Sunday, December 16, 2012

Music and Poetry.

     I am feeling all the things. When this happens, I usually go to music or poetry*. Here are both:


Take a Deep Breath and Run

PANIC.
ABSOLUTE PANIC.
RESOUNDING, REPOUNDING PANIC.
Though it reoccurs often enough,
it still induces PANIC.
Quiet PANIC.

Though some instances
create butterflies in stomachs
and others create nothing but pain,
these situations create whole heaps of trouble
and a mess.
Always a terrifying, horrible mess.

PANIC.
You almost forgot,
but PANIC never quite lets you forget
that others are upset
and others expectant
and PANIC.

Stop.
Focus on something.
Something that makes you sigh.

Now,
Relax and go outside.
Take a deep breath and run.

Breathe.
Digest the copious air.
Let it scrub the panic away.

Run.
Don't sprint to get away,
run to think things through.

Then,
when you can
live and feel again,

Return.
Walk to the couch,
sit and make some realizations.

Because you need to.


Ghost of Corporate Future


I do

Outside the air and sky were made of ice.
The wind was howling, making a black din.
But everything I saw and heard was nice,
When I could hold you close and breathe you in.
The windows showed the white heaps of the snow.
Beyond the walls the clouds were growing gray.
But listening to Nat King Cole all low,
I knew - in fact - it all would be okay.
When cold, hard life was looming over me
And I just felt like everything was wrong.
You held me close and helped my soul to see,
What beauty could be found in Winter's song.
Then all at once I noticed something new:
I realized that I do, I do love you.


Laundry Room


Your Eyes

Your eyes just don't
go away.

They are not so
piercing blue.

They are not a
rich, deep, brown.

They are simply
real-life green.

Not a dream,
simply beautiful
reality.


Goodness Gracious


A Finger, Two Dots, Then Me



Raindrops


Naked As We Came















*warning, this will all be very sappy and angsty. Bite me. Also, it will probably make no sense.

Sunday, December 9, 2012

Ode to Photography

     In my Humanities class, we discussed a poem by John Keats entitled "Ode on a Grecian Urn". It was written during the final stages of Keats' short life and muses on a fictional Grecian urn that contains scenes of a story that does not exist. Rather than discuss a real piece of art, Keats decides to commentate on art in general.
     Keats ponders different scenes painted on the urn and reveals how jealous he is that they are forever trapped in that scene. The maidens that are teasingly fleeing the pursuing men will always be lovely and the pursuing men will always be thrilled by the chase. The boy who is about to kiss his love will always be in love and the girl whom the boy is about to kiss will always be beautiful. The trees will never die. It will always be spring. Those people will always and forever be eternally there. Frozen in time.
     This got me thinking about how photography is essentially the same. It is an art form that freezes a moment forever. That second in time is stuck for eternity for better or for worse. So I created a photo essay based on this idea. Hope you enjoy it:

Eternal Spring

 Falling

Moonrise Over St. George 

Indecision 

Collision

 Ecstatic Leap

A Question

"'Beauty is truth, truth beauty,' - that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know."
- John Keats, "Ode on a Grecian Urn"