The Suspension of Dusk
There is a specific, fleeting quality to the light just as the sun dips below the horizon, a bruised violet that seems to hold the day’s heat in suspension. In the north, we call this the threshold time. It is when the air loses its sharp edges and everything becomes a suggestion of itself. We spend so much of our lives tethered to the ground, measuring our existence by the weight of our footsteps and the gravity of our obligations. Yet, there is a profound, quiet ache in watching something rise above the clutter of the earth, suspended between the fading warmth of the sky and the encroaching dark. It is a reminder that we are all, at some point, merely silhouettes against a changing backdrop, waiting for the wind to shift or the stars to find their place. Does the height change the way the world feels, or does it only change the way we look at the ground we left behind?
José J. Rivera-Negrón has captured this feeling in his work titled Evening Fair Ride. The way the light clings to the edges of the figures reminds me of how the sky holds onto the last of the day. Does this image make you feel like you are rising or falling?
