Let there be light!
Let There Be Light!*
[Originally published January 2022.]
Have you read Pilgrim at Tinker Creek? Knowing of my immense enjoyment of and respect for Mr. Thoreau’s Walden, a dear friend suggested insisted I read Annie Dillard’s Pulitzer Prize winning book. I was then, and remain today, utterly delighted with this “find”. Both books are seminal works about nature, spirituality, and the strong connection between both. The two books influence many of my creative choices. Ever since my first reading of Pilgrim, I’ve been intrigued by one phrase:
“Today is one of those excellent January partly cloudies in which light chooses an unexpected part of the landscape to trick out in gilt, and then the shadow sweeps it away.”**
Finding that gilt in the gloomy, dark days of January sure can be challenging. Without the verdant leafy canopy of the deciduous trees and the splashes of dynamic colour provided by wildflowers, and when most wildlife is hibernating, the winter landscape seems to lack its summertime energy. That is one of the reasons so many winter landscapes are black and white images. With the vibrant colours already bleached from the scene, converting to monochrome focuses the eye of the viewer on the contours, shapes and textures in the image. Yet despite the achromatized scenery, on every winter rural ramble, my photographer’s eye is always on the lookout for Ms. Dillard’s gilt because, when the landscape is tricked out in gilt, an otherwise ordinary scene becomes magical.
Beyond exquisitely adorning or embellishing an image, light is the single most important element in photography. Indeed, no photograph can be taken without it. The exact second the shutter release button is depressed, light enters the camera where digital technology creates those all- important pixels.
Even so, light is sporadically loathed and adored by photographers; we’re never indifferent to its foibles. It is at times chased, avoided, prized, dreaded, diffused or amplified, trying to get the perfect shot. Further complicating matters, natural light is different, season by season. In winter, and even in sunny conditions, daylight has a semi-lustrous quality – as if the sun’s rays are filtered – just like the beam of a flashlight aimed through an eggshell. Winter light. A challenging season for shooting outdoors.
Struggling to capture exactly what I see; I’ve fiddled with both aperture and shutter speed, but the results weren’t ever what I expected. Deep-down, I knew I needed to work with white balance settings which has always been a bit of a nemesis. Confession – on my three boxes, white balance lives on “auto”. Gradually, slowly, reluctantly, and often painfully, I forced myself to experiment with manual white balance settings – sometimes with surprising success but, more often than not, with disastrous results. Still, photography is a voyage of discovery and on this journey, I’ve finally made friends with 5500K.
With its short, cold and often blustery days, few Ontarians truly look forward to the arrival of Janus’ namesake. But I do. I love exploring familiar trails, ponds, creeks, and marshes throughout the seasons. Today I went on a ramble through Broomfield Marsh, then across Penryn Road to Cold Creek, and finally through a tract of the Northumberland Forest – all the time hunting for gilt.
Making my way home, driving south down twisty, hilly, Crossen Road, I entered the forest where, even without leaves, the stately old trees form a natural cathedralic dome. It is a favourite stop of mine and, as always, I stopped to admire its beauty. Suddenly, and for less than five minutes, the sun appeared — let there be light — and the gilt happened. It was like a gift and I felt my spirits soar.
’Til next time, y’all...
*Genesis 1:3
**Annie Dillard, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek