It’s funny how memory works.
When my latest experiment — with a shot of branches reflected in a puddle — morphed into an abstract pattern that reminded me of a wallpaper design, I couldn’t help playing some more.
Adding a second image, of some blossom in bud, stirred memories of the living room of a childhood home which had a feature wall covered with paper of a bold design overlaid on the wallpaper which hung on the remaining walls.
Even though this design isn’t that which adorned our long-ago living room, I still feel my mind prickling with the inhaled dust of old memories.
Photography is all about light; about capturing how and where, and the intensity with which it shines.
In the montages here, two shots of the same view are overlaid. The first shot was in focus, showing trees silhouetted against the sky. The second shot was out of focus, reducing the image to blob and bokeh.
The difference between the two montages is largely an effect of the intensity of the light electronically shone in the editing process.
Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end. — Seneca
Not that the provenance really matters in terms of the basic wisdom of the words — as any gardener who has just dug home-made compost into their vegetable patch will tell you.
As the Big T and I are moving (albeit at glacial speed) towards changing and simplifying our lives, it becomes clearer that the end of one era facilitates the start of another. Especially as the boy-child has flown the nest.
I shot the two photos in this montage last week on a road-trip through the central North Island. As I spend more time out of Auckland, I realise that small-town — or at least provincial — New Zealand is almost certainly part of my new beginning.
I’ve played with the colour editing a little bit, and am not sure which version I prefer. What do you think?