The Lady, the Light, and Some Luck

EVERY PHOTOGRAPHER OUT THERE, no matter how serious or casual, has, at least on occasion, cursed the light. Bad light, hard light, no light, muddy light, fluorescent light, dappled light, flash light. At some point, it’s all horrible, and we curse the darkness or dimness or color or direction of whatever vexing quality of illumination we deem to be not up to our continuously needy and demanding standards.

We forget last week, or even yesterday, when the sky was rippling with such color it looked like a mad painter’s palette rather than a collection of nondescript smudgy clouds. We forget that last portrait session when the window light was an immediate and marvelous gift that made that particular job sweetly easy. We are, relentlessly, creatures of the moment, and when that moment arrives with an unfit quality of light, we curse the moon, the sun, and the stars, as if they had anything to do with it.