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Cold
This photo gave me the feeling of cold due to the heavy shadows in the picture yet the source of light is not visible You can see the snow still untouched on the ground and on the trees so you can tell the snow was recent so it must still be cold despite there being sunlight.
Over spring break, my dad and I decided to go skiing. The only mountain still open was about three hours away, so he took a day off of work and we left super early in the morning so we could get there right when it opened and while it would be cold enough that the snow wouldn’t be slushy. It was about an hour after sunrise when we headed into the mountains.
We were driving through a valley, flat and bedded with tall, tan grasses and a few wildflowers basking in the warmth of the morning sun, when the road suddenly grew dark. Before us was a narrow path shrouded in darkness. The sunlight died where the mountains suddenly rose up out of the flat earth, their steep sides blocking out the sky itself as the road slipped unnoticed beneath their shadows. Every now and then a ray of light would hit the bare peaks above us, giving shape to the shadows, but the could not stretch its fingers far enough to reach us. It was as though these mountains were the last refuge of the night as it strove to withstand the assault of the coming day.
27 February, 2012
South Campus, near the library
Around 7:15 am
I’m walking to my room early in the morning, after the sun has risen and lit the campus with morning light. As I’m heading towards the library from the western side of south campus, I have a perfect view of the tower that is the Axinn Library. The early morning light hits the western face of the building, turning it gold.
Coupled with the stark blue of the morning sky with no clouds to be seen, it made for an easy representation of Hofstra Pride. After having pulled an all-nighter, it was kind of like a little boost of encouragement from the architecture, the bones of the school itself. Yes, it’s worth the time and effort, if only so you can share in the unifying little moments of pride like this one. I’ll admit, I was slightly delirious from lack of sleep and an overabundance of water coloring, so I might not have been entirely awake. But it was a nice moment, and I’m glad that my tired self didn’t miss or ignore it.
Saturday 18 February, 2012
Central Park
Around 4:30 pm
My friend and I are walking from the north end of the Park, the sun setting over the roofs of the skyscrapers that make up the New York skyline. Because the sun has only just decided to set, the shadows it casts are from a rather high angle. As we walk along one of the paths heading in a general southward direction we pass by and under American Oaks. The trees cast shadows over and around the path we’re walking along, weaving in and out of our way.
The spindly branches of the close-sown oaks overlap to create a web of shadows, reaching out towards passers-by in an attempt to chase them. The grooves and pockets in the tree bark are cast in relief against the trunks, giving a startling amount of depth to the natural contours of the trees. They actually look kind of lonely. Their branches are reaching out towards people, trying to bring them in, but are only scaring them away by being too frightening. They attempt in vain to find some contact, any contact, but their efforts are foiled by none other than themselves.
Tuesday 14 February, 2012 (any night, really)
My dorm room
Around 1:30 am
The blinds are down over our 9′-0″ x 4′-0″ window, slats pointed up. The orangeish-red of the lampposts outside and down seven stories gently furnishes our room. Faint stripes of orange are visible across the far upper wall and ceiling and the room is cast in a subtle orange glow mixed in with the dark of nighttime.
I’m reminded of just how awake I am this late at night. The room is never in the full black of night, the way the campus is never unlit. Artificial light seeps into every corner making it quite easy to move about when my roommate’s asleep, regardless of the vain attempt of sleep-worthy dark. The campus is never fully asleep, even when it’s inhabitants are. It can’t be to ensure a respectable amount of safety. In a way it’s comforting – nothing is ever unseen, hardly anything is missed. But for now all I can think is how my eyes are still open, fully adjusted to the dark, and I can still make out all the details of my shoe rack, vaguely tucked away into a corner. I wish I were asleep.
I had my lighting moment sitting in Lowe 106 for Hamlet rehearsal on 2/9. I looked over the door on the side of the room, and the light was reflecting in such a way as to create the never ending hallway effect. I looked at it for a moment, but I didn’t figure out exactly where the light was reflecting from to create this effect which was odd.
The light reflecting in the window of the door was shaped almost like an old-fashioned gas lamp, and as the image repeated itself, it seemed to create a hallway, like a secret passage into a world of the past akin to the tunnels through which the phantom leads Christine in Phantom of the Opera. It was an erie effect, considering no lights in the room are shaped in such a way as to create that particular reflection, or at least not obviously.
1. February 6, 3:45 AM, suite 1126.
2. Fluorescent lights from the hallway outside my room, spilling through the peephole and cracks of the door.
3. Monday, in the early hours of the morning, I stumbled out of my room to get a water from our common room. Per usual, all of the lights in our suite were off – the room lights, the common room lights, the TV, the faerie lights. It was complete darkness. The only exception to this was the door leading out to the hallway. The doorway was illuminated by glowing white light from the hallway. The beams of light spilled through the cracks of the door, and through the peephole. It produced a ghostly and ethereal feeling in the room. Even in my half-asleep stupor, I could appreciate the strange beauty the light created.
Wednesday 1 February, 2012
Axinn Library Stacks
Around 7:30 pm
A boy is sitting on the floor leaning up against a bookcase filled with books. His legs are crossed and the hood of his dark sweatshirt is pulled up over his head. His Macbook Pro is propped on his crossed legs, the bright screen reflected in his glasses.
It struck me simultaneously as quite telling of our generation as well as ironic. Here he was, completely engrossed in whatever Youtube video or movie on Netflix he was watching while surrounded by thousands upon thousands of stories to which he was paying no attention. They were nothing better than back support. The way the lights of his show flashed in his glasses parallel to the movement on screen coupled with the given context made him look like a zombie – especially since his mouth was slack and he wasn’t really moving much. Methinks I saw a bit of drool dribbling down the left side of his face – but that could have just been the reflection in the plastic of his earphones.
1. January 31, 4:50 pm, Meadowbrook Parkway.
2. Mid-sunset, when the sun is still fully visible but just about to drop beyond the horizon.
3. The Meadowbrook Parkway is by no means a beautiful place. It’s a stretch of concrete and chaos, littered with angry drivers in SUVs and compact cars. The stretch of road, coupled with the angry, grey of winter, is normally devoid of color. At that particular time, though, the sun had just begun to set and bathed the entire area in a warmth not unlike July. The sky was streaked with different shades of orange and pink, and the sun gave off a glare that bounced off the surrounding cars. Even the most irate of drivers could not look angry when draped in summer. The moment was absolutely stunning.
1. 1-27-2011, 5:00 PM, Walking from Memorial Quad to the Library
2. Sunset from the west cast a bright tangerine glow across the side of the library tower, with a golden spill across the tops of the trees.
3. Walking from the studio past the library last friday, it was cold. It was wintery and blustery and January. The last thing I was expecting to see as I shivered was a huge swatch of Caribbean tangerine across the brutalist concrete of our library. The color was clementines, Florida sunsets, sherbet, and tiger lilies all rolled into one. It was pure summer wonderful in the middle of New York winter. Such incongruous light at a time like that evoked a warmth that did more than my wool jacket to keep out the wind.
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