Seeing the Unseen
It wasn’t until I viewed the image full screen later that the true magic of the moment revealed itself.
Lying on my stomach on the rocky beach in Tacoma, just a few feet from a barnacle-encrusted piling, I was focused on the commonplace — those humble wooden pillars that dot the shoreline. My goal was to shift their narrative, juxtaposing them against the imposing steel of the Narrows Bridge in the distance.
The nearest piling dominates the frame, so close it almost feels like it’s pushing its way into your personal space, demanding attention. You can’t help but feel the urge to get out if its way, to choose a path around it, left or right.
In the distance, the bridge stands, dwarfed, rendered almost toy-like in scale. The piling, a mere piece of wood when compared to the engineering marvel, suddenly seems more powerful, more present. I was content with this contrast, admiring the interplay of light and shadow, the clouds drifting above.
And then I noticed the seagulls, circling, playing on the breeze. A whimsical thought crossed my mind: what if one of them entered the frame, balancing out the scene? I quickly adjusted my camera settings, hoping to freeze any sudden movement.
As if on cue, a seagull swooped in, landing gracefully on the leftmost piling. I captured a few frames, the thrill of synchronicity coursing through me. Reviewing the images on my camera screen, I saw it — the dynamic tension of the bird about to land, a perfect balance between the dynamic and the static. The scene felt whole, complete.
But it wasn’t until I returned home, reviewing the image on a larger screen, that I noticed her. Just left of center, half-concealed behind a distant piling, a figure I hadn’t seen in the moment. A fleeting presence, a mystery.
That’s when it struck me: how many unseen elements shape our experience, hidden in the periphery, unnoticed until we pause and reflect? How many moments do we pass by, unaware of their quiet grace, until we take the time to look closer?
My camera was set to capture 1/1000 of a second. One second, divided into 1000 potential images.
A fraction of time, a single frame selected from countless possibilities. Frozen, immortalized.
The odds of capturing that precise constellation of elements — the piling, the bridge, the light, the clouds, the seagull, and the hidden figure — are nearly impossible to fathom.
It reminds me of a quote by renowned photographer, Henri Cartier-Bresson: “Make visible what, without you, might never have been seen.”
And in that moment, I felt immense gratitude. Gratitude for the chance to be witness, to bring to light what might otherwise have remained unseen, unknown. A reminder, perhaps, that we all have a unique part to play in this great mystery.
So, fellow travelers, I urge you to embrace your part, however small it may seem. We are all witnesses to something extraordinary.