Comes The Rain
Under the gaining light in this second pandemic spring, hope rises. The invitation to happiness drops from the sky, illuminating a latticework of branches overhead. The natural scaffold casts lacy shadows across the glacial boulders below. Blossoms of light in silhouette grace solid stone. Detached pearlescent petals float into communion with granite facets reflected in the sunlight. For a moment, the solid and impermanent merge into eternal unity.
Breathe in the light. Breath means so much more a year on from the arrival of Covid. Breathe out the darkness. Stowed away for more than a year, I feel nourished and centered in the stillness and silence of my safe green space. Vaccinated now, I’m ready to walk into my worlds remade by the breath thief who stalks among us still. Let’s get our bearings. Read the universal map. Come along into the light. It’s safer now.
I make images to share hope. I would like to interpret the transition from the “pause” into the resumption of the dance of life, and, into the new revelation of life’s value. It is time to rediscover and reevaluate where we, who have changed, find ourselves on land that has changed too. Nature can teach us, heal us, reveal the inner coherence of the place where we are. We are there now.
The images I share here offer hope by giving witness to splendor. I aim to unveil beauty through abstraction. The panes, streaks and washes of light offer fragmentary reflection of the glory of spring. Reframing the representation of reality through movement, collage and color shifts, I invite the viewer to let loose her tight grasp on a single valid reality. There are reordered possibilities in all that has changed.
Spring comes slowly in New England. Suspended between seasons, the attenuated unfolding often begins in clearings in a beige woods punctuated by light. Patches of forsythia, forgotten deciduous azalea, quince and daffodil suddenly fill the eye with color. Grand specimen trees stand sentry to spring in private gardens and public spaces. One by one, they command attention by unveiling their bloom: magnolia, cherry, dogwood. Unleafed, their visible steadfast architecture showcases our new arising.
In this second pandemic spring, more than ever before we must live by hope. I hope my photography contributes to escaping the surface where we dwell most of the time. May my images help recover in you a memory or an intuition of what is attainable in our reordered worlds. Finally, as the fifteenth month of the pandemic closes, the long awaited cleansing rain arrives to wash us with kindness preparing us to go out again. Reborn.