6AM,
Hamilton Park in
Weehawken, NJ, overlooking the
Hudson River. My flatmate is shooting some black-and-white motion film for her cinemaphotography class. I've brought my cheap-o 35mm camera. Hunkered down between two parked cars, she's loading film, assembling the lenses. "How soon til you're ready, Jenn?" "Um, a couple of minutes, why? What am I missing? -Oh!"
The river is almost luminous,
polished cold liquid blue steel. Uptown, the light haze burns scarlet in the air, and headlights of cars on the
West Side Highway fuse into a neon ribbon. Directly across the river, around 30th Street, skyscrapers mask the sunrise, but planes of sunshine through lines of cloud streak the mist overhead with brilliant clear light,
illuminating fantastic, intricate
curlicue textures. By the time the sun clears the skyline, I'm out of film.
Put a spectacular sunrise behind it, and any city looks like the City of God. It's easy to imagine why early cultures worshipped
the sun - for a few eternal moments, the
glory and majesty are almost unbearable.