After yesterday's session in the Widow's woods, I sat in my rig for a while thinking about the shoot and the place itself. One line led to another until I thought that line, "Nature is seamless." It is. Without us, anyway, even though we are a component only we tend to deny. Our participation often seems to be a wrench.
But let's say for a minute that we are not — a wrench, that is — and that the ground-off nose despite the face is part of the whole process. Just a thought. A very young thought. Besides, if and when the time comes humanity no longer exists, this sphere will still be spinning, keloids and all, with other life forms. And should the sun burn out, blow up or get sucked up in some black hole, well, that's Nature too, is it not?
OK, let's back up a bit, switch gears.
So, I was sitting there contemplating. And I was thinking about attention spans, another type of contemplation. There is an adage in direct marketing that states you have thirteen seconds to get the customer's attention. If your envelope doesn't get the person to open it and read that first paragraph, forget it.
The art world is not much different, maybe even more difficult. When one walks into a gallery, one often continues walking the whole time one is in the room, scanning for something worth stopping for. Each piece on the walls, a plinth or a monitor receives two, three, maybe four seconds of a gaze. ADD abounds. One commands, "Thrill me," as one should, I suppose.
Just as I rip up all of the junk mail I receive, I too generally peruse an exhibition in quick order. In and out in under five minutes. Unless... and I have stood and cried in front of paintings.
Out in Nature my pace changes. Just a bit, for the most part, but when something grabs my attention, I pause, sometimes long enough that the period becomes a meditation on that in front of me. So it was yesterday with the ants and the stream.
Did you notice? Of course you did.
I will go back with a real video camera.