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If you should go skating
On the thin ice of modern life
Dragging behind you the silent reproach
Of a million tear-stained eyes
Don't be surprised,
When a crack in the ice
Appears under your feet
You slip out of your depth and out of your mind
With your fear flowing out behind you
~ Waters - 1979
Catch a glimpse of a time when life was, in many ways, much simpler – but also more difficult. Days were spent doing chores necessary just to survive. Children played with toys made from common materials like corn husks, sticks, and rocks. Homes were lit by oil lamps at night, and people were so tired that even thin mattresses were no obstacle to a good night’s sleep.
This particular cabin, comprising two rooms, was constructed of longleaf pine in the 1830s and occupied for a century, with the last family to live there filling it to overflowing with 15 people. In 1959, the structure was relocated from neighboring Troup County to Callaway Gardens, where it serves as a reminder of the challenges our forefathers faced on a daily basis.
A pair of Bald Eagles look over the big pond at Willband Creek Park to see almost no waterfowl in evidence. What few were around were mostly hidden in the bulrushes..
The ice may be a little too unstable for me to venture out on. Onedia Narrows- Bear River ID
IMG_4817 copy_pe
In olden times, you designed your buildings to stand where they found space. These days, beautiful old buildings in Brussels are simply demolished to make way for the shoebox-shaped monstrosities Eurocrats and Belgian companies appear to like so much.
A thin red line on the horizon marks the finality of the setting sun. If you look carefully, there's also a red halo encircling the space where the sun has just been. Photo taken last year at Lake Erie in Northeast Ohio. No Photoshop was used on this image.
I used to have a very analytical approach to writing. In my old way of thinking, you started at the beginning and concluded at the end. That kind of thinking tends to really stymie creative expression. Much the same as getting so mired in the technical aspects of photography that you lose sight of the goal. I vividly recall sitting down to write something, and totally bogging down attempting to write the perfect lead sentence in my head. Sometimes 45 minutes would tick off the clock and all I had to show for it was a blinking cursor where the first letter was yet to be typed. A total exercise in frustration that in itself was guaranteed to inhibit further progress. Somewhere along the way I decided to just hurl myself at storytelling. Literally just jump in somewhere and allow it to go where it would. It's not unlike my approach to photography and I think sometimes it's why I'm able to mesh the visual with the written narrative. The act of writing has become less about thinking of words and more about trying to limit the torrent of thoughts that seem to appear on the screen. Of course some days are better suited to creativity than others. Sometimes I just want to go mow the lawn or do something physical rather than mental, or find a task that requires little thought. I see this as a way to recharge the creative batteries. Invariably once I engage in a non-creative task, my mind begins to go into overdrive, as thoughts and ideas swirl about. Sometimes things gel; other times it's a simple phrase or meme that gets stuck in my mind. Sooner or later it will find an outlet. I'm often amazed at how these little flicker narrative spin up, seemingly out of thin air. Once a photo posts, I just sit down and bang out some random thoughts with little or no forethought. It just goes where it goes in the five to ten minutes allotted to the task. I find any more than that and it sounds over worked and not spontaneous. If there's a tie in to the photo, great. If not, still great. In this case, I was walking around in my backyard yesterday now that the snow is melting. The area is littered with debris and fallen branches and limbs. Edging may way into the woodland, I came across some frighteningly large bits, ones that surely would have caused injury or worse had they landed on someone. Each year I think all the deadwood has fallen, but each year more is produced. It's a cycle without end. Anyway the deadwood meme is what stuck in my head and it reminded me of this scene at a local abandonment. I recall gravitating to the fallen branches protruding from the snow. It was a visual subtlety that greatly enhanced the mood and atmosphere.
Feels like the evening coming closer
Drawing like a shawl around me
It's a beautiful sunset
Still the sun goes down, down...
Tell me that you'll love me forever
Or go without another word
With our hands holding tight together
Out into the new world...
And you're standing on the edge of something
Tell me I was right to care
Well you know that I'm in love with you
Stepping out into the thin air.
By Aqualung
thin cracks in dryed clay
Cracks on the base of the master model for the Sisyphos casting tool after demoulding from the new build mould.
I was so glad it was a sunny day when we toured Lower Antelope Canyon, because the incoming sunlight works magic on the tones and hues of the canyon walls.
I shot this scene from a small board. Seen at the Chinsegut Conservation Center, north of Brooksville, Fla.
A quiet piece of forest, held in black and white.
The season is cold, though no snow has come. The air feels thin, touched by a faint mist that lets the sunlight show its bones. The rays fall through the trees in long, gentle lines, as if the day itself had paused to look.
On the left, the firs stand close, their bark dark and steady, closing the frame with a kind of patient strength. To the right, the trunks begin to open, giving space. There, the light finds its way through, slipping between wood and air, reaching down to the forest floor.
The ground is alive in a quiet way—low shrubs, small growth, a soft persistence beneath the trees. Nothing calls for attention, yet everything holds it.
There is something humble here, and something quietly grand. A balance of shadow and light, of stillness and presence. It does not ask to be seen, but it stays with you once it is.
Deutsch
Ein stilles Stück Wald, in Schwarz und Weiß gehalten.
Die Jahreszeit ist kalt, doch kein Schnee liegt. Die Luft wirkt dünn, durchzogen von leichtem Nebel, der das Sonnenlicht sichtbar macht. Die Strahlen fallen in langen, sanften Linien durch die Bäume, als hätte der Tag selbst innegehalten.
Links stehen die Fichten dicht beieinander, ihre Rinde dunkel und ruhig, sie schließen das Bild mit einer stillen Kraft. Nach rechts hin öffnen sich die Stämme leicht, geben Raum frei. Dort findet das Licht seinen Weg, gleitet zwischen Holz und Luft hindurch und erreicht den Waldboden.
Der Boden lebt auf leise Weise—Sträucher, junges Wachstum, ein sanftes Bestehen unter den Bäumen. Nichts drängt sich auf, und doch ist alles präsent.
Es liegt etwas Demütiges in dieser Szene, und zugleich etwas still Erhabenes. Ein Gleichgewicht aus Schatten und Licht, aus Ruhe und Gegenwart. Es verlangt nicht gesehen zu werden, und bleibt doch im Gedächtnis.