Hard Rains a gonna fall

It rained. Hard.

Shooting pictures for the PG Folk Fest is hard on the knees. Walking. Squatting. Standing.

I survived another.

Smiles

Sometimes I do a Blog entry with no real purpose other than it makes me smile.

This picture is not well shot but . . .

. . . they made me smile.

Cold Rock

Granite is so cold. Hard. Impassionate. Or so it seems.

Granite can also be inviting. It can welcome a delicate lichen to live in a symbiotic relationship.

Seems. Everything is not as it seems.

Or so it seems.

Just one of those days . . .

Have you ever looked at yourself in the mirror and thought "What the hell am I doing here?"

Some days I feel like I am just treading water waiting for the next part of my life to kick in. I feel like a teenager who is waiting for grade twelve to finish so that I can move on to the next big adventure.

'course when that next adventure finally occurs you usually think "I wish I was still in high school."

Bear Graffiti

I have had discussions regarding the defacing of trees. I have seen many trees with initials carved into them. Or trees with initials contained within carved hearts in a tribute of undying love which may last through the summer (the love that is; the carving will last much longer). And now there is some person defacing trees with his version of art.

But is it defacing? Or are people like the bears. Or to put it more clearly, are bears leaving a tribute of love? Was this bear an ursine Picasso?

I don't know but mayby I should give the graffiti artists of the world a little more leeway. They are, after all, just animals.

Long ago in a galaxy far far away ...

Yes, it was many years ago. I was working with film in those days. Lots of black and white film ran through my darkroom.

And many different kinds of paper.

There was a little photo supply shop in Williams Lake. It was called Blackwell's and it was my favourite place to go. Favourite store anyway.

I found an outdated package of gold paper. It gave these really nice tones.

I just shot this picture but it is like a distant memory returned.

Ugliness

It was one of those days. I was not feeling my best. Just not having a good day. I decided to go for a short walk in the fields and trails behind the old Hobbit Hole. I had forgotten that the city has been ripping up this little bit of paradise and laying new water lines. Ugly. There is the equivalent of a four lane highway through the trees.

Yes, ugly.

That is when I realized that it was not just the ground that was ugly. My mood was ugly.

Then I saw the flower. I small reminder that beauty is on the inside.

I started to feel a little better.

The Thing About Bricks

I like bricks. Different colours and textures just seem to leap at me and ask to be stroked.

The rougher the brick the better. If you are making a wall, don't worry about perfection. Don't worry about seeping mortar. Like people, the imperfections are what make the bricks interesting.

Hart Selective

There is something warm about rust . . . decay. . . slipping into ruin. Is it because that is what happens to us all? We are part of nature. The natural order of the world. The rhythm of the universe. I feel the rust of age creeping into my body. Into my mind. It is a good thing to know that I am just keeping my bargain with nature.

It is not always pleasant but what is a fella to do?

Hat

I love the hat. The shape. The colour. I love the way it fits with the face. With the colour of the hair. With the beads.

It suits the pose as well.

The Small Outshines the Large

It is difficult to see in the small image here but if you click on the image then click again to enlarge maybe you will see.

You will see, of course, the over-whelming yellow petals but if you look closely you will see the iridescent glow within the throat. The sexual organ.

The colours bleed into the petals. They seem, at first , to be over-whelmed but the more you look the more you realize that the yellow petals are merely an invitation to proceed deeper. To enjoy the centre.

Green Window

Open the window for a little breeze. Imagine the number of bugs living in the vines.

People Are Strange

People are, I guess, just animals. Kind of like dogs, humans go around marking their territory except we have perfected more permanent ways than simply pissing on a tree.

We implant our markers. The earth is riddled with them. It is difficult to imagine just how many things of this sort are scattered around the world.

Sad

How does it happen? You (and by that I mean "I") say the wrong thing and it leads to sadness and that sadness leads to leads to your own sadness? There is no way right the wrong. It is there forever. Forever.

If only I believed William.

What's gone and what's past help
should be past grief.

-William Shakespeare

Trash

It is very interesting to have a nice run-up to a trash bin like this. Trot along the path avoiding touching the grass then slam the offending bit of trash.

This could be a new sport. The Run and Dunk. Big prizes. Or turn pro. Drive a really neat truck collecting game pieces to toss.

Simplex

Two things.

First, I like the outrageously simple design that lacks the mechanical perfection in today's world. I like the stark black and white.

Second, I like the word. It is from that time before it was used in communications. I like it for the obvious simple/complex conjunction.

And for those who want to kow, it is a box lid. Yes, box lid. Not a chastity type box lid but a journal box lid. Now you may ask "Who would put their journal in a special box with such a nice lid?"

What Everyone Needs

You need an anchor. That could be a belief in fellow humans, could be an art, could be an individual. You need someone or something to maintain your grip on your own worth. The anchor may me a piece of land that never changes; sort of a pied-à-terre. A place to visit when the world seems to crumble. A waterfall. A river. A mountain. Even a single tree.

A reminder that there is more to the world than you little visitation which will end way too soon.

Or not soon enough. Depends on your point of view.

Admit the Truth

I admit it so why don't you. I dislike crows. They are always there watching, listening, making comment. The sneer at us. Little flying superior beings.

They know about us. They know what we do. We are their servants. We supply their food and ask no payment.

Do we hate them because they are what we wish to be?

Singles

What an image for a singles club.

It is a difficult thing to be a "single" in this world. It is like being a stray atom being sucked into an all powerful black hole.

It is best to avoid those holes.

Lifeless

Unused for less than a year, this ball field is a dead ghost of what it once was. The lush green grass has become dry yellow wisps. The building is a shattered entity. The paint is peeling.

If the last human on Earth disappeared, how long before all visible traces also disappeared?

What's another word for Thesaurus? - Steven Wright

What is another word for "fresh"?

I actually looked it up. I found three synonyms for fresh (brand-new, pristine, virgin) but they don't come close to doing it justice.

I found a list of related Words (unaltered, unblemished, unbruised, uncontaminated, undamaged, undefiled, unharmed, unhurt, unimpaired, uninjured, unpolluted, unsoiled, unspoiled, unsullied, untainted, untouched, unused, unworn) but they just say what it is not.

Anyway, that is not the real point of this. Fresh is one of those words that I adore. For me (and don't ask me why) the spelling seems wrong. Almost dirty. In fact close to obscene.

Fresh.

The sound, however, is delightful.

Fresh.

The sound carries the implication of what it is. What it means.

Fresh. I like it. Not all that crazy about virgin.

Domestic Tool - Simple Art

No great artist ever sees things as they really are. If he did, he would cease to be an artist.

- Oscar Wilde

The world is filled with simple objects, tools, which if seen from just the right angle are things of sheer beauty.

Crucifix for my soul

Enjoying the heat of summer. Enjoying nature. No god is necessary to enjoy a Sunday in this glorious world. Walking with friends. Absorbing the wonders of our miniscule part of the universe.

A rose by any other name. . .

The world can be an ugly place. It has pain, suffering, cruelty.

The world also has beauty. There are little gardens of eden hidden in areas with poor reputations. Down in the 'hood' are oases of beauty across the street from drug addicts and hookers doing business.

If you are being dragged down by the ugliness, take a peek at the beauty.

It does help.

For A Limited Time

Not a good or inspiring photo but I think it is funny. Did they think about what they were putting on this bank window?

Candle in the wind

Now I don't want to say anything too rude in case you own - or even make - candles like these but give me a freakin' break! I mean a candle with a doggie inside waiting to be burned to a crisp? Or the baby nestled preparing itself for the inevitable warmth?

Now that wasn't rude, was it?

Music

I wish that I had music inside. There are people who seem to exude music. It is almost as if they leave physical traces where ever they walk. A stream of notes falling to the ground. Sticking to the trees. The colour of flowers seem to intensify.

Where is my music?