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Posts Tagged ‘caustics’

sunlitbutterfly

At least that’s what I decided to create in GIMP after watching sunlight shine through my water glass.

DSCN9612

throughthedrinkingglass

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Caustic in Black & White 1

Okay, I first remember reading about John Cage in a story by Alex Ross of The New Yorker. The piece opened with a description of the 1952 performance of John Cage’s composition, 4’33”, which turned out to be four minutes and thirty-three seconds of silence. It’s a bit more complicated than that, or maybe not, but you can read more via this article link.  John Cage and silence came to mind recently because I was sharing a video I’d made with the physicist in my life and when I asked him what piece of music should I pair with these images, he suggested, “soundtrack by John Cage.”

Caustic in Black & White 2

Caustic in Black & White 2

At first I thought he was kidding.  There had to be a short classical piece to fit the light and motion so reminiscent of northern lights.  When I’d asked him what music to pair with a short video of sunlit water flowing over rocks, he’d suggested Faure’s Requiem in Paradisum.  Now he recommended silence? On my own, I found Bartock’s Evening in the Village. I tried the pairing. He appreciated Bartok but he still favored Cage.  I read a bit more about Cage, his compositions, his performances, his poetry … an interesting man to say the last.

Caustics in Color

Caustics in Color

So what I captured on the wall one morning took place in less than four minutes and thirty-three seconds.  It involved a rippled window, a different one in the house.  Light shone down through the gaps in the leaves and branches of the oak tree that towers over the house.  That light made its way through the glass refracting through the ripples producing a dynamic pattern of caustics on the wall.  Most often that pattern of light is static but this particular morning the wind was blowing. The branches and the leaves they moved creating what that physicist described as “a pattern of illumination that varied in space and time.” It was a good moment inspiring some experimentation as you can see in the video below.  The flickering on the wall is as it happened … in less than four minutes and thirty-three seconds.

A Silent Dance from Cynthia Staples on Vimeo.

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I was talking with my brother on the phone this morning.  Since the two of us have been known to converse for quite a while, I found myself a chair.  It’s the chair where I normally look through the rippled glass window …

but this morning my eyes rested upon a neighboring wall where sunlight played.

The show didn’t last for long, just long enough, and here are a few scenes from the drama.

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The morning began with a question, Steve asking me from a different room, “What are you doing?”  I replied, “Just looking at the caustics on the wall.”  He chuckled, probably remembering that he is the one who introduced the concept to me.  I had always accepted the light bouncing on water and other surfaces.  He explained the science behind what I was seeing.

He came over to stand beside me.  I pointed at the light and shadows shimmering on the wall above the bookcase.  He walked forward, and then with his back to me, said as if it was the most clear thing in the world, something like, “Formally caustics are where the light field intensity reaches infinity and …”  He added some other mellifluous statements about diffraction, refraction, reflection and so forth.

I’ m not a scientist but somehow the words sounded like poetry, as beautiful as the gentle burble of water flowing over rocks.  And like water over rocks, the words were gone too fast for me to hold them.  I had understood just enough of what he said to understand that I really didn’t understand what he was saying at all. “Can you repeat what you just said?” I asked hopefully.  He turned around.  “Hunh, repeat what?”

With some encouragement, he did try to repeat what he’d said.  Wasn’t quite the same.  The science was there but not the poetry of the earlier moment.  Even those words didn’t stick with me after he’d left. And I was reminded of a statement someone said about the physicist Richard Feynman, that in the moment as he stared at you explaining how the universe worked, you felt as if you understood it all … and then after he walked away … poof.  Well, after Steve walked away, I meandered about the house for a bit photographing light and shadows on the ceilings, walls and even the following image of light striking a part of the oven.  I think I see the poetry.  I just don’t have the words. 😉

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