The Lamp of Life
Always we are following a light,
Always the light recedes; with groping hands
We stretch toward this glory, while the lands
We journey through are hidden from our sight
Dim and mysterious, folded deep in night,
We care not, all our utmost need demands
Is but the light, the light! So still it stands
Surely our own if we exert our might.
Fool! Never can'st thou grasp this fleeting gleam,
Its glowing flame would die if it were caught,
Its value is that it doth always seem
But just a little farther on. Distraught,
But lighted ever onward, we are brought
Upon our way unknowing, in a dream.
Amy Lowell - 1874-1925
Light is at the heart of an image. Sublime light can infuse an image with emotion, shape and meaning, turning a snapshot into a photograph.
Subject matter, camera settings, and composition are all important. But light is the catalyst for transforming an image into more than the sum of its parts. So, photographers chase light.
Chasing light can entail travel. Over the past four years, the three weeks I spent storm chasing covered over 8,000 miles of travel in the Midwest.
Time is another way to chase the light. I’ve been to the local forest preserve over 100 times in search of light. Other times, you just need to wait minutes or hours for the light to change.
A turnaround
Perhaps the simplest way to chase the light is to turn around. On the afternoon of July 14th, I was scouting locations near the Door Trailhead in South Dakota’s Badlands National Park. The view to the Southeast featured impressive formations that just needed the right light at sunset to bring them alive.
As the sun went down, the right light never arrived. And the few promising clouds dissipated as well. I shifted focus to simply being there to enjoy the moment.
But remembering an old lesson to always turn around, I spotted this view in the opposite direction. I ran about a quarter mile to quickly set up this shot in the waning light. A minute later, the light was gone.
Thanks for looking,
Chuck Derus