Two days ago, I briefly mentioned September sunsets in the Rocky mountains, particularly around the time of the Equinox.
They are red. Or, rather, at their reddest.
Upon my return, it only took a few hours to see just that.
Truth be told, I was still expecting summer. But the mountains exuded autumn with every gust of wind: September Sun seemed to bring out October Rust.
And as it began its descent, the Sun turned the lake into a large mirror as if to see its own reflection one last time before going to sleep.
Then its rays moved onto the mountain, upon which I stood, making everything caramel.
Finally, the horizon was red.
Something between Venetian red and Sangria, to be precise.
I find reds and oranges--of the sunset--some of the most difficult colors in the spectrum to photograph. The juicy saturation of the actual scene before one's eyes turns out too diffuse and watered down, whereas excessively edited images look just that--over-produced and hyper-real.
And so we live at a time when more so than ever before, a growing number of people has access to high-tech tools making photography simpler than ever before.
Simpler. Better. More.
And yet Nature--ready to be documented and at our fingertips--remains elusive and nearly impossible to portray authentically; the most skilled images--seemingly inferior to the real, full-bodied sensory experience of being there.
That sense of frustration--not unique to me by any means--is what made me shoot a few images deliberately out of focus. Blurred minimalism appeared to absorb and maintain the already impossible colors of the sunset unlike my conventional photographs.