Friday comes a day early this week as tomorrow is a holiday and I'm giving myself a little blog break for a day.
What a week! Change is swirling around me, glancing off my shoulders but I seem to just be an onlooker, wondering when my time will come and what that will look like. To be honest, I've been thinking a lot about Ireland again. But that's a placeholder idea for me and I'm not sure it means it's something I actually want. It's a bit like fantasizing about old boyfriends because you just haven't met a new guy yet. It carries the same confusion about understanding what I really feel and want.
When I'm not happy with the big picture, I tend to drink up miniature moments of beauty. In fact, I think I trust those kinds of moments more than the grandiose gestures and big waves of feeling that sometimes knock my feet out from under me. Matt's post "the miniature" is such a beautiful articulation of one such moment.
Indeed, I think one of the reasons I like blogging and instagramming is precisely that pregnant pause to capture a miniature moment. I remember when I saw Francesca Woodman's photographs and they were so small. It was a time when I only wanted to print big and epic and fantasized about large format cameras (long before digital anything). And Woodman's small prints were a Copernican revolution for me. That only one person could sensibly look at a print made the looking so intimate, so highly personal and very memorable.
And I think when we take a moment to snap something around our homes; the light on a Sunday morning, my favourite reading spot, the swan's neck curve of a ranunculus stem, even the over-photographed perfection of a cup of coffee, that I experience some of that same sensation. It's heightened and personal, maybe more precisely because it is banal and accessible. It's a very tight perspective and a moment that might otherwise pass unnoticed.
I was always in the habit of actively perceiving when I had a darkroom. But since I moved here, I lost it. I think I was just coping with all the move entailed, so didn't step back and pay attention in that peculiar way. It makes me happy to find myself back in that mindset using Instagram. And, yes, it's easy to pooh-pooh the amateurishness and accessibility of social media - a gazillion people taking photos of cups of coffee with bad cameras and gimmicky filters. But it's also beautiful. And there are way worse things we could be pausing to reflect on and savour.
In this vein, I also loved Helen's beautifully photographed fading tulips (in fact, I've been loving Helen's blog so much lately - it always feels like home to me) and Anabela's carnations too (my grandfather had carnations in his garden and they always remind me of him. I love their fragrance.) And thanks to a twitter link from Samantha, I reread this Paris Review interview with Alice Munro. It's impossible for me to talk about miniature moments without referencing her stories.
I have no real Easter plans, just work; it's never-ending for me these days. I hope you have a lovely weekend though!