Silence

The call has gone out this week to submit up to three photos that express the theme, Silence. You’d think this would be easy enough since photography is a pretty silent undertaking. Even if you’re shooting an event, the prints you end up with have the sound turned off. Here I’ll share some photos I’m considering for submission and explain why I landed on them.

This image is from a recent trip to Ireland. During an archaeology-themed tour of the Dingle Peninsula we stopped to examine some stone structures. Afterwards, waiting for the rest of the travelers to come back to the bus, I saw this magical light ring a couple hundred yards of shore. Above it, a strange cloud hovered. I made several exposures, hoping to capture the feeling I had just then; that time had paused and with it all sound. It took a bit of cropping, but I think I nailed it.

Here’s one of the first “good” photos I took after getting my first DSLR in 2011. At the time I worked at the US Holocaust Memorial Museum, and I liked spending time alone in the exhibition before the doors opened to the public. It’s generally a quiet place, but to be alone and surrounded by stone, brick, steel —- and objects that tell the story of the Holocaust —- comes close to a religious experience. I’d taken several shots this particular morning, and as I was looking down at Richard Serra’s “Gravity,” an employee entered the scene, her silent shadow leading her down the stairs.

Everybody with a cell phone comes home from Antelope Canyon with lovely photos of the narrow canyon, its sandstone walls catching light around every corner. I knew I’d get some of these, too, but I was looking for the AC photo I’d never seen. This tumbleweed, carried to a ledge by a early winter flash flood, caught the afternoon light just so. Silence.

This is one of a series of candid shots I made while riding the DC Metro between 2011-2016. I rode during rush hour with its crowds, jostling, and bleating, incomprehensible announcements. Most people never make eye contact on the Metro, but this child did, and I took it as permission to make her commuter portrait. The mother and child (I’m tempted to say “Metro Madonna and Child”) have found peace and silence amid the bustle.