Off to the village we go, to the country cottage of my lovely friends, Taesa and Tanja (mother and daughter), where I was invited for the weekend.
We arrived late in the evening so I could not see outside, but as soon as the sun came out, I went to the nearest window and pressed my face against it, overwhelmed by all the beauty it framed.
Warmth. I had stepped into a storybook, time-traveled through the night.
I am found, time and time again, in simplicity,
it is the wonder my soul was created for.
I did not notice the missing glass nor the faded paint until I loaded my pictures days later.
Everything was as it should be.
Including the wings in the sky.
mp.050920 unfiltered unedited
mp.051020 Grigori and Murka, father and daughter
There’s so much I’d like to say about this beautiful place, but I think I’ll take my time saying it, showing it. For now, I’ll just soak up the pleasantness of it all and make a little room, a bitty mudroom just like the one where Grigori and Murka like to rest, and until our next village visit, dream a little aqua dream.
Photography, or light chasing as I like to call it, is a mirror. We chase, we look, and in time we realize that we too are being chased and we begin to see. We slow down. Observe.
What do our pictures say? What is our response to the light that is pursuing and persuading us? What is the message we want to convey?
I am on a journey quite a ways from familiarity. So far, four months in Belarus has revealed more than decades in the US. We hear clearest when we are uncomfortable. If we listen, in time discomfort becomes our haven.
My pictures weren’t reflecting what I wished to reflect.
Light that reaches the heart is subtle.
Light is chasing you.
Are you looking?
Are you listening?