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.