Day 1914, different.

I sometimes wonder

what would happen

if everything we know

had suddenly

a different color

~

green sky

blue milk

red paper

 ~

would that

bring us any closer

Day 1910, slider.

Art is often used to tell a story about life, our lives, lives around us and the planet we live on. What art is, is hard to define but I like to think of art as that activity or product that is depicting life as it is not. In abstract art that is pretty obvious but a picture or painting of nature or a great poem or song can often strife to mimic, or rhapsodize about real life, but it will never comes close… enough. Every decision and detail has a purpose when you make a picture or write a song, there is a process going on, often unintended. There is no camera that can duplicate reality and the words we use to describe our world have changing meanings and interpretations, reality can only be approached.

The picture I used today is not necessary art but you can clearly see that it is nature with some dramatic clouds. That it is a black and white picture makes it immediately not a candidate for most accurate picture showing what I see from my garden, but the clouds are over dramatic without a doubt. In real life the sky was bright and I could see some clouds but there was no storm coming. But I like the stormy clouds in my picture, I created them by sliding some virtual sliders on my computer, easy. The strange thing is that I have seen clouds like that in the past, all dark and foreboding, at least I think I did. It is hard to recall what I saw in the past, I only have a vague image, like the once you see in your peripheral vision. Now I think of it, are there clouds that are almost black, or are they just dark grey in reality? I doubt myself now, maybe my memory is like art and used a mood slider on me, maybe it also depicts life as it is not.

What does art mean to you?

Ps. for the people that are interested, the “mood” slider in Lightroom is for me the dehaze one most of the time… I haven’t found a similar one inside me though…

 

Day 1896, tight.

I hold your hand

tight

in this scared world

~

seeing the strangers

who unwillingly

lure the child in you

away

~

but then again

it might just be me

scared

wanting to hold your hand

a little longer

Day 1879, new time.

We are moving to a new house

it will be

for a while

a bright spot

in our life

~

but time

it looks to go forwards

but it is just

slowly

showing you all that is new

till it isn’t

Day 1875, curiosity.

You know where I am

I told you a thousand times

~

but maybe the words I speak

the order they are in

the meaning I give them

are pointless

and empty for you

~

but you still know where I am

you could come by

and ask

what I mean

~

Or don’t you want to know?

Day 1874, seeing doubt.

The door stared at me in silence

as if it didn’t want to disturb me

in my hesitation

~

I realized

that I shouldn’t open a door

that looks at me

Day 1868, windows.

Sometimes in life

you look trough a small window

and the world appears

easier to digest

~

other times you open your eyes

and stand in front

of a large window

and the world appears

Day 1867, my two walls.

When you approach me

and want to get in

~

you can choose the nice door

easy to open

it is in

the unseemly wall

~

or take the other

the one in the nice

bright colored wall

but this door is old

and is probably not opened

for a very long time

Day 1864, chance.

When two strangers meet

each other across the street

~

a world of possibilities

implodes

dispersing into nothing

~

we all carry with us

a thousand different futures

~

don’t get attached to much

to the one you live now

~

you might someday

meet someone

on your side of the street

Day 1843, beating.

When you walk alone

in a city

~

listening to your heart

beating

~

the buildings fading

away

~

your thoughts follow

along

~

wondering whats behind

the next corner

~

hoping its

the same

Day 1837, something to read.

 

“Imagination enters into the taking of the photograph, if only by the choice of a point of view, which then becomes the point of view of those who look at the photograph. But imagination can enter into the photograph more deeply than it can into the map making. It is true that maps of the same area can differ precisely according to the purposes for which they are drawn – land use maps and geological maps for instance -but the business of the map maker is nonetheless to record information in a neutral way. The photographer by contrast can choose a point of view precisely in order to give the landscape a particular focus of interest. Furthermore, the more imaginative a photographer is, the more he or she is likely to select a point of view which, left to our own devices, we would not have chosen. In this way the photographer gets us to see what we would not otherwise have seen. Imagination chooses a point of view and the photograph directs our perception accordingly. It is not fanciful to speak of a photograph’s revealing new, and hitherto unimagined aspects of a landscape. All this of course is to be contrasted with doctoring the photograph. A photograph of a landscape, however imaginative, is to be distinguished from the celebrated ‘photograph’ of fairies at the bottom of the garden. It is at one and the same time a work of imagination and concerned with what is really there.”

From Philosophy of the arts. An introduction to aesthetics by Gordon Graham (ISBN o-415-16687-X ISBN)

Chapter 3, art and understanding Page 51 (E-book 2001)

Day 1797, open up.

It seems that I can only open up

these windows

all at once

and let the fresh air in

~

maybe I have to break

just one of them

to only let you in

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