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Baudelairean melancholy « before . now . later » |
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 Over there on the horizon is a not so little place [Smyrna] where a lot of history was made in these parts, it’s a sort of looped history because in a strange way, the bigger story of it is being repeated now and I’m always kind of stunned by how repetitious we are and tenacious and bloody minded. A bit like this tree living in an impossible place, which probably wasn’t when it seeded itself. 3 parts dead 1 part clinging and though its roots must be clawing back under that dirt track searching for the sweet water in all the salt, the dead and live parts are still leaning out into impossibility. Often there’s a crow, sentinel like in the upper branches but I never seem to be able to get my shit together to catch it when it is. I drive past this tree every day, often several times a day, it always catches my eye and right now at the equinox the sun sets slap bang behind it which gives you a sense of its orientation. Some days there’s a solitary old lady broad and hatted, bathing underneath it, though the times I pass in my car she’s usually getting her stuff together to amble home for a siesta, sometimes it’s a family, usually locals, camped under it for a slither of shade. It always makes me think of the madness of rushing past it in a box of metal, using a resource at a rate of knots not replaceable and never really feeling time and distance in all of this madness and though it’s leaning out in the ‘wrong’ direction it also takes my thoughts to that slow boat to Argentina. ‘There’s a kind of Baudelairean melancholy, through which can be perceived the end of civilization, and the belief that there is nothing to be done about it’ But… These grandiose thoughts could just be compensation for the fact that its not necessarily such a good photo, though the tree and its location are grand enough indeed Fuji Reala YashicaD Posted by alek on 06/26/2008 Archives: yashica-D, all, mediumformat |
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