April 30th, 20204/30/2020 Ansel Adams once wrote: "The negative is comparable to the composer's score and the print to its performance." Change that assertion to digital language instead of film, and the point is the same, as these two images demonstrate.
It is rainy today and I always find the sound of rain (and the sight and smell of it too) pleasurable. Even more so when the days seem so much the same. April 27th, 20204/27/2020  Another week begins; safer at home, the days blend together into a long stream of days, in many ways almost interchangeable with each other. Today, a beautiful clear sunrise as a mark of its particular uniqueness.
Meanwhile, here is Robinson Jeffers: "The extraordinary patience of things . . . This beautiful place . . . It has all time. It knows the people are a tide That swells and in time will ebb, and all Their works dissolve. Meanwhile the image of the pristine beauty Lives in the very grain of the granite, Safe as the endless oceans that climbs [the] cliff.—As for us: We must uncenter our minds from ourselves; We must unhumanize our views a little, and become confident As the rock and ocean that we were made from." April 23rd, 20204/23/2020  Don't you sometimes—especially now—wish you could get on a train and go somewhere—anywhere!?
April 20th, 20204/20/2020  Mary Oliver:
"If God exists he isn't just butter and good luck. He's also the tick that killed my wonderful dog . . . If God exists he isn't just churches and math- ematics. He's the forest, He's the desert. He's the ice caps, that are dying. He's the ghetto and the Museum of Fine Arts. He's van Gogh and Allen Ginsberg and Robert Motherwell. He's the many desperate hands, cleaning and preparing their weapons. He's every one of us, potentially. The leaf of grass, the genius, the politician, the poet. And if this true, isn't it something very important?" April 15th, 20204/15/2020  Mary Oliver:
"I was sitting in the river Clarion, on a water splashed stone . . . Whenever the water struck the stone it had something to say, and the water itself, and even the mosses trailing under the water. And slowly, very slowly, it became clear to me what they were saying. Said the river: I am part of holiness. And I too, said the stone. And I too, whispered the moss beneath the water." April 13th, 20204/13/2020  Social distancing continues, and from what I've heard and read will continue for a long time yet. Being introverted, that isn't too hard for me, but not being able to travel around, not even across the street to the bay, is more difficult. I started a project last week, but it simply fell apart from a lack of direction, and that in turn was in part due to restlessness and boredom. I wonder how many of us are feeling that. Maybe I should work harder on maintaining social contacts . . .
April 06th, 20204/6/2020  Jenny Lake, Cascade Canyon, Grand Tetons Robinson Jeffers:
"To feel and speak the astonishing beauty of things—earth, stone and water . . . And unhuman nature its towering reality . . . rock And water and sky are constant—to feel, Greatly, and understand greatly, and express greatly, the natural Beauty, is the sole business of poetry." Not sure about the "sole" business, but I think an important part of the business of photography is to do this too. April 02nd, 20204/2/2020  Another month (at least) to go of staying in (except to walk). I suppose it's a sort of (forced) retreat. Yesterday lots of clouds but no rain; March had 0.1 of an inch. Cool mornings, warm to hot afternoons. Stay well everyone. Mary Oliver:
It was early, which has always been my hour to begin looking at the world and of course, even in the darkness, to begin listening into it . . . Sometimes I need only to stand wherever I am to be blessed. Categories |
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