As I passed the north end of the lake, near the boathouse, I saw in the darkness what appeared to be a plant sticking out of the water, though I couldn't make it out clearly. This was fine with me, as I find the natural world infinitely more alluring when it is difficult to define. As I continued walking, I thought to go back the twenty five or so feet to this thing and take a picture of it.
I knew that I would need to use the flash in my phone's camera for anything to be seen at all in the low light, and even though I almost never use this feature (I prefer photographs that are unadorned or altered), I just knew on this occasion that the result would be satisfying and agreeable to me. I felt that it would capture, in picture form, something like what I had felt when I saw the plant there in the darkness.
In the arts, I generally feel that simplicity and a lack of obvious expertise are better, and the reason that I have chosen to write this short blog entry at all is precisely because I actually chose to employ a technique (the flash) to capture a basic sense of wonder, and had trusted that it would do so.
In the past, I have tended to think that for the most part, that which inspires the most complexity in thought is usually achieved by the absolutely simplest path. And although pressing a button to activate a flash is not difficult, it does contradict some of my previous ideas on the subject.
