Seemingly flawless we move from season to season. There is a constant movement, one that we cannot observe; we can only feel and see the effects of said movement. Seasons change, and with that change, there is a perfectly orchestrated symphonic movement of colors, new growth, the sounds of birds chirping, the flight of bees in a vineyard.

This is the third installment of the series I call "Movement". In this series, I capture dead or alive tree or plant trunks. If you want to view the others and read the philosophical musings that go with this series, view part one here, and part two here. All of the photographs are taken with my Nikon D300 camera, and an old Nikon NIKKOR 50mm f/1.8 AI Lens. I love to play with the point of focus or depth in these photographs to give a seeming movement to the trunks. In this post, I write a short philosophical piece before I take you on a moving experience.

Philosophical Musings on Movement

We cannot stop change, the more we fight against the inevitable, the more it happens. The more we try to not step in the river, the wetter we become with the waters of change. This I feel symbolizes movement, like the seasons changing every year, so life moves on. We cannot stop it, we can merely appreciate it. How beautiful is the first day of spring, when the peach tree blossoms open, and the bees start buzzing and the birds chirping? How beautiful is it when the vineyards come alive with the first growth of the year, bright green in contrast to the brown old-growth of the trunks? Firmly planted in change, we can feel the effects on our own bodies. We fight the process, we want to stay young, but moving forward is the only constant. In the lines and grooves of the old vineyards, I see the utmost visual representation of movement. The new growth showing the movement of time and seasons. The lines and grooves on the old vineyard trunks showing a river of movement. Let us embrace this moving along, this movement.

Movement III

Endnotes on Movement

It is when the sun sets after a long day that we find a brief moment when movement seizes. It is only for a few seconds when the sun hovers on the horizon that we can grasp the movement-less feeling of the in-between space. From midday to night, from day to evening. A moment of quietude that rings in your ears. The birds go quiet, there are no bees. The sun hovers on the horizon and with this quietude, we are most aware of movement due to the lack of movement. There is but a brief silence, movement-less quietude, and at that moment we experience movement from the lack of movement.

I hope you experience this moment sometime in your life, where everything seems to have stopped. Stay safe.

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