grey with white line


thealteredpage said...

Such an original, moody shot.

Liz said...

this picture is one of my favorites!

karin said...

Woah!!! This is strong!

Christine said...

Very beautiful. (I really like your blog) I also very much enjoy your reading list. Inspiring. I think I will read "Encyclopedia of an ordinary life" Is it good?

Marjojo said...

Erin, I was so pleased to find your comment! It’s been a long time since I’ve heard from you and I have been wondering about why. And here you are and as ever your comment beautifully illuminates and expands on what I’ve been trying to formulate. Thank you.
It’s interesting to see your blurred landscape images against the text that accompanies them. Your descriptions are so specific and precise, I found myself clasping on to them as with the images my eyes kept trying to focus, as if they were a camera lens. Looking at them again I still feel sure they will become clear in just a moment. Strangely that makes me feel more involved – like I’m about to step into these foreign landscapes, as if in a dream.
Love the way you write about nature there, your encounters with it and the changes you’ve found. As I’m a city-girl what you describe is utterly alien to me and holds magic.
The b/w-image seems out of time. The shapeless white areas utterly mysterious against the lines. And that subtle glow of light in the upper left corner. Beautiful.
PS. Wondering about Virginia Woolf’s surname being ‘wolf and sheep rolled into one’ – not sure what you mean and very curious.

Erin said...

Thank you Liz and Seth.

Christine, you will probably like Encyclopedia of an Ordinary Life, it's a fun read. Let me know what you think.

Thank you for your response to my blurs. It's good to have a very specific response to them, I am coming to prefer them over my other photo images. I read recently that photography different from most mediums in that drawing and painting and sculpture are about creating work from nearly nothing, whereas most photography is about editing the whole world down to a precise sliver. These for me are a bit about that.
I forget sometimes how specific my childhood was to me. I spent so much of my time out there alone, yet rarely lonely or afraid. I'll have to write more about it perhaps.


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