believe in bigger things
The debris of daily living piles up, whether or not we let it. It entombs our innocence. Conceals our sense of wonderment in the fractured symbols of shattered expectations and faulty statuses.
But, there's a kind of longing that haunts our memories. Our dreams and our waking. The kind that doesn't stay buried, regardless of our repression, suppression, or willful forgetting.
It arises from the wreckage unlooked for and unbidden. It goes on lingering namelessly.
It’s neither wistfulness nor nostalgia, it’s something different. Something much more difficult to pinpoint or say.
It's the quiet promise that cuts through the static of all our false pretenses. Something that calls to us in the stillness of making things. That brings us back to joy and peace and playfulness.
Something that survives the rubble with softness and subtlety, waiting to be reclaimed.
Something that returns to us what we've been missing.
The part of us that still believes in bigger things...
P.S. ICAD Day 125 - 128
P.P.S - Last weekend I drove to St. Petersburg to drop off a few collage for a couple upcoming gallery shows. I brought my camera with me, hoping to try to take a few shots that perhaps I could use in my work. I still haven’t finished editing them all or figuring out what to do with them. But I managed to to make this one:
The text “Our share of morning” is taken from an Emily Dickinson poem. I’ve recently started reading more of her work, and hoping it continues to inspire more pieces.
So beautiful. Too often that voice of hope is ignored. Love all these collages, especially miracles dressed as disasters. And the photo art is really cool, too!
You can't go wrong with Emily Dickinson. Waiting to see what she inspires.