One of my mother’s favorite soap operas was called, “The Edge of Night,” and the opening montage was a dark, diagonal band slowly moving across a city skyline (Cincinnati), turning day into night.

Photographing sunrise is a favorite thing of mine; I just wish it would happen later in the morning. A wide variety of tones, colors, and shapes can come at you, changing fast, and it’s a challenge to see what you can catch. One thing usually, though, is everywhere around your working space gets light about the same time.

But, every once in a while, I feel like I’ve caught the actual line that separates day from night. It’s a little fuzzy, but you can kinda see.

The term “negative space” in the visual arts likely has an agreed upon academic definition, but for me it’s just “The Other.” The stuff that’s NOT the physical subject. The image of the subject tells you what it looks like; the “other” tells you something about the subject, or distracts from it.

To see more of Bill’s photographs, go to https://www.billdurrence.com/index

“The perception of beauty is a moral test.” Thoreau

People often ask me what I like to shoot, and I’m never quite sure how to give a pithy answer. I started out as a photographer on a medium sized daily newspaper with a small photo staff, and we shot everything–mug shots, boring (visually) meetings, handshake ceremonies, groundbreakings, sports, fashion trends, debutante parties, traffic accidents, murder scenes.

You had to be a generalist and that has stuck with me. Instead of looking for a certain subject, I’m trying to find the picture in whatever is in front of me. Some times are easier than others.

For more of Bill’s photographs, go to https://www.billdurrence.com/index

It was a little over a year ago, and we were in Mexico, at a horse ranch. There had been a heavy shower in the afternoon, and the sun was filtering through clearing clouds and rising mist.

There was a wildflower field between the guest rooms and the stables, usually navigated on paths around its perimeter. Just then, the middle of the field, with the tall wet grass and large puddles, was the right place to be.

For more of Bill’s photographs, go to https://www.billdurrence.com/index

There’s camping, and then there’s camping.

Our tented encampment was in the middle of the Serengeti and hours from anything except more camps. Still, the dining tent was impeccable. With a wine list. And a full bar. And a view of the bush in every direction.

We were some of the first visitors after the pandemic quarantines and they treated us like long lost friends. Barbara and I were on safari with another couple and when we got to this camp they had a sort of tent duplex set up for us, with separate bedroom tents, joined by a common seating area tent. Each bedroom wing had a subdivision petitioned off for a lavatory, toilet, and shower.

“Shower” is not an appropriate term for what we had. In three days I was never able to get more than a trickle out of the nozzle, and that was ice cold.

But then every night there was a big campfire at twilight, outside the dining tent, sitting watching an infinity of stars appear, gin and tonic in hand. Even with a crowd around the fire, moments of silence just happen. Except for the shower, this could be heaven. (I’m probably forgetting the bugs.)

I looked the site up recently and photos indicate it’s a lot more of permanent installations now. I think I like the tents better, but the plumbing is probably much improved.

For more of Bill’s photographs, go to https://www.billdurrence.com/index