Archives for posts with tag: mood

The connection to yesterday’s image are the wings, otherwise they have nothing in common. I could easily write a twenty page essay about the meaning of this photograph, which is called Fly shit on the world, but don’t worry, I won’t. It is obvious that there are many different layers to it.

It is another example of the images I thought would only appeal to me as the artist. I was surprised the other day when I had it up on my screen at work and a friend walked in and said to me: “Print this on A1 and I’ll hang it up.”  Before I could be flattered he added “What is it?”  I guess he must have been attracted to the colours in the first instance. I couldn’t enter into a discussion with him, he was gone as quickly as he had come and along the way lost his chance to get a print-out of this one. I am happy to give him another one of my images though, one that is more easily understood.

I leave you alone with this one today.

I love this image of the submerged leaf with the fairy dust specular highlights, and the water softly flowing past. It’s very peaceful and calming. It’s almost as if the leaf is being caressed by the water.  I love to hike up the mountains here. Rivers bathed in sunlight look like melted gold. (Yes, …there is gold up in them mountains.) And you return home so much richer.

Monday morning and I am running late. Might have something to do with the Wimbledon finals and us being on the other side of the world (it started at 1 am in the morning here).

This image here  is called Down the road from the fairytale garden. People who know my hometown, know where it is. It is really down the road from the fairytale garden.

This image was taken on an island in the Baltic Sea, called Rügen. I think every German knows the scenery, it has been made famous by the romantic painter Kaspar David Friedrich. Even though the scenery is engraved in the common German memory, I don’t think that quite as many people have actually seen the white cliffs in nature. The island belonged to Eastern Germany when the country was still divided. It was military territory and therefore out of reach.

It is a mystic place, I could not describe it any differently.  We went there in winter (summer might be a different story), and we had the place all to ourselves. The image I had in my post Friends!? was taken at the same place, but at the bottom of the cliffs.

When I look at this image I can hear the silence of the place and feel the protection of the trees all around me. I can feel the springy layer of humus under my feet and smell the damp moss. It is a huge problem I personally have as an image maker in that only I have all this additional information that went into the image and everything comes back instantly when I look at it. My images are always personal memories and this is the reason why I am hesitant to share them. They might evoke emotions in other people, but what the viewer feels will always differ from what I felt.

Of course we all know that advertising imagery is build on the common memory. It is never-fail generic  imagery that evokes feel-good moods. But what is going to happen when we sit in front of the computer day in, day out and never learn what damp moss smells like. Will these images still work?

Landscape images are not really my thing to take. It annoys me tremendously that I can’t capture the grandness of nature. They always look flat. I usually work right at the other end of the scale in space by exploring the minute, the intimate, what’s right at your feet. Here I am often after a simplicity and a sort of flatness (for a lack of a better word). But unlike portraits of people (which I don’t ever attempt to take, except of people I know extremely well) I do sometimes try landscapes.

This morning I couldn’t decide which of the two images I should use today. They couldn’t be more different, so they have both ended up on the blog in one post. One is the weather as it is outside, the other represents more of my inner landscape at the moment. Which is which I won’t say!

This image here I took six years ago. I like the juxtaposition of the lines with the round crater. For obvious reasons I originally called it “Square peg in a round hole.” It is just a close-up of some rocks we were climbing over at the time.

When I accidentally came across this image today, a totally different interpretation jumped out at me.

There is a little story to go with it: A friend of mine, a school teacher, was once asked by one of her pupils: “Tell me Miss, what was the world like when it was still black and white?” I just love this story. The pupil was of course referring to black & white photography and TV.  When I first heard the story, I thought it was so cute I laughed. Today, my answer would be: “The world was more colourful then…” as there must have been so much more room for imagination.

Today, when I glanced at the photograph, I instantly saw a smiling face with a rock hurled at it from a giant fist. When I showed my discovery to a friend,  he couldn’t quite follow. So I coloured it in for him in Photoshop. Now the image is called: “Honestly, I didn’t see this coming!”

However this is a very disturbing interpretation, and I went looking for another image. It took me a while, but this time it is called: “Life is beautiful!” It shows two playful figures in the sun.

Thank God you always remember what you saw last. I have difficulties seeing the giant fist now when I look at the black and white original.

Everything around me is in flux at the moment. I am not a rock, I am a pebble.

Rocks brave the tide. They are strong and stand their position. But over time they will be ground down.

Pebbles on the other hand are small fries. They might get uplifted and swirled around, yet it is very reassuring they will settle again. A few inches to one side maybe, but there is always a chance it will be in an even sunnier spot.

For now I am happy it’s Friday again.

I got really worried about Lou. He hides sometimes, but never for long. This morning I had a look in the kennel outside, a place he really hates as he thinks it is beneath him to live in a wooden shack. But there he was… curled up and staring into space. When I called out to him he choose to ignore me. I had to call three times and ask what the matter is. He said: “Nobody loves me”. “Of course we love you,” I replied knowing very well, how little my words meant to him at this moment.

I crouched down in front of the kennel and invited him to tell me his side of the incident with Skeleton Edeltraut.

According to him he meant well. He says, he heard Skeleton coming home. She obviously had difficulties opening the door carrying all the shopping bags and being on the mobile at the same time. He wanted to help and ran over to the door to open it, but she had already managed it herself and was inside. When she saw him she dropped all her bags and ran up the stairs. He grabbed what he could of the shopping and ran after her, but she just dived under the bed. He waited outside, still short of breath, he wanted to tell her there was no need to run, but she never showed.

“I do love her, you know”, he added more to himself than for me to hear.

The conversation I was supposed to have with Lou was on my mind all day yesterday. I could hardly concentrate on my work. On my way back I stopped at the wine shop and bought a bottle of red. I thought I’d have it while cooking dinner, so it will be easier for me to talk later.

I had forgotten that whenever I open a bottle of red, The Professor pops up out of nowhere and of course with Pig in tow (they are an item – totally inseparable. If you ask me, it is a case of co-dependency. But who asks me!).

These guys certainly saved Lou from his talk. They usually don’t stop at a single bottle and I had to dip into the good stuff I keep in the kitchen rack for special occasions. I left them to it and went to bed around 11pm. I don’t know what they were doing all night, but they were still hanging around when I got up this morning. The Professor gets very melancholic when he drinks and he loves to solve the problems of the world in this state. He can really talk, particularly round and round in ever decreasing circles. Pig doesn’t say much at the best of times, just holds on to his wine glass. It was all a bit too much for me last night.

This morning they both were very quiet and they moved on relatively swiftly after I made them a good strong coffee (and left me with the mess!). I haven’t seen Lou yet.