In all of my travels, perhaps the most bizarre place I have ever visited is the Capuchin Crypt in Rome. I have no photos of my own of this place because photography is prohibited, but here's a photo that gives you a sense of the place. It has room after room decorated with the bones of deceased monks. Hanging in the crypt near the many skeletons is a plaque that reads: "What you are now, we once were. What we are now, you will be." That's a happy thought, isn't it?
When I see vast fields of withered sunflowers, I can't help but think of this plaque, because, to me, dried sunflowers look like withered skeletons hanging their heads. Like all flowers, they show their beauty and all too soon, they pass on. Just like us, I suppose. . .
Astute readers of this blog may be inclined to think that, combined with yesterday's post, I am on an existential kick. "Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow creeps in this petty pace" blah, blah, blah.
But don't worry. I am happy, well adjusted and I rarely recite somber soliloquies like Macbeth's. I'll try to find something bright and happy for tomorrow's post.
Canon 5DIII 1/640s f/4.0 ISO100 102mm
This blog rarely editorializes. But today's post could have existential meaning. Rather than merely documenting damage from a recent heavy snow fall in the Black Hills, am I saying something about life in general by posting a fallen, twisted twisty road sign? As with all art (if that's what this photo is) you'll have to impose you own experiences and sensibilities in an attempt to answer this question.
Anyone who knows this blog knows that I often repeat myself. I have not yet tried to re-invent myself as a photographer and, at my age and inclination, I'm not sure that it is possible. Or worthy.
So it's been several days since I've posted a photo of our grand daughter, Glenyce Jane. So here you go. . . .
My friend, Scott, may dispute my choice of the word "hope" in the title of this post. I have no idea if he was hopeful when he took his rod and reel out into the gentle surf at sunset on a perfect October evening along the Florida Gulf Coast.
To be honest, I don't know Jack all that well. But I couldn't resist stopping by the Jack Daniels distillery in Lynchburg, TN, on my recent trip to Alabama. Photography was allowed during the outdoors portion of the tour I took but wasn't on the inside of the buildings. The reason, we were told, is that a spark from the camera could ignite the high proof product being made. I don't believe it but I wasn't willing to test the truth of the statement.
Is it creepy that I lurked briefly behind a tree in Centennial Park in Nashville, TN, to get a candid photo of a photographer at work? Maybe.
This cemetery, which is south of the Missouri town of Boonville, is yet another place that I have driven by and then turned around so I can get a closer look. And then, when I got out of my vehicle, I didn't take my camera. Frankly, I just wanted to walk among the tomb stones, some of which dated back to the late 1700s.
I had to smile when I turned a corner in the Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art in Kansas City and saw "Museum Guard" standing in the corner. He is not human but instead is a Duane Hanson installation. And he really is called "Museum Guard."