"We do not truly see light, we only see slower things lit by it, so that for us light is on the edge - the last thing we know before things become too swift for us."
- C. S. Lewis
"There need be nothing preternaturally sweet or homespun about the moods embodied in domestic space. These spaces can speak to us of the somber as readily as they can of the gentle. There is no necessary connection between the concepts of home and of prettiness; what we call a home is merely any place that succeeds in making more consistently available to us the important truths which the wider world ignores, or which our distracted and irresolute selves have trouble holding on to.
As we write, so we build: to keep a record of what matters to us."
- Alain de Botton
The Architecture of Happiness
That light is always too swift for us.
When I'm trying to capture a certain light that arrives in my kitchen through the morning, I experience how quickly it changes.
Early, the light on the dishes on the sink. 10 minutes later it will have shifted.
Later in the afternoon, this room beside the kitchen becomes light filled and attracts the dog. He usually finds a sunbeam for his nap.
The desk in the kitchen, later in the morning.
I had bought Rob a book on Cy Twombly, titled Paradise. The light on the grapes, the purples on the cover of the book called to me.
The more I seek light in my photography, the truths and mysteries of light, the more difficult I find it to talk about.