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 …
We used squid as the tasty lure. Once the hook had been baited, Steve taught me how to cast (last time the fellow did it for me). As I stood at the rail holding the rod, I was aware of the looks we received from the neighboring fishermen. As you can see I am still not quite up to speed on fishing attire. A few people came over to chitchat. I let Steve do all the talking. I stared out into the sea.
I watched the rippling of the water and the gentle rise and fall of the waves. In the ephemeral light of the cloudy day, every shade of blue appeared on the water’s surface. For just a moment. No fish did I see but I kept imagining them down in the dark depths, nibbling on my squid. Birds flew overhead. Sailboats drifted by. In the end, I caught nothing except of course that calm. Unexpected but welcome. A treat. As Steve and I walked back to the car, and he outlined our strategy for next time so that we’d actually catch something, I realized I didn’t need to a catch a fish. It was the journey that mattered to me, not the destination. When I shared that revelation with Steve, he was quiet for a moment, then said, “I respect your feelings. But let’s test that theory once you actually have a fish on the line.”
