Plaster walls with peeling paint.
Wood siding worn to its core.
The aroma of grandma’s freshly baked oatmeal cookies.
An abandoned house packed with memories.
Layer together and add a bit of blur.
Part dream, an old frame in an musty silent basement provides the setting. The image, a female statue reflected from an art museum window in the park provides the character. Now all that’s missing is the plot. Did she escape her life in marble? Or remain sentenced as a hostage to her beauty and the adoration of an artist? Did she recognize herself in the image created or had she always pictured herself differently? Seeing those hidden flaws that we all focus on too often when they are invisible to others? I like to think that she notices a portal and that she is preparing to spring forward and run towards her life.
Silver metal oxidizing and colorful is a texture that draws me near. Collecting textures from abandoned or decaying buildings, a hobby like stamps or birdwatching ,enables me to recycle and create. Adding memory by introducing items owned by past tenants introduces story and personality. Making the acquaintance of the buildings’ owners happens rarely although sometimes I’ve been lucky. Today’s image just allows you to imagine their lives and create a history for them.
Along a stretch of road in the eastern part of the county, this car has rested for a number of years on the remains of an old gas station. Scorching summers and wet winters deepens its patina as it silently sits. Vandals have broken windows and glass shards and spider work lace patterns are woven into its design. Deflated tires make it unable to run and wasps and wildlife have nested into its once proud seats. As rust grows and colors morph, its texture and presence grow more painterly. Each season and trespass add marks to the composition. I don’t pass by often, but it’s evolution into a work of art is impossible to ignore. Maybe that’s why it remains waiting while trains and vehicles pass it by , a lesson in becoming and the beauty of change.
This collage speaks to what drives a musician to compose or play. The elements are classic: love, demands, desire to please or to play two lives. For each artist the challenges differ. Some are life-changing, others not so extreme. But each decision feeds our art and the story of our lives. Sometimes the little choices may have the most far-reaching effects and of course, we never realize it at that moment. For some , passion feeds the soul to create; for others, it may be loss. Each step creates a path that is original and instinctive to us. We can trace our steps back but never reach the same point in time. (Unless you are an Einsteinian physicist who has figured it all out.) Moving forward is how we grow and survive.
I could leave well enough alone and just enjoy the roses as they start to fade. And I do. The scent changes. The edges transform and as the colors watercolor into a softer palette, I let them sit for much longer than I should. All because I hate to let them go and love to shoot their portraits.Today’s photos added French text and illustrations to transform them further.I do love playing with layers. No harm was done to the flowers.
Beauty is in the details. In southern France, I couldn’t resist shots of old gates and shutters. Their age and color are responsible for tempting my camera. While playing, I layered other photos over them to create this result. Enjoy Provence!
Your mother’s smile, father’s ability to carry a tune, an unknown ancestor’s streak of stubbornness. We are all parts of those who came before us. Our role is to add new dimension , creativity and interest to the story in our special way.
Bibliophile or The Book Lover
For too long I searched
In books with worn bindings half-hidden on dusty shelves
Or in bold-faced bestsellers
For answers from more experienced lives
To the questions
As if they have an internal calendar.
Unwilling to admit to possessing the opportunity
To fit my pieces
To write a life
Where self-knowledge is just a plot twist away
And becoming the heroine is less frightening.