NZ visual diary - entry 7

exterior stair well - Wynyard Car Park

Ain't it just like the night to play tricks when you're tryin' to be so quiet?

So sings Bob Dylan in the opening line of his song Visions of Johanna (Blonde on Blonde 1966 album)

The night is no less the trickster for the nocturnal photographer.

It begins with the physiological: we strain to make sense of what we see with less clarity in the gossamer shadows of the night. Uncertainty gives license to the imagination to conjure up visions of what might it be.

It evolves, within a solitary moment made manifestly more illusory by the shroud of darkness, by asking: what could it be?

Seeing from a distance at night the exterior stair well of a Wynyard Quarter car park, I tried to imagine how the ghost[s] of 'lectricity (to borrow another phrase from Visions of Johanna) might be rendered:

in and out of focus by my camera (the physiological, if you will permit me this anthropomorphism);

or by the mind's eye in a flight of artistic theorising.

While my conscience explodes (Visions of Johanna)