The hour of half-light surrounding sunrise is one of transition. In this hour of awe, we move from a world of shadows and mystery to a predictable one, from a time of disquietude to the everyday. We know this interval vividly--the sunrise in snapshots and postcards; the sunrise in movies; the sunrise in dazzling color. We take it for granted and render it pastiche.

In Purgatorio, Dante writes, "You are moved by a light that is formed in heaven / by a will that guides it downward" (XVII 17-18). Responding to Dante’s vision, I’ve sought to document this transition point, to open its interstices, extending my exposures to track the trajectory of the object that assuages anxiety, gives life and inspires.

In this half-lit world, a magic hour, the sunrise is represented in its entirety, but it is also contested and stripped. Conventional vibrancy gives way, releasing “the part that is not there,” spaces half-lit or made of shadows. People are moving in these spaces, we have evidence, but their specifics are just beyond our reach. The familiar glow formed in heaven and guided downward is rendered as an object; effulgence turns out to be swift movement independent of our own.

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