blog — Wave 108 Photography

Referential Images When Memory is full blurred child by the sea hq.png

When Memory is full
Put on the perfect Lid -
This Morning's finest syllable
Presumptuous Evening said -

-- Emily Dickinson

Ocean Waves wave and sky at evening hq.png

The sea is never still.
It pounds on the shore
Restless as a young heart,
Hunting-

-- from Young Sea by Carl Sandburg

Reflections koi and wildflowers 5.13.18 hq.png

Kublai Khan sat on the edge of his pond of golden Koi in Xanadu, conversing with Marco Polo.

Gazing at the ripples in the pond, smiling at the wildflowers, he said to Marco, "There is a world of joy and there is a world of pain. They are separated by a diaphanous film, and you can cross from one to the other. Those who cross into the world of pain do not know they can leave again. Those who enter the world of joy know how fragile the world of joy is, like a dew drop, and are constantly aware of how brief, how transient, their time in this world will be. This knowledge sharpens their sense of wonder, and they pay attention, seeing beauty everywhere."

Marco Polo nodded.

- by Steve (with apologies to Italo Calvino and Samuel Coleridge)

Referential Images Palm at end of mind.moonlight beach.hq.png

The palm at the end of the mind,

Beyond the last thought, rises

In the bronze decor...

-- from Of Mere Being by Wallace Stevens

rock turtle on beach with beautiful wave hq.png

A story told to me by a mermaid at Windansea:

Once there was a stone on the beach at Windansea. It loved the white surf foam that washed over it, and yearned to swim free in the blue ocean. It wanted to follow the deep currents to other shores. Guided by the mermaids of Windansea, the waves washed over the stone until it had the shape of a great sea turtle. Filled with joy, the stone became a laughing turtle, and crawled into the surf. Look closely--you can see it starting its journey. It found a deep true current to take it to Tahiti.

- by Steve

blurred the other shore of the sea which has no other shore not re-sized hq.jpg

- la otra orilla del mar que no tiene otra orilla.

(the other shore of the sea that has no other shore.)

-- from The Watersong Ends by Pablo Neruda

Time spent with hummingbirds is never wasted.

Bubble with scene reflected.double reflections of sun over CA Tower of Balboa Park's CA Bldg.blue on blue 9.11.18 hq.png

I like the innocence and wonder of bubbles. Children in Balboa Park had fun chasing after these huge soap bubbles, running and laughing--but this one got away before they could burst it. As it drifted up and away into a beautiful evening sky, it caught reflections, taking a little of the world with it. What look like candles, one upside down, are actually double reflections of the sun over the California Tower of the California Building, built in 1915, which now houses the San Diego Museum of Man.

- by Steve

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A Flower in Oslo
- Mono no aware (物の哀れ) -

Empathy towards flowers
Does not seem such a bad thing.
When I was a child
I heard my mother say
That April showers bring May flowers.
That seemed good.
The world had an order.
Rain, flowers, love.

Springs came and went,
And when I grew up
I heard it said
"There are tears
at the heart of things."
Old Seamus said so, and he'd know.
But whether tears of joy,
Or tears of sadness,
I didn't know, and my mother did not say.

Or whether it is sometimes one,
But then again, sometimes the other?
For all of her springs and all of her winters,
And her roots deep and silent in the earth,
I don’t think my mother knew, either,
If it was the one, or if it was the other one.
Was it sad tears after happy, or glad tears after the sad.

After a rain, empathy and grief,
Sadness and beauty--why not?
The tears in my heart
Fall on flowers in Oslo.
Here is a white tulip,
Beaded with raindrops.
It is spring in Oslo
At the heart of things.
It is not any other day.

It seems to me spring does not come as often now,
But when it does, and the flowers emerge
From the dark earth
I let myself feel, and let gladness take me.
There is joy at the heart of things.
It is a choice, on days in May
When rain dews the tulips.
I won't speak of other hours.

- by Steve

Karen Fryberger July 3, 2020

Stars, interrupted.

Van Gogh's The Starry Night, at the Museum of Modern Art, NYC. Before Covid-19. The Prado in Madrid once hired a photographer to take pictures of people looking at its paintings, from Goya to Velázquez. They were blown up and put in the corridors. This is a homage to that project. It deserves a witty caption, which is beyond me. The starry night, lost in a crowd.

It is worth examining as a pre-coronavirus moment. No masks. No distancing. They squeeze close for selfies and instagram pics. Are willing to inhale and exhale together, to breathe in the common air. No fear. An innocence. They don't know what is coming.

Not a post-apocalyptic scene but a pre-apocalyptic one. I fear we are the moment in between, apocalypse now.

What do we do when we can't see the stars?