The light, the flower, my memory. These things are transitory, like dreams.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Yesterday the sun barely made an appearance. But, at the end of day, it lit up my garden with the warm glow of last light. I was closing the blinds on a bedroom window that looks out onto the Flame Vine and the light was bouncing off a dying bloom. I stared at it for a moment or two entranced by the mixture of the golden light and the orange tint of the flower. Then I hurried off to get my camera knowing that the ever so fickle light could be gone in an instant. I knew I didn't have time to waste by putting on shoes, and going all the way to the garden. I had to shoot it through the window, so shoot I did. What I got was exactly what I saw, with the exception of the dirty film covering the window. I really need to clean that window. However, the hazy look of the photograph appealed to me. I added a texture and using earthy tones, I found myself creating an image that turned out to be more than I expected. It was a moment captured, a moment that was now gone.