Night
A blood-red ribbon of a sunset wove through the trees on the horizon, but was barely detectable through the camera. This is how the new Moon--in Cancer--announced its arrival.
Women know these things.
Soon, darkness shrouded the mountains, though patchy clouds remained visible long after the Sun disappeared.
And for the first time in a long time, I've decided to do a bit of studying at a reasonable hour--a glass of red wine in hand (deeper, though more muted than the sunset)--but even my textbook told me of the Moon.
The latter chose to remain concealed.
For now.
Fishing Pin-up
In light of what I normally post on this blog, it might be somewhat surprising to see a blonde bombshell show up amidst all the wildlife and Heideggerian (!) imagery (albeit in cartoon form)! Yet I also enjoy creating lighthearted illustrations within the realm of pop culture, such as this one.
My client requested a remake of a vintage American pin-up with a fishing theme, but with a twist--it had to be transformed into a cartoon portrait of her. (The original was a wavy-haired brunette.) So what I've attempted to do was modernize the image while maintaining the elongated proportions of the original pin-up look.
Heaven over Mountain
Soon, I plan to make a trip here.
Who is with me? ;)
Along with a giddy Russian wanting to slide down the remaining patches of snow in a mildly embarrassing burst of childhood nostalgia, you most certainly get to see some mountain goats and quite possibly some grizzlies.
A Real-Life "Russian Ark"
Whenever I mention that I've finally had the chance to visit the Hermitage museum in St. Petersburg and, what's more--photograph it with virtually no one around (a rarity!), chances are that the subject of the Russian Ark comes up.
The film received substantial acclaim at the time of its release (2002). Created by a renowned director Sokurov using a single-sequence shot and featuring the music of Glinka, the Russian Ark offered an unusual and somewhat voyeuristic look at the 300-year history of St. Petersburg by traveling through the Winter Palace (now part of the Hermitage) and examining various episodes linked to the structure thereby weaving its cultural topography.
Truth be told, I remember the experience of viewing the film more than the film itself. After all: having relocated to Toronto, Canada at that time, this was my very first chance to attend a large bona-fide international film festival!
So the day I viewed the Russian Ark was the day that I discovered an entire world of worthwhile cinema outside of the Hollywood mainstream. (Indeed, as I say all too often--that particular aspect of culture is the one thing I miss about living in a North American metropolis, and so I'm tempted to hop on a plane and go to Seattle or New York, Montreal or even Toronto itself.)
It was only a decade later that I got another chance--the chance to wander the almost-empty rooms and corridors of the Winter Palace early in the morning and feel a bit like the ghostly narrator of the Russian Ark. And like the Russian Ark--out of chronological order--this was a decade that occurred somewhere far away and comprised a lifetime of people, places, and never enough sleep, but seemed to pass by in a moment.
And what of St. Petersburg? Inevitably compared to Moscow as our "most European city," I was a bit concerned that it was, but it felt Russian enough.
It felt like home.
I say that as a staunch Muscovite, born and raised, and I think the Russian Ark helped!
Daisies, Daisies Everywhere!
The daisy season is almost over in the greater Pacific Northwest, so the basset and I were having a field day--pardon the pun!--tonight on our walk.
When Daisies Attack! That's not the basset's purse, by the way.
They really look like countless little white lights guiding the way, especially during the golden hour.
Click me!
Click me, too!
Three Sisters in the Wind
"Do you see that tree? It is dead but it still sways in the wind with the others. I think it would be like that with me. That if I died I would still be part of life in one way or another.”
(Anton Chekhov, The Three Sisters)
Coincidentally, I photographed these trees last year, referring to them as the "three sisters" ever since, but not doing anything with this image until now. Chekhov has never been a favorite author of mine, nor has this particular play, but sometimes you ask Literature, and it responds.
Der Wächter des Seins
Recently promising myself to sketch fairly regularly, I never imagined that I'd feel the need to illustrate certain concepts intrinsic to the historical-philosophical destiny of the West (specifically, its conclusion). Yet, a number of photo illustrations later (here and here), I've decided to conflate two related concepts--the night watchman from Nietzsche and the guardian of Being from Heidegger--into a single conté sketch. A personification, of course.
"I had turned my back on all life, thus I dreamed. I had become a night watchman and a guardian of tombs upon the lonely mountain castle of death. Up there I guarded his coffins: the musty vaults were full of such marks of triumph. Life that had been overcome looked at me out of glass coffins."
(Nietzsche describing Zarathustra's dream)
Can you guess who was the source for this image?
Fireworks (through the Trees)
Having the benefit of the mountains, local residents and visitors alike prefer the bird's eye view of the July-4th fireworks. As a visitor-turned-resident, this was my first time to watch this Promethean exercise from ground level. And I have to say, it, too, has its perks, which the slideshow demonstrates.
As the sky grew darker, the lights turned brighter until the very last one disappeared beyond the tree line.
And then...no, not total darkness. And then--the stars.
