Tender Is the Night

I have a post up on Shutter Sisters today about night photography, which you can read here.  I could have just cross posted the same content here, but since that was a bit of a technical post, I wanted to share something more personal about why night photography means so much to me.

Seven years ago to the day, I watched my dad die from pancreatic cancer in his hospital bed.  For the month preceding his death, I spent all my non-working time doing three things: being by my dad's side in the hospital, going to live music shows and taking photos.  Oh wait.  Add a 4th: blogging.  I started my original blog a couple weeks before my dad went into the hospital, and the events during those first couple months gave me much material for blogging.

It was during this time that I developed a deep appreciation for night photography.  I guess you could say that it was my method of choice for self-soothing.  I would often leave the hospital after visiting hours were over, drive to a spot with a view of the city and take a bunch of photos, wrapped up in my thoughts.  I was grieving the loss of a relationship, the imminent loss of my dad and the possible loss of my faith.  Those were dark times for me, and maybe that's why I took so much comfort in the night.

Sometimes, when I happen to be out for the evening without Ted or Cadence, I'll stop somewhere on my way home to have a mini night photoshoot.  To this day, this is my favorite type of alone time--a date with my camera late at night on the streets of Chicago.  And during those occasions, my thoughts often return to that period in my life when I first embraced the night--to the images of my dad so sick and frail, jaundiced and childlike and helpless; to my overwhelming loneliness that was surprisingly met with comfort emanating from the city around me; to the realization that almost everything I had believed in regarding God and faith were now like dandelion seeds blowing willy nilly; to that yearning for connection and community and meaning that I still feel to this day; and to just how f*cking beautiful the world is during the night.

Comments

[Toni]

This brought tears, Sarah - a beautiful post. I'm so sorry for the loss of your father and, possibly, the loss of your faith. I'm sure your father appreciated your nightly visits. I'm glad you were able to find a release in your photography. My wish for you now is that you have wonderful memories of your father before he got sick and that you hold them close.

[rebecca]

thank you for this post, sarah.

[jennifer]

thank you for sharing that beautiful story. i love all your photos and insights on life through your artwork.