Friday, October 2, 2009

robert irwin on california's light




Robert Irwin, Untitled



Robert Irwin, Untitled


The thing is, it's so radically different from day to day, and then so incredibly specific on any given day.

"One of its most common features, however, is the haze that fractures the light, scattering it in such a way that on many days the world almost has no shadows. Broad daylight -- and, in fact, lots and lots of light -- and no shadows. Really peculiar, almost dreamlike.

"It's a high light, as opposed to the kind of deep light you might get, say, in the Swiss Alps, where your eye keeps getting drawn to the object -- say, to that snow-capped peak on the far end of the valley. Here, instead, you're likely to find your eye becoming suspended somewhere in the middle distance, and it can almost get to be as if the world were made up of energy rather than matter.

"I love walking down the street when the light gets all reverberant, bouncing around like that, and everything's just humming in your face."


From Lawrence Weschler's "The Light of L.A.," in the indispensable Vermeer in Bosnia: 

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