The visual equivalent of a symphony...a ballet score set to water...the flow of a poet's dream...the reflections of truth that mirror a question...
it's funny that you are talking about a symphony, Lynne, because i had also been trying to imagine the music of these waves...
I was so hoping for a final blurring or obliteration so that the waves and the light would be indistinct (don't try and read too much into that with your infidel psychoanalysis! :-))b.
i know that you are all for obliterating any distinctions, and i sometimes like this too, in my posts, but here it didn't feel right, since the waves are eternally returning, there is no "final" point with them... "Everything becomes and recurs eternally - escape is impossible!" (Nietzsche)
Wonderful...alchemical, mercurial, ever-changing...I am reminded of the adage that 'you can never step into the same river twice'. I was also reminded of the song 'Ripple' which was a popular sing-along back in the days of Jerry Garcia and the Grateful Dead...an excerpt:Ripple in still waterWhen there is no pebble tossedNor wind to blowReach out your hand if your cup be emptyIf your cup is full may it be againLet it be known there is a fountainThat was not made by the hands of man
thank you so much, myth, indeed, ever-changing transformations, this is what i had been thinking myself - and such beautiful lines, and such lovely song... i am listening to it now, as i am writing...
since you haven't, i will..."The sun had not yet risen. The sea was indistinguishable from the sky, except that the sea was slightly creased as if a cloth had wrinkles in it. Gradually as the sky whitened a dark line lay on the horizon dividing the sea from the sky and the grey cloth became barred with thick strokes moving, one after another, beneath the surface, following each other, pursuing each other, perpetually."
Je n'arrive pas à savoir si je préfère le N&B ou la couleur.Certaines me parlent, d'autres moins, c'est indéfinissable. J'aime beaucoup cette recherche!
merci de tout coeur! oui, moi-aussi j'ai le meme sentiment, je n'ai pas pu choisir donc j'ai fini par montrer beaucoup plus de photos que je ne l'avais prevu :-)
Oh god...this blog is amazing! congratulations for your posts!
thank you for your visit on the Bridge and your enthusiasm, Xara, i am happy you like it here :-)
hello beautiful Roxana, ew another magnificent masterpeice and well I have to admit one of my top favourites-travelling light although we always travel light on the bridge but here is a rather direct experience visible to the naked eye that is the naked soul.you've expressed exquisitely the wave nature of the universe.and some physicists would say that the universe is one huge electromagnetic wave.but here you have expressed electromagnetic fields of the heart and mind,the waves of pour passions, our thoughts and our ephemeral lives scintillating in your pale sky blue waters of a blue waved planet where the waves of silver light become the pale blue waves of water like a fine divinely ornamentally star studded drapery.ah and I see a shimmering rose colour in the waters- well oh it is still valentine's month yes the rose couloured breath of love.and the valentines celebration comes to you in romania on feb 24 but it is everpresent in your expansive heart and mind.thankyou for this beautiful journey this expunging of mundane suffering.---sending you rose coloured light kisses my beautiful friend
Madeleine, your so beautifully poetic comment has filled me with... rose-coloured joy! :-) if joy were coloured, but indeed i do believe it is... if only art had indeed this power of "expunging of mundane suffering", sometimes i think it has it, sometimes i find myself doubting... but i am so grateful you said this on the Bridge, and on this waves-post... for me, these waves have had a very soothing effect, and that's why i posted them now.kisses back, all the way back to you :-)
at such moments an urging thought surfaces in my mind -to dip my toes in these morphing patches of melted lightalways wondering, would they come out golden? . . . as in often happens in fairytale-land. i smile.thank you for these delightful series.
Tanja, i knew you would be moved by this watery series (though this is not the sea, just a lake :-)
A silent montage (more proof that she needs to return to her cinematographic endeavors). Though i must say that this form of montage allows the viewer to linger in the waters of discovery (epiphanies are always the product of a languid thought coming to an illuminating point) at their own inimitable pace.
i am happy to see that you think my waves can be the bearers of hidden epiphanies even in their still form, though i must admit that yes, imagining them cinematically is more than alluring. but your comment has allowed me to crystallize an idea that had been with me for some time - now if only i could regain my energy and start working on it in practice...
Certainly I have been swimming and snorkeling and splashing in waters, but never before now did I ever experience being a fish!
one of my dreams is to be a fish, or at least experience that, ever since i was a child! :-)
If I were to join a religion, these would be the images for contemplation with which I would adorn my temple...
WaterIf I were called in To construct a religion I should make use of water. Going to church Would entail a fording To dry, different clothes; My litany would employ Images of sousing, A furious devout drench, And I should raise in the east A glass of water Where any-angled light Would congregate endlessly.Philip LarkinHow Water Began to PlayWater wanted to liveIt went to the sun it came weeping backWater wanted to liveIt went to the trees they burned it came weeping backThey rotted it came weeping backWater wanted to liveIt went to the flowers they crumpled it came weeping backIt wanted to liveIt went to the womb it met bloodIt came weeping backIt went to the womb it met maggot and rottennessIt came weeping back it wanted to dieIt went to time it came through the stone doorIt came weeping backIt went searching through all time and space for nothingnessIt came weeping back it wanted to dieTill it had no weeping leftIt lay at the bottom of all thingsUtterly worn out utterly clearTed Hughes
Stickup, i bow in gratitude.Michael T., thank you for adorning the Bridge with these wonderful poems. How fitting, the Larkin-poem and Stickup's comment seem to mirror each other, and this makes me happy somehow :-)(and the ending of Hughes's poem is magnificent)
Roxana, these are stunning, and continue to demand re-visioning. Prospero's comment intrigues (and he's right about the video work). I am presently trying reading them as sets of translucencies: 2, 1, 3, 4, 3, 3, 3, 5 and the final image. If the images were arranged thus, eight sets of membranes, surfaces, with their different optical emphases, and these were somehow made dynamic, fluctuating opacity, saturation and so on, I wonder what the effect would or might be. These remind me why I have particular affection for the English interjection "here now," evanescence, yet perpetual evanescence. And the way you limn the final image with nacre is masterly.These are the Eidolons of Epicurus, the means of our apprehension, perfect planes of perceptual impingement. This seems to be a recurring motif in your work, and a fascinating one. I know of no other artist who represents the temporal in the "vertical" way you do. And I give my word there is no flattery in what I've just said.(There's a minor defect in pixel 1,453 by 1,287 in image four of set eight, though.). :: smiles ::
Michael T., you must tell me more of this use of the "vertical" time in my photos, i am puzzled, whatever it is that you detect there must be totally unconscious... i am glad you approve of my nacre choice for the last one, it has been terribly difficult to find a way to "close" a series which is indefinitely open, and also how to arrange the photos in subsets, i would love to see your alternative (i am not convinced mine is the best one, but i had to make up my mind somehow and post, so i gave up trying at some point :-)
Lebendiger die Quellen, es atmenDer dunklen Erde Blüten mich liebend an,Und lächelnd über SilberwolkenNeigte sich segnend herab der Aether.(Friedrich Hölderlin)das buch der gedichte hölderlins aufgeschlagen und dem zufall überlassend, habe ich diese zeilen gefunden und ich finde, sie passen hervorragend zu diesen teils sehr poetischen bildern. wie schön...!dich grüsst lieb renée, sprachlos und still
ah liebste Renée!!!und jetzt bin ich sprachlos und still, da... (das wirst Du gar nicht glauben), da ich nur gestern nacht eine Hoelderlin-Romanbiographie, von Peter Härtling, zu Ende gelesen habe, kennst Du das Buch? ich weiss, Du liebst Biografien und Hoelderlin und wollte Dir das sowieso sagen, als Du Deinen Kommentar hier ploetzlich hinterlassen hast!!!ich laechle Dir zu und danke Dir aus dem ganzen Herzen...
oh,iarta-ma,erau aici de cinci zile,douazeci si cinci de ipostaze ale valurilor,cine stie cate mii de valuri,ca sa pastram acribia lui Foucault,si eu nu am vazut...(sunt Valurile?:) ).si cat le-am cautat,si cata nevoie am avut,am de ele mereu-nu cred ca apa tine de vreo Venera,cred ca tine doar de faptul daca poti,daca vrei sa iti amintesti si sa uiti.cu ele,in ele,langa ele,sub toate formele.
da, se voiau a fi Valurile :-)iti zisesem eu de apa atunci, lucram la ele, stiam ca le vei iubi :-)
I can almost taste the water... the very title envelops me, I have a calling to these depths, I think we all do x
Marion, i was sure this post would speak to you :-)
I like it. it is like some metal that melted, a sea of it!
Francoise, thank you for visiting the Bridge... yes, indeed they looked like melted metal in the sun, it was fascinating to look at them, i have only rarely seen reflections of light like these ones...
L’eau, telle une peauQue nul ne peut blesser(Paul Éluard, Les Hommes et leurs animaux)
ce frumoase versuri, multumesc!
i don't know. i go through so much considering these photographs. at times i smile. at times i am filled with wonder. i see you reflected. and then after this you become swallowed by the water and i become uncomfortable. i am left only with an empty mirror. you ask so much of us. we must withstand. i am relieved for the ending. perhaps this should be a lesson - let us accept our relief.xoerin
is this what makes us afraid? the pure sound of water, beyond anything human? and yet we keep yearning for it, you too, in each of your posts... i found this bit of a letter Van Gogh wrote to his brother, and i thought of sharing it with you, here, as it evolves around the same questions:“I also painted a study of a seascape, nothing but a bit of sand, sea, sky, grey and lonely - sometime[s] I feel a need for that silence - where there’s nothing but the grey sea - with an occasional seabird. But otherwise, no other voice than the murmur of the waves.” no other voice than the murmur of the waves - this is what i wanted this post to be, as well...
perhaps then we will destroy ourselves with our curiosity and wonder. (although i have no idea what it might mean to destory ourselves, as though there were ever any other alternative.)is this what makes us afraid, roxana? yes, this. and everything. and nothing.xoerin
the waves carry and create the dream.a beautiful dream to come back to.love!
manu!!! where are you? please let me know :-)love here, as well!
Woolf-ian waves? And the rest is silence .....