Wednesday, April 13, 2005
Passing by these every day
I live South of the River and work just North of it, just across Waterloo Bridge. Most days, morning and evening, I march across the bridge, ignoring or glaring at the view. Glaring at the view because I don’t want to be here viewing it.
Taking photos, it’s hard to keep glaring. Hard to look and look again and frame and move round and look again and stay detached and rejecting. Hard to look and look again and not be here and here. Hard to look for patterns and colours and stories and not see beauty and feel involved.
I thought I’d write more in my blog, feel rather disappointed in myself because so far I can only summon fragments. It’s a surprise to find that what I most enjoy is taking pictures. They take me out of the spinning tumbling words of frustration. Out of no, won’t, leave, can’t, and into stopping, being, looking. Out of grey weariness, blue melancholy, red temper, into grey water, blue sky, red tulips.
¶ 5:32 pm 
I live South of the River and work just North of it, just across Waterloo Bridge. Most days, morning and evening, I march across the bridge, ignoring or glaring at the view. Glaring at the view because I don’t want to be here viewing it.
Taking photos, it’s hard to keep glaring. Hard to look and look again and frame and move round and look again and stay detached and rejecting. Hard to look and look again and not be here and here. Hard to look for patterns and colours and stories and not see beauty and feel involved.
I thought I’d write more in my blog, feel rather disappointed in myself because so far I can only summon fragments. It’s a surprise to find that what I most enjoy is taking pictures. They take me out of the spinning tumbling words of frustration. Out of no, won’t, leave, can’t, and into stopping, being, looking. Out of grey weariness, blue melancholy, red temper, into grey water, blue sky, red tulips.
¶ 5:32 pm
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It is a wonderful view, though. Something rather noble and severe, steadfast, reliable about the Thames seen from London. Did you see the John Virtue paintings of it, currently at the Natl. Gallery? Quite impressive, I thought, but maybe a bit too much black.
And the Africa Remix show at the Hayward?
My favourite was that huge fabulous ceremonial "cloth" woven out of recycled bottle tops.
And the Africa Remix show at the Hayward?
My favourite was that huge fabulous ceremonial "cloth" woven out of recycled bottle tops.
# posted by 
: 5:53 pm
: 5:53 pm
Gosh Natalie, your comment appeared before I'd finished putting this up! It's a pain that Blogger only accepts one photo per post and a laborious (and visible) process of cutting and pasting then has to be undertaken.
I haven't seen the John Virtue paintings - must do so.
I haven't seen the John Virtue paintings - must do so.
I love the photo of the vines trailing along the power lines, and I love your writing too. Give us a little of both?
I love that first photo of the ferris wheel! And don't worry about what your blog "should" be: just let it take you were it wants. When I first started blogging, I thought it would be a vehicle for my writing: the photos were something I added later, and only reluctantly. Now, though, folks seem to like the photos as much if not more than the writing, which is something I never would have expected.
Blogging is largely about serendipity. If you show up & have the willingness to post *something,* something surprising will appear! :-)
Blogging is largely about serendipity. If you show up & have the willingness to post *something,* something surprising will appear! :-)
Writing is a lot like taking photographs. You frame the image and capture it. I have a harder time with photographs than words, and for you it's the other way around.
Maybe taking photos helps one to NOTICE, while writing it helps one to UNDERSTAND? At least that's my sense of it.
Maybe taking photos helps one to NOTICE, while writing it helps one to UNDERSTAND? At least that's my sense of it.
Jean, I love your comment, "Out of no, won’t, leave, can’t, and into stopping, being, looking. Out of grey weariness, blue melancholy, red temper, into grey water, blue sky, red tulips." I, too, find that photographing can help me just see. And I agree with the others here that you should just post whatever feels right. Sometimes the sentence-forming part of my brain is fatigued, or rattled, or unhappy while the visual and photo-taking part is doing just fine. Go with what wants to express itself.
I love these images. They say something to me about the observer in you; and your words in the last paragraph, yes I recognise this too.
The image of Hayward with Africa, taken from a very unusual angle.
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The image of Hayward with Africa, taken from a very unusual angle.
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