Archives for posts with tag: painting

Put the picture back into the frame. Picture it upon the wall.
Tear down the wall and see a valley before you that is filled with good things.
Worship that which appears.
Record the moment you define what you are reading.
Make the frame, seize the earth, place it firmly in its place.
Fix the stars upon their paths. Say to yawning chasms,
“Smile for the camera.”

Put yourself into the frame,
take the photograph.
The camera becomes you.
In this landscape,
you will always be real;
fixed in place in time.


Modern landscape includes kitsch architecture, styles of facade, advertising signage, antique service stations … we project our nostalgia for history onto self generated past landscape.
We want a time when everyone agreed what happened. The fabulous time of tranquil forests, fertile orchards, and clear streams. Instead, we have our modern city—we are no longer a community of souls subjugating the unexpected, we are facets of each other tunneling through the creation of a new abstract order—we have transformed our landscape into psychic topography and move ever deeper into the photograph/painting/map of thought—

The lens changes, the lion is the chimera, the sign that rhymes, that sells
the moment by moment flick of motion, new frames in the wilderness,
the promise of free land that sent us roaming in search of a part
of ourselves, that set us to run into/after/over each other;
we stand on stacked landscapes to get a better view.

We obliterate the wild within our architecture, and believe/explain
it is our landscape. We have forgotten our tools only anthropomorphize
that which is already human — you and me. We believe we see a lion.
Then the landscape is very alive; it scares us.

Look through the camera at the interaction of green grass, dried stalks, the gentle rise of the land, we are so close there is no horizon; I wish I had a red filter, a wish I never made before. I want to heighten the contrast of greens to reveal the brush strokes that wait to be displayed within this frame of land.

I wait for the light to improve, lost in thought and the new realization I can determine the colours the camera sees.

Now, I know what a filter is for.

The art of landscape imposes organization upon the chaotic, it is the human discovery of pattern and principle within prima materia. Renaissance landscapes would often feature a city upon the horizon, to announce man’s defining presence. Landscape subdues the wild, the unknown, the lair of the lion and the wolf.

Landscape can be neutral, blank; the mirror waits for a face to fill it.
Nothing moves, nothing intrudes, the forest and the fields contain their disorder and do not render it balanced.
The horizon is exact, even the picture of a lion that peers from dark shadows,
he stares impassively from the mouth of the cave that is his home.

The lion is at home within the moment of the forest.
The outlines of the crests of the trees, the branches, the leaves
melt into trunks that dwindle into an infinite reduction of light and shadow,
brush stroke and pigment. We delight to believe we discern order,
the hierarchy of meaning, it is apparent as we behold the landscape;
not as we render it in the gut grip moment of apprehension what is the wild.

Walking through the field, I stare at my feet, watch the endless quilt of leaves, grass, green, brown, light, rocks, burgundy, violet, scarlet, shadows, dirt, toads reel past until the photographer stops, a sudden balance expresses itself, comes into focus, only apparent if exposed. The film will convince  the viewer this really exists; it already exists like this in my mind.

I walk to this place to find the picture exists, motionless, waiting for my photograph.
My film is proof that free will and fate are a record of discovery;
in this frame I make event/meaning out of things unexamined.
My camera maintains its silent illusion; my new landscape is this solid moment.

Light records time. My eye captures what the mirror defines/finds this instant.

Landscape is an event created/discovered in abstract; we make an action and define it as found in nature. Consider the balance of colour, form, texture, the beautiful, the tragic, the boundless, what is surreal, what is construct; it is what surrounds us—the idea of landscape is inevitable like a universal right. We plant the seed of civilization in our wilderness and put a fence around it.

Put a frame around it; choice makes meaning where it finds it.

Photograph records a frame.
Our palette is a choice of manipulation;
colour manifests in our science of technology and we
evolve to make real the mechanik of vision production.
The camera/photograph creates the illusion of sight.
Within the moment we not only record the art of landscape,
we project the act of landscape, from within the frame
into what surrounds us. As if we had never seen it before.

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