gusting winds
the garden a flurry
of white blossoms
yet I the one blown away
Fujiwara no Kintsune
(thanking mt for re-working this translation with me)
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About Me
the feeling of beauty is the feeling of 'muga': no-self or ecstasy
Nishida
Nishida
collaboration with Michael Tweed
the beautiful foolishness of things
on-going project uniting my photographs and text by Michael Tweed
on-going project uniting my photographs and text by Michael Tweed
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all texts and photographs belong to me unless otherwise noted.
A multitude of messages lie hidden here in these images... to be contemplated in silence, reverent silence...
ReplyDeletestunning! really are.
ReplyDeleteb.
welch eine wundervolle Farbenpracht leuchtet da aus Deinem Garten heraus!
ReplyDeleteDeine Bilder haben mich sofort an Monets "nymphéas" (hast Du sie gesehen in der Orangerie in Paris?)erinnert, die ich wirklich sehr liebe! Aber dazu muss ich sagen, dass ich kaum etwas über Malerei weiss, diese Kunst spricht mich leider nicht an, und doch, manche Kunstwerke begeistern mich doch sehr und eben die "nymphéas" gehören dazu - et voilà!
Alles Gute Dir, liebe Roxana!
Renée
What wonderful images.
ReplyDeleteUn printemps impressionniste qui fait tourner les têtes !
ReplyDeleteCes arbres couverts de fleurs...
You've captured the spirit of the wind.
ReplyDeleteLes sirènes, à l'entrée du détroit de Messine en Sicile, doivent tôt maîtriser les vents indigènes.
ReplyDeletethese really are works of art and you are an artist (sorry for doubting you before). the last ones make me think of cave paintings.
ReplyDeleteoh, such a gentleness of the wind and spring...
ReplyDeleteI second the thought that you are an artist
I would say the extraordinary out of simplicity. Beautiful..
ReplyDeleteImages perfectly suited to the poem.
ReplyDeleteWhat I am seeing...no, feeling...in these are messages from the trees. They help me to feel what a tree feels when a good breeze comes along to move its boughs, fiddle with the leaves, compete for control of the blossoms.
Do trees sense deja vu'?--or does the game with the wind seem new each season?
what could words still mean, dear Owen - when one is blown away in a swirl of falling petals?
ReplyDelete(my rapeseed still not ready, but don't worry, i haven't forgotten about it :-)
billoo, i know you have a weakness for my abstract expressionist plays :-)
ReplyDeleteliebe Renée, spricht Dich dann Literatur mehr an? oder Musik? so merkwuerdig, die Malerei war meine erste Liebe aber seitdem ich zu fotografieren angefangen habe, male ich ueberhaupt nicht mehr. aber die Sehnsucht danach ist noch geblieben, wie Du siehst :-) und deswegen bin ich auch immer sehr gluecklich, wenn Leute mir sagen, dass meine Bilder sie an dieses oder jenes Gemaelde erinnern.
ReplyDeleteund ja, wer kann Monets nymphéas widerstehen?
ich wuensche Dir ein wunderschoenes und sonniges Wochenende (noch Regen und dunkle Wolken hier)
thank you Jon, you are very kind!
ReplyDeletej'aime bien quand mes images font tourner la tete des fees des roses :-)
ReplyDeleteje t'embrasse, chere K'line, et a tres bientot!
Stickup artist, the spirit of the wind, the spirit of falling petals - ah, spring and its fragrant storms...
ReplyDeletethank you for being here!
Prospero
ReplyDeleteles sirènes, ah les sirènes (obligées à flotter sur des vagues de fleurs blanches, si elles sont condamnées à vivre loin de la mer...)
anon, it would have been more interesting if you had shared your doubts with me before, i mean the doubts concerning my being (or not) an artist :-)
ReplyDeleteperhaps it is not me the artist, but the spring wind? (i have to erase this, it is too lame :-)
Gentle, gentleness? :-)
ReplyDeletefor me it was more like swirling and storming - but of course we always tend to see our own nature reflected in things :-P
thank you Vladimir, i am glad you enjoyed...
ReplyDeletedear Lydia, you know, i had similar thoughts about this yesterday night, how strange - re-reading from a Romanian poet (Nichita Stanescu), who says:
ReplyDeleteThe trees see us,
not we them.
As if a leaf broke out
and a pond of green eyes
would flow from it.
but always our guesses, and only guesses, never we shall know (and it's perhaps better this way?)
a big hug for you...
you are remembering another life when you were an expressionist painter?
ReplyDeletescrolling down the page, i love each one more than the last, until i return to the top and change my mind --- so what am i to do?
... but this is the entry into a day where color is a metaphor for time, for simultaneous rush and stasis ... i enter into this and i am dissolved among these flowers ... thank you
She knows how to paint with words, She knows how to speak in colors, She knows how to impress us with soul made pictures,
ReplyDeleteShe simply knows how to enjoy the spring!
Thanks for sharing your visions and gathering so much sensitivity around you!
.
ReplyDeleteVoltei Roxana!!
ReplyDeleteGosto muito desta série!!!
Pintar com o vento o jardim :)
ah James, teasing me with my love of expressionist painters :-)
ReplyDeleteyes, i remember all these lives, and if not, i invent them!
"simultaneous rush and stasis" (i so love this! :-)
yes, Nad, how to enjoy spring, isn't this the most important thing, knowing how to enjoy? not losing this ability when we grow up - remember us as children? :-)
ReplyDeletei'm happy you came here.
Adelino!!!!!!!
ReplyDeletewelcome back :-)
where have you hidden?!!!