Here’s part two of my series Interiors, stills and abstractions around the themes of domesticity, compression, and elsewhere, or the ways we inhabit multiple places through memory and imagination. (You can see part one here.) While I prefer street and documentary photography, I’ve been enjoying this little project very much. Not only has it been something different, but it’s also pushed me to think more about what and how I’m shooting. Who knows, I may be forced to work on part three if the rains stay this heavy and I can’t get outside to shoot soon.
The opening for this part comes from Galway Kinnell‘s poem “The Old Life,” which I love for being tender, but not sentimental.
THE OLD LIFE
The waves collapsed into themselves
with heavy rumbles in the darkness
and the soprano shingle whistled
gravely its way back into the sea.
When the moon came from behind the clouds
its white full-moon’s light
lightly oiled the little beach stones
back into silence. We stood
among shatterings, glitterings,
the brilliance. And now it happens
another lifetime is up for us,
another lifetime upon us.
What’s left is what is left
of the whole absolutely love-time.