For me, it’s always been about the light…
Joy One of my earliest memories. Still half dreaming as I wake up, liquid patterns of morning… shadows and golden light diffused through lace curtains dancing in a summer breeze.
Yearning I’m in the back seat of my Mom’s old Mercury laboring up a two-lane blacktop pass. The sunset is turning into stars above the brooding mountains. I’m filled with a sudden, ancient sorrow at the fading of the light and an awareness of vast, unexplored territories just over the next hill.
Wonder Standing on a mountain top under a cloudless sky in the Canadian Rockies close to the bones of the Earth. The light is so pure it seems to illuminate every pore on the back of my hand, every leaf and stem of wiry, tenacious plants grappling for life, every particle of rock in otherworldly clarity.
Dan Simpson, musician, photographer
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