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Abstract Nature

Images taken along the Nashua Street Park in Boston

On my mind of late has been the idea of the missed picture.  Was there a moment when I should have taken a picture and instead I “wimped out?” It is not a question raised lightly.  Usually, if I see something and I happen to have my camera, then great.  If I don’t, then I simply have to be present and enjoy that moment.  And maybe that’s the key word:  enjoy.   The incident that I purposefully missed was not one that I think of with joy.

The moment took place when Steve and I were traveling around down south.  We entered an establishment through a gate.  On either side of the gate entrance stood black lawn jockeys.  Now before I continue, let me be quick to state that everywhere we traveled people were welcoming and inclusive, and if I stood out as the only person of color, no one made mention of the fact.  As we left the establishment, having had a great time inside, Steve asked if I wanted to take a picture of the lawn jockeys, as an image that I could use to provoke conversation about a topic that people find difficult to discuss.  I said no.  We drove away. 

I have no image captured in pixels, but the moment will remain with me.  All the moments remain with me, when I am reminded of the complexities of race in this country and how that complexity has played out over time.  And still does.

Rose Clouds in Virginia

Image by Keith

Butterfly Photo by Lorraine

Do butterflies live in houses?  They do in the mind of a young friend of mine.  And that’s the focus of an article I wrote posted today on Creativity Portal.com, about the unexpected places one finds inspiration.

In the Butterfly House

Fall Update

Watching me from a nearby oak tree is a large male cardinal with bright black eyes.  My camera is across the room.  He will surely be gone before I can grab it and race back to the window.  What to do?  Just remain still and enjoy my unexpected encounter with a red-feathered friend.  Unexpected.  There is no better word to describe my life at present.  Since my last update, there have been lots of unexpected experiences.  Some have been as simple as spotting the cardinal at my window, or the above leaf as I walked to the grocery store.  Others instances have been more complex.  Their creative impact and outcomes remain to be seen.  Meanwhile, here are some brief highlights of experiences from the past month, with a focus on recent travels.  Enjoy! 😉

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Virginia

In September I traveled with Steve to Virginia and West Virginia.  Virginia is my  home state.  While there, I visited one of my favorite nature trails along the Blackwater Creek.  See the little fish at the bottom of the picture?  Other sights along the trail:

And in a neaby national park  …

 

West Virginia

In Virginia, I showed Steve my old haunts.  In West Virginia, we journeyed to one of his, Seneca Rocks.  There I had several unexpected and memorable experiences, first attempting to climb a mountain, and then riding a horse.  When I wasn’t afraid of tumbling, off the mountain or the horse, I managed to snap a few photos. 😉

 

On the Horizon

Well, one of the most unexpected opportunities is an upcoming trip to Japan.  I don’t expect to encounter any horses, but Steve is determined to introduce me to octopus in all its varied culinary forms.  We’ll see about that one!

Also, I’m pleased to share that I will be making a guest blog appearance November 1st on The Evolving Critic, A Metro Boston Blog for Art, Architectural, Urban Planning and Community Explorations.  I’ll be sharing words and images about one of my favorite Boston sites, the Charles River Esplanade.

That’s the quick scoop from me.  Wherever you are in the world today, I hope you are healthy, happy and feeling inspired!

A Late Blossom

Climbing the Rock

As mentioned in previous posts, my travels this past month took me to Seneca Rocks, West Virginia. Steve and I have determined that when he first climbed Seneca Rocks I was probably sitting in a high chair smearing pink frosting on my face. I would have been celebrating my first birthday while he was celebrating the freedom of being a freshman at college on an outing with the Explorers Club. Over the years he would return many times to the mountain, sharing the experience of climbing with friends and family. He wanted to share the same experience with me.

I’d rock climbed in the past. Once at a gym where there was a climbing wall. Once in the wilds of New Hampshire with a bunch of middle schoolers participating in a summer writing program. All wonderful experiences. Were they enough to prepare me for Seneca?

Steve's Classic Gear

Steve Mapping "Easy" Route

Me All Dressed Up

So what happened?

We climbed. On occasion I swore under my breath. We finally reached a plateau where we could take a short break. Around us, others climbed.

At some point, gently, Steve reminded me that we had our own climb to finish. I tried focusing on what was before me and above, but at some point I made the mistake of looking behind me. And then looking down. And down and down and down. I will never forget the sight of both an eagle and a butterfly soaring above the clouds. We were all above the clouds it seemed. I looked at Steve and said, “I’m done.” I must have had “that look” on my face because he simply congratulated me on the distance I had traveled and then we sat for a bit in the quiet.

We just sat and shared the space, together, though I am sure our heads were in very different places.  Eventually, we rose.  The climb down was not so bad.  All in all, it was a good day.

This beautiful, gentle-eyed beast is Shadow.  Recently, he carried me up Seneca Rocks, a famous West Virginia mountain, and brought me down safely.  But he wasn’t happy about it.   Since I was a child I have loved horses, but it was a love based purely on literary and cinematic exposure.  My favorite books were The Black Stallion series by Walter Farley.  My favorite movies included Black Beauty, My Friend Flicka and National Velvet.  It just so happened as an adult I found myself riding a water buffalo in Arkansas and an elephant in Thailand, but Shadow was to be my first horse. 

By horse standards, he was a teenager, his owner said.  And so it was with the recalcitrance of a teenager being forced to clean his room before supper that Shadow ferried me along the rock-strewn path up Seneca Rocks.  I swear he wanted to ditch me a couple of time, but he was well-trained.  Once back at the base of the mountain, we parted happily, he with a swish of his tail, and me with a much greater respect for horse attitude, not to mention the width of their barrel backs.

Not hot.  Humid.  Very humid.  That was the state of the weather around Boston today.  The sky was filled with layers of gray-blue clouds.  Everything beneath seemed desaturated of color.  And what did I think as I wandered the city on my way into work:  how would Georgia O’Keefe paint this landscape?  What colors would she select from her kit to capture this surreal view?

O’Keefe has been influencing my view of the world ever since I stumbled upon the book, Abstraction, at the Somerville Public Library.  Created as part of the Whitney Museum’s recent art exhibit, the book highlights O’Keefe’s early abstract work, and includes transcripts of her letters written during the period.  The letters were only recently unsealed, twenty years after the painter’s death.  O’Keefe’s paintings have always inspired me and these early works are no different.  Her use of color, the lines and angles, how the light shifts and shadows are created … I became lost in each image on the page.

The images, while beautiful, did not surprise me.  It was the letters.  Most if not all, I believe, are correspondence between her and her future husband, Alfred Stieglitz.  In them, a very young and vulnerable O’Keefe paints with words her views of the world.  Of the sky at dawn, she writes, “… the sky was perfectly cloudless — a deep pink like a hot kiss where it met the ocean.”  And of jade artifacts at the Boston Museum of Fine Arts, “… colors like you find in the mosses and lichens and soil of the woods — or even in the things washed up by the sea …”

Learn more about O’Keefe’s abstract art and her letters via the Whitney Museum’s exhibit website.  It’s well worth the effort!

Small Beauties

I have to admit that before I picked up a camera, I did not fully appreciate the beauty of a fly and many other small creatures.