I thought about writing something to go along with my shoot from the pottery place, and waited over a week for the words to properly flush out. Thing is, they never did. I went somewhere filled with statues because I’m redesigning my front yard and wanted some inspiration. In the process I found the clearance section (as rain clouds rolled in like upside down waves), and the truth is… I spent entirely too long standing in a battle field of sorts.

The moment I started to see these things, these figures, my focus drained. My smile faded. I stopped looking for the perfect bench or an adequately priced pair of lions. I saw the red paint on every broken, battered hunk of clay and I didn’t feel like pretending that nothing had ever gone wrong.

I started shooting all of it.

It’s not as if the words were missing. This didn’t feel like discovering anything new. It was like a part of the world in my head had simply gotten tangible for a moment.

And as tangible as it was, it remained an indescribable mystery.


6 responses to “Memorial

  1. Believe:

    A huge trigger word for me. I am not sure why it is, but it has been for a years now. I’ve written about it several times in my Alice writting


    I guess that is what always caused me to notice and it was the damn white rabbit that made me first pay attention

  2. Wow, those clearance items are actually what I’d go for. They look old and unusual and because of that, strangely beautiful. Their flaws give them character. They would fit our home nicely.
    The fully-priced ones? Well, I never could stand mass-produced items :/

  3. There is something very emotional behind these pieces to me.
    There is still a beauty, in what has broken…

    It’s a metaphor for life, I guess!

    I still believe in the broken things…

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