The Dublin Moon Series … that’s what I’ve decided to call this week’s creations of papery moons and butterflies and tiny poetry-laced leaves. The lunar inspiration is clear. Dublin is in reference to that certain scientist fellow I write about on occasion. In our time together he has been an unexpected source of creative inspiration. He’s certainly expanded my thinking about light and angles and even about getting grubby to get the best shot. Earlier this week he traveled to Dublin for business. As I helped him pack, we came across a small notebook not much bigger than a matchbook. It lay at the bottom of a bag he’d taken on a previous trip fishing on the high seas.
I remembered giving him that notebook because on that trip we wouldn’t have much phone contact. And because I love a good story, I told him to take notes so that he could tell me later about all of his adventures with appropriate detail. Well, upon his return he managed to tell me a very good story without ever pulling that notebook from his bag. So nearly a year later we flipped through the pages, chuckling as he deciphered his notes. Then he came to a phrase that made him pause. Imagining that he had recorded seeing a mermaid, I laughed and shouted, “What is it? What is it? What did you write?”
Well, what he had written was this: “Let me try to see the world through her eyes.” Now, over the years, I had gathered that as he traveled he sometimes took pictures of things for me like rose clouds in the sky and trees reflected in blue waters. Once he had texted from a different boating adventure, “As I look out over the ocean, I see a lone butterfly and it makes me think of you.”
I did not create all of these paper works for this fellow, but I do recognize that this form provided a creative outlet for me to engage with him. I was compelled to imagine what it was like for him to be out on that boat and seeing the butterfly over the ocean, and when he’s traveling in Japan, how he sees the red sun. Anyway …
I think my paper period is done. He shall be home soon, and I’ve got a backlog of writing, photography and exhibit-related tasks to focus on. Though, I must admit this morning I did find myself humming Blue Moon. 😉 And I do have a lot of blue paper left.
We’ll see …
Steve tracked down a CD containing the original music production. We listened last night. It was a treat to hear the actors bringing such unique characters to life. Now, also found on this CD is the Carnival of Animals, an instrumental work paired with words by Ogden Nash. When the Carnival music started, it was beautiful … and it was strangely familiar. I asked Steve who confirmed, “It’s a classic by Saint-Saens. I first heard it as a child, when my father played it in the 50’s.” “Hmmm,” I replied. “I think I first heard it on Bugs Bunny.” Steve shrugged. “That’s where you first heard Wagner, isn’t it?” Well, too true. Meanwhile …
I find hope in the sunrise and sunset. The light that leaks in through a window, that dots the midnight sky. I know it sounds hokey but it is true. Even if my eyes are closed, if I can feel the sun’s rays, there is something hopeful in the sensation. And maybe that’s it, at least for me. There’s something about simply interacting with the world — seeing the possibilities, feeling them, hearing the stories of others –that inspires a sense of one day, just maybe, that possibility might come true for me or for the ones I care about in this world.
Words + Images 
