Summer Self-Portrait 2010 | Mark Lindsay
Summer is a season that makes me want to hide. I cannot seem to escape a sun that is now high and white. And bright. For someone who lives in the shadow, the brightness is almost debilitating. I have come to embrace my hypersensitivity to light and to use it as part of my artistic process. While high noon on a summer day can make for intensely boring photos, there is a searing saturation to the images of summer that I often like.
Once summer is born it begins to die. The longest day of the year is summer's first. Slowly then the days fade into mellowness. I love tracing the path of the sun come the solstice, noting where the sun sets each night against the glorious hills of Marin County. And then one day it begins to set itself behind Mt. Tamalapais and I then know that autumn will soon be here.
I also love to play with the notion of sun and psyche and the cycles of life that include our moods and patterns. Long days and short nights make for an interesting moment in the ever-changing year.
Maybe this is why I've taken to blurry images as of late. My Lensbaby is still mounted to my camera as I pace around my territory, making images of the familiar in new ways. Today I made an image of my cranky self as I squinted into the white light. Summer sun—it always pokes me and gets me going even as I run into the shadow for shelter.