Head Filled with Light

I press my eye to another lens in invitation and fill my head with morning. The three vases dance with reflections, tossing sparks like confetti. On the wall, a miniature aurora borealis ripples. I touch the silent waves as if to test their depth. They skitter over my skin, painting my hand blue. The angle of sunlight changes, clouds arrive, and I lose my hold. My will no longer bends the muted light.

The three blue vases were a birthday gift from Thea. (Thanks and love!) The photo was taken 1/20/12. Click on image to enlarge.

Cosmic Piglet

Up way too early this morning, I was playing around with my camera, a Christmas marzipan pig from my younger daughter, an old etched copper plate from printmaking days, and some bubbled glass. Oh, and the muted morning light coming in through the sliders. I don't know what there is about this photo, but it makes me laugh. The floating pig seems to be looking down on Earth with goofy wonder. Just something silly to start the day, a little effervescence for you.

Does anyone actually eat marzipan? To enlarge the image, just click on the picture.

Looking

The virtue of the camera is not the power it has to transform the photographer into an artist, but the impulse it gives him to keep on looking.
-- Brooks Atkinson

And, I find, while looking through the extra eye of the camera, that I flinch with sweet shock at the other worlds revealed. I take delight in that deep focus, that revelation, that unfurling.

Follow the advice of Goethe:

Every day look at a beautiful picture, read a beautiful poem, listen to some beautiful music, and if possible, say some reasonable thing.
-- Goethe

Both quotes came from The Harper Book of Quotations, edited by Robert I. Fitzhenry, HarperPerennial, 1993, pages 345 and 344 respectively. The photo of the fern was taken last spring at The New York Botanical Garden, Bronx, NY.

Stained Glass Iris and Oskar Kokoschka

On Thursday, my next door neighbor brought me a fantastic purple and white mottled iris. It was impossible to stop staring at this towering beauty. I admired it from every angle, both in daylight and indoors. I discovered that the weak light of a card flashlight, aimed up through the petals at varying distances, created an abstract, stained glass effect. Check out the sugared stripes, the navy blue clouds, the twisting purple shadows. I like the contrast of the furry yellow center to the satiny swirls. There's almost a topographic pattern here, yet currents seem to move through the flattened image, drawing the eye in endless loops through the stilled flower.

I'm tempted to get out my pen and India ink to translate these images into a third interpretation of an iris. These gorgeous colors are magnetic, but the shapes alone hold their own ... as do the intricate patterns and paths. And perhaps more words? Another poetic take on the flower? (See the 5/17/08 post, "Somewhere Between Lilacs and Honeysuckle," to read "Lavender Cathedral," an earlier poem based on the iris.) Possibilities radiate from this flower, captive only in a photograph, which by Saturday was no more than a sticky knuckle on a stem.

I knew this iris image reminded me of something! The name Oskar Kokoschka just fluttered into my mind. He was an Austrian painter, poet and playwright. I couldn't remember the name of the painting swirling in my memory, but after doing a search for Kokoschka, the famous piece came up immediately: Bride of the Wind , also known as The Tempest, painted in 1913. (Click on the title to view the art and read about Kokoschka.) It represents his passionate love for Alma Mahler, the widow of Gustav Mahler. Back in time, I actually bought a used copy of the movie about Alma Mahler and this relationship, also called Bride of the Wind (2001).

Photos of iris taken 6/5/08. Click on images to enlarge.

Sunset, Dumpster

Sometimes, when you pull over the car to take a picture of an irresistible sunset, your eyes get tugged to the side by an unexpected gleaming place, by an object that calls out with its own spectacular colors and life. Just like poetry. What you set out to capture, to put down in ink, was really just leading you somewhere else.

Photo taken 4/12/08 off Route 22, Brewster, NY.

The Devil's Needle: Photographer Stu Jenks

Artists seem to resist strict classification. The creative force wants to express itself regardless of what form it takes. Stu Jenks, a photographer based in Tucson, is also a musician and now a writer. It's fascinating to read what he writes on his blog about his creative process, to follow his evolving methods, to witness his discoveries about the landscape, the people, and himself. He places himself at the intersection of planned location and beautiful accident. He's open to what arrives and captures it on film. Here's a link to his blog post about his visit to The Devil's Needle, Arbroath, Scotland.

Photo by Stu Jenks, used with permission.

Baby Muse

For a long time I have been wanting to share Baby Muse's mystical powers with other writers and artists. She has a certain something that is so mysterious and inspiring. Since she is only a head, I bought a little wood and glass display case for her, but captivity didn't work out too well. Instead, I ended up using the case as home for a tiny doll couple who sit inside on a bed of moss, staring out into the room from their eternal picnic. I'm still searching for the right setting for Baby Muse. Perhaps she's more of a wanderer, like the creative process. This afternoon I took her outside in the glittering snow for a photo shoot. I picked her a bouquet of icicles. She was awestruck. Just look at that radiant face!

Once upon a time there was going to be a Baby Muse "machine." I planned to put her and her accompanying assemblage somewhere where she could offer beautiful words and phrases to interested parties. I planned to write the intriguing words she whispered in India ink, on slips of pale gold parchment. I have lovely old-fashioned dipping pens which make gorgeous deep black lines. Maybe I'll still do that.

Meanwhile, here's part of the original directions/prose poem that were to accompany the Baby Muse machine:
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Baby Muse!

Transfuse Her Energy.

Her cracked fontanel

is an infinite well

of electricity.

Steal a spark of her creativity.

Inspiration guaranteed.

You may bask in her aura for FREE.

You may inhale her essence for FREE.

You may absorb her blue gaze for FREE.

Baby Muse’s First Words

To Amuse and Inspire

A Wee Spark to Start a Fire

in Your Brain

Select One, Do with It What You Will

One Precious Word per Human

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Do you think this could work online? I mean, you're right here, reading this -- you're probably a writer in search of inspiration yourself. Or an artist looking for a way into a new piece. Let's try something. If you send me an e-mail with "Baby Muse" typed in the subject line, I will e-mail you back one delicious and free word from Baby Muse's four page (so far) list. I know it won't be written in India ink on parchment, but let's see where it takes you. My contact information is listed in the sidebar.

Are you ready to be inspired? Happy Leap Year.