"As I sit looking out of a window of the building
I wish I did not have to write the instruction manual on the uses of a new metal.
I look down into the street and see people, each walking with an inner peace,
And envy them..."
From "The Instruction Manual" by John Ashbery
8 comments:
once more I dip in, and leave refreshed. Thank you, Lori.
Oh, i love the photo!
Hey all y'all!
Jarvenpa: You are most welcome, and likewise when I visit your posts.
Dale: I am so glad! I went looking for color last weekend, and thought I'd find a lot of it at a classic car show. Alas, most of the cars -- and there were shockingly few -- were inside, dimly lit and resistant to a decent catch. (The weasely organizers also charged an arm and a leg for access with no ability to look inside, compounding my disappointment.) This, and one other, were sitting in the parking garage, near enough to open areas to soak up some of what I love...natural light.
And for some of those wondering how my post-trash-bin noggin is healing, all is pretty much fine. All I have left to show for the drama is lovely new scar right about at the crown chakra hidden beneath my hair, and a new-found "give the trash bin a wide berth" attitude.
Interesting and informative how important light becomes. Following stunning photographer Zoe Strauss on her grant-funded venture through Alaska, I note her frequent frustration with the winter light, so much so that it makes her home turn of South Philly seem exotic.
I do admire the personality you caught in this basic shot; it speaks to me more forcefully than the big star on the previous image.
Shelly: I think it wasn't until I began playing with digital cameras that I understood the medium was Light, and the light I preferred came from the sun. If my experience of winter light in Texas is that it is weak, attenuated, I can't imagine Zoe's struggle to make decent work that far north.
And I agree about the "inside the hall" images -- I was so po'd about being charged $12 for admission and $7 for parking, only to find an almost unphotographable situation with such limited choices, that I grabbed what I could.
Most of my weekend time is spent now on schoolwork, so I was determined to catch something in those precious two hours. Sadly, most of what I caught was not worth sharing in my estimation -- the star was a borderline share.
Thanks always for your astute eye!
Very nicely done, Lori.
the instruction manual as frame to the dream - gorgeous poem.
Gorgeous reflections, lines and hue. Makes me very curious as the model and year of this shiny machine.
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