sauvie fog study, no. 3

sauvie-fog-study-3
Recently, Susan and I went to see “Mr. Turner,” a movie that I have been dying to see, about the great 19th-century British painter, J.M.W. Turner. The movie was odd–with occasionally impenetrable dialogue and almost no exposition whatsoever–yet I found it compelling and thought-provoking in the end.[1. In a nutshell: if you could figure what was being said, riddle out out who was who (and who was really important to the story), and not be driven crazy by the random dissonance of the soundtrack, you very well might be fascinated by the lengthy character study of an eccentric, seemingly misogynistic man who also happened to be a genius painter. Not a qualified rave, but I am glad that I saw it.]

Thinking about the movie brought me back to a series of images I made early last year on Sauvie Island with Hudson (I’ve posted two photos: cormorants, sauvie island and love and fearlessness). I love the fog and the diffuse light that it often brings with it, and I had tried to work up a few landscapes that incorporated the river, the distant bank, and the clearing fog. I never really did anything with those shots, but last week, thinking about the light on that day, I decided to go back and view the series with a fresh set of eyes. Here’s one view…[2. I’m not equating myself with Turner; it’s more that I have always loved the way he dealt with light, detail and the vastness of a landscape, and he’s one of the artists that has inspired me. And, thinking about painting when looking at a scene with a camera is never a bad thing, in my opinion. I wasn’t channeling him when I was in the field here, but I do have a vision of creating photos in the fog that have both painterly and photographic qualities.]

see it bigger, | where is this?

a leaving

leaving-home-2

Ten months ago, almost to the day, my wife passed away peacefully at home. This morning, I walked out of that home for the last time.

This was the place that Lee and I always dreamed we would build, one packed to the rafters with love and the happy minutiae of a life together. And it became just that, the foundation for the best parts of our lives together. It is where our children grew up and grew out, and where we put down roots in a community that felt absolutely right for each of us.

Of all the houses that I have lived, this was the one that I truly called home. A small part of me wanted to be in this place forever, if only to celebrate that time and preserve it for my children. But I also know that I cannot live in the service of the past, and that’s mostly what it would be.

Today’s leaving was as immeasurably sad as anything I have experienced in the past year; a sadness that came from deep inside me, from the bedrock upon which I am built. And yet, it was also freeing, as though another small weight had been lifted from my soul.

And as I walked through the rooms of the house, I smiled for the wonderful memories buried in those walls and shed some tears for the things that never were to be. And I stood in front of the beautiful gardens that Lee created and cherished, and wished the plants to stay strong and vibrant for the family that is entering this place.

leaving-home-garden

There are good bones in this house, and the land beneath it breathes with an air of contentment that comes from the lives that inhabited this space. It is time for this place to bloom again, with laughter and love at its center. And it is time for me to leave, to move further into this new world that I am creating. Yes, there is sadness in leaving, but there is also much joy and love in my life. It is that which continues to propel me forward.

Peace.