At half past two, the patch of light reaches the very edge of the table. I move a stack of paper away from it, put a plain vessel in the cleared space, and watch its shadow lengthen toward the wall. There is no elaborate setup to preserve. I have a chair to stand on and a curtain I can pull partway across the window.
The room looks brighter to me than it does in the first photograph. A wall that seemed nearly white has become a broad gray surface behind the object. The vessel’s rim, which I had barely noticed, carries a very clear line of brightness. Looking between the table and the camera, I begin deciding which of those differences I want to keep.
I can make a small adjustment and return to the chair, but I cannot expect the original scene to be waiting. A cloud softens the shadow while I am crossing the room. Then the harder edge reappears in a slightly different place. I leave the next frame alone long enough to see whether the change improves it. For a few minutes, the most useful thing I can do is keep my hands off the arrangement.
