09 October 2017
Taken in Polamatic and edited in Snapseed, Pixlr and Stackables.
Click onto image to enlarge. Let me know your response to this photomontage. Prints are available upon request.
Mother Nature can be a definitive model for the layers that pervade the human condition. As we watch her perform each and every season, subtle elements give sway to changes that represent the life cycle: layers of life itself.
Autumn is a particular stage for show and tell. The season starts with full-fledged examples of maturity, and suspends that aging as it becomes the finale of an existence. Even so each flower can become the energy for next year’s jewels. It’s a marvelous search for the real and the imagined, it is also nature’s path to reuse and renewal. Non-plant life is not as forgiving, but still mirrors the essential steps of the natural world’s progeny.
The layers, which join the present to the past, embrace the here and now with mystery and tenacity. The layers also remind us of the importance of remembrance and its nesting within our inner core or underneath the surface.
In the Lens section is another tribute to the hydrangea, truly an autumn star. The photomontage is layer upon layer that represents the flower’s journey: its strong might and tender magic.
Note: For your week’s contemplation I offer you a quote and a poem by the nature writer Mary Oliver. Her visual language speaks for itself.
“I would say that there exists a thousand unbreakable links between each of us and everything else, and that our dignity and our chances are one. The farthest star and the mud at our feet are a family; and there is no decency or sense in honoring one thing, or a few things, and then closing the list. The pine tree, the leopard, the Platte River, and ourselves-we are at risk together, or we are on our way to a sustainable world together, we are each other’s destiny.”
“How I go to the woods”
“Ordinarily, I go to the woods alone, with not a single
friend, for they are all smilers and talkers and therefore
I don’t really want to be witnessed talking to the catbirds
or hugging the old black oak tree. I have my way of
praying, as you no doubt have yours.
Besides, when I am alone I can become invisible. I can sit
on the top of a dune as motionless as an uprise of weeds,
until the foxes run by unconcerned. I can hear the almost
unhearable sound of the roses singing.
If you have ever gone to the woods with me, I must love
you very much.” From Swan: Poems and Prose Poems (2010)