Saturday, December 31, 2011

Last Light of Two O Eleven

Last Light of Two O Eleven

It was raining gently this morning as I got out of bed. It made me happy to think of all the planting I have done in the garden in the last couple of weeks.  Later I stepped out to the front garden taking a break from reading Murakami new 1Q84 book.  I decided to have a red grapefruit from the young tree. As I carefully chose the most ripe one with an attractive red blush on the deep yellow skin, I observed that there were still rain droplet on the grapefruits and I got in and got my camera in order to capture fresh washed fruits hanging between the deep green leaves of the tree which I have tended so carefully during the year.  Recently I decided to count how many fruits were on this still small tree and pretending that I am doing a pseudo scientific research I marked all the grapefruits with numbers using a black indelible laundry marker.  Naturally I had to ignore this aesthetic interference in my photographs.

It is late afternoon, being fully engrossed in Murakami’s narrative which reads like a suspense novel, I cannot escape a continuing reflection on the fluid passage of time.  It is very quite around here today with a cold fresh day outside.  As a late wintery sun is timidly shining on the smooth concrete back deck, I take the camera and think about capturing the last light of two o eleven. Somehow I have a profound desire that my photographs will silently speak for me and I would not have to use words.  I make a decision to capture the shadows projected on the studio wall. It is freshly painted with a light white yellow paint.  I place the camera on a tripod and shoot a short three minutes video, slowly underexposing it as it progresses towards its conclusion.

Through the large window, I watch the sunset paints the horizon with deep reddish orange and purplish hues. A light wind is blowing and certain calmness can be perceived.  It is most welcomed as it is seems fully evident that here, now, moments of calmness and serenity are rare exception in the great sea of volatility that engulfs us. Like any stormy sea, it sends its heavy rollers continuously, but in most cases our limited perception does not allow us to be aware of their coming.    Maybe this is what Mr. Murakami is trying to convey again in his complex book.  And maybe this is what my video and photographs will be enable to convey to an astute observer, as the preceding  thoughts were certainly involved in their creation.   


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