"So fine was the morning except for a streak of wind
here and there that the sea and sky looked all one fabric."
-- Virginia Woolf, To The Lighthouse
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| Huron Lighthouse 12-14-14 |
"He heard her in his heart -- whispering from the mist."
-- John Geddes, A Familiar Rain
There is a lighthouse in my town.
It's a perfectly fine, serviceable lighthouse situated on the south shore of Lake Erie at the mouth of the Huron River. It is a functioning lighthouse that guides pleasure boaters and fisherman into the local marinas, and giant freight ships to the limestone plant.
Our lighthouse is kind of an icon around here. It shows up in logos. Businesses use it in their advertising. The Chamber of Commerce pimps it out in brochures and shit like that. Tourists take pictures of it. Local artists paint it. Blah, blah, blah.
I used to go running out on the elevated cement walkway that leads to the lighthouse from the shore. But it's been years since I went out there for a look.
No reason, really. I haven't been avoiding the lighthouse. I haven't been shunning it. I just don't think about it.
Some people go all gaga for lighthouses. They paint pictures of lighthouses and photograph lighthouses and embroider lighthouses onto sweatshirts.
I don't know. I guess I'm kind of over it. I'm pretty fucking blasé about lighthouses. If you've see it once, you've seen it a million times, right? Do I really need to see it again?
Anyway, yesterday I said "fuck you" to my cynical lighthouse apathy, turned left instead of right, and walked to the damn lighthouse. I even took some pictures.
The cold air and the mist felt good on my skin.
The solitude of being out there where nobody else was felt good in my soul.
The lighthouse looked decidedly lovely through the camera's lens.
It was one of those drizzly, monochromatic days, where everything goes all soft and misty. A day rendered in gray tones. Like England.
There were tons of screaming, squawking seagulls flying around lending dynamic movement to the otherwise static nature of the scene.
There was texture. There was atmosphere.
I don't mind saying I got kind of into it. I was out there shooting photos until my fingers went numb and I had to put my mittens back on.
Walking back towards shore, I realized that even though I've seen the lighthouse and multitudinous images of it, I have never seen it through my own camera's lens.
I've seen other people's images, but never made my own.
It opened my eyes and gave me a fresh perspective on what I thought was a stale, tired old subject.
It's a good thing I made that left turn.
