The morning of the anniversary of my birth I walked out onto the porch and noticed this tiny (30 mm) birthday cake.
(click images for larger view)
Leica R8/DMR, 15 mm Super Elmar
The shamrock dropped a bloom on the rotting cedar. It appeared as both a beautiful object and appropriate seasonal event. Attempting to capture, in a photograph, my thoughts and feelings upon encountering this tiny specimen proved elusive (as it so often does). The light changing by the minute. Which lens? How close? What’s the subject trying to say? Which point of view reveals the poem? Why can’t I find the message? These questions did not come consciously to mind; they rather occur non verbally while looking, focusing, moving, changing cameras and lenses, and points of view.
For me these transitional events, summer to fall, water becoming solid, aging, ice becoming liquid, hyper awareness of life in the process of change, hold magical potential; yet this idea seems difficult to express in a still photograph. 3 lenses, 2 cameras; and I don’t know if I’ve achieved anything near what I saw, thought or felt.
Leica M8, 65 mm Elmar on Visoflex
Leica R8/DMR, 100 mm Apo Macro Elmarit
{ 3 comments… read them below or add one }
Fantastic George. I love the black/white close up where the stamen looks like a candle on the cake. I have been a avid gardener since I was 15. To see the details of this flower, even though its’ days were short-lived, still expressed immense beauty. How can one not appreciate the smallest of Gods’ masterpieces?
I thank you for sharing this gift.
Suzanne
Happy birthday, George!
I sympathize with your questions here. Mary Warnock talked about ‘concrete imagination’ to describe when an artist or philosopher uses a natural phenomenon to help explore and express an idea that is usually thought of as only abstract. Concrete imagination makes more sensual what is otherwise only dimly intelligible and not easily picturable. I think that’s what you are doing too. Like when Heraclitus described reality and all in it as a constantly flowing and renewing river. Or when Sartre described morally dubious people as “slimy”.
This blossom, fallen on aging cedar, gave you a pleasant “happy birthday” surprise and said something to you. Maybe we can imagine the message and the metaphors. The flat parts of the petals rest softly on the aging wood, while the tube in the centre has not yet wilted. It points up, back to the source from where it fell. Like you do, on your birthday.
Peter
George, I have goosebumps all over. The picture and story are awesome. I just got done walking to work, and on the way I was thinking about the lift of water and whether, if it had consciousness, if it would experience death when it melted, evaporated, condensed and froze. Then to see this post – wow!
Happy birthday!