The first time-lapse segment I saw on Disneyland was the closest thing to magic I had ever experienced. Normally slow-changing objects or scenes were filmed over hours or days or even weeks with an umoving camera to reveal Â glacially-slow and otherwise imperceptible changes of form or color. This was not Disney’s animation work but that of nature itself.
ThisÂ was real and true just outside my door–a state of flux and motion happening every second of every day. I couldn’tÂ see it with my own eyes, but I was made able to imagine and to know it, having been shown the existence of this grand motion and dance. InÂ subtle ways, it gave me a new lens for seeing the world.
From this kind of photography came landscapes–desert or mountaintop or seashore scenes–captured over full light-and-shadow-shifting of dawn to dusk, daylight melting beautifully into the after-dark appearance of the Milky Way and wheeling constellations overhead against fixed and motionless objectsÂ in theÂ foreground.
The spinningÂ field of stars revolved majesticallyagainst the blackest heaven, slashed by bright streaks of high-altitude jets and meteors and sometimes strokedÂ by the fast-moving squiggly red taillights of auto traffic in a city. The busy-ness and stir of a single day anywhere in this world was anything but ordinary!
ThisÂ is the third excerptÂ from this topic of “seeing time” taken fromÂ One Place Understood–a book in my mind only, maybe always, but at least until summer of 2018.