This was something of a strange sunset to begin with, before I took my figurative “paint brush” to it. It had the unusual dark swirly spot in the middle, which I don’t often see in our sunset sky. I decided to amp up the intensity of that center to the max, and then experimented with the color curves for a long time. If you look closely, you can see some streaks of pale yellow in the lighter pink area under the spot, and if you look very closely, you can see the black tip of a church steeple in the lower left corner where the fuchsia blends into cosmic orange. Add to that the cosmic orange in the top two corners and the bottom bowl-like curvature, and I was finally happy with the result.
I came in to Brother and Sisters Flower Shop early in the day a couple of weeks ago to find that they were still setting up. This is not unusual, as they change things on a daily basis, and most of their foot traffic starts around lunch time. I love going in early, saying ‘Hi,’ wandering around looking at what’s new, and basking in the serenity. I found the Straw flowers had been gathered and moved into this huge pot of glory. The ladder in the background, and other evidence of the huge amount of work the owner and assistant do every day to create a constantly evolving space, made the shop feel even more intimate, as if I was trusted to see the inner workings of the creation of an isle of sanity.
It was left at the curb for either someone else to take and use, or for the trash collectors to pick up.
I love living in a city. I love access to museums, opera, symphony orchestras, theater and restaurants. And it literally makes me happy to walk down the street and see and hear so many people of different nationalities, languages and ethnicities. For me that makes life richer. I also love seeing what people discard. Most of the time it’s things like broken desks, or the packaging of an overly large item. But every once-in-awhile I see an item that seems to call out, “Wait! Stop and look. I have a story to tell!” And then I have the opportunity to imagine it’s history, and try to convey it’s uniqueness with my camera.
I came upon this chair while the grandchildren and I were walking the dogs. And I wondered. Had this chair been placed at a table where someone both ate and struggled to pay bills? Was it part of a set but finally got too rickety to hold its owner’s weight? Did someone place it at a desk where they worked on writing their first novel, or tried to find a job? Did they work from home? And what happened to make them abandon it? The considerate owner had placed its back legs in the uneven roots of the tree, trying to make the chair as out of people’s way as possible. That’s what gave it that delightfully off kilter angle that was both arresting and sad. It probably wouldn’t have been half as interesting to me if it had simply been placed straight up on the curb. Or even had it been laid on it’s side. I would have thought of it as just a used chair. But this askew chair up against the richly textured bark of the tree caught my eye and seemed to say, “I once was new and cared for! What have I done, other than become old? I am still able to hold my back up straight and proud. Please stay awhile, and hear my story.”