golden hour - golden delight - black and white.
There’s a country road tucked away under big sky, pastel blues, zig zagging along rusty barb fences, in between burnt fields of gold, livestock dot the distance, we lie in the shadow of Mauna Kea fourteen thousand high, rubber to asphalt the old Toyota climbs the foot hills, P. and I looking for the magic, golden hour is what we crave...
Sharp Right! P. spots a moody lush field, heavy fog rolls by, Portra 800 in the camera, Perfect! We take advantage, P. Dancing to her own rhythm, on the street, for herself, snap —— snap —— snap.
We keep moving - finding a few spots along the way, clearing the fog, road winds tighter, quicker —— —
warm sunshine fills the tiny cab of the tacoma, golden fields touched by fire, this may be what were looking for, HARD RIGHT. Highlights pump and whites reach point of no return. P. and I agree — — switch looks…
snap ——— snap ——— snap...
one roll down. click, wind, pop, Portra 400. We confiscate the long winding road with only one rule, I’m your eyes your mine.
P. dominates the country two lane road, giving the local a keep it moving hand gesture. GOLD! Vroommmm!!
One more location. A bit turned around but nevertheless... THERE! Perched on a hill, tall grass at golden hour is on our list, SWERVE! Look Change. Hike.
Poetry in the distance in this moment, in the light, we dance —— — moving to and from, her to eye and eye to her —— —
click wind pop. black and white TMAX 400, when its right its right, who am I to question black and white during golden hour.
Our dance draws into darkness, our last frame passes, our night concludes with pueo “short eared owl” endemic to Hawaii and gracing us with omen of change, symphony of beauty. Light gives way to darkness, a million dancers above us —— — somewhere a bolshoi ballerina blushes and we disappear into the night.
