Posts Tagged ‘sky


rose l violet l manipulation

when should you not “leave well enough alone”?

i almost deleted this photo because it was the silhouette of a red rose against a blue sky, but there was no detail; the sky offered no interest to the viewer and the rose, well, except for a little corner of its bloom touched by the setting sun, was completely black. however, after an accidental change in its brightness quotient, a little tug on its tonality, pushing its sharpness and de-saturating its color, it ended up looking like this which i am quite happy with.


the embarrassment of a perfect day

there are days here on our hilltop, when all of the parts of a day (besides the obvious ones–sun, sea, sky) come together, even if it’s just for the briefest of moments, and if you’re lucky, you’ll be at the point where they all converge (this includes your humor, your physical being, your you) and you may stand there, mouth agape, fumbling with your camera (even if it’s just your eye and the film of your life running through the projector of your mind), wondering at your good fortune to have been there (without the ‘done that’).

there are days, for example, where those moments come closer together than one might feel are appropriate, like winning the lottery or an academy award (whatever seems the most unlikely for you) and they layer one upon the other, someone’s grandiose idea of a cake (i like cake) with butter cream frosting and strawberries (please feel free to substitute your favorite flavors–it could also be a cake filled with pleasant sensations; the touch of your lover, a smile from a stranger, a door being held open for you, a thank you–god knows those are in short supply these days), wherever they come from, however you build it, it’s there just for you.   you may even find yourself blushing from the excess.   <insert your favorite approving platitude here.>


between 6:05 am & 6:25 am

the heat of a summer morning.  what do you think about in the morning?  do you clear your mind of the dreams from your sleep?  or think about the day ahead and what you must accomplish?  are your thoughts more mundane than that, perhaps about how the coffee tastes or how blue the sky is or why is the dog smelling that particular blade of grass?

do you ever wonder why?  why you think about what you do at any given moment?  are your thoughts just forming themselves, a little foggy at the bottom, but with the light of clarity seeping in at the top?

sometimes i do.  but then i decide that the prevailing wisdom on the subject is probably best left to those whose job is thinking about such things.


the movement of air experienced by trees




untitled (blue skies w/clouds & flowers)


what the sky foretold,

the rose revealed,

the rain delivered.


the failure of monotony (a study in monochromatics)

it really doesn’t wash with me.  try as i might, i find it hard to ever recall saying “i’m bored.”  oh, i may have been bored with a television show or some other monotonous chore, but those are instances that are easily overcome. i can’t do it.  i cannot write about monotony.   this is the umpteenth time i’ve started this post & each time it gets more & more inane & redundant.  what is there to say about monotony?  i’ll tell you:  nothing.   these two photos struck me because of their monochromatic essence, but even they are not monotonous (which is what i thought would be the connection, the raison d’etre, if you will, of this post,) but alas, it’s not to be.

because i love their subtlety, their illusion of fiction, their drifts of watery memory, & the melding of sea & sky.  & although they’re still, can you not feel the swells of the ocean, the rocking, stomach-dropping dip & lift?


earth & sky & william blake

Joey, a dog, and I, a human, took in the sights & smells at Skyview Park, just a half mile from our house yesterday.  Joey, as is his want, was much more interested in earthly delights while I (perhaps due to my height and completely worthless sense of smell) was captivated by the views.

Off we went down the yellow gravel path that leads to the ocean should you be so inclined; it’s a rather dramatic descent that makes the return hike an incredible workout, but for a portion of the trail, it is wide, smooth, filled with vistas (and with scents.)

Like a veteran’s cemetery, they have lined up markers along the trail denoting the indigenous flora, although one would be hard pressed to tell the difference as upon closer inspection each plant looked much the same as the last.

The vistas open up as the gravel crunches underneath & your footfalls keep time with the snuffling of Joey as he zigzags from scent to scent, from pee station to pee station.

Aliso Creek/Wood Canyon Park to the north of the trail.

And to the south, homes along the coastline, trying desperately to mimic the western coast of Italy — on a really clear day you can see down to La Jolla.

And as the descent steepens, Laguna Beach appears with the Palos Verde Peninsula humping like a whale in the distance.

Oops!  Pee break.

Before the path narrows and descends to the ocean, you have the opportunity to glimpse, like a mirage, Santa Catalina Island. At this ‘rest’ stop there is a picnic table (as there are scattered along the path to this point.)  This one was covered with graffiti.

Some of which showed promise artistically & philosophically, but others resorted to the usual demeaning tropes — as if ‘sucks dick’ was a bad thing.

But that was redeemed by this quote from William Blake:

“If the doors of perception were cleansed then everything would appear as they truly are, infinite.”  In spite of the misspelling, that a sentient human felt compelled to share Blake at this view point in Orange County astounds me (and relieves me as well.)

Which made me look skyward for my own inspiration.

…and thoughts of Titian skies: roiling clouds as backdrops for Renaissance fantasies of religious mythologies; bolts of satin, heaving breasts (female), the plated armor pectorals of gods with swords poised to cleanse the world of its evils.

Baroque beatification of beauty.

An armada scuttling across the ocean with visions of wealth, the reality: death.

But up and out we climbed, Joey and I, toward a form of redemption through friendship grounded, open, and for a moment ours alone.



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© Robert Patrick, and Cultivar, 2008-2013. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts, photographs and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Robert Patrick and Cultivar with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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