What strikes me in this photo is that the boundary (railing on the right), while seemingly solid and straightforward, when it's reflected on the pathway, seems flexible and malleable, and how it shows up the paths' undulating levels. The path, without those shadows, from my perspective holding the camera that day, seemed pretty flat and steady until I woke up and realised how differentiated and interesting the surface really was/is.
When I took the photo - with some excitement, I'll admit, those visual effects were all I was noticing. Not the fact that I was including some space on the other side of the railing in my composition; not the really rigid wall-of-guardrail on the left that tolerates no wavering or alternatives; certainly not the metaphors I'm playing with now. I find it wonderful to notice now as I really look at my photo, that even the London cityscape designers saw the importance of 'my path' and highlighted it in different brickwork to separate it visually from the red-brick laneway; as if they know too that it's 'merely' a case of me putting one foot in front of the other and seeing where that takes me.
This morning, for instance, I found myself sketching - for the first time in my life, out of the blue as it were except that last week I'd bought myself a how-to-draw (for beginners) book. I had noticed last week in my beginners' painting class that I don't know how to really see what I'm looking at (in order to paint it); I don't even know where to start, except slowly and carefully. So in addition to realising that that bit of wisdom was such a fractal of what goes on in my life outside the painting classroom where I have typically seen what I’ve expected to see – and not necessarily seen what’s actually there and happening, I’m resolved to get better at seeing as clearly/accurately/truthfully as possibly – in all aspects of my life. And external assistance seemed like a good place to start as I ‘don’t have all day’ to get the basics of SEEING in order to draw/paint under my belt! Meanwhile I’m more aware of actually seeing, not projecting, what’s going on around me, and for that matter, inside of me. All good, no?
In putting some of the how-to hints into practice, I was intrigued to see an acceptable likeness of my azalea-in-a-pot appear on my page - all because I was paying attention to the important lines, angles and sizes and taking the time to calmly place my pencil on the page and pull it firmly in a direction that seemed to be calling it. It’s fun to learn a new skill, exciting to explore another thing that I didn’t know I didn’t know.
At this point, I still prefer my photos to my “paintings’ such as they are, but that’s unimportant . .. . It’s not a finite game., after all, is it? The possibilities are unlimited as long as I stay on the playing field. And there’s something about actually physically moving the lead, or the paint, across the page – the sound, smell, wetness/dryness, and seeing where that takes the ‘work’ - that is more satisfying for me right now than clicking a metal button attached to a black box with a big black eye followed by sitting in front of a computer screen adjusting the colours by clicking on the keyboard. The once-removed-ness of digital photography just doesn’t cut it right now; I’m exploring getting my fingers dirty and really enjoying the surprises I create, the boundaries I choose, the protective walls I (still) like knowing exist, and of course, the path.
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