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Thursday, May 19, 2011

Blossom Intoxication


The first spring blossoms have arrived in our yard - so thrilling!  Intoxicating, too.  I took so many photographs, and I love them all, maybe just because of the long winter, the long wait.  


So yes, a few hours of pure drunkenness.  First picking the blossoms, then arranging them, photographing them, and then fiddling with photos on the computer, then uploading them here and on Flickr.  It will be interesting to see Rob's take on them.  The afternoon has clouded over, and he tends to shoot in full, super saturated light.  Perhaps he'll have his turn with them tomorrow.  Of course he photographs them with an eye to painting them, which really is a completely different process.  And the process is so much slower.  I mean, look, I just quickly shot these photos, and magic, voila, they appear on the screen.  Rob's process is more methodical.  Even when he photographs something it will usually be a long time before he will approach it in paint.  He has a table in his studio where he was layers and layers of photos spread out.  He lives with an image for quite a while before he will ever paint it.  As though the image must somehow become part of his memory bank first.  I love digital photography for the immediacy, the instant high.  But paintings, you know you can feel the length of time the artist has lived with an image, how it has become stuck on his or her being, no matter how quickly the paint finds its way onto canvas.  Time is painted into the image too, I think.


Well, I'm enjoying my own blossom-intoxication, or as Rumi would put it - spring giddiness, today, and hope you, as well, have 'time to be drunk!'



Be Drunk




You have to be always drunk. That's all there is to it—it's the only way. So as not to feel the horrible burden of time that breaks your back and bends you to the earth, you have to be continually drunk.
But on what? Wine, poetry or virtue, as you wish. But be drunk.
And if sometimes, on the steps of a palace or the green grass of a ditch, in the mournful solitude of your room, you wake again, drunkenness already diminishing or gone, ask the wind, the wave, the star, the bird, the clock, everything that is flying, everything that is groaning, everything that is rolling, everything that is singing, everything that is speaking. . .ask what time it is and wind, wave, star, bird, clock will answer you: "It is time to be drunk! So as not to be the martyred slaves of time, be drunk, be continually drunk! On wine, on poetry or on virtue as you wish."

1 comment:

  1. How lovely your blossom branches are! I feel so ripped off... My flowering trees are, well.... not flowering. I would love to be drunk in the aroma of their flowers. I may have to have a walk through your backyard.....

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