Lys •

Party of one by Jonathan Medina




I was lucky enough to be able to see this photo before Jonathan posted it, and I fell in love with it the first time. Love at first sight, I guess you could say :)

This image is so empty, yet so full. A great example of minimalism, the darkness enveloping everything almost seems to be hiding secrets for the little thumb-nail sliver of pale moon. There is a slight hint of an object, perhaps a pole, leading from the moon down to the letter “c” in the melting sign that may catch your eye, if you’re looking for something, which you should be. The thick black of the night is something that arouses my curiosity, shakes my imagination awake, invites me to explore its cool air.

Before I can turn away, the gritty green and mellow yellow of the half-eaten “Welcome” sign grab my attention and yank me to the bottom of the photograph. I notice it’s uneven, lopsided in its night time post, and follow it into the dark. “Come” is all it asks of me, as though I might be interested in something hidden and secret, perhaps something dirty and reputation-ruining. But whose reputation? The light’s? The night’s? Are there stars out there somewhere? Is there an animal? What will I find? It’s not welcoming at first glance, just appealing and almost commanding.

The few colours represented in this image are also symbolic to me. The green only reiterates that I am “welcome” to revel in the peace of the night, but the yellow seems to push me away, as though it wants to hog the green and light all to itself. The slight glare of the stingy yellow warns me to keep my guard up. I can’t trust that everything will be alright when I follow the instructions it has so diligently tried to keep from the prying fingers of the night, but I’m always up for an adventure, so I plan on diving in anyway. The underline only adds to the seriousness, while the crookedness softens the harsh orders written in a manipulation of electricity.

Off to the right is the land of taboo. Unknown and unrevealed, I choose to hug the little warmth emanating from the left and center. Like a moth to the flame, I hang myself in the space between the moon and the unfinished lettering. The moon, she is so lonely up there by herself. I feel a certain obligation to visit her and hear what she has to say. I can do nothing but trust her in her infinite wisdom and control of the after-hours, as she is always there, always watching, always inviting me to search for the light.

Even though this piece has obviously been stripped to its most fundamental features, there is still so much conflict. One last point I will make, so as not to write a novel on this excellent image, is that it almost seems like the moon is competing for attention against the harsh electric blast. Natural light versus man-made light. Nature versus man. At the same time, she knows she will never fade away, she is completely confident in her abilities to rule the night, no matter how many light bulbs we waste advertising a “welcome.”

Then again, I may just be looking for something in all of the nothing…