I came across these today in an old book, amongst a pile of old collected books and miscellaneous papers we have inherited. I know what they are. They are called “the ghosts of friends”. These ones date back to 1910 – 1920’s, I know, as they are dated and signed. They are fascinating, a tiny bit spooky, and mostly very elegant and beautiful pieces of a lost art…an oddly strange, whimsical but weird combination, I think.
If you know what they are, you may enjoy them. If you don’t, well, I’ll leave you guessing…why spoil a perfectly good mystery?
I am blessed with a lovely sea view, but also, importantly, a view of a grassy hill across my street, as many of you may now know. A grassy hill that I adore, frequently a home to grazing horses, but I also just enjoy the changing seasons light on the long grasses. The silhouette of the hill against the vivid twilight sky is mesmerising to me.
The story so far…a starting point for my next journal, not the end page of the last one. Its rather like a launching place. We should always look back to what we have achieved, to acknowledge our supporters and the opportunities we have had and to give thanks were they are due. So, the story so far is an acknowledgement of what has come before I guess, and is also about having an open mind to what is ahead. And that’s a pretty good place to be, I think.
Just a pile of rocks? I think not. My reaction is gorgeous colour, interesting shapes, loads of texture, light and shadows in contrast, overall composition and above all else, I think simple, elegant, understated beauty. Inspiration in the everyday.
Is this a sketch, or a photograph, or something in between? Can photography include taking a realistic photo then turning it into a sketch, and if yes, is it still a photo in this state? What if it was initially a hand-drawn sketch then turned into a photograph, would that matter, rather than a photo turned into a sketch?
The line between art and photography is and has always been blurred in my mind. This is just another example…at the end of the day I just care that it tells a story and creates some emotion or response in the viewer.
Debate about whether it is a photograph or a sketch aside, this image of elegant wrought iron gates and fretwork now locked from public access, and the glimpses of the now neglected garden beyond, hints of a story. A story that may be interpreted as deeply personal and/or globally recognisable. If an image can do that, then that is enough for me.
I had some images getting printed for the exhibition, and when I picked them up I wondered why the packaging box was so big, and I also wondered in my head why they seemed to cost considerably more than I expected…it was all revealed when I got home…they were printed huge!!! BIG, big oops! However, I can’t complain though, because they look FANTASTIC! Way better than I ever imagined. They will have much more impact in the exhibition!
Only problem is that now I have six very large images with no frames, and six very nice small frames with no images…
There is something about baby lambs that really heralds the start of Spring…I particularly like the colour of the little one at the rear, and the spring blossoms also. Have a great Spring (or Fall, if you are in the northern hemisphere) day, where ever you are!
What I love most about abstract art is how it is interpreted so differently by each person who views it. You don’t have to explain it, or justify it to yourself or others. The emotion it evokes in each of us, is our own unique truth.
It is, I think, being essentially human to want to seek out a human form in a vertical image, to seek out a landscape or a horizon in a horizontal image, to seek water or sky when we see blue, to seek a symbol we recognise in an image that’s hard to define.
With abstract images, finding meaning can be brutally simple or frustratingly complex. It may mean you have to look a little harder, a little longer. Or stop looking so hard. Or try a different point of view. You might have to ask different questions of the art. Or, of yourself. Or you may need to just say this image does not speak to me. Or, listen carefully if it does.
The truth will reveal itself to you, given time. I promise.
I love the slightly macabre feeling I get from this photo which reminds me of fairy tales I loved as a child. It has a dark, eerily spooky feel to it, like all good fairy-tales have.
Once upon a time there was a.. secret garden? Or a dark forest? A little girl? Or a tiny fairy? Is she running? Or Flying? (if you look closely you can see her wings). Where is she running to? Or…what is she running from… a wicked witch? What is the little house in the forest made of? Sugar and spice and all things nice? Is it a cute little fairy home? Or a witch’s hide-out?
So many questions..I just take solace in one last point, all fairy tales have a happy ending.
Today was one of those days when I was sure I had at least a few lovely photos. After all, I was in one of our region’s most beautiful garden’s on an early spring day, with a slightly overcast sky and with plenty of time to enjoy the park. Everything seemed perfect.
The only problem was I came away with was a pile of decidedly average images, none that seemed to captured how stunning the garden actually was.
This is one that I do like, however. Initially it was a vertical image with tall poplars in the background and the eye was drawn toward the trees. But it just wasn’t working for me. Cropped horizontally it seems to have a faded glamour about it that I much prefer.