In Darkness

Lights in the kitchen, on a cold, dark night

Last week, I played around with the concept of the fear of heights. This time around, I'm considering fear of the dark. This isn't a phobia that I personally have, but I do have empathy with it. After all, who likes fumbling around in shadows, attempting to get somewhere or do something that requires precision? With a few exceptions, everything that we would like to do is probably done better in the light.

Darkness transforms familiar locations into dangerous unknown realms. Take the simple walk across a familiar room. With normal lighting, it is such a quotidian task that we don't even spend a moment thinking about it. In the dark, stepping on something discarded upon the floor or banging a foot against a newly moved piece of furniture are commonplace missteps. (Yes, I have sympathy for the parents of young and energetic children.)

But beyond the hazards of toys and tables, there is the insidious play of the imagination. Our minds detest a void. When a strange sound comes to us through the darkness, there is an irresistible impulse to visualize how it was made. Was a creak the result of an intruder's footstep upon the stairs? Was that rustling a monstrous vermin? Was that moan something more than the wind? In the brightness of day, a glance towards the source of the bothersome noise sets our minds to peace. But, in a murk of night, the source is unconfirmed, unresolved, and our imaginations may provide disquieting images to match the sound.

Darkness falls, transforming the familiar to the foreign

So, it makes sense that this is one of the oldest and most enduring of human phobias. Heck, if some prehistoric beast preyed upon my little community of hunter-gathers, I'd also be freakin' terrified of the deadly dark. Next to the fire, keeping it well fed and bright, that's where I'd be to hold the nighttime horrors at bay.

Anyways, I have plenty of fears, but I'm really happy that the darkness is not one of them.

Elevated Anxieties

Elevator at the South Bay Galleria

Today, I haven't any special topic prepared. However, since I've been sitting on this photo for a while, I figured it could fill the gap, inspiring some appropriate topic for "Terror Tuesday". Then, I realized that, for all my photos taken, it's rare to have an image looking down, from a balcony or cliff or any precipitous elevation.

The reason is obvious; I'm somewhat afraid of heights. The vertiginous sight on a steep incline, a plunging descent below me, makes me uncomfortable, keeping me back from the edge. Therefore, even when I approach a raised platform or high vista, I tend to record the panorama unfolding before me, not the abyss which recedes beneath me.

So, there are many photos here at Paideia that look up at a soaring structure, but extremely few that showcase the opposite vantage point. It's an amusing bias, one that impacts my craft of image-making in a manner that I had not previously considered.

Going down? Escalators at the South Bay Galleria

Yes, I'm a man of many phobias. Maybe, since it constrains my Art, I'll try to overcome this one. Nevertheless, you will not be finding any rock-climbing photos at this blog anytime too soon. And no sky-diving either!!! ;-)