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Image and text copyrighted by Barry L. Lively
The marsh was beyond quiet, it was still. It was not asleep, it was still, watchful. Nothing moved.
If we could speed up our perception and look more closely at the intervals between what we think of as events, perhaps we could experience stillness there. Possibly a “flavored” stillness which in some way reflects the most recent events. But we are usually thinking about something in the past or anticipating something else in the future. Appreciation of stillness means living in the Now.
Claude Debussy is credited with saying that “Music is the silence between the notes.” Now that might also be “flavored” stillness, stillness in and of music.
I moved on. We later walked back the same way and the heron was gone. The surface of the water was ruffling in the breeze.
Yesterday I talked about a recent program on macro photography at our camera club. I prepared for that meeting by putting my macro lens on the camera and going out over a couple of days to get back in practice with it. The lens I use does not permit focusing any closer than about a foot away. We won’t be doing insect retinography with this lens because it can’t get that close but it does offer other possibilities at this kind of middle distance that I prefer.
What struck me was relationships between flowers. At an objective level there is nothing more there than the juxtaposition of two flowers. But images tell stories. We, as observers, become co-authors with the photographer in developing those stories. What stories do these images tell you?

Do scenes or images of scenes communicate with you?
Our camera club was meeting last night at the Indianapolis Art Center and the topic was macro or close-up photography. This was as much workshop as lecture and a lot of people were inside taking close-ups of small objects. This is a great technique for seeing what is very small and not at all obvious to the eye busy with other sights. They were using flash and other artificial lights because it was rather dark in there. Because I don’t usually like to shoot with anything but natural light, I got out of their way and went outside. They were having a good time and doing fine work. I would find my good time outside.
I can’t tell you what kind of flowering tree this is, there are many species at the Art Center. But I did find it hugely attractive. At the time, it said “Japanese garden” to me. Getting it home and seeing it on the screen brought out a larger story.
I had started reading Jonah Lehrer’s “Imagine” the other day and this image contributed one understanding of what Mr. Lehrer was talking about. His book is about creativity. It brings in neuropsychology, personality, “mental illness” and many other areas of research in trying to better understand this most precious and human capacity that, truly, is so dimly understood. One of his points is that it’s not just the case that creativity can take any number of paths but that there are many kinds of creativity. Let’s leave it at that for the present so we can get on with this post. Read the book.
When I first saw the tree I thought I would eliminate the building and just show the tree with perhaps some flowers at the bottom. But the more I looked at it, the more I thought the building was contributing to the image. The horizontal lines in the wall and the vertical drain pipe form a frame for the tree. But while most of the tree fits within the boundaries of the frame, some of it doesn’t. And that is one part of what a lot of creativity is about. It fits to some extent in the conventional frame of reference but at the same time is moving out of the frame. If it catches on with the populace, the frame might expand.
This was not macro photography but it was made with a 100 mm f/2.8 Canon macro lens. This translates into “good lens”. More on macro work tomorrow.
It was a varied morning of shooting.

I’ve been following this trillium sessile for a few days and it is getting ready to pop. It will be purple. It is in the backyard.
Becky and I went to the Ecolab at Marion University later in the morning, a good place to go just about any time of the year but Spring seems to best suit it.

The bluebells are in bloom there.
The lily pads were dancing and who wouldn’t join them?

It was a spiritual morning, a morning to know we are connected to all life in this world.
I’ve been out some over the last few days looking for the details of Spring.

New growth and a cocoon hanging on. Something new and something old in the changing seasons.

I started out looking for that soft green, rather indistinct, we see in trees just coming out but it was the details that pulled me in.

So much beauty in small places. If nothing else, it gets one to pay attention to what is there.

Stopping to look is key whether a camera is available or not.

We usually see the hyacinth in the plural; but individual blossoms are gorgeous. And they smell good.
I guess we are often too much in a hurry to really look. Georgia O’Keeffe said that the reason she painted large images was that that was what was needed to get people’s attention.

Maybe I’ll try that. Make some very large images. Maybe make a large image of some beautiful small thing and then hang the image outside, right over the subject of the image. Probably have to put an arrow pointing down to tell people what this was about.
People need to look at what is there. That is very important. By the way, I walked no more than a couple of hundred feet (at most, at the very most) off my normal daily paths to get these images.

It’s dark out now so I can’t go look some more tonight. I’ll do that tomorrow.