On a long, solitary drive from the earthy colors of Santa Fe to Portland's green embrace, twilight found me crossing the vast Navajo Nation. This journey was more than just a drive across the map; it was a passage through a globally still moment in time. My aim was to snap a shot that spoke of this duality - the rough toll of a pandemic on both land and people, against the stark beauty of a moonlit landscape. This mission was to document truth in both image and story.
I intentionally skipped the photographer's golden hour, that time of day known for its soft, forgiving light. Instead, I chose the harsh honesty of full moonlight. This light, like the past year's events, laid bare every detail of the landscape without mercy. It was this unforgiving illumination I sought to capture - a true portrayal of the land under an unexpectedly bright nocturnal light.
As I traveled deeper into the sovereign land - a nation within a nation, my drive became a journey of introspection. This trip, from a past home to a present one, held more significance than mere distance. The further I went, the more palpable the stillness. Closed businesses and offices were grim reminders that while much of the world was moving past the pandemic, its effects were still very real here.
Dining alone on freeze-dried meals mirrored the isolation felt across the reservation. I pondered the enormity of traveling through a land where the pandemic's impact was intensified by scarce resources, even in the best of times, in places where even running water isn't a guarantee.
The unforgiving nature of the moonlight symbolized the harsh realities faced here. It illuminated everything starkly, casting deep shadows and offering an intensity absent in the softer golden hour. Like the reservation's pandemic experience, the moonlight shone unflinchingly on every landscape flaw. Yet, in this revealing light, there was a unique clarity - a truth exposed, demanding recognition and respect.
Technically, photographing under moonlight is a beast. The light, surprisingly strong in darkness, creates harsh contrasts difficult for camera sensors. I had an hour between sunset and moonrise to expose my background, having to break down and reset my gear between oncoming traffic in the dark of highway 163. I set up my shot carefully, first capturing the background: ISO at 1600, aperture at f/1.8, and a 20-second shutter speed. This setting captured the stars as tiny specks of light against the encroaching night, avoiding motion blur from a longer exposure.
Then, I shot the foreground under the full moon's glow. This required reversing the usual process. The usual softness of sunset was missing, replaced by the moon's crisp light. The camera's settings - ISO 320, aperture still at f/1.8, with a 20-second exposure - were adjusted to capture this light, revealing the landscape in otherworldly contrast.
The resulting photograph is a juxtaposition of serenity and severity, technical precision and human reality. The clarity of the technical details highlights the stark truth of the Navajo Nation during this crisis. It stands as a testament to the community's resilience in scarcity, capturing a moment of beauty against a backdrop of ongoing hardship.
This image is a record of that night - a clear, moonlit portrayal of the land's rugged truth, and a starkly beautiful capture of a sky nearly free from light pollution. It's a sky that has overseen this land and its people through peaceful and challenging times alike.
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