Nocturne #61, 2008
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♥ ♠ ♦ ♣ Mundane magic & ordinary Illusion ♣ ♦ ♠ ♥
- M.W. Nolden
- New Jersey, United States
- A lapsed artist, former retail visual merchandiser, now retired museum collections technician & mount fabricator with a slightly more than passing interest in photography…
"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."
George Snyder
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Unless noted, all images & text
copyright © M.W. Nolden 2007 ~ 2018
copyright © M.W. Nolden 2007 ~ 2018
4 comments:
this one's groovy, too. actually, i like all these night photos you're doing, with the light blurs.
it seems like you mentioned your friends/family/acquaintances don't care for your work all that much? i was thinking maybe it's a matter of perception. if one is looking at the photograph as a snapshot of a place in time, compared to a pastoral scene or a focused, balanced photo of a human face, the night photo fails miserably. it's not even close. but seen as a work of art, similar to viewing a painting, it's like a lightbulb switches on. "AH, I get it." Now it looks like something meaningful. The colors make sense. The shapes have rhythm. It becomes sublime.
The Gold Star today goes to…
(Insert drum roll here.)
Bran!
Sweetie, you just made my day. You totally get this… These are meant to be looked at exactly like paintings; indeed all my photos are, even the non-blurry ones.
In my friend's defense, the complaint was about quantity rather than quality.
heh. van Gogh painted hundreds of canvasses in a few short years. people (ok, maybe just Theo) complained about him burning up materials. but, despite his early death, he left behind a body of work that rivaled painters who worked long careers.
i mean, not that you're gonna die soon. i'm just sayin': there's nothing wrong with a lot of output.
Every image in this Nocturne series makes me cry. I am taken back to evenings spent with my father. We're riding his red Toyota Corolla, having just emerged out of a piano bar, and I hear the slow, slow jazz as we move along quietly past the neon of Manila nights.
But that's just me. Thanks very much for sharing.
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