/the artist that a child is

Day’s first/last light is usually the first artifact created by the child learning to express itself to the inhabitants of the only planet in the known universe lucky enough to exhibit a series of cosmic events that led to the evolution and sustenance of life.

It was certainly mine. Drawing two peaks of brown mountains and a semi-circular yellow orb was the “artistic” take I took as a child instead of drawing a full circle on the right or the left side of the sheet of paper. I am sure many of you did the same thing. Call it living in a shell and calling myself the king of infinite space, but the certitude it provided to the artistic agency within was borderline infinite.

Standing on the Uetliberg Lookout Tower, watching the sun driven by its invisible chariots inching closer to the horizon line created by the Glarner Alps, I felt the same rush of energy. Suddenly, I was 6 years old, looking around people painting/photographing the complete yellow ball of light and departing, tracking the trajectory of the sun, mounting my tripod, and doing the one thing I have mastered over the last decade of shooting, waiting. Waiting for the clock to hit 05:47 PM, waiting for the circle to become an almost semi-circle, breathing slowly so as to not get overwhelmed at the heavenly sight, and longing for the sweet sound of the releasing of the camera shutter.

And then it came, as slowly as it could, and went away as fast as it could. The moment, the memory, the reverie. But in that transitory moment, it’s funny how even after 25 years, the feeling was just the same.