A narrative with ones self

It seems as we approach the end of the year, we become more reflective and nostalgic. Having watched the leaves alter their shade of colour the passed several weeks, I sit at the kitchen table looking out through the open door and observe a single leaf depart from a twig upon the arrival of a sudden gust of wind. The leaf tumbles to the unseen currents of air in a dance, before reaching the ground, joining others already there. This sudden gust of wind that subsided just as fast as it came, also set into motion an orchestrated eruption of harmony when it touched upon the wind chimes, filling the empty spaces with a choral of song.

The arrival of winter as autumn passes
Grizzly Peak, Berkeley, California
Digital duo-tone photograph, December 27, 2005

In another six days we officially enter autumn. The pumpkins have already arrived at the markets and since last month stores have been displaying their Halloween merchandize. In the meantime California is in the midst of an Indian Summer with temperatures hovering above the nineties. Though this is my favorite time of year, I can do without the heat and so can the garden.

As the days become shorter, my thoughts resume their journey back to  these last six years, continuing a conversation with myself that started mid-July. A narrative dissecting the memory entrenched in the recesses of translucent layers that are forever shifting, analyzing an unknown future filled with imperfection of an impassioned hope.

I decided to rework the image ‘The arrival of winter as autumn passes’ to compliment the ‘Ancient One’. Though the photograph is part of a larger series, it is one I seem to identify with most. It keeps resurfacing whenever I think about the end of autumn, the beginning of December, or the end of the year. The image has become a link to my past and what would have been the last few days of my life.

Both photographs reflect metaphorically who I was or what I have physically become. The spirit is still another matter, as it has remained cloistered in silence like an unborn, left seeking a path to the self.


Kim said...

Thank you Egmont, yes it does. This attack was surely the defining moment of my life (though I remember Kennedy) and my children's as well. You photography is phenomenal, so very beautiful and strong. I am sorry to hear of your struggles with health, keep on with your wonderful attitude, your powerful art is a gift to those of us who see it.

Eva said...

What a lovely way to start my day, a cup of coffee, reading your latest post and enjoying your photography. Thank you for sharing.

Wild Somerset Child said...

Thankyou for visiting my blog and leaving a comment. You are truly amazing to be able to work through your physical frailty and pain and produce such fantastic art. I know how hard it is to drag oneself back to the living world, as I experienced this in 2001. An undiagnosed virus resulted in liver and kidney failure and I have never had the same strength and stamina since. I know it was drugs that saved me, though I still like to think it was my husband's kiss on my forehead as I lay in hospital that dragged me back to life. At the time, all I wanted to do was die. Thankyou for sharing.

Leslie Avon Miller said...

To see the beauty in Autumn is to see the beauty in life, I think.

layers said...

Are you a writer? If not, you should be-- you should write a book and illustrate it with your beautiful imagery--- you words are so poetic and thought provoking at the same time. Although I sense a thread of sadness as well, or perhaps nostalgia for what past history in your life.

Anonymous said...

Do you know what prompted you to begin this journey back? And have you defined your hope for the future?
Recognizing one's mortality can spark so many different emotions. Fear or opportunity, the choice is always ours to make every morning, if we are lucky enough to wake up.
The leaf reminds me of how impermanent and delicate life is. Thank you.

van Dyck said...

I wish to say thank to everyone who commented and also address any questions.

These last two posts of mine have given me a gift. Not only words of encouragement but sharing your own journey and the obstacles you faced. Thank you.

This journey of looking back has been going on since the open-heart surgery. Just as much as I look forward to the future I cannot help but reflect back as to the beginning of my second life.

Thinking of my own mortality only increases the importance of the precious time remaining in which to accomplish the things unfinished.

Blue Sky Dreaming said...

This is my first time to leave a comment...I found you over at Jeane's ARTIT. Your words of introspection are beautiful and perfect for these autumn days. Escaping deaths grip is an amazing experience, few of us dare to speak of the life we have now and to compare it to the life we once lived.Your photography is quite wonderful.


i've just come across your blog via blue sky dreaming [above] - and must confess right up front that i am totally smitten not only with your visual art, but your verbal art as well - and with the beauty of your spirit which emanates from the screen -

while i do not have an "art" blog, per se, in one of mine, the gypsy on words unspoken, i do use my own verse exclusively the last month or so - there was a time when i wrote frequently - and a time when i was very involved with my own painting and sculpture - and photography [had a nikon f2 back in those days :) ] - and, like many, am now setting about to re-capture and/or re-create and/or create anew that part of me that seems to have been called away far too long -

oh, and i found the story of your medical journey especially meaningful as several years ago my sister had a similar cardiac experience - and then, one year ago next month, was found to have ovarian cancer which had been misdiagnosed for a very long time - she underwent surgery for that last october and just this last week, finally had the opening of her theatrical production which had been put on hold for a year - so, again, your story was especially meaningful to me -

please feel free to drop by my place and check out my blog[s] - there are several - i hope you will enjoy!


San said...

Yesterday we trimmed back the lavender and now our house smells like summer, but the air feels like winter is approaching. I love much about the fall, but it is a time of letting go, as the leaf you observed. And with letting go is a certain inevitable sadness.

Lisa Sarsfield said...

Thankyou for your visit to my blog. I was suprised to see a comment on that blog as I havn't used it for well over a year! It was kinda nice for me to revisit it as well! I had to shift my photography to wordpress because blogger wasn't playing nice:)
Thanks again!

Dec 27 (caption on photo) is summer here:) I like the changing season caught forever through your lense.