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I remember the seeing the movie “The Quite Man” when I was a kid.
Channel seven …out of Buffalo had Sunday afternoon movies . The T.V
was black and white and channel seven was one of five available
stations to choose from. I was lying on the rug shag if I remember
correctly, looking up at the rounded screan. The movie stared John
Wayne and Maurine O’Hara . I had a huge crush on Maurine … always
will.
The movie takes place in Ireland . In one scene Maurine is standing on
the side of a hill the moors I guess. The wind making her hair flow
with ease. The sun begining to set lighting her richly from the side .
The camera angle low looking up towards her .That shot has always
stuck in my mind . The reception was black and white but for some
reason I imagined that shot … that single frame in colour .
The colours of this image remind me of what I was imaging that frame
to be . I’ve never been to Ireland but I intend to get there before
I’m done. There’s something about the rich coulour .. the tone of the
light . The storm coming in yet leaving at the same time . That’s an
interesting line “the storm coming in yet leaving at the same time “ .
It describes this image and yet it’s a description with personality. I
think this shot reminds me more of just Maurine. A fiery red head .
determination with elegance and strength.
Ah Maurine I do miss you although we’ve never me
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I find ruts to be endlessly fascinating. I’m hoping that’s not a
statement about the usage of my life. There is something about ruts or
tracks that makes me stop and look. To try and see their movement. The
direction they take or better said take me.
In this image the field has gone to rot. Spring flooding has begun to
recede .The field is not mud but muck. The air is thick with a musky
odor .. almost a presence that literally clings to me as I try to
see.
The remaining pools of water that fill the gaps between furrowed
mounds has become putrid. Yet inside these pools of decay is a subtle
colouring with an almost mirror like quality.
From where I stand the sky is reflecting. Becoming absorbed by the
muck and yet the water close to me begins to glow penetrating it’s
surroundings. In this field of decay littered with the corpuses of
last years crop comes a scene of life all be it almost lost with in
the darkness of rot played out through the reflection of light.
A rut may be a rut but it is also a print left to see.
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The hard ruff cut stone blocks held together with pebbled cement made
the sort of surface impossible not to scrape your knees on.
This wall emerged out of the sand cutting it’s way into the water like
a concrete water snake. It is actually a break wall for storm run
off. I'm not sure if it is visual pollution or artistic composition.
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A violent storm had just passed . Moments earlier the lake had been
violently alive with both passion and furry. The driving rains had
soaked the sand through. Waves pushed the grime of the water onto the
beach.
Now all was eerily calm . The sun was hesitantly breaking it’s way
through the remnants of the stormy sky. I stood there silently not
moving .. just watching .. looking .. seeing . The water was dead calm
even beyond that if possible. The sand was situated to it’s fullest
being pulled flat by it’s own wait . Were the two met there seemed no
distinguishing line. The two seemed almost as one .
The continuing strength of the light gave form to this scene .
creating both depth and form.. In this scene void of motion the light
it’s self created movement . A very subtle but present motion played
within the flatness .. the calm.
Sometimes deep within a calm is great movement a passive momentum .