Full Of Endless Distances

'Life is but a day; 

A fragile dew-drop on its perilous way…'

            

                           –– John Keats 

          The quiet patter of rain, the fleeting presence of condensation on a window pane… There is beauty in moments like these. Yet, they are fragile – fading just as swiftly as they appeared. Sorrow often accompanies beauty – death, life. It is in these subtle moments that the fragility of all of life can be felt. 

          Each cyanotype is a trace of the shadow of condensation and rain that fell against the windows of my living room. It is a project of contemplation and acknowledgement – pondering the beauty of moments like these yet acknowledging their transient nature. There is  a tension between our need to control – to understand and predict – and the ineffable, intangible, chaotic  nature of the world. Try as we might, we cannot stop the constant flux of life – cannot hold on to those things we hold so dear. 

          And that blue – that exquisite, melancholy blue… It is a blue as elusive as the rain – as elusive as life itself. It is the blue of longing, of a desire never to be reached. 

 

          A blue full of endless distances