There is strange poetry in repeating the same action over and over again.
My girlfriend and I want to be a bit creative, we want to make art with the dried flower petals of things that grow in my garden. I picked her some christmas roses (Hydrangeas) and she thought that these would work perfectly for our little art project.
So, I began cutting the small flower petals... one... by... one...
It is no easy task as the petals are so densely packed. But I managed to cut through some staggering amount of flowers that I will lay out on pages of old books. There is yet another poetic nature to this as well, something beautiful in using old books in this manner.
But the real poetry was in the repetitive task of laying the flowers between the pages. There was something incredibly satisfying in the motion.
While doing this, I saw the lighting in the kitchen was perfect. The late afternoon sun cast a strange "soft" kind of light in the kitchen and with some petals lying messily over the pages, I knew I needed to grab my camera. The last couple of weeks, I could not escape the humdrum and repetitive nature of adult life. This routine sucked the creative juices from the very bones in my body. But in this fleeting moment, everything crashed over me again. I felt the familiar vibrancy in my limbs, the creative juices flowing through my veins.
These photographs are the effects of this moment, and I want to share them with you. Hopefully, you will enjoy these photographs.
The Poetry of Repetition
Postscriptum, or Poetic Blues
Rare moments of reflection and introspection sometimes lead to something poetic. The soft light of the sun reflects into the kitchen while doing something repetitive. It was wholly unplanned. But is most poetry not an amalgamation of arbitrary and contingent things? Unplanned for art.
In any case, I hope that you enjoyed these photographs. They are but a poetic semblance of a chaotic period.
For now, happy photographing and keep well.
All of the photographs are my own, taken with my Nikon D300 and 50mm Nikkor lens. The musings and reflections are also my own.