Sunday, 21 July 2013

abundance of being








It is only that this warmth and movement are like
The warmth and movement of a woman.

It is not that there is any image in the air
Nor the beginning nor end of a form:

It is empty. But a woman in threadless gold
Burns us with brushings of her dress

And a dissociated abundance of being,
More definite for what she is—

Because she is disembodied,
Bearing the odors of the summer fields,

Confessing the taciturn and yet indifferent,
Invisibly clear, the only love.

Wallace Stevens, 
The Woman in Sunshine






(for James, thanking him for introducing me to this wonderful poem)


  1. This comment has been removed by the author.

    1. thank you for your thoughtful comment, dear Madeleine. i am sorry you didn't like the title, i think it fits perfectly, and besides it is a long tradition of the Bridge to use lines from the poem inside the post for the title :-)

      hugs and kisses back :-)

  2. the closer one gets to red the less clearly one sees...

    1. it is the way it's supposed to be, no?

  3. The effervescent muliebrity of summer, exactly what I was thinking about the other day, when a distracted ray of sunlight touched with a tingle the back of my hand.

    1. ah, there can be an entire abundance of being in one ray of sunlight touching our skin, yes...

      (but you don't have such fields on the island, do you, magician? :-)

  4. the woman in this light is not soft and kind -- but then, it is not gentleness that we long for today; we are not asking her for something bearable -- rather she is a dangerous beauty that overflows and drenches us in origin and heat, ecstatic ...

    and yest, she begins softly, almost disguising herself as snow in the fields ... only when i look closer does she rise into herself, and more and more intensely, past endurance -- and by the end i am burned away, as much flame as the stripped stems in the final image, destroyed, and yet desiring only that this burning should continue ...


    1. James.

      you know i can't answer, i have no words, i didn't think it would be possible, but you combined Stevens's poem and my photos into a new poem, which leaves me breathless.

      and you understand.

  5. sunt unul dintre oamenii care nu crede cu adevarat in pestera lui Platon; unul dintre motive este ACESTA: ca pot sa vad MACII asa cum exista ei in vidul care cuprinde in palme de aer totul. pentru ca exista aceasta lume in care totul este configurat in dimensiunea lui adevarata. se poate sa mi se spuna ca exista mereu adevarauri mai profunde,pe care nu le banuim-despre ceea ce nu stiu,nu vorbesc. dar exista,ma incapatanez sa o spun,acest fel de clipe care raman in culorile lor intregi, dincolo de posibilitatea unor infloriri nebanuite. unul dintre argumentele pe care le aduc este ca am urmarit aceste fotografii in diverse ipostaze, o gama destul de larga as spune:) - si de fiecare data adevarul lor m-a patruns la fel de puternic,nu neaparat mulandu-se pe starea mea din acel momemt,desi a fost si asta, dar ceea ce m-a bucurat mai cu seama a fost ca ele erau,tot timpul, dincolo de ceea ce mi se intampla,de neatins.

    si poezia este printre cele mai frumoase cu putinta,ca si cand,la fel,exista clipe cand cineva poate lega intre ele suflari de o clipa,ganduri pe care nu zmeu le trage spre cer,fara niciun hiat in zborul lui. tot ceea ce spun chiar si mantrele despre "puterea unei femei" este acolo, curgand in purpura si in umblet de negrait, printre moliciuni de talpi care cheama florile-sau invers, nu pot spune ca stiu cu adevarat multe despre aceasta lume de maci si graire muta, eu stiu doar ca va fi mereu vara poemului de mac.

    atat de aproape,rasufland tacut langa acest potir.

    1. draga, nu am timp sa raspund acum cum ar merita comentariul, tu stii de ce :-) da, macii sunt mareti, si sunt ai nostri, iar poezia aceasta este, intr-adevar, printre cele mai frumoase, de neimaginat...

  6. And still, a Flower Is A Lovesome Thing.

    1. oh!!!

      and now we have also the perfect music for this!!!

      thank you, from all my heart, TinMan...

  7. in response to your photographs (which i am always shocked into taking time with) i can only respond, i can not understand. i become overwhelmed with a headiness in fragrance (or stimulation) which is not my own, but rather take a temporary presence (it must be) inside your body through your interpretation.

    (truly, i look at the first photograph and shake my head and don't know how to go on. and then i go on and become consumed into the colour and abundance even when the abundance singles out.)


    1. it is true that i have tried to follow a thread when choosing the photos for this series, which gives it a certain dramatic chronology, from the first to the last - but i, lost in the middle of that field, knows no such progression, no time, everything comes at once, the single and the multiple, all, colour and fragrance and light, overwhelming presence of Being, in all its richness, diziness...

      (thank you)

  8. Simply stunning!

  9. Ohhh! Those last images! Alive to the point of near-haemorrhage! (-:

  10. wow, ce minunatie aici! seria mea cu maci a palit, dintr-o data. ;-)

  11. for me this is an ode to the multitude of life itself -
    saturated, fragmented, momentarily overwhelming, abundant and ending.

    your photographs - breathtaking.

  12. Je n'avais pas vu ce post ! je suis sur le c** !!! Incroyable et magnifique... Je n'ai pas de mots...

  13. Tes coquelicots Roxanna , sont uniques au monde..ils dansent et ils tournoient sous le regard, ils sont festifs et ils portent en eux l'essence de l'été envolé ralie l'avis de Jeff..ce post est super beau :)