A favorite subject.
Those who know me well know that the moon is my favorite photographic subject. I can't help but point it out whenever it catches my eye - no matter how obvious its presence is to all of the sighted world, my company being no exception. I do not know to which specific quality I should attribute my love of the moon's pale blue face, but I suppose I will simply say that it is the subject and location of some of my favorite photographs by others, an oddly symmetrical counterpoint in size, light and character to the sun, an unusual and challenging source of photographic lighting, a reliable and deeply engrained clock and a loved co-traveller.
I can think of no better source of scale than to place the moon in the frame. An Earthly landscape acquires celestial context when it features our fellow sojourner. To me, the moon not only screams "I may seem small, but you are smaller still," but also paints a vivid picture of the synodic cycles we humans have long used to measure the pace of months, years and seasons and consequently represents a shared experience between us and all of Homo sapiens sapiens' ancestors.
I'll be publishing a series of images over the next few weeks, each featuring Luna as a primary compositional element - as I've hoarded about four or five of which I am particularly fond.
Lunar twilight in the meadows of Yosemite.
Impossibly idyllic, flat and populated with grasses, pines and deciduous trees of all varieties, the meadows of Yosemite valley bear the mark of their ancient and stochastic gardener. I woke and roamed a bit in deep twilight, stopped in one of the valley's garden-meadows to photograph a moon-lit scene. A late summer wind whipped the chill from the ground into my face and through my jacket. The scene would have been splendid, but forgettably splendid had it not been for the pale crescent of the moon hanging over Half Dome like some luminous and infinitely distant circling hawk.