A few photographs taken as a thunderstorm threatened with its monstrous wave of clouds arriving from the west. The line of this army of cumulonimbus was advancing through the barometric turmoil. Behind this arcane fringe, warriors were jostling to make their wives cry again. This dark celestial surge imposed itself, imploring the gods for clemency. That moment, those few minutes, gave me the vision of an apocalypse, with the sky divided in two: oppressive obscurity to the west, and a sky vibrant of light to the east. Extraordinary is the word. I've never seen such a contrast of luminosity in such a vast space, with the sea in front and its silver reflections. It was an experience as magical as it was ephemeral. Meteorologists call this very impressive and uncommon phenomenon: "arcus" (latin word) meaning arch.   

                  Photography has the ability to capture and make visible memories of ordinary, everyday moments, or exceptional, rare ones, which are captured according to the photographer's technique, camera and sensitivity. I mention this because on that July afternoon, another professional photographer was in action a few dozen yards away. With two newlyweds in full regalia. I warned him about what the sky was offering, but he didn't see it the same way... he just stopped his photo shoot and left with the bride and groom. It was during this surreal, unique moment of mild panic that I was reminded of the infinitely esteemed William Blake's The Marriage of Heaven and Hell. Each minute unfurled seconds that made me feel certain Proverbs From Hell, or passages from The Argument, the book's introduction.

                   Surely a local photographer is lucky enough to witness this type of weather phenomenon several times a year... I don't! All the more reason to fall in love this Driftwood Beach on Jekyll Island.

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