Simple Photography

Autumn

2012-03-04T21:52:00.000Z

Winter Wonderland (Part 2)

2012-02-26T21:56:00.000Z

Snow Black

2012-02-18T15:41:00.000Z

Winter Wonderland

2012-02-12T13:18:00.000Z

Walking in a winter wonderland...

Memoirs

2012-02-04T13:48:00.001Z

It is man's ability to remember that sets us apart.

We are the only species concerned with past; concerned with the fragments of our history that stab and draw blood from every mistake we’ve made, glisten with the sweat that it needs to produce the few worthy memories that we frame in our minds, and hope that one day the good will overcome the bad, or burn the photographs of people we hope to forget, but never can.

Our memories give us voice and bear witness to our history, the only record of what’s truly happened to us lies within our minds.

Memories enable others to celebrate our triumphs, learn from our mistakes, be warned from our failures.

The ways that define our fragile existence are endless; there are many ways to give it meaning, but it is our memories that shape its purpose and give it context.

Our private assortment of fears, loves, regrets...

...and it’s the cruel irony of life that we are destined to hold the dark with the light, the good with the evil, success with disappointment. This is what separates us, what makes us human.

And in the end, we must fight to hold on to them, because without them, we are nothing.

Duality

2012-01-29T10:58:00.001Z

Good and bad are two sides of the same coin.

Duality of human nature is necessary to create harmony.

Celebrate the darker side within you, it is the darker side that gives sheen to your personality.

Means to an End

2012-01-21T16:47:00.000Z

Perfection. In the race to achieve this unattainable state we lose who we are, we become cruel, heartless.

And what is perfection? Is it not just an image of so called “beauty” forced upon us by society?

You must look this way, wear these clothes, talk like this. Perfection, or an idea of it, is forced upon us, and we conform.

Flaws and imperfections make us human, and yet we still strive to be perfect, we strive to lose a part of our soul just to gain the approval of others.

The true perfection of man lies not in what man has, but in what man is.

But what’s on the inside doesn't matter anymore.

Why would it, when all man strives to do is perfect the outside? And money?

A means to perfection. A means to an end.

Branches

2012-01-14T23:00:00.000Z

There is good and there is evil. Right and wrong.

And if we're blessed with wisdom, then there are glimpses between the cracks of each where light streams through.

Sunlight filters through the branches of evil. We wait in silence for these times when sense can be made, when meaningless existence comes into focus, and our purpose presents itself.

And if we have the strength to be honest, then what we find there, staring back at us, is our own reflection, bearing witness to the duality of life.

And each one of us is capable of both the dark and the light, of good and evil, of either, of all.

And destiny, while marching ever in our direction, can be rerouted by the choices we make.

By the love we hold onto and the promises we keep.

Limitations

2012-01-10T22:13:00.000Z

The most important things are the hardest to say.

They are the things you become ashamed of, because words diminish them. Words shrink things that seemed limitless when they were in your head to no more than living size when they’re brought out.

But it’s more than that, isn't it? The most important things lie too close to wherever your secret heart is buried, like landmarks to a treasure your enemies would love to steal away.

And you may make revelations that cost you dearly only to have people look at you in a funny way, not understanding what you’ve said at all, or why you thought it was so important that you almost cried while you were saying it.

That’s the worst, I think.

When the secret stays locked within not for want

of a teller but for want of an understanding ear.

Run

2012-01-09T22:23:00.000Z

The Earth is large. Large enough that you think you can hide from anything: from fate, from God, from life itself.

If only you could find a place far enough away, far enough to escape the troubles that plague you, the regrets that stab at you, the tears that kill you one drop at a time.

So you run. To the edge of the Earth, to the depth of the oceans, where all is safe again, all is quiet and warm. Run so fast that everything begins to blur: your identity, your former life, the haunting memories.

The solace of salt air, the peace of danger left behind, the luxury of grief. And maybe, only for a moment, you believe you have escaped.

To survive in this world, we hold close to us those on whom we depend. We trust in them our hopes, our fears... but what happens when trust is lost?

Where do we run, when things we believe in vanish before our eyes?

When all seems lost, the future unknowable, our very existence in peril... all we can do is run. You can run far, you can take your small precautions, but have you really gotten away?

Can you ever escape? Or is it the truth that you did not have the strength or cunning to hide from destiny? The world is not small, you are.

There is always a trail of footprints left behind. Fate can find you anywhere.

Alone.

2012-01-08T21:06:00.000Z

We dream of hope, we dream of change, of fire, of love, of death. Then it happens, the dream becomes real.

And the answer to the quest, this need to solve life's mysteries finally shows itself, like the glowing light of the new dawn.

So many struggles, for meaning, for purpose, but in the end we find it only in each other. Our shared experiences of the fantastic, and the mundane.

The simple, human need to find kindred, to connect, and to know in our hearts that we are not alone.

Alone like the drop on this petal. Alone like the petal.

We find comfort in numbers, to know that there are people like us gives us hope. But one should take comfort from this: One is never alone.

Scientific fact if nothing else shows us that humans have evolved to live in groups, to seek safety in numbers. One is always loved.

Even when it seems to be so dark that light will never shine, a glimmer of hope shall always break through.

Dark/Light

2012-01-07T20:02:00.000Z

On the sixth day God created man in his own image, so now it’s up to us to figure it all out. Right, wrong, good, evil.

In each of us is the capacity to decide what drives our actions. So what is it that makes some choose selflessness, the need to devote oneself to something greater while others know only self-interest, isolating themselves in a world of their own meaning?

Some seek love even if unrequited while others are driven by fear and betrayal.

There are those who see their choices as dark proof of God’s absence while others follow a path of noble destiny.

But in the end, good, evil, right, wrong, none of it matters. What we choose is never what we need, for that is the ultimate cosmic joke.

That is the real gift that God has left behind.

Captions from Heroes.

Earth

2012-01-05T21:43:00.000Z

Unfurling.

Roses dropped petals that seemed as big and smooth as saucers, flame-red, moon-white, glossy, and unwrinkled..

"It was a town of red brick, or of brick that would have been red if the smoke and ashes had allowed it; but as matters stood, it was a town of unnatural red and black like the painted face of a savage.

"It was a town of machinery and tall chimneys, out of which interminable serpents of smoke trailed themselves for ever and ever, and never uncoiled."

"It had a black canal in it, and a river that ran purple with ill-smelling dye, and vast piles of building full of windows where there was a rattling and a trembling all day long, and where the piston of the steam-engine worked monotonously up and down, like the head of an elephant in a state of melancholy madness."

"It contained several large streets all very like one another, and many small streets still more like one another, inhabited by people equally like one another, who all went in and out at the same hours, with the same sound upon the same pavements, to do the same work, and to whom every day was the same as yesterday and tomorrow, and every year the counterpart of the last and the next."

"All the public inscriptions in the town were painted alike, in severe characters of black and white. The jail might have been the infirmary, the infirmary might have been the jail, the town-hall might have been either, or both, or anything else, for anything that appeared to the contrary in the graces of their construction."

"Fact, fact, fact, everywhere in the material aspect of the town; fact, fact, fact, everywhere in the immaterial."

****

You may be thinking the captions for each of my pictures (apart from the first) are completely unrelated. Well, you're right. These quotes are from Charles Dicken's Hard Times, and they describe a hell-like town, an uninhabitable town. They are in complete contrast to the beauty of the photos, and I did this to represent the unbalanced place that is our world. Let me explain: There are places in the world which are beautiful, seemingly magical, perfect. There are places which contain unimaginable things, destructive and damaging things, poverty, things too terrible to describe. Just like the contrast between the pictures and the words, our world lives on with this constant sense of irregularity, and nothing can be done about it.

Snow

2012-01-05T19:00:00.000Z

This one's called Mirror Mirror....

The snow was heavier now, swirling down in great flurries over the silent london town, purposefully filling foot shaped imprints in the crisp, bitter snow. The streets, empty still, immersed in the darkness that came before the late December dawn. Naked trees dotted along the edge of the lanes groaning under the weight of the snow laying innocently on their branches, only to occasionally fall to the blanketed ground at the sigh of the wind..........I call this White City

Snow White

I call these two "Knife"

"The future lies before you, like paths of pure white snow. Be careful how you tread it, for every step will show...." (Anonyomous)

Four Flames

2012-01-05T18:23:00.000Z

I was always facinated by fire - don't get me wrong burning things isn't a passion of mine - it was just that fire was so amazing to look at. The way the flames jumped and flickered as if alive...it just made a really interesting subject for my photos. I call these ones "Four Flames".

“Thousands of candles can be lit from a single candle, and the life of the candle will not be shortened. Happiness never decreases by being shared.” The Buddha