Good Morning, Sun
When I get off the train at North Station in Boston early every weekday morning, I begin a rush through the heart of the city to reach my office in the Seaport district. My mile-and-a-half walk varies from day to day, along the Greenway, through the North End, or over Beacon Hill.
Just after dawn, there are few people on the streets. The sun casts deep shadows on the pavement and illuminates the facades of brick, granite, and glass buildings. An occasional pedestrian strides purposefully across this urban set, an actor in a play, ignoring the stage backdrop—the historic facades, the sun, the shadows.
Sometimes the scene is especially stark, timeless, or haunting. Then I drop my pack and (in the brief interruption that I allow myself) I set the camera, compose the shot, throw the camera back into my sack, and am on my way.
If my photograph works, the image captures the contradictions of daily city life: Real and surreal. Static and active. Populated and empty.
