Structure in negative spaces.

I "found" this photo among my soon to be discarded photo sorting after Tyson's graduation.  He walked away while I was trying to do a candid shot. So instead of Tyson I caught the supports of the place and the event.  I am particularly impressed at how the deciduous tree neatly filled the empty spot in the composition.  The handrail divides the photo into an optimal third of the empty space which in turn is filled with a person's back mirroring Tyson's back and gown floating off to the left while a celebratory balloon floats int the composition from the right.

Blackberry Picking is a Metaphor

When picking these blackberries I entered a mental "zone".  Picking blackberries became a metaphor for making a living.  The whole idea was to reach the berries, select the ripe ones and extract the prize from the tangled clutch.  It occurred to me that this required preparation, (dragging along stepladder, thick clothes, secateurs), intention, (I wanted the berries from the vines  to be in my bucket), willingness to change tactics, (extend my reach or cut out the branches), selecting and discarding useful goods and processes ( I needed to touch the blackened berries to see if they were ripe and sweet then pluck or pass over the selected fruit), gathering wealth (getting the berries in the bucket and keeping the container secure),  evaluation and review (stepping back from my picking to check out my bucket and the location of any other accessible berries), appreciation (tasting the berries and sucking up the sunshine).  A lot like having a life.
I was amazed how much more meaningful the whole task became by creating these metaphors as I worked.  I now have over 30 pounds of berries in the freezer, enough for wine and breakfasts for a while to come.

Work and other Natural Forces

The boy opens the gate to the meadow where the late spring grass and blooms display themselves.  He carries a sharpened hoe and pitchfork one in each hand.  His lunch, drinking water and slings hang around his shoulder.  He stops at the galvanized steel drum set into the ground by the path.  The lid was warm and white in the sun.  After dropping his tools and harness, he hoists the lid onto the ground and looked into the well.  There was only a dim glistening at first then a circle of translucence reflect his face and sky.  He reads the water for unaccounted disturbance.  As he does a dim crescent moon emerges below.  He hold this view of his shadowed face and the sky for several heartbeats.

A woman steps out of prefab hut on an Arctic ice field with a large caliber rifle on her shoulder.  The sun was due east casting long shadows westward.  She pulls the bolt of the gun and checks the chamber for a shell.

At the field, he takes a bearing on the poplar trees half a mile away. He then takes out weeds from the rows, sliding the ones with seed heads into his sling.  After his load becomes unwieldy he walks the earth scented plants to the spot where his fork  handle announces his mornings territory.  He dumps the weeds then returns to the rows using the bearings he had redrawn in his mind. 

By noon the weeds form a mound large enough to lie in and nod off. 

The woman watches the gauges in the instrument shack and reads the last 18 hour history of electronic measurements. There are abnormal patterns with numbers outside the 2nd standard deviation.   The wind is blowing snow into hard crescents drifts.   The ground drifting is 4 meters so that the woman can only see the maw of blue sky overhead and her boots on the snow pack below. The horizon is gone, there was no north, south east or west only up and down.  She holds the yellow rope and sliding it through her mitts, follows it back to the hut.  Outside the door today's bear spores are almost worn away by the wind.

As the sun moves due west the boy piles weeds using the pitchfork.  He joins one pile to the other until only one remains.   As he works he sees the large brindled dog trotting down the red dirt path.  It slows, sniffs on one side of the track then turned and smells the other side.  The dog turns and looks boldly into the boy’s eyes.

At the hut the woman saw dusty red earth and green crop rows in her minds eye.  She hadn’t seen the polar bear today because of the drifting snow.   She unloads the rifle and puts it into its shackled closet.

Back in the day

This is a photo of two siblings and I taken some time ago.  Farms, at that time where an all purpose industry that inculcated generalist skills.  The methods were mostly organic and you could see your next meal awaiting you in the yard or garden.    Crop failures happened but job loss didn't really exist.  You always had another job to go to when the you finished with the one at hand.

Winter Light

I miss the winter light with clear sky and snow.  We have some snow last night and it was refreshing.

Many people who move to the west coast of Canada from the prairies return to their familiar landscape.  Its said that the light has something to do with this.

Bound and Unbound

Open and Bound Images by Bern

Some of my time I spend worrying about the future.  I do find that moderate worry fuels my aspirations.  The worrying that is most inspirational has to do with large picture issues that I can have an opinion about and on which that my actions will likely have little effect.  More immediate issue like finances are less aspirational even though I believe that I can have an effect on them. As a younger person I never really thought I had regrets but as my work life gets more circumscribed I find that I do have some regrets.  A moderate amount of regret seems to give me some insight about how I should live right now. An example of a minor regret I have is I believe I should have done more drawing and watched fewer commercials on TV.   I do have to be honest and say I don't have any nagging regrets.  I am an uneasy and content person. 
I have started doing more drawing and painting after having spent quite a bit of time starting my counselling practice, planning and completing some changes in our yard.  Both these projects have been satisfying but for shear pleasure I find that I return to drawing and painting.   I have always returned to these activities.   It unbinds me from my daily ration of worry and regret.