I went on a photographic walk-about this afternoon in a place that might best be described as Nowhere, CO. Except that once I opened my eyes I saw that this place, like all places, really, was definitely somehwere. I just had to get past the superficial optics of a new suburban subdivision many miles from anywhere with a large section that was abandoned before any little boxes made of ticky tacky could actually get constructed. This is the Land of Foreclosure, the United States of Bust, the locus of the American Nightmare. Superficially, it was a scene so cliché that there was even a bobbing petroleum pump jack, with fully and partially finished ticky tacky behind it tempting me to pretend that I could do better than Robert Adams. Instead, I dropped to my knees. This was the result.
went stomping around in the woods yesterday. it’s so immense. hard to find things to capture. i found this pair of tree trunks … a show of dark and light, with a strange sense of motion. i need to remember that looking at the whole can be debilitating. find something smaller that makes sense.
My intent was just to capture the translucent orange of the poppy – only later did I see creases that marred the petal. Then I really liked the image – that natural process gave the blossom a well loved quality – as if it had been folded and tucked in a pocket for good luck. Perfection is overrated.