There's a part of me that feels like if you haven't grappeled with a drawing, especially a drawing engaging the change of a place, you haven't really started. That makes me smile a little bit, I think places can be mischevious sometimes.
[A future post, on the limits of language, our vocabularies, considering effects, affects, across scale]
Writers to reference
-Robin Wall Kimmerer
-Steven Pinker
-Robert A. Johnson
This is a peice of writing inspired by Bettina Pittaluga's photograph Roxane & Baptiste.
Accessible here.
I think photographs are interesting for many reasons, one in particular is their ability to encapsulate universal threads, or marks in time, at the same moment they allow for one to think about what goes on around us, fragments of life that might feel more immediate.
I get a lot out of taking time to quietly admire the work of photographers, and its nice to remember the things we do that make us comfortably silent.
There is an image posted by Bettina Pittaluga titled Roxane & Baptiste.
It made me stop and hold my breath for more than a few moments.
For me, this photograph illustrates power through quiet strength, but I think there is something in this image for everyone.
More recently, I've spent some time with the peices featured in Photovogue. To find a page, or source to get lost in, in a sea of information, is a breath of air. It doesn't feel often that we are exposed to platforms featuring sheer feminine strength and beauty, at the same time also making a commentary on critically minded events highlighting people and place.
It's a source I'm looking forward to spending a great deal more time with. I think it could be interesting to see Photovogue edit, or altogether remake many of our history books. (his)tory.
Revised 12.21.2022
The reflecting pond sat still and motionless as it stared deeply into the eyes of an elusive grey sky, a peaceful strength and serenity enforced by an unforgiving mirror. The impenetrable body reflected the thoughts of all who gazed upon its stillness, but still a presence which largely goes unnoticed. Very few register the depth and even fewer ponder its existence, but all who pass are reflected in its observant eye. Below the veneer lies a collection of observations. The depth of knowledge beneath the surface are known to no one, except maybe the few golden fish daring enough to poke their heads above the surface, relieved by the cold air returning deep within the protection of the pond. Swimming in the memories, compilations and syntheses of data and thought, gathered, stockpiled and stored forever, might be forever, sealed behind a sheen of forgotten insights.
As the clouded grey sky darkened and wisps of light slipped away, the pond turned to black opal, a deep and moving viscous. As the night aged on it revealed smears of red and blue haze studded by tiny white gems. The clusters of light shone against the shining glow that penetrated the dark night sky. The night never lost its breathtaking aura even as the pond unquestioningly echoed the scene in its surface, encoding and filing every placement, movement and direction down to the nearest atom, and further still.
The pond, gifted with an ingrained strain of concentration, never forgot a thing. It measured as time moved on, tracing evolutions, interruptions, and shifts in thought, wisdom, connection, and its ticking opposite. Trends and movements might only be marks of incongruence between human record and the score kept. Quietly the subtle ripples considered these afterthoughts of drawn periods of time, characterised only in concept by change and ambiguity.
Forgiving times invited a wanderer to sit and enjoy the serenity of the day, the briskness of the morning, the song of birds and the wonder of the sunrise, the quietness of the afternoon or the soft tinkling of the crickets in the fading light. It had seen the promise of children, running and playing near the water’s edge, gleeful, wild and spontaneous, hearts speaking strongly as they ran through grasses. But it had also seen the calm and calculated presence of the elderly. Creaking as they sat, heads hanging slightly weighed down by an affect of ceaseless gravity, though this did not undermine the knowingness and peacefulness of their gaze.
A greenhouse stood next to the pond and kept it company, often reflected in its mirror. When the sky moved and the days passed the greenhouse kept the pond company, glass walls and ceilings reflected back the light, considering a dialogue between the sun and the moon. There was a permanence, changing only in outward appearance, it was likely when one went, the other would as well. It was unclear what was in the distance, but it was hopeful at least, to consider a methodical interest in the navigation of time.
sometimes I think there's a comfort in quietly observing people
watch them smile
laugh
walk together
it reminds me that the world is good
that it's better to smile
to be kind
and to listen
i like to listen
there's a stillness in observation
sometimes, listening feels like more of a contribution than anything else
considering what it means to get packing down to a science
one method. everytime a move is made
an item is discarded
given
or maybe lost
if there was nothing to own, maybe we wouldn't need to understand science
it's nice to have a few material things
besides the puzzle is interesting
interesting things
might be about quietly working, listening, re-reading, reviewing.
2nd and 3rd sketches
sketches over sketches
single drawings
graphic novels
book making, collecting, testing
moving backwards to move forwards
outside things
then inside.
3 questions
then reflections
a track, uncertain
CNY Regional Market, Syracuse NY
Tracing
Today I thought a little bit about dissonance, and nature in urban contexts.
flowers in single use plastics
symbols of beauty and symbols of toxic material systems
one bound in, and often by the other.
This is a complicated image (II) for me
here it is bright
but I think there could be images elsewhere
that might be very dark.
These dark places (I), where synthetic materials are born
might ask us to consider
what those sites (III) continue to expererience.
_
Below is an image of a quote, which I continue to read, again and again.
An image (II) of a passage.
Anuradha Mathur. "Recovering Ground: The Shifting Landscape of Dacca"
Landscape Transformed
Quote Transcribed
I am interested in challenging the
professional ‘viewing’ of landscapes
from those enclaves of specialization on
the one hand, and the hermetic
theoretical discourse on the other, that
are so prevalent today. I strive to
recover through design inquiry and
practice, landscapes that bring together
rather than polarize scientific, imaginative
and experiential dimensions. This
does not necessarily call for an
‘interdisciplinary approach’ where the
outcome can be described as comprehensive,
collaborative or a compromise.
Instead, it is a transdisciplinary one,
Where the act of ‘seeing’ landscapes in
new and alternate ways is constituted
Through artistic investigation.
Landscape architects often have
little tractile engagement with exploring
the real grounds of their intervention in
the process of design. Instead, the site is
Represented in other mediums – words,
Numbers, images and, primarily drawing.
How a medium is used depends on and
is affected by what landscape design is
perceived to be. The making of landscape
requires an engagement with
one’s ground, be it a drawing, a terrain
or a discourse which allows one to
explore and reveal – processes in process.