From the Archives: Luminous Landscapes

Capturing Chiaroscuro Light

Bothe Napa Valley State Park, May 2011. Photograph by Stella Kalaw

Between 2011 and 2017, I captured nearly 5,900 images during our regular hikes in the Bay Area. I rarely shared them on social media because I was constantly practicing—refining my eye, adjusting exposures, and tweaking post-production in Lightroom to highlight the chiaroscuro quality of light in landscapes. These images remained in the work-in-progress pile. I hadn't thought about this body of work for quite some time until

Susanne Helmert

shared on Notes that she was editing her landscape images for a book project. That got me thinking it might be a good time to revisit them. (Thank you, Susanne!)

Chiaroscuro, (from Italian chiaro, “light,” and scuro, “dark”). This is an Italian term which literally means 'light-dark'. In paintings the description refers to clear tonal contrasts which are often used to suggest the volume and modelling of the subjects depicted.

—The National Gallery, London

My love for chiaroscuro lighting began not by choice, but by surviving 6th grade. I was looking forward to seeing my two best friends, only to be dumped a couple of weeks later. They followed me to the bathroom and waited until I emerged from the stalls. Ex-best friend #1 crossed her arms, and with a “taray” look (aloof or distant) on her face, did not mince her words— “You’re no longer part of this group.” She brought two other girls, pointed at them making it clear to me that they were my replacements. I was shocked, embarrassed, and ashamed. I was so devastated that I didn’t speak to anyone about it. The three of us used to hang out together in 4th and 5th grade, even chatting on the phone after school. I had no idea what caused them to pivot.

Survival mode kicked in, and I spent most of recess and lunch at the library. There was a set of books that fascinated me—how to paint portraits in the style of the 17th century Renaissance masters like Rembrandt. I was particularly drawn to the light which I later discovered was called chiaroscuro. I returned to these books regularly, soaking in the imagery, color, the transition between light and shadow, the brushstrokes, the techniques.

I began noticing chiaroscuro in some of the paintings Mom collected, as well as in the light around the school campus. It soon became a habit. I spent my days looking at and studying light. This was how I survived 6th grade; it saved me from loneliness and exclusion. Writer Elizabeth Gilbert once overheard someone comforting her neighbor with these words: "Life is a mystery, and there’s a period after that sentence." This was one of those moments. Several decades later, I was able to face these buried emotions and heal from the trauma.

One summer, Mom enrolled me in an art class, where I realized I didn’t possess the natural ability to draw like the examples in the book. However, when I discovered photography and realized I could capture chiaroscuro light, I was hooked.

Pleasanton Ridge State Park, January 2013. Photograph by Stella Kalaw

A health crisis in 2010 spurred me to get serious about changing my lifestyle. I was in my early 40s and 50 pounds overweight. Just walking a block from the hotel employee entrance where I worked to Yerba Buena Gardens left me out of breath. My right knee ached, and I experienced occasional brain fog. My cholesterol was elevated, and my doctor said she would have to put me on statins if my numbers continued to climb. A holistic physician also told me that the joints in my knees were exhibiting early signs of arthritis. Then, one morning in August, I woke up with rashes all over my body. It was excruciatingly itchy and uncomfortable. I knew I had to make a drastic change; otherwise, my health would be in worse shape by the time I reached my 50s. That year, Tina and I switched to a whole foods, plant-based diet and haven't looked back since.

In 2011, we took up hiking. Tina was between jobs and doing freelance work, while I was on a four-day work week, giving me three days off. It was perfect timing! We explored different parks in and around the Bay Area, and, of course, I brought my camera with me.

Walking for long hours in silence brought not only physical, emotional, and spiritual healing but also a newfound awareness of chiaroscuro light emerging from the landscape. Adrenalin would rush through my body as I captured its fleeting transcendental presence. Honestly, I still struggle to find words that truly capture the feeling of witnessing its beauty. So, I will let my photographs speak.

As for the future of this project, I am unsure. My good friend Roberto made test prints for two images using a 24 inch roll of Canson paper that I won as part of an award. They were so gorgeous! I also made a tiny book mock-up during the lockdowns, but that was as far as it went. I don't even know if there is any interest in such imagery, which some might consider archaic or outdated. Regardless, I created these for myself, and that's what matters in the end.

As always, let’s meet each other in the comments section below. Let me know if anything resonated with you. Thank you for watching.

See you all next Sunday!

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