Places in time

  Pieces of a picture, pieces of the past, these are the things I photograph. I find comfort in the viewing of these objects, the reason I have them on display. My home decor is a reflection of my life and the places I've been, the things I've done. You won't find many things new, not many things pristine in that way, all have character and an edge, a story to tell. I don't photograph them in any attempt to be artistic that isn't the motivation at all. I just like to capture a moment, a thought, a fragment of time. They are personal to me although I'm always happy to share. Sharing gives me joy as well, an affirmation of the action. When sharing I will include a very brief description of what is being shown, for context to that story, but often the details remain within my heart. As difficult as it may be for others to believe, I am reticent to disclose everything I think or feel, things I keep bottled up. They aren't things I want to share, they cause me no discomfort, they are simply private thoughts, private memories, memories untainted. Once a memory is shared it does lose a bit of its' luster. When memories become stories. It's my feeling memories are the only thing we can take with us when we go. 

  Here's the thing about photographs. The ones that get saved, are the ones that interest the one saving them. There will come a day when it isn't the person that took them. The value is assigned by another, an independent judge. A judgement often filled with bias. Are you in the picture, do you know the location, the time or date? Is it something you remember? Unless that photograph is something of a more universal appeal, a historic event or perhaps some disaster or tragedy, it must likely will not be saved at all. I suspect that will be the fate of the majority of my photographs, at least the ones I take for myself. If I were an artist, I think it is those things I would paint. What is called by the artistic community, still life. I do appreciate a brief moment, a setting, a place in time. Expressing that in a photograph is beyond my conscious abilities but maybe that's what I'm doing subconsciously. I'll leave that mystery for others to solve. I just enjoy the moment when it arrives. 

 Yesterday the moment arrived, and I did share it to social media. I did so to share a moment. It was just a picture that caught my eye, caught my attention. I couldn't tell you how long the picture has been there, the totality of it that is, but yesterday for whatever reason it did catch my eye. More properly it stirred something in my conscious. I'm not one to assign "signs" to things like that, it's no message from beyond, an omen or harbinger of tomorrow. But perhaps, just perhaps, it was an Angel sharing that picture with me. A smile from beyond. Made me smile too, and that's the point isn't it? Yes, I think it is.

                                                                                   

The shadowbox was presented to me when I retired from the Navy. It was hand built by a shipmate. The flag below that was the flag presented to my mother after my father's passing, a gift from a grateful nation. Opposite my shadowbox is a photograph of my Dad, circa, 1945. Below that is a needlepoint my mom did of me for my retirement from the service. And above all that, standing watch over the scene is an angel, crocheted by my wife. One little corner in my bedroom, a private area crowded with memories. Five objects, a lifetime. 

I don't go looking for these pictures, the pictures find me.