Twenty Four Hours

Eroded piers in the Salton Sea.

Frenzied lives spin round my still core…I feel a 24 hour period  captured on a single piece of film.

I’ve been feeling a strong stillness within me the last 24 hours. Reasons for which I am unaware. Even the voice of my dear wife breaks the welcome stillness. It’s oddity—the lack of mechanics to bring about the stillness.

I remember one of my first lens filter purchases for my camera, a B&W 13-stop neutral density. My inspiration was to be able to capture up to 7 minutes of time passing on a single frame of film in the middle of the day.

Up until I started shooting my 4×5, this 13 stop filter was the most used tool used in my camera bag next to my meter and camera. I had rarely experimented with timed exposures but was motivated none-the-less to make the investment in a filter which is now no longer made. The resulting images provide a collage of time.

Rhythmic water blends into clouds, feathered clouds brushed by the wind, wind blowing the applause of dried grasses.

Even the static becomes dynamic in some strange way during a 7 minute exposure. Scenes captured on film begin to vignette—pushing light forward adding to the mystery of time passed…the passage of time compressed into a single moment of history recorded.

The Salton Sea is time passed. A heyday eroded by time, by the elements, by forgotten moments. The image above recorded 7 minutes of history at the Salton Sea. Not a momentous event mind you, just another 7 minutes. 7 minutes that allowed for a stillness to enfold me. This is photography at its core for me.

The stillness of being…even if just for 7 minutes or if one is so fortunate…24 hours.