The other day I was walking through the woods. Spider web filaments brushed my cheeks. There was the crackle of dead leaves and branches beneath my feet. The aroma of detritus and dog droppings lightly scented the air. I was keenly aware of birdsong drifting down from the canopy above me. I wished that I could capture with my camera the songs and the birds who sang them — the red-winged blackbirds, the tangerine orioles, the iridescent grackles and the omipresent orange-breasted robins. I knew they were around me. Some were right in front of me. But I could not see them. I could not see much of anything. I was not blind but I felt as if I walked through a Monet watercolor or a Turner oil painting. I moved through an impressionistic world without defined edges, where colors melded in the shifting sunlight. You see, with the onset of spring, I have been having issues with my eyes. Mostly allergies with a healthy dose of eye strain. During this period, not only have I been reminded to slow down, I have also been reminded of my other senses. And tapping into those senses has been a creative trigger. I cannot photograph birdsong, but I can write about what I am hearing. And the birdsong has motivated me to listen to other music in a deeper way than I have in a very long time. Who knows I may write about those experiences as well one day. The photography continues too.
For the present, I find that I am particularly drawn toward abstracts and stark contrasts between colors and between light and dark. I’m not so concerned with sharp edges. Is there such a thing as impressionistic photography? If so, perhaps that is what I am currently exploring.
Words + Images 