What I love about ruins most is the gestures of grandeur or utility they once were, the stories of their use, of their place in a time and society which no longer exists. I love them for the markers of history they are, here, now — in the present — how they act as transporters to another time, another place.
My Muses: Geology ~ In the best moments, like on the edge of the San Juan River gorge, that is the transformation I take with me, that feeling of personal divinity, as if I had touched the hand that makes perfection.
“I’ll have to go get some sealant,” her husband had told her.
“But that will ruin the paint,” she replied, with an emotion that surprised her. “I don’t have any more.”
“You have to fix it before it gets out of hand.”
“But it’s such a small crack!”
Destruction, afterall, is what hurricanes like Harry do!
I’ve already responded with Function follows Form, which relates how form itself is my favourite subject. Here I want to draw back to my favourite element with which to explore form — and a variety of other subjects — and that has to be paint. When I bought my first professional camera in nearly 15 years, the first shots were all painted surfaces. Some abstractions. Others records of communication. Still others were essays on the environment in which the surface was painted.
Love comes to you and you follow
Lose one on to the Heart of the Sunrise
SHARP — DISTANCE
How can the wind with its arms all around me
Stood watch in the valley
A phalanx of clouds advancing
Ahead of the coming storm
Said the stubby, tenacious conifer
“I’ve got your six”
His platoon murmuring support