Sunrise and Sunset 

In February 2017 I observed, and immersed myself in, seven sunrises and six sunsets. I wanted to make an effort to pay homage to the two daily constants in our lives, the rising and setting of the sun. Trekking to Plymouth Hoe with a willing friend early in the morning with a tripod and box camera in hand became a ritual, and a fascinating insight into how the city starts again every morning (or continues for students stumbling home, chips in hand) .

To go to the same location again in the evening felt like waving goodbye to the day, good or bad, sun or rain, the day was over and would never exist again. This practice cultivated a rare appreciation for each day as an individual entity, a unique 24 hours that we very often glide through with little thought.

I didn’t want to make picture-perfect portraits of the sky and myself. I employed the simplest of box cameras, in part because of its history and the many, many skies its seen through its viewfinder, and because I wanted only the essence of these pieces of the year, simple but not comprehensive proof that I was there and I saw it start, and I saw it end.

And yes, there is an uneven number of sunsets and sunrises. One image of a sunset didn’t quite make it, but that doesn’t mean the sunrise didn’t happen