It's so interesting you say this. Growing up in Alaska, I have seen the Aurora many times. They always seemed most vivid on the coldest nights! But the experience of them was always always always spiritual. The way they danced, I almost felt like they were making a sort of song. People would often ask me if I had seen them when they heard I was from Alaska and I'd always say yes and that any pictures they may have seen of them were nothing like what it was like to see them in real life. My husband had a similar experience going to Kenya in 2007. People would ask if he took any pictures and he hadn't. He just didn't feel that he could capture what he was seeing in a photo. Great reflections, as always, Anna!
Thank you for articulating how I felt about the phone vs eye experience of the aurora. I kept seeing photos, then looking at the sky, and when they did not match, I felt disappointed. But when I finally got still and looked closely with my naked eye, there it was, and it was even more glorious this way than in the photos—I was PART OF IT and it was a part of me. I swear I felt those undulations in my body for days afterwards.
The tension between needing to capture and needing to pay attention with our whole selves is so real! Thank you for putting it into words, Anna!
I love that you pointed out that many of us are out here putting phone cameras in front of our eyes to capture this moment/keep some sense of it with us long after it's gone (even as the light from our phones messes with the way our eyes work in the darkness, and makes it harder for us to actually see the auroras with our eyes, and even as the phone captures things in a different way from how we experience them), but not through words or painting.
I've been thinking about attention as love. How can we love what is in front of us? Could just looking as intently as possible and then naming it or depicting our interpretation of it with our hands be a way to offer up the ultimate form of love and keep the beauty with us longer? Wouldn't those writings and paintings, while having their own limits, be the truest recordings of what we experienced, as we experienced it? And wouldn't they help us remember our moment better, like when we write down notes in preparation for learning something for a test?
So happy you took to your notebook, and so grateful to you for reminding us of the need to look—with our own eyes.
I have to say, my photos were amazing, but it was nothing like the feeling I had realizing I was seeing the aurora with my naked eye. I made my neighbor get out of bed and stand with me til her eyes adjusted because I couldnt let her miss it and needed to share my experience. I still feel the awe in my body.
Thank you for today’s articles. You never disappoint. Like Shana I too grew up in Alaska, and saw the aurora many times. In fall when the State Fair arrived and it became cooler and darker, they might start to appear. In winter when it was very cold you could hear them crackle! It was amazing. Yet the first ones I saw were in Montana, high on the mountains near Great Falls. I was very young. At first my mom did not realize what was happening. The sky was a deep red over where she knew Great Falls was. When she realized it was not fire, mom started telling us about the aurora. In awe she also talked about what people might have thought it was in religious wonder. I’m 68. Many memories have been discarded for new ones, yet that night, those images, and the stories are etched on my mind. You are so right Anna. The world is flat on our screens even if they are awe striking. The real world is around us. Touch it. Smell it. Feel it. Participate.
That sounds amazing! My most vivid memory was at age 16. I was driving home from a late night studying with a friend for an AP exam. I was at a stoplight and looked up and they were dancing in front of me. I pulled over and got out of the car and just watched until they stopped. This was, of course, at a time when it didn't occur to me to try and capture a photo, so none exists, but the memory is so clear.
I had the same expression! No way they make noise too, yet they did. It was a very cold winter night, with a lot of snow and ice. Yes, they crackled that night.
You always manage to put things into words that have been in the periphery of my mind, I love it! So grateful to have seen the lights and for your thoughtful reflection on the way cameras and screens affect our experiences these days.
This was so lovely to read. I missed the show even though many in the Bay Area saw it (through their phone) and I've been contemplating traveling to Alaska or Iceland at some point in the future to specifically observe the auroras. I'd love to be able to experience them without looking through a screen, although I know it really depends on the night!
I think about this so often--it's like each generation gets more and more tech to inure themselves from the tangible and real world of making, observing, being. And as much as I love the photos, seeing them in the deep cold of winter with my son and both delighted at the surprise of seeing them is something only a poem or a drawing or art can really begin to express--and still it's not the way it felt that evening to share an awe and love for this world with others. Grateful there are people like you in the world making beautiful art and sharing it with others.
That means a lot coming from you! I wasn't even sure I captured my thoughts correctly in this essay, so I am glad it landed for you. And yes to poems and art capturing something other mediums cannot.
Thank you for these reflections. I love the history of the name, Aurora Borealis. I often ponder about how we experience and capture the world around us, which you deftly described. As a landscape historian I’m often in cultural landscapes with the task of understanding their historic evolution and existing conditions. I take notes and photographs, but always felt like I was missing something. How to capture the experience, the colors, the sounds? I started bringing watercolors with me to do quick color studies of the landscapes. Not only does this practice capture an element of place that can be missed with other techniques, but it allows me to pause and see, experience and feel the place in a deeper way. I always love the product of the color study, but it’s often the experience of doing it that gives me more. Photography will always be an important tool but using different media deepens my connection to place.
I love so much about this post, thank you for sharing… esp the between space and gaps and small things we often miss in our hurry and mediation through screens. Gorgeous piece thank you 🙏🏽
Seeing the Northern Lights is one of my deepest dreams! I was so bummed to be on the east coast the week this happened (though not sure we would have seen them in LA). How wonderful that you got to witness this magical sky show!! And love learning that their name comes from “two gods—Aurora and Boreas, the Greek god of the north wind” ✨🌬️
Lovely, Anna. Like Alastair Humpreys, I did not see the show but was happily surprised to see the social media posts and expressions of delight. It reminded me of the Solar eclipse last month when the NYT published pictures people from everywhere, wearing protective glasses looking up at the sky. I felt happy that for a few moments we were all looking up at a natural phenomena.
It's so interesting you say this. Growing up in Alaska, I have seen the Aurora many times. They always seemed most vivid on the coldest nights! But the experience of them was always always always spiritual. The way they danced, I almost felt like they were making a sort of song. People would often ask me if I had seen them when they heard I was from Alaska and I'd always say yes and that any pictures they may have seen of them were nothing like what it was like to see them in real life. My husband had a similar experience going to Kenya in 2007. People would ask if he took any pictures and he hadn't. He just didn't feel that he could capture what he was seeing in a photo. Great reflections, as always, Anna!
I hope someday I get to see them in the far north as well! And I love that you've felt they're the most vivid on cold nights.
Thank you for articulating how I felt about the phone vs eye experience of the aurora. I kept seeing photos, then looking at the sky, and when they did not match, I felt disappointed. But when I finally got still and looked closely with my naked eye, there it was, and it was even more glorious this way than in the photos—I was PART OF IT and it was a part of me. I swear I felt those undulations in my body for days afterwards.
The tension between needing to capture and needing to pay attention with our whole selves is so real! Thank you for putting it into words, Anna!
I love that you pointed out that many of us are out here putting phone cameras in front of our eyes to capture this moment/keep some sense of it with us long after it's gone (even as the light from our phones messes with the way our eyes work in the darkness, and makes it harder for us to actually see the auroras with our eyes, and even as the phone captures things in a different way from how we experience them), but not through words or painting.
I've been thinking about attention as love. How can we love what is in front of us? Could just looking as intently as possible and then naming it or depicting our interpretation of it with our hands be a way to offer up the ultimate form of love and keep the beauty with us longer? Wouldn't those writings and paintings, while having their own limits, be the truest recordings of what we experienced, as we experienced it? And wouldn't they help us remember our moment better, like when we write down notes in preparation for learning something for a test?
So happy you took to your notebook, and so grateful to you for reminding us of the need to look—with our own eyes.
I have to say, my photos were amazing, but it was nothing like the feeling I had realizing I was seeing the aurora with my naked eye. I made my neighbor get out of bed and stand with me til her eyes adjusted because I couldnt let her miss it and needed to share my experience. I still feel the awe in my body.
Thank you for today’s articles. You never disappoint. Like Shana I too grew up in Alaska, and saw the aurora many times. In fall when the State Fair arrived and it became cooler and darker, they might start to appear. In winter when it was very cold you could hear them crackle! It was amazing. Yet the first ones I saw were in Montana, high on the mountains near Great Falls. I was very young. At first my mom did not realize what was happening. The sky was a deep red over where she knew Great Falls was. When she realized it was not fire, mom started telling us about the aurora. In awe she also talked about what people might have thought it was in religious wonder. I’m 68. Many memories have been discarded for new ones, yet that night, those images, and the stories are etched on my mind. You are so right Anna. The world is flat on our screens even if they are awe striking. The real world is around us. Touch it. Smell it. Feel it. Participate.
That sounds amazing! My most vivid memory was at age 16. I was driving home from a late night studying with a friend for an AP exam. I was at a stoplight and looked up and they were dancing in front of me. I pulled over and got out of the car and just watched until they stopped. This was, of course, at a time when it didn't occur to me to try and capture a photo, so none exists, but the memory is so clear.
I have never captured one either. Always they have left me with awe.
Crackling??? That's amazing!
I had the same expression! No way they make noise too, yet they did. It was a very cold winter night, with a lot of snow and ice. Yes, they crackled that night.
You always manage to put things into words that have been in the periphery of my mind, I love it! So grateful to have seen the lights and for your thoughtful reflection on the way cameras and screens affect our experiences these days.
This was so lovely to read. I missed the show even though many in the Bay Area saw it (through their phone) and I've been contemplating traveling to Alaska or Iceland at some point in the future to specifically observe the auroras. I'd love to be able to experience them without looking through a screen, although I know it really depends on the night!
I think about this so often--it's like each generation gets more and more tech to inure themselves from the tangible and real world of making, observing, being. And as much as I love the photos, seeing them in the deep cold of winter with my son and both delighted at the surprise of seeing them is something only a poem or a drawing or art can really begin to express--and still it's not the way it felt that evening to share an awe and love for this world with others. Grateful there are people like you in the world making beautiful art and sharing it with others.
That means a lot coming from you! I wasn't even sure I captured my thoughts correctly in this essay, so I am glad it landed for you. And yes to poems and art capturing something other mediums cannot.
Thank you for these reflections. I love the history of the name, Aurora Borealis. I often ponder about how we experience and capture the world around us, which you deftly described. As a landscape historian I’m often in cultural landscapes with the task of understanding their historic evolution and existing conditions. I take notes and photographs, but always felt like I was missing something. How to capture the experience, the colors, the sounds? I started bringing watercolors with me to do quick color studies of the landscapes. Not only does this practice capture an element of place that can be missed with other techniques, but it allows me to pause and see, experience and feel the place in a deeper way. I always love the product of the color study, but it’s often the experience of doing it that gives me more. Photography will always be an important tool but using different media deepens my connection to place.
I love so much about this post, thank you for sharing… esp the between space and gaps and small things we often miss in our hurry and mediation through screens. Gorgeous piece thank you 🙏🏽
Seeing the Northern Lights is one of my deepest dreams! I was so bummed to be on the east coast the week this happened (though not sure we would have seen them in LA). How wonderful that you got to witness this magical sky show!! And love learning that their name comes from “two gods—Aurora and Boreas, the Greek god of the north wind” ✨🌬️
Lovely, Anna. Like Alastair Humpreys, I did not see the show but was happily surprised to see the social media posts and expressions of delight. It reminded me of the Solar eclipse last month when the NYT published pictures people from everywhere, wearing protective glasses looking up at the sky. I felt happy that for a few moments we were all looking up at a natural phenomena.