“Precisely by slicing out this moment and freezing it, all photographs testify to time’s relentless melt.” Susan Sontag, “On Photography” p.15
These three photographs represent my attempts to capture every angle of the light filtered through a window, dappled with dew, then filtered again through the blinds, then again through the camera lens. Knowing the windows are in my home in Dallas, knowing the light, that specific light, is long-gone, evokes a strange dual nostalgia for the momentary beauty of that fragment of a morning and for the particular view of that particular window in my parents’ house in my room. And I think, at the time, I knew this, perhaps at a subconscious level, and wanted to capture it in three different ways, just in case, so that I wouldn’t miss any part of that moment’s aesthetic experience. Photography acted as a way of seeing, a way of appreciating, documenting, even thanking. Taking a photograph was an act of explicit thankfulness for this gift of beauty, light, and refraction. By photographing that moment, I marked that thankfulness, while simultaneously trying to possess the spirit of the image in object form, trying to keep what I could not keep—a moment.