The Movement Series
Once again, like the flowing river that perpetually moves, I am back with another installment of the Movement series. This week, there was a major fire in my area. Sitting on my hard drive are photographs of some recovering fynbos plants in the Kleinmond area, where there was a fire not three months ago, and more photographs of dead timber next to the ocean. It seems fitting then to post these images now as the rain is falling outside my study. Movement, from a dry week in the winter, to a massive wildfire, to flooding due to rain. In one week, movement. Without further ado, I share with you the small Philosophical musing on movement, followed by the photographs.
(Note: If you are not familiar with the series, I take various images of dead timbre alongside the coast with my Old Nikon NIKKOR 50mm f/1.8 AI Lens. I bend down to find strange angles that capture "movement" in various forms. The timbre tells a story, it is up to the poet to find the right words to latch onto them.)
More Movement Musings
The river moves along, making it impossible to step in the same river twice. But one can see this from another angle. There is also absolutely no movement. Over time the river might change course, but in that moment of you trying to step into the river again, the river remains. Philosophically, the identity of the river might have changed, it is not the exact same molecule hence the difference in identity. However, is it not the same river in a less rigid sense? You are standing in the river, it is not moving. In its rigidity, it is moving yet not moving. A lovely contradiction.
In our modern consumeristic world we are used to constant change. Yet, we are reminded by the quote that the more things change the more they stay the same. That is, in the moment, things remain the same, but over time they change. But still that lingering feeling of a contradiction. How can there be no movement yet that non-movement symbolizes movement?
A small piece of glass, a droplet of water, a lightning strike, or something, causes a small fire in a densely thicketed area. Undetected, it causes a major wildfire that destroys homes. Yet, that fire burning down the same area has been burning every other year. The soil needs the ash, the soil needs to be cleared so that sunlight can penetrate it. A lingering feeling of change, from a bush to nothing, from vegetation to death, yet looked from afar, nothing has happened, or the same has happened. We are, so to speak, moved, our emotions stirred. Yet, we move on afterward. As if nothing happened, our modern mind is filled with more recent news. A movement, a perpetual river running through us, moving, yet, standing still.
Movement: Part VI
Postscriptum, or Create Your Own Narrative
These "figures" lay dead in the thicket, yet they are alive if you have enough imagination. It is up to you to construct a story from them. Like driftwood, like a skull in a field, like an old novel, you are the co-author of the story. Each dead piece of timbre or fynbos tells a story. Each piece of timbre has witnessed countless hours and years of suns setting. The world is your oyster and you can make your own story.
I hope you enjoyed this post. The musings are my own as well as the photographs. Happy photographing and stay safe!