The many moods of light

I have a strange relationship with the weather. They say that scent can be highly evocative, and that the slightest whiff of a stray odour can take you back into the distant past, drawing up a moment long buried and thought lost. I have experienced this with scent, it is true, but I also experience it with light; or to be specific, the qualities and moods of daylight.

Now it is important as an architect, photographer or painter to be highly attuned to the qualities of light. I would argue that it is also important to the writer. I have tried to cultivate such awareness, and I suspect I may have succeeded because I am prone to experiencing strange flashbacks when the lighting conditions are just right. Moments ago, when I left the office to get some lunch, the quality of daylight was just so – and immediately I was 13 years old once more, and in the side yard of a neighbour’s house in Queensland on a brooding afternoon in early Summer. I was heading for their swimming pool, I remember this distinctly.

The moment was invoked by a combination of the bruised colour of the clouds over Carlton, the thin greyness of the filtered sunlight, the warmth and scent of the air and a myriad of other micro-conditions that all coincidentally aligned to recreate a moment from so long ago.

The impression I gain in such moments is fleeting, and quite spontaneous – the moment is not there, and then it is. The conditions that instigate such a trip down memory lane are infinitely nuanced, with one moment being quite unlike many others; the quality of light changes, too, with the progression of the minutes and the movement of clouds, so a memory invoked in one moment may be gone a short time later, dissipating like vapour.

In my experience, some spaces are well attuned to take advantage of this strange phenomenon, although they are few and far between. The Latrobe Reading Room of the State Library of Victoria is one such space. The skylights are like a lens that focuses the quality of external light, distilling it into a distinct impression on the floor of the chamber. The disposition of the room changes with infinite subtlety as the clouds scud by overhead, and as the sun is covered and uncovered in the heavens. I think this is why I like writing there – it is like being bathed in a distillation of daylight, and it engages my memories, allowing me to tap into that rich vein we all carry within us.

In the same way as the Inuit reportedly have many words for snow (is this true? I wonder), it would be useful if we had a diverse vocabulary for the many, subtle perhaps infinite moods of light. Alas we do not, so the writer must multiply words to convey an impression, one that is perhaps more emotive than it is objective. I have toyed with the idea of making up some words to convey the different moods of daylight, but so far the project hasn’t gone beyond idle speculation. I will put it on my backburner list, and give it some more thought.

Kit update: Spring

Spring is here and I have celebrated by getting my mitts on a Kaweco Classic Sport fountain pen. I have heard a great deal about Kaweco around the traps, they seem to have a fanatical following and I was keen to try one out. It was a very economical purchase, and for a light travel pen it is excellent. Smooth and good in the hand, and when the cap is on the pen is quite small, as shown above. I got my hands on a royal blue pen with gold trim, as shown at the top of the photo. I purchased the Kaweco from my favourite online shop Notemaker; I also stole the photo from their Facebook page, so thanks to the guys over there. 

On the weekend I am going to crack open a box of fine paper I purchased from Magnani Papers last year, I have kept it in store in the dark and have been holding off using it for no reason in particular. The whole process of getting the paper was enjoyable - it arrived in large book-sized sheets and I had a bookbinder in North Melbourne trim it down for me in his spare time for a shifty twenty dollar note passed under the table. The stock is at A4 now, and is ideal for fountain pen use, being a low bleed, high cotton content archival paper. I toyed with the idea of trimming it to Letter size, but the international standard seemed to get more out of each sheet. I will be interested to see how the Kaweco performs on good paper, I have only used it on standard bond stock to date.  

Perhaps Spring is a good time to write someone a letter, and send it old-school snail mail style. I have to send a parcel to a friend in Manila, so perhaps I can write her a letter - it is always better to receive a letter with a parcel, particularly when it is a gift. Sounds like a plan.

Rejoice for Spring is upon us!

It is Spring here in the Southern Hemisphere and I am longing to be in the great outdoors amongst the trees and daisies. This time of year is well suited to my favourite writing spot, the Federal Coffee Palace, which is all out of doors, albeit tucked under the protective arches of the Melbourne General Post Office. The MGPO is having its stonework pointed at the moment, or some such humbug, so the entire building is swathed in scaffold and hoardings. However, down on the ground floor it is business as usual. It will be cool and shaded under the scaffold come Summer; something to look forward to.

Today I have put aside my work on the short story, and I am putting this post together in order to set the scene for the new season. Spring is a time of renewal and I am in need of some new green shoots in my life, both literally and metaphorically. In literal terms I find that I am in the process of slowly torturing another pot plant – this one a previously indestructible aspidistra – and I want to find a remedy for it, and nurse it back to life. I can’t seem to get the watering interval right; I either water it too much or not enough. Meanwhile, the zanzibar plant is in fine form. It thrives on neglect. That is a truly indestructible living organism; I should get more of them. In fact I would like a grove of zanzibars. 

Getting out of doors is good for the soul, and the vitamin D is good for the body. My doctor tells me that vitamin D deficiency is the sexy deficiency of the moment, and I am being tested for it as a matter of prudence. You never know! So even my body may be saying that it is ime to shake off that winter greyness and throw open the doors to the warmer weather. I have also been told that it only takes 4-6 minutes to get your vitamin D fix for each day – a reason to sit in the sun, albeit only for a short period in order to avoid the cancerous effects which stalk those of us with Queensland childhoods. In fact I might go and do this right now. 

These ruminations lead me to my next experiment: writing in the park seated on a fold-up chair. I will give that a go once I have a free day in the near future, and faithfully report back. In the meanwhile, happy writing people, and enjoy the advent of the warmer weather.