Magic in its more fantastical forms is often depicted through the contrast of darkness and light, from crackling flames, to falling sparks, to encroaching shadows. Magic, of course, is all about revealing things that are already there, yet hard to see. Photography, too, is a medium preoccupied with light and its absence, as photographers shepherd both natural and artificial sources to translate their view on the world.

I spent the day in a beach town during the off-season, when tourists were sparse but sunshine was still plentiful, taking these photos with an eye toward the interplay between dark and light, and how it can be used to reveal new truths about the spaces we pass through.

At noon, the sun’s angle is direct and its rays can be unforgiving. The harsh shadows that it casts are the exact opposite of what photographers often call “golden hour” or “magic hour,” the mirrored slices of time right after sunrise and right before sunset. They’re named this way because the low position of the sun in relation to the horizon causes a diffusing effect and allows people, places, and things to be lit evenly from all sides. By contrast, when the sun is high in the sky, we see nothing but contrasts. There’s a certain magic to that too, though. The stark delineations between brightness and shadow remind me of mythical divisions between our plane and the hidden underworld, or other mystical dimensions.

Photographs, sunlight, and magic — we can use all three to mark and manipulate time. As we follow the sun on its daily path, photography allows us to freeze moments of the past, while magic can give us the power to divine the future. Used together, and we may be able to wrest some control over the pace of our existence.

In photography, exposure means the amount of light that is sensed by the camera lens. It means balancing two main elements: shutter speed, or how long the camera’s “eye” is open, and aperture, or how wide that eye is open. Just like the mind’s eye, a camera eye can be particularly sensitive and must be calculated with care and intention. An eye that is too wide-open, or that stays open for too long, returns an image that is too bright and overexposed. One that is too small, or that doesn’t stay open for long enough, renders an image that is too dark and underexposed.

Some of my favorite photographs to make are ones that involve light reflecting through windows – those portals to different worlds. Outside it was the middle of the afternoon, but that was barely recognizable in the hazy condensation surrounding this indoor pool. Inside, where the sunlight cut through the windowpanes and floated over the humid condensation over the glassy threshold of the pool itself. The water droplets in the air scatter the light and pull it out into smudged edges, like the beams of light that shoot out from a wand, or the immaterial body of a ghost, or the fuzzy edges of empathic perception.

Kristine Mar is an artist, writer, and photographer enjoying the sunshine.