was the wind; it was the grace of friendship. It’s ok if you haven’t got everything figured out, I thought). The sun followed suit and I took a picture to remember this special moment by. How grateful am I for the foul weather which turned up something fair.