Going Toward The Light
I took this just before I left Nice. I’m beginning to see why older people move to sunny climes. Some of us clearly crave warmth and light as we age, just as the young love night. I write enough about darkness to not want it in my waking hours, and have always been drawn to Southern regions. Watching the hard lines shifting between light and dark gives one a sense of diurnal time.
My friend Roger (from the North of England) seeks out the reverse, and drags his slender wife to freezing dark zones of the world for their holidays. ‘Where are you off to this year?’ I’ll ask and he’ll say ‘We’re thinking of Iceland’ as if he was considering the West Indies.
My love of light extends to exotic novels and artists like De Chirico. The Ottoman rulers had a horror of shadow – they thought death dwelt there, and often went to great lengths to avoid right-angles that would allow shadows to form in their courtyards.
Keep your countryside but show me city streets in fierce light. There was a wonderful New York photographer whose name escapes me, whose photographs of people walking across roads and rooftops at sunset used to grace my walls. Clues, anyone?