_MG_5136-Wind-Dance#8

Part of the Dance-sequence, from my exploration of collaboration with a

poet/dancer...

wow, I like this and the sad thing is, I can't adequately explain why

very interesting image

Frederick, you ohhhh, is enough for me! Thank you :-)

I love it , Full of mystery and horror mood ........ Very interesting and unique

Deeply unsettling, disturbing, provoking lot of questions. When a photo transmits all those feelings and emotions then the work is done. This IS photography. Great execution.

But your signature inside a white box at the bottom right is strongly diminishing the value of this image. Try with a tiny full black strip with your name out of the frame, at the bottom or at the top, but this way is not good, especially just beneath the main subject.

Best regards

Thank you Alon and Carlos for your feelings. And Carlos, I'll contact PN - bosses to ask why the signature appears there. I did not put it there. I merely filled in the usual upload form like in the past. This is a sudden new way the either the computer or the PN -system applies the copyright signature on the photo.

Ups! You're right, please forgive me. Then, I guess we should request to PN that the copyright tag must be located in a different way and different position. Best regards

Unsettling... A state of helplessness; partly deserved, perhaps...

Can we have a line or two of the poem?

Bulent, I'll as the poet. Thanks for your interest.

The poet  says Yes, to the entire poem, No to an extract of a few lines: So herewith the word gem, amongst others in her album, Difficult Gifts, that inspired me to request the poet/dancer's interpretation of it in movement in front of my camera. Dance photo-series  was born from this experience. 

ALL THAT LIFE by Dawn Garisch

1. All that life: from first rank beginnings in the earth,

something stirred in matter: there emerged a drive

to animate the dirt - Surpirse! - a brief ellipse called

life    the breath   arrived, then came the certain slide

back to sludge. A trick, endlessly repeated. Generations rise,

act, expire. The mud is packed with death. Again, the new

recurs: hopeful twigs root the sky, quick fish swarm beneath

swirls of birds migrating to merge with landscape. None

can escape the loop. Sprigs and wriggling nematodes

lift inspired shapes to glance above the mulch derived

from those who went before    the die   Layers of

life rest limp and crushed beneath the holy stone of time,

hidden from the spinning crazy round of sun and moon,

and left fermenting inside the warm barrel of the earth.

2. All that pain: the bloody, hacked-off limbs of war; those injuries

a lover's heart sustains. Lives stocked with hardened grudge

or slow-cooked revenge. The bludgeon of recurrent thought,

or fuzz of the drug-smudged brain. The push towards

those things we love, and would not lose: an early lily, lush

in bloom; brass ensembles filling sun-bronzed rooms; a child

immersed, creating nests away from harm in long bush grass.

All this richness soon will pass, be lost, is already past, has gone.

The screw rotates again; with each turn the living thread goes

underground. All vital cells, all life's vast loveliness, and all vile

anguish, is delivered back to silence, to rot, to fertilize the next

round of intrepid roots and sprouts, fiery heart- and limb-buds.

Sometimes, the aftermath of life sinks deeper still; lakes of slow

decay compose   thick cud of sleep   and the dark prayer of oil.

One of my recurring ideas is to shoot an image (or, perhaps a series of images) to depict some piece of music. The difficulties are abound, as one can easily imagine. Foremost among them is the inability to anticipate what the potential viewer may feel/think. Once created, the image sems to live a life of its own; detached from its creator and his/her mindset... Without delving too much into the debate of modernism vs postmodernism; I can just say, here you have really created an image of this poem... Thanks again, to you both.

Bulent, My next attempt will be exactly a piece of abstract music. ARe you familiar with the new classical (20th c) compositions on www.neue-musik.fm ?

Mystical mood!

stanza three, line three, typo error:

....then die (in stead of 'the die')