By Maria Popova (themarginalian.org)
One day not long after I moved to New York, I looked up from my writing desk at a shared studio space on the Brooklyn waterfront and saw the Manhattan Bridge halved, only the Brooklyn side remaining, the rest vanished into a sea of fog that had erased Manhattan.
A sight with the strangeness of a dream, piercing the reality of the late-autumn morning.
An augury, a living metaphor, a revelation: Every moment of transition is a bridge receding from the firm ground of the known life it into the fog of the possible, promising and menacing in all its opacity. We can only see one step ahead, but the bridge reveals itself firm under our feet as we keep walking, advancing by “the next right thing,” parting the fog to touch the future.
Vanish by Maria Popova. (Available as a print.)
For all its mystical quality, fog has a materiality that embodies the metabolism of this rocky world. It is a conversation between the landscape, its bodies of water, and the wind. Fog forms when the atmosphere cools enough for water droplets to condense into a low-flying cloud. In fact, it is a species of stratus cloud that has landed — an endangered species: Throughout Europe, fog has declined by 50% since 1970 and coastal fog all around the world is vanishing due to climate change, parching ecosystems and leaving landscapes much more vulnerable to wildfires.
While it is still here, let it come — sudden as an owl or slow as daybreak, lasting just long for you to feel the breath of the Earth on your cheek, wet and primordial.
In Chasing Fog (public library), writer and photographer Laura Pashby composes a beguiling love letter to “the wonder and soothing balm of fog,” to “the irresistible romance of stepping into a cloud at ground level,” to what it teaches us about the visible and the invisible.
Laura Pashby: self-portrait in fog
A childhood like hers — spent under the sunless leaden skies of the Dartmoor’s wilderness margined with fog, a castle ruin as her playground, the desolate moor as her pool — shapes a person, shapes how she sees the half-seen world. She writes:
Fog is my muse: when I am in it, I see things differently. The known becomes unknown, the familiar unfamiliar. Fog disorientates, blurring the edges of everything — changing landscape, altering colour and softening light… A foggy morning is rich with mystery and magic, but also with possibility — the everyday feels otherworldly… Fog, like salt water, is completely other — it provides a shock, an escape, a release.
[…]
While fog may seem to hang heavy, it is often vital, not static: dipping, waving, seeping, drifting and flowing. Fog is unpredictable — it is not soft and benign like cotton wool. In his 1919 essay “Das Unheimliche,” Freud defined the uncanny as something that is both frightening yet familiar: the strangeness of the ordinary. This is exactly the effect that fog can have upon a landscape: when it quickly descends, it disorientates us, obscuring sight, changing familiar surroundings and making the known world seem odd and unsettling. It was this sensory experience that I felt compelled to explore first: the loss of sight as our vision is diminished by fog’s descent; the feeling of a veil being drawn.
Photograph by Laura Pashby
In a lovely instance of the unphotographable, Pashby paints an enchanting picture in words:
What emerges is the sense that fog is not only a phenomenon but an invitation — to draw the veil of the world and see it more closely, to see yourself unveiled and saturated with aliveness. (Anything you polish with attention will become a mirror.) Pashby writes:
[…]
If we listen, fog has much to teach us: about the landscape, the weatherscape and about who we are. We are all made of water — it passes through us and moves on, into the rain, into the river, into the ocean, into the fog. Each of us is fluid, mutable, magic, and we are not distinct from nature, we are nature. We are fog.
Photograph by Laura Pashby
Couple Chasing Fog with artist, poet, and philosopher Etel Adnan’s slender and splendid book Sea & Fog, then revisit the Cloud Appreciation Society’s delightful illustrated field guide to the science and wonder of clouds.
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