“. . . everything is made up of fleeting glances, to be kept close at hand for a journey that sometimes gets rough.” —Tonino Guerra, Instant Light
I woke up at 6am, well-rested and ready to spend the day on some small adventure. I checked the weather and the time for sunrise, noting the conditions would be perfect for frost. I had a spot or two in mind. But darn, photographing frost and fog are a huge challenge for me. I can’t see the possibilities just yet.
Nevertheless, I nudged my dear husband out of bed. Want to take a little hike on Salamander Trail this morning? We can grab a hot chocolate and a banana for first breakfast, and have second breakfast at Chick-fil-A after we take a few pictures. The trap was set and I knew he’d take the bait because he loves those breakfast biscuits.
As it turns out, he was enthralled by the shimmering lights of the pond—cold water on the surface sinking and pushing warm water out and up. Water movement driven by convection. I happily took pictures, eyes focused on the scenes before me, but ears listening closely to the sound of his voice. I love it when he nerds out on science-talk; it’s our thing.
I’m continuing a collaborative project with my friend, the wonderful poet, Susan Carter Morgan. We are on the last leg of our year long photo-poetic project, Natural Histories. I’ve held this work closely, choosing not to share as I go, allowing for distance from the work. Time to percolate. Last week, I woke up in the middle of night with a fully formed idea of the structure of our photo book—ideas about how to organize the flow of images and what pictures were still needed. I could see the pages turn in my mind. Try as I might, I could not rest until those thoughts were recorded, the pages re-ordered, notes pasted here and there. Since then I’ve been thinking about the beautiful joy of creative flow. I give in and work through the night, knowing full well that I will need a long nap tomorrow.
How does a project mature?
It is obviously a most mysterious,
imperceptible process.
It carries on independently of ourselves,
in the subconscious,
crystalizing on the walls of the soul.
It is the form of the soul
that makes it unique,
indeed only the soul decides
the hidden 'gestation period' of that image
which cannot be perceived
by the conscious gaze.
—Andrey Tarkovsky, Instant Light
“If you know you hurt someone’s feelings, tell them you are sorry.
If someone hurt you, tell them.
We are all scared of conflict, but we all want to be known.
If we don’t step into the harder spots of life, we will miss deeper relationships.”
—David Blanchard, Handshake Quarterly, Volume 13