Sunday, Sept. 29, Daniel Pfeiffer and I strolled down to the Julian Field parking lot at 6:15 a.m. and hopped in my 1998 Honda Accord. Claustrophobia struck as we crawled 30 mph down Missouri Highway 9 in black fog- I couldn’t see more than 10 feet ahead.
We had expected it. The previous night the weather forecast showed a 20 degree temperature shift and clear skies for the morning, making a foggy sunrise definite. I saw Pfeiffer in the cafeteria and recruited him for early morning photographic exploration. It was hard to sleep because of the dread of waking up so early.
As a photographer you’re always searching for significant or unconventional instances. When you find that instance, you get to freeze it in time and, later, present it to the world. The early morning holds great aesthetic possibilities and photo worthy instances because things occur in a way people aren’t used to seeing because they choose to sleep instead.
Human nature wants what it can’t have. Photographers want to see what nobody else sees.
We pulled into an empty, quiet parking lot at EH Young Riverfront Park. An abyss of grey fog blocked any view of the river. After donning some boots, we crept through a set of bushes into the construction quarry next door, where great ominous machines and piles of earth loomed in dim orange construction lights. Mysterious steel ships and old deteriorated structures stood guard in the River. A white crescent moon hung in the blue sky. A crane perched in a pond.
Monday, Sept., 30, Luke Boydston and I are northbound on Interstate 29 by 5 a.m. headed to Belcher Lake. By 6:15 a.m., Boydston is making coffee in a dark empty parking lot. White light pokes through steam on the horizon. The stars and moon are bright above. In the middle of the lake a gang of dead trees keep vigil.
We hopped into red and blue Kayaks and glide to the middle of the lake. A host of sparrows gathered above us and spider webs lit up like pearl necklaces in the sun. It became hard to see either shoreline through the steam. Boydston clambered out of his kayak and perched on a stump, feet dangling in the water. We sat and watched the great orange orb break above the tree line, and red horizon melted into the blue sky above.
