The Movement Series So Far
Contorted. Absurdly twisted wholly unrecognizable. Corrupted movement stretching over radical crooked rusted wires. Distorted memories, static liminality, waiting for nothing to happen.
The series is still ongoing. It is moving, movement, itself changing.
I walked in the vineyards a couple of weeks ago, and these tendrils or fingers slowly wrapped themselves around the wires. Movement, moving all along the wire, until it dies, dries out, moving along, moving beyond the living. It embodies movement, from growing to dying, to fixing the always reaching towards.
Please enjoy the photographs of these tendrils solidified forever moving and grasping towards nothing.
Movement Part IX
Moving Away: Philosophical Aphorisms
We fear the void, we fear the idea of sitting still. Breathing becomes troubling when the force of movement does not press against your chest.
Moving away is always moving towards the very thing we are moving away from. We carry with us the things we want to move away from.
Our existence is forgettable; soon we will be nothing more than dust particles. Every great novel can be burnt for warmth; the empty stomach can be filled with weeds.
A war is going on inside everyone. Movement is pulling you toward and away from various things. There is no science to the war; there are no casualties.
Postscriptum, or Let Us Pause For a Moment
Movement is such a deadly thing. Once we are set in motion, nothing will stop the eventual demise; yet our particles and dust will forever be distributed; we will forever live on.
But sometimes we can pause the movement to appreciate the small things in life; the taste of food when you are hungry, the taste of water when you are thirsty.
Paradoxically, it takes time to slow down.
Take some time for yourself.
I hope you enjoyed this installment of the movement series. All of the photographs are my own, taken with my Nikon D300 and 50 mm Nikkor lens. The musings are also my own. I hope you are well. Stay safe, and happy photographing.