I am not a photographer. I am passionate about image making but I would never in a million years have the cheek to call myself a photographer.I don’t know what half the buttons on my camera actually do and that suits me very well because it means that I am not about to outgrow my trusty D90 anytime soon.
There is only so much room in my head for technical information and that space is crammed full of chemical formulae, ceramic jargon and the exact melting point of certain rocks.
My camera helps me to daydream, the tantalising curve of a distant hill morphs into the rim of a free form platter. Clouds turn into Dragons and Valkyries and the patterning of light and shade through the trees lends itself to thoughts of mottled glazes on feminine vase forms.
There is beauty in death, my mothers dead hands were the most beautiful shade of pale ivory. When I remember the day my mother died, I don’t remember all the details but I do remember the colour of mums hands and how soft they were.
These tulips were glorious in full bloom.
They are also equally beautiful in death.
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You know how I said before that I liked the third picture? Well, I’ve changed my mind and now I like the second picture better 😉
I like them all Geoffrey. It was just a sweet little photo session where I concentrated on light and shadow, colour and form. Somedays everything just clicks.
I like both 2nd and 3rd, there is a beauty in death captured in those flowers.
In a non-serial killer way.
I have some beautiful photos of roadkill as well Jayne, it is sad and beautiful
Kim, “I have some beautiful photos of roadkill as well” would usually be a great conversation-stopper! So funny that here we all know what you mean. The contrast between living and dying tulips is marked, isn’t it – so solidly coloured, jaunty and firm when alive, softly drooping and beautifully faded as they die.
I kept some red roses Rish gave me once for a couple of years because they had dried so beautifully 🙂
Some flowers dry beautifully and some flowers die beautifully. I saw some gorgeous macros of mould the other week and those photos were what I was keeping in mind as I kept the dying tulips.
They are beautiful, even in death.
I have photos somewhere of my dying roses, I should find them….
Hopefully no one takes pictures of me when I am dead because I don’t think I will be this lovely or flower-y.
Its that jug again distracting me. I actually think you are a talented photographer so there. x
Whenever I see your photos I instantly think ‘photographer’. But you’re so much more than that.
I have seen the beauty in dying flowers and I have photographed them. You are the first person I have come across who could see it as well. Your story about your mother is very touching. You clearly are a very sensitive person.
Andrea @ From the Sol
Beautiful.
Kim, I hope you read this, I’ve tagged you for a challenge scheduled to go up at my place tomorrow.