Shots in the Dark
Afraid of the dark? Not me.
I enjoy the quiet of night and the way the blackness envelops everything, making even the commonplace more mysterious; hidden. But, I also enjoy how even the slightest introduction of light can break that dark embrace, throwing surface and form into into stark relief. Color is different at night, without the elaboration of sunlight’s expansive spectrum … appearing sometimes brighter, more saturated; other times flattened and devoid of life. If the light that breaks the darkness is a camera’s flash, viewing the night garden can feel almost voyeuristic. Maybe it’s the shadows; the darkness that outlines our subjects. Maybe it’s our familiarity with crime scene photos, hidden camera footage and tabloid paparazzi shots that cause an echeveria shot in this way to seem startled, exposed.
Enough musing, let’s get dark …
It’s too bad the above picture isn’t in motion, the wind was really up and the ponytail palm’s fronds were doing the watusi. This has the look of a tabloid photo taken outside an ‘it’ nightspot … with colorfully dressed hopefuls wondering if they’ve worn the right thing to gain them entrance.
This cast iron urn’s curvalicious lines are even more pronounced when caught in the flash’s sudden intense gaze … like a past-her-prime diva, she’s a little rusty around the edges, but still cuts a classically fine figure.
Do plants share secrets with each other after dark? Some of these seem to have been caught mid-whisper as the flash went off, others caught unawares while primping.
My everyday garden objects have taken on the air of the mausoleum in the blackness … have the boundaries of the Evergreen Cemetery crossed the street and into my backyard?
Like night and day, the garden after sundown is very different … I look forward to shining a light on the experience more often.