Born investigators do not look for subjects. Born visionaries don’t ask for visions. William Blake could see into the spiritual world, but how would a photographic investigator possibly grasp what he saw? Waking up this smallest day, this longest night, it was William Blake’s “assistance” that I seeked. But alas! It was a bleak poem that I found, “To the winter” it’s called. I guess it’s appropriate for today, the longest night of the world…
Sometimes a photographic investigation goes sideways… There is no reason to feel bad. You can always catch some breathtaking, unanticipated shots of a fading, rising or setting sun.
It was the day before the solstice and the day was happy because she wasn't the smallest. Her super small sister was expected tomorrow, the 21st of December and that was celebrated because it's a cool thing to know that you can't possibly get less light. And if you can't get less, you'll get more… I like to think that that's what subconsciously made the people around me so happy in that "bleak midwinter" Sunday. Or could it be the waiting for the longest night?
