I may sound like a broken record right now, but it’s hard for me to find inspiration in the Winter. It seems like all color – and therefor all cheer – has faded from the world. I sit inside my apartment going through old photos, but it’s not the same. There must be something beautiful in this world of white. Hoping to get me out of the house (and perhaps out of the funk), my husband suggested that he and I take a walk after one of the most recent storms. This was brave of him – he has the heat retention of a chihuahua, so wandering around in the snow is something that he might do for me, but rarely to never for himself. In truth, it was quite beautiful in a pristine the world is standing still sort of way – the last post included a shot of the mountain seen through the snow from the walk.
But I’m not a girl to take photos of mountains in the snow – it’s not me. I like shape, color, form…complexity, texture. I visited my favorite local statue of the Madonna, hoping that she would give me inspiration but she was just snow covered and drab. The doors to the closest cemetery were both locked and snowed in. I was about to write the day off as mostly a loss (photographically anyways) when we came across a hydrangea bush covered in snow. The density of the dried petals created spots where the snow had clustered in some place but not in others – it was strikingly beautiful in form and shape. Still, there is a drabness to color of dried flowers covered in snow on a cloudy day. The form and texture of the flowers was inspiring but the final image was not.
If this was summer, if I was feeling inspired at every street corner, I would have moved on – but this was the one object that had caught my attention in weeks. I sat with Lightroom open – wondering? In the end, I ended up with an image that was striking if not particularly indicative of the original. It was frosty and cold, like the day. Still – perhaps not quite right:
Winter is about abstraction – dipping deep within your subconscious to uncover and reexamine the events of the preceding seasons. A hibernation of the body so that the mind can be free – perhaps. As I stared at my “finished” image, I found that though form had been what I was going for, it had too much form. And so I sat down to play – cropping the image this way and that, exploring the new ways that the shapes appeared separated from its whole. I spliced the image into pieces, and then began to reshape it again. The piece is, currently, untitled.