Kerry Park

Author's Comments

Kerry Park is the photograph of Seattle. You have seen it before you ever stood there. The Space Needle in the middle distance, the downtown towers behind it, Rainier looming over the whole arrangement like a piece of weather that decided to stay. The composition is essentially handed to you. The challenge is finding a version of it that feels like yours. I have come to think the answer is the mountain, or rather the rare days when the mountain is fully out. Most of the year Rainier is a rumor. A haze, a suggestion, a gray shape that may or may not resolve. Then you get a clear evening in late September or October, the air dry after a cold front, and the mountain arrives in a way that stops conversation along the railing. That is the photograph worth waiting for. Not the skyline. The skyline is always there. The mountain is a gift. Arrive ninety minutes before sunset if you want a tripod spot. The railing fills quickly and the crowd is dense and patient and largely silent once the light starts to move. Blue hour is the actual moment, ten or fifteen minutes after the sun is gone, when the city lights come up and the sky still holds enough color to separate the towers from what is behind them. The window is short. Everyone there knows it. Stay after the crowd thins. The park empties faster than you would expect, and the last of the blue hour belongs to whoever is willing to wait through the cold.

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