imagination

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There's something magical about envisioning a world devoid of color. It forces me to see the patterns, textures, and lights and shadows in my surroundings. Without color, I notice the rough grooves in bark, giving life, personality, and age to the trees they cover; I notice the veins in leaves, running like rivers across a landscape; I notice the hard edge of a ship's mast against a cloudless sky, piercing the stillness as it stands at attention. In people, I feel as if I can see farther into their souls, their deep emotions swirling through my blood. Removing color strips away the protective layers, allowing us to get closer to the source of what gives everything life. It's a different exercise in seeing the world, an exercise that too often we neglect.

I love looking at black and white photos and imagining what colors might inhabit the scene. I start with the probable: green leaves, blue skies, puffy white clouds. But stare at the photograph long enough and new possibilities come to mind. What about a green stop sign, purple swans, and orange sails. Yellow skies, a pink lighthouse, and a flashing blue light at the intersection. My brain stretches in all sorts of directions as I envision a world that doesn't, but certainly could, exist.

It makes me think that we spend too much of our lives rushing to get from one place to the next. We don't stop to see the beauty inherent in the things around us. Having seen something in passing, we rarely stop to examine it. And how often do any of us revisit a setting with the intent of seeing something new in the same subjects?

More photos to follow...