Night is dark and the mysterious working of chance and circumstance. I love the dark in images, what some call triste or sad. But to me dark is not sadness; it’s the absence of light that an artist can then deliberately bring back, one hue at a time, until the eye can register something it knows.
Dark is elegant. Against the dark colors take on richness, a vividness unlike what we see in the abundance of light. Maybe it’s privation, withholding enough of something that our desires are whetted, our patience tested until we see in the dark, until we see what wasn’t there before. Because we had a surfeit of confidence, and too much certainty is chaos. We learn in darkness that we learn to see.
I took up the study of images and visual creativity because I needed to value words. Thoughts seem to me to be more than what we easily understand, easy understanding making us cease from actually seeing. To confront something ineffable is to really see, not relying on what we know from having encountered it in the past.
Seeing with mystery is to see the present.