Seduction by light. Not so much the duality of light and its shadow self, my desire has been to understand the nature of light vis-a-vis color. Early on I thought I’d unlock that mystery through science. Physics classes. Lab experiments. Equations. Still no clue. Then I picked up a camera and it became clear. I had no need to understand this seduction, I’d simply have to yield to it.
I was fortunate in mentors along the way. The grandmother of my first husband, along with her husband, had been the first amateur photographers in the nation to develop their own color photography. With Gigi, the wildflowers of the Pacific Northwest became my passion. Hiking miles into the Olympic mountains, I still remember a certain day.
Striding higher and higher up a steep trail, the light was shifting noticeably with the altitude. I spotted a purple Columbine flower; it was lodged in the snow. Unequivocally the most divine purple I’d ever seen. I was arrested in that moment — as if I’d been magically plopped into the land of flower gods. My other inescapable feeling was the fleeting nature of the moment. The light and the color of purple were quickly dialing down, still lovely, but another moment.
I’ve kept the sacred nature of moments close in my heart. Perhaps that’s why my photography has been called memory’esque. Dreamscapes of color, light and form. Fleeting moments at the curbs of Los Angeles streets, portraits in wait of transportation, edifices here today and yes, are gone now. For me, LA’s urban sprawl can’t hide its true colors of ocean light. I want to illuminate the souls of these scenes as much as reveal my city’s cool kid, candy palettes.