Cahaya

I have a declaration to make, and it's a sort of a personal revelation.
Though probably an obvious one, if you know me.

I love light. I adore photons. Glow-sticks, Ikea lamps, fireflies, matchsticks, I adore it in all it's moods and colors, from the soft diffused glow of a rainy Sunday morning to the room filling summer sun bouncing across floor and hair and sleeping faces.

I guess it started one day when I was younger, and I woke up from an afternoon nap to find myself trapped in a shaft of sun and about a billion dust motes. I was trapped because I could not pull my focus away from the dance of the particles and the smallest shadows they cast underneath them, like tiny pillars in this cathedral shining through my polka-dotted curtains.

One night when I was eleven I probably caused permanent ocular damage to myself by shining a hand-held laser pointer directly into my left eye. I had to see what it looked like up close, and laser light up close looks like an uncountable, wondrous mass of shooting stars are flying by your head all at once. You try to follow the path of each one with your eye, for naught.

Trivia: I sometimes sneeze when I look at bright lights/the sun. I always thought that was cool.

I guess it's fitting now that I work behind a camera. It's just an extension of my lifelong need to understand and capture something that is larger than me. Something that always made my heart beat faster, and has given me so much.

The calm ocean on a full moon, a paddy field draped in the perfect diffusion of sunset, there is music there for those who listen.