Saturday Night was literally magical. Or at least it had all the qualities associated with magic. After an evening at coffeehouses and the like, I decided to take my intrepid young nephew, Gage Preston to a very special place, consecrated by thousands of years of artists along the coast here in Jacksonville. While it is a very beautiful and compelling site during the day. By daylight it is rather like an elephant graveyard for a much older tribe of mysterious creatures: Live Oaks. The honored dead of the seagoing trees lay in magisterial ruin amongs the white sands and black basalt outcrops as the relentless Atlantic Tide washes their bones. At night however the place is mythical. You see, the water is phosphorescent, full of plankton that light all movement with thousands of little fragments of greed eldritch fire that ricochet through the salty water. Against a royal blue star field in which every sparking point of the milky way seems to have simultaneously looked down on florida, the glimmering fantasia excitement of the water and the jagged black outlines of the old tree lions was something that still evades our best cgi.
Posted on: Tue, 03 Sep 2013 23:54:43 +0000
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