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| lilies at Royal Botanical Garden in Hamilton, Ontario |
Why am I launching into this? Well, because I've taken to photography again and - as you may have noticed - I like taking pictures of flowers, the ocean, birds, sunsets and what may be considered cliché beautiful things. And part of me is embarrassed by this turn of events, as if I am not suitably gritty anymore.
However, I have been somewhat emboldened by the reverse experience of being with my beloved in the Met in January after looking at black and white photos and following him into the Impressionists room, filled with - you guessed it - flowers and beautiful colors. At first I thought, oh I don't know, but then looking around me I was astonished by the depth of the beauty. I was unexpectedly moved, especially in the middle of freezing winter in NYC. The next room was filled with the post-Impressionists like van Gogh and Cézanne and I was speechless. I had forgotten this world of almost hallucinatory color existed. I forgot I used to paint with those colors.
I realized I had drunk the Kool-aid or the Too Kool for School-aid wherein this kind of beauty was suspect. I am now kind of sort of reasserting (while still somewhat embarrassed) my right to love all things beautiful - knowing that yes of course to some degree this is a construct because yes I've read Bourdieu and know the relation of class to taste, etc. However, it is that very class consciousness that is leading me back to beauty. Because it was when I went to the fancier and richer schools that I learned that beauty is suspect - oh precious irony. Being schooled in post-Marxist taste by the Trustafarian class...so sad...
Reminds me of the story of how there was an attempt I think in the earlier Soviet days, either the USSR or East Germany, can't remember which - to make prints of tractors and such on curtains so the working class would have class conscious linens. Perhaps needless to say, this did not go over well. There was a revolt and the flower prints returned. The working classes weren't having it.
Having said all that, what I love about NYC is its gritty beauty and I'm a sucker for decay with surprising grace notes. So I'm not saying we have to go back to something old-school. I'm just thinking perhaps it's time to give beauty a chance...wherever we find it. While I can find beauty deep down in a subway tunnel in the way the light flickers between cars as a strange instrument is played on the platform by someone from perhaps Malaysia while someone else dressed as God knows what walks by twirling a hula hoop, I can also find it now in botanical gardens...
So, take what you like and leave the rest, but below are some pretty pictures of flowers and such. Thanks to John (my beloved Canadian), I think I'm raising the technical aspect of my game. Still not using Photoshop so these are just raw photos, but finally getting a handle on my digital camera, which I am beginning to use with the ease I had done with my film camera.
Perhaps it also helps that I'm stupid in love...but in fairness - as readers of this blog may recall - there have been photos of beautiful places and things even before meeting John...as I was falling love with Inwood. This also may relate to an observation I made a while back that I was beginning to believe my shadow side was light...
So here's some dispatches from the shadow.... all taken at the Royal Botanical Gardens in Hamilton, Ontario in May...of lilac groves and lilies and tulips (oh my!)....
oh and of course, here's John with his beloved Nikon preparing for a series of landscape shots he will stitch together as a panorama (they're gorgeous!) and a random-chance close up of us:
