It was way too cold to go outside this morning, with a wind chill of -2 degrees. It’s one of those days where it looks as cold as it is, with an overcast sky, snow on the ground, and the slight blue tint of the early morning.
Tuesday, February 10, 2015 (Day 41)
I lose my sense of time when I’m out there shooting by myself. Photography, especially in the serenity and stillness of the dawn, can be a meditative and even therapeutic experience. The black and white seems to best convey this frame of mind, especially on a cloudy morning.
There hasn’t been much sun lately, with six out of the last seven days being completely overcast.
This morning, I planned to go outside and just capture a quick photo, but after what felt like just a little while, I looked at my watch saw 30 minutes had passed. I knew I should probably get back home, even though I could have stayed out much longer.
Thursday, February 5, 2015 (Day 36)
I’m starting to develop a new appreciation for cloudy days. The sunrise isn’t much to look at on cloudy days, so I am forced to be more creative with the scene I am photographing. In the absence of a bright palette of colors bursting across the sky, there’s nowhere for me to hide. I can’t just point my camera at nature’s light show and press my shutter button, knowing that the photo will inherently posses a certain level of appeal regardless of how skillfully I construct it. Oh no, not cloudy days. They give you nothing. They don’t forgive. And that’s what I like about them—cloudy days push me harder.
Cloudy days allow me to experiment with shots I might not attempt in the face of a brilliant sunrise. Remember, the colors of a sunrise only last for a few minutes at a time, and they are constantly changing. A beautiful color explosion might last only a minute or two, sometimes even less. A colorful sunrise doesn’t give me much time to think, let alone experiment. But on cloudy days, the scene doesn’t change much from minute to minute, so I can take my time and try a few different things. I am able to see things I might not normally see, and put more thought into what I’m doing.
And perhaps the biggest benefit of my cloudy day experiments is that they give me ideas of what I can do when those mornings come when there is a brilliantly colorful and striking sunrise. Having experimented with certain scenes, and understanding their small nuances, I can confidently recreate them under the pressure of those intense moments when I feel that sense of urgency to capture the sunrise and do it well. When there isn’t much time to think, it’s nice to know I don’t have to.
Wednesday, February 4, 2015 (Day 35)
Standing atop this large staircase made me think about how far I’ve come so far with this project, and how far I can still go. I don’t know exactly where this project will take me, but I’m excited to find out. There is no telling what tomorrow will bring.
These steps are a bit of an icon in Hoboken. Most people refer to them as the “Stevens stairs” since they lead up the side of a large cliff to the campus of Stevens Institute of Technology, connecting the highest peak in town to the waterfront. Climbing these stairs is not exactly easy, and if you have a sense of humor, you might find it amusing the way each wood plank bends slightly under the weight of each step you take. This experience can be either frightening or it can be fun, depending on your demeanor.
With clouds covering the sun this morning, a street lamp shone with an orange glow, having its moment to replace the sun for a brief period of time.
Thursday, January 22, 2015 (Day 22)
It was cloudy this morning, with an occasional falling snowflake, but as the sun rose it created a soft glow from behind the clouds.
For the third day in a row, someone saw me taking pictures and stopped to take their own picture. I may be on to something here.