I’d finally warmed up yesterday after Tuesday’s freezing trek through the snow into my 39 degree cabin. The sun was out so I ventured out also – but only onto the balcony. I got caught up in the footprints I’d left from the day before. Footprints as a record of our body’s movement and footprints as possible art also.
I found myself studying this random pattern of my footprints. There seem to be three in a row heading toward the railing. They are so close together and appear to be the right foot – where was my left foot? Immediately I thought of how we try to fool people by pretending a one-legged creature has been there. Then there are the two that form an upside-down V. How did that happen? I know I wasn’t practicing first position in ballet.
I got interested in this pattern – it’s as if I were walking in two directions at once, met in the middle, and then turned and walked off. I was loving this footprint thing.
I won’t be surprised if this one ends up in a collage somehow. The left one especially reminds me of Planter’s Peanuts – anyone old enough to remember those? Maybe they still have them. But I think there was a cookie with a waffle pattern like that. Maybe there still is. It’s been a long time since I’ve been in the cookie aisle – if Trader Joe’s doesn’t have it, I don’t have it either!
Funny, isn’t it, how us artists get obsessed with details and observation? Because the next thing I focused on was my own reflection in the window.
Since January is drawing to a close, which means the Creative Every Day theme of Body is drawing to a close, I suppose I was reflecting on body. I took a photo of myself looking into the cabin and merging with my art materials (above). Body art. Body as art. Body making art.
Body in motion. Looking dejected. Walking away. From what? Or, with the divider in the sliding door, a body going from one reality to the next.
Just thinking about a simple photo reminds me of all the ways in which almost anything can be interpreted, and how we interpret according to our own understanding and mood. That’s something worth remembering, because another thing we do is jump to conclusions which are often wrong.
I realized, somewhat obviously, that I was on the outside looking in. Did I want to get in? Was I being left out? Or just idly curious about what was going on. I realize I was just taking my own picture, but it made me think about all the ways we can be on the outside looking in.
I like this photo a lot. I was on the outside looking through. Did I have to go inside but wished I didn’t? So was I planning an escape out the other side? Or was I blocking out something unpleasant about going in, or not being able to go in, so was looking past it? Or was I just looking ahead.? So many possibilities!
I took a photo of these two tree trunks, shadowed by the sun. It was bright and beautiful. And I went inside.
I’d been working on some watercolor exercises for practice, since I’ve just now started using watercolors. It’s all such a mystery, too, since I can’t paint! Doesn’t stop me from trying. And then I looked outside.
In those few moments the sun had disappeared to be replaced by fog – no tree trunk shadows now. It’s quite amazing to see such a rapid change – exciting too. Today is all sun all the time, with snow melting and falling off the trees in big chunks. So I finished off what had become a study of reflected bodies, which in a way reflects what’s inside our bodies – in terms of thoughts.
Because if we can be on the outside looking in, we can also be on the inside looking out. That evokes its own kind of longing.
I like this photo a lot because I’m on the inside looking out but becoming one with nature. I also notice that when I was on the outside looking in, it was all in color, and when I was on the inside looking out, it’s black and white – mainly because of the fog, but doesn’t that give us something interesting to reflect on?
The whole point is to think, isn’t it? This stuff makes me think, contemplate, end up knowing myself and the world just a little bit better. At least from my own perspective. On my webpage, in the About section, under My Approach to Photography, I talk about seeing beyond the surface and finding the unexpected.
TRIPODS
The plate that attaches my camera to the tripod has been missing since my last visit to the cabin. I remember putting it somewhere – not in the usual place – so telling myself to remember where it was. I did the same thing with my iPod Touch and never did find it. Also at the cabin. Well, it’s PREDICTION time because I’m about to find the missing plate. How do I know? Because I finally ordered a replacement. Two replacements, in fact. We all know that means that within the hour I’ll find the missing part. And then I can take some decent photos of work I’ve been doing for tomorrow’s post.
