I have never been one for sunsets. At no point have I looked to the sky and stared as blue turned to hues of red and yellow. There is simply nothing there to excite me.
When I was in Eastern Washington, photographing the rolling hills of the Palouse, a strong sunset was what many others desperately hoped for. The more colorful the sky, the better the photograph — or so many amateur photographers believe. Unfortunately, no matter how hard you try, you cannot polish a turd. If your composition isn’t any good with bad light, it won’t be much better with even the best of light. While everyone attending the workshop yearned for color, I looked for shadow. Specifically, the interaction between light and dark, the shapes made by such an interaction upon the hills. In hindsight, I suppose I have long gone against the grain, even if this is but one subtle example.
Perhaps my inability to properly appreciate a sunset is deeper than my disdain for color (one day I’ll attempt to analyze that but today is not that day). After all, a sunset may signify many things in life: the ending of a day, the ending of a life, the ending of light…. Put more simply, a sunset signifies the end.
For the first time in a while — likely since Washington last year — I noticed this evening’s sunset. Puffy clouds casting a pinkish hue, the light reflecting brightly. I wasn’t in a particularly beautiful area, just a back yard within a development, houses abundant and grass near-nonexistent. Yet something about the setting sun interested me.
This morning, I interviewed for a job, which I was quickly offered. An instructional assistant role at a local middle school. The pay isn’t the best, there are no benefits included since it’s a part-time position (yay America), and the role itself isn’t exactly something I would have applied for. I accepted the offer nonetheless, as I believe this will be a foot in the door to a solid district, one of the better in the area. If an opening for an English teaching position crops up, hopefully I will be given that opportunity.
I thought of this as I gazed upon the setting sun. A new part of my life is just beginning, in so many more ways than I care to share. With the close of this day, with the close of this season, I exit one room and enter the next. It is not the end, as so many believe when they think of a sunset. No, it is a new beginning.
The day may be gone, the light may have vanished, the breath may have left someone’s lungs for the final time — none of that means nothing comes next. Night and shadow and death are equally as beautiful as their counterparts. They simply aren’t given the attention they deserve. Each brings with it a new beginning, a new opportunity for something great to happen. At least, that’s the outlook I would prefer to have right now.
— C