I live in a rural area. I am treated every day to wonderful views. I enjoy the fields whether covered with corn or soy beans or the bare soil turned over. The land is quite flat around here and the view of the skyline is often unobstructed. There are times when the clouds hug the horizon and give the illusion of mountains. I see these images as an artist must see a painting. Photographers too enjoy the paintings of nature and can capture them. I have no such talent and can only capture them in my mind. Occasionally I attempt to write about them, my writing is the only medium I have and I feel that it is sorely lacking. But on the other hand that didn't stop Grandma Moses did it! Hers was called " primitive " art by some and folk art by others. I've never heard of writings referred to as such though, maybe I'll start a trend.
Yesterday as I was driving to the gym for my morning workout, I've taken to doing that three days a week, I glanced over and saw this painting. It was a relatively new home with a very old barn sitting behind it. The barn was faded red and missing boards. There were no doors left, no windows held glass it was obviously empty and neglected. Just a glance and this thought entered my mind, " Old barns and old memories; and the secrets they hold." I thought it might make an interesting poem. Further thought rejected that idea and what I have written so far is the result. It is the thought of secrets that linger from that scene. What events had that old barn been witness too? Birth and death and all that transpires in-between. It had weathered wind and rain, frost and freeze. Battered, worn and showing signs of crumbling it still stands stark against the skyline. It stands proudly still, holding the secrets of the past. Secrets that will go untold. I questioned that, saying, isn't that the purpose of secrets, to go untold? Contemplating that further I wondered if that is what the artist or photographer can capture, those elusive secrets, untold, yet residing within the picture. Is that the thousand words we elude too? Is that what we " see " in works of art? I enjoy art that is labeled as " realism. " I'd call it literal. I wonder if it is that love of realism and writing that cohabit my mind that drives my writing. Not that I feel my writing is a form of art but it is an expression of thoughts, and isn't that the same thing?
We should take inspiration from wherever we receive it. It is a gift from the universe, a gift from your God if you are so inclined to believe that. That inspiration revisited me yesterday in the form of a barn. It arrived in an instant and lingers. Writing these thoughts this morning I was reminded. I had written similar thoughts in a poem some years back. Back in August of 2012 to be exact. It was inspired by a photograph hanging on my wall. I'll share that here.
Memories and Photographs
memories and photographs
take me back in time
to relive a moment
that's uniquely mine
no one else can know it
no one else can see
a single captured moment
that belongs to me
whether black and white or color
be it new or old
the truth lies within them
waiting to be told
should it go unnoticed
and no where written down
the picture will become faded
and the memory not be found
and so I travel often
through the corridors of my mind
looking at the photographs
and memories left behind
A.B.Reichart
Yesterday as I was driving to the gym for my morning workout, I've taken to doing that three days a week, I glanced over and saw this painting. It was a relatively new home with a very old barn sitting behind it. The barn was faded red and missing boards. There were no doors left, no windows held glass it was obviously empty and neglected. Just a glance and this thought entered my mind, " Old barns and old memories; and the secrets they hold." I thought it might make an interesting poem. Further thought rejected that idea and what I have written so far is the result. It is the thought of secrets that linger from that scene. What events had that old barn been witness too? Birth and death and all that transpires in-between. It had weathered wind and rain, frost and freeze. Battered, worn and showing signs of crumbling it still stands stark against the skyline. It stands proudly still, holding the secrets of the past. Secrets that will go untold. I questioned that, saying, isn't that the purpose of secrets, to go untold? Contemplating that further I wondered if that is what the artist or photographer can capture, those elusive secrets, untold, yet residing within the picture. Is that the thousand words we elude too? Is that what we " see " in works of art? I enjoy art that is labeled as " realism. " I'd call it literal. I wonder if it is that love of realism and writing that cohabit my mind that drives my writing. Not that I feel my writing is a form of art but it is an expression of thoughts, and isn't that the same thing?
We should take inspiration from wherever we receive it. It is a gift from the universe, a gift from your God if you are so inclined to believe that. That inspiration revisited me yesterday in the form of a barn. It arrived in an instant and lingers. Writing these thoughts this morning I was reminded. I had written similar thoughts in a poem some years back. Back in August of 2012 to be exact. It was inspired by a photograph hanging on my wall. I'll share that here.
Memories and Photographs
memories and photographs
take me back in time
to relive a moment
that's uniquely mine
no one else can know it
no one else can see
a single captured moment
that belongs to me
whether black and white or color
be it new or old
the truth lies within them
waiting to be told
should it go unnoticed
and no where written down
the picture will become faded
and the memory not be found
and so I travel often
through the corridors of my mind
looking at the photographs
and memories left behind
A.B.Reichart
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