2 blogs?

god almighty the decision to be a photographer or a writer is ever one of turmoil and confusion. especially because i can't seem to find a balance - photographs are always aesthetically pleasing (mostly.. I guess), where as loads and loads of black words on a white page have the potential to send people to sleep.. but writing is just so delightfully addictive. the opportunity is there to become somebody else, or be totally yourself, or be naive, or depressive, or sweet, or whoeveryouwantreallyprovideditappealstoyourtargetaudience/siguess.

anyway, who knows what's going on in my brain - mostly nonsense and jumbled thoughts and lots of images. perhaps this will be my rambles and the other my pictures? i like this name better anyway.

we shall see!

b

photogs. part II

more, as promised

recent photogs.

due to me being a slacker and having some sort of extreme creative breakdown, here are a couple of photos from recent activity in my life (although there has been limited amounts of this)

birthday, etcetera

Things have been a bit hectic up my way.

New beginnings and all that - promise I'll be good!

Be prepared, the onslaught of photographs is upon us.

X

ON BEAUTY from The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran

And a poet said, “Speak to us of Beauty.”

Where shall you seek beauty,
and how shall you find her unless she herself be your way and your guide?

And how shall you speak of her except she be the weaver of your speech?

The aggrieved and the injured say, “Beauty is kind and gentle.
Like a young mother half-shy of her own glory she walks among us.”

And the passionate say, “Nay, beauty is a thing of might and dread.
Like the tempest she shakes the earth beneath us and the sky above us.”

The tired and the weary say, “Beauty is of soft whisperings. She speaks in our spirit.
Her voice yields to our silences like a faint light that quivers in fear of the shadow.”

But the restless say, “We have heard her shouting among the mountains,
And with her cries came the sound of hoofs, and the beating of wings and the roaring of lions.”

At night the watchmen of the city say, “Beauty shall rise with the dawn from the east.”

And at noontide the toilers and the wayfarers say, “We have seen her leaning over the earth from the windows of the sunset.”
In winter say the snow-bound, “She shall come with the spring leaping upon the hills.”

And in the summer heat the reapers say, “We have seen her dancing with the autumn leaves, and we saw a drift of snow in her hair.”

All these things have you said of beauty.

Yet in truth you spoke not of her but of needs unsatisfied,
And beauty is not a need but an ecstasy.

It is not a mouth thirsting nor an empty hand stretched forth,
But rather a heart enflamed and a soul enchanted.

It is not the image you would see nor the song you would hear,
But rather an image you see though you close your eyes
and a song you hear though you shut your ears.

It is not the sap within the furrowed bark, nor a wing attached to a claw,
But rather a garden forever in bloom and a flock of angels for ever in flight.

People of Orphalese, beauty is life when life unveils her holy face.

But you are life and you are the veil.

Beauty is eternity gazing at itself in a mirror.

But you are eternity and you are the mirror.