Mojave

Sunrise, Mojave Desert, California. Running with cameras is generally not good, but I did, up the slab pile of a similar hill to the ones lined against the horizon. I had no stake out, no plan due to the bad forecast, when the dead sky I'd been driving into for an hour suddenly awoke. Hurrying to set it all up, out of breath, fumbling with tripod and exposure wheels and lenses to try and capture what would be gone in five minutes. January can be cold in the high desert, despite the cactus, the sand, and the southwest hype that makes your mind think heat when you leave the East. But once here, reality and memory kicks in, and you better layer up until the sun breaks the overcast. Sun is the magic in the desert; without it, the color is cool, the bareness is palpable. As if to emphasize, even the magenta was a cold red today. It was gone as fast as it came on. As I picked my way back down the hillside when it was all over, and the sky was a dull slate gray, I'm sure my shoulders sagged a little under the transition into uncertainty. I considered how good it all feels when it's new, when everything blushes. Can I even count how often my beginnings have started this way, how often promise has dangled before me, and how often I've struggled to trust as the color fades and doubt creeps in. I surrendered, and hoped today the Mojave would prove me wrong.

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Filename: Mojave
Image Size: 2048x1484 / 2.1MB; Mojave Mojave Desert southwest California CA landscape landscape photography desertscape desert dry sand sunrise Ray Palmer Ray Palmer Photography
Contained in galleries: West

Sunrise, Mojave Desert, California. Running with cameras is generally not good, but I did, up the slab pile of a similar hill to the ones lined against the horizon. I had no stake out, no plan due to the bad forecast, when the dead sky I'd been driving into for an hour suddenly awoke. Hurrying to set it all up, out of breath, fumbling with tripod and exposure wheels and lenses to try and capture what would be gone in five minutes. January can be cold in the high desert, despite the cactus, the sand, and the southwest hype that makes your mind think heat when you leave the East. But once here, reality and memory kicks in, and you better layer up until the sun breaks the overcast. Sun is the magic in the desert; without it, the color is cool, the bareness is palpable. As if to emphasize, even the magenta was a cold red today. It was gone as fast as it came on. As I picked my way back down the hillside when it was all over, and the sky was a dull slate gray, I'm sure my shoulders sagged a little under the transition into uncertainty. I considered how good it all feels when it's new, when everything blushes. Can I even count how often my beginnings have started this way, how often promise has dangled before me, and how often I've struggled to trust as the color fades and doubt creeps in. I surrendered, and hoped today the Mojave would prove me wrong.