I have absolutely no idea what is so appealing to me about these photographs yet I keep coming back & looking at them. Perhaps they are simply a monochromatic relief from the strong colors of all those nocturnal pictures (There is also something inexplicably voluptuous about them…) but I suspect it is simply the fact that I can watch water in motion for hours & not get bored.
Lord no, I'm not a Christian. I'm probably an atheist although my friend Peter once referred to me as a spiritual anarchist (It's so easy to misread that word as antichrist ~ please don't…) & my Mom's Episcopal pastor Rose keeps telling me that by using the word probably,thereby implying doubt, I'm automatically making myself an agnostic… The key point here is: if one can ignore the fundamentalists (we're talking across the board here) every culture's religious foundations, mythologies & aesthetics are interesting ~ even the scary ones. The scary ones are perhaps the most interesting; look, for example, at Tibetan tantric practice. All those skull cups, femur oboes & fierce protectors galloping about using flayed human skins as saddle blankets…
By the way, if you're curious, the biblical reference in the title is Luke: 2-10, when the shepherds get the good news…
I'm currently taking a break from decorating a very traditional tree & yes, there is an angel on top. All tarted-up in gold & pearls, playing a tiny, gilded violin. I happen to be rather fond of the concept of angels…
After all, the Christians don't have a monopoly on them.
Granted, not one of my neighbor's best installations but note ~ it's December 10 & there are still a few lettuce plants at the end. I went out to get the paper this morning in my bare feet & didn't wince. Too drizzling, grey, depressing & almost sixty degrees out there.
There is a narrow strip of earth, no more than 18 inches wide, between the driveway & my Portuguese neighbor's garage that he uses as a sort of nursery & propagation area. Most things move on to either his salad bowl or a useful death & potential rebirth in his compost heap but occasionally a cutting sprouts roots & survives. He is nothing if not determined & has promised me a fig tree if any of the twigs strike root. (As decorative & art historically significant as I find fig leaves; I'm not tremendously optimistic…) However, the really intriguing thing about his little horticultural experiments is the manner in which, quite inadvertently, he manages to create these bizarre structuralist, often surreal, tableaux utilizing an astoundingly eclectic assortment of twigs, sticks, string, decaying vegetation & yes, chunks of concrete… You've surely noticed; I've been photographing sections of them all summer. Of course that is not what this photo is about. This is documentation of the winter's first ever-so-light dusting of snow.
If you haven't noticed it yet, there is something new over to your left ~ a diminutive slide show, which you can click on for a larger image. The fact it's the only thing on the page that isn't static makes it a bit hard to miss. I haven't decided if I like it yet; I tend to not care for page elements that move independently. It brings to mind the image of Sarah Palin winking at the audience during the debates, by which I mean distracting, but I figure that will pass once I get used to it. Very little of it is new, most of the photos you've seen here already but at least there is a healthy number, all in one spot & one no longer has to scroll down.
Of course I have this theory that once a post moves off the screen it becomes history ~ once it descends into "older posts" it's passed into the Pompey of the blog world, to be visited only by the archaeologically inclined.
"That’s what magic is, of course. Something that looks ordinary until it isn’t. Nothing but a hat, until a rabbit comes out of it. Meaning where you didn’t think to look, until you did. A miracle no one else can see, but you."