little discovery. - stardust, foxes and fossils.

 

Here i am with frosty fingers and wigglyboots after a nights walk to hunt for some starry skies. That’s a rarity around where I live as the summer nights are not dark enough and winter evenings are cloudy. A little gap of rare evenings as today, it’s a soothing sight to catch hold of them wise beings. From a thousand light years away.

How can one in this one little lifetime ever comprehend and to make sense of the fact that one will never know if the stars that one looks unto may have ceased to exist a million years ago, perhaps few might have passed away yesterday or just as I write this now and yet they will continue to glitter for the yet to come million years. Looking closely, a blip that way yesterday might not be around tomorrow. So much magic. What a beautiful carpet of bewitchment upon , or should I say under which souls have celebrated romance, and in that romance recollected the first encounters, first serenades and continue to hold them witness of their marriage and of their dance. These beings saw journeys, battles one in which a collective or a nation crumbled and ones in which an individual won within and out shined the witnessing star itself. A smile to that romance.

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How humbling are these experiences.

As I walk alone in these cold pathways with no footsteps ahead, faint lights far away, charting plans of future, contemplating present with frost almost frost on face - this knowledge, of where we stand, where i stand in the street amidst the gaze of these gaseous giants who have seen a million such as myself and will see millions yet to come, this knowledge provides a comforting warmth I can attest to. Knowledge of this minuscule in all paradoxical ways makes the spirit a giant.

Cold hands, back at home and made another discovery of this little gem. foxes and fossils. Contemplating a flight to listen to them live somewhere someday. - under the stars :)

artists and characters

Sso having headed to Stockholm over the weekend to catch Roo Panes in concert, little did I realize the interaction would and could evolve into the dude stepping down the stage with a beer and having a chat. yes, just a random simple everyday dude chat. Other things on my mind, i was away and was not involved in the conversation as much as the ladies were up to (yeah, no shit sherlock!) . But i stepped in occasionally to catch some pictures, the ladies wanted with him and me being shutter-bugsy, I volunteered for this alone.

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However, on exiting, I went right up to onto the crowd surrounding him and said “cheers mate, thanks for the great concert , have a good one“ , and he goes “yeah cheers mate, thanks for coming and see you sometime“ follow an absolutely otherwise cringe-worthy handshake, it was no less spectacular as any two buds anywhere of long time would do.

This. I shall remember. That humbleness.
That’s all that matters for as a mark of character for a man, and even more so an artist.

I recollect that humbleness quite distinctly of people i know who were upto something good, unique that were solely a product of themselves but never in the slightest in attitude showed ownership to their very own produce. be it writing, a stroke of color, an insight or and effort to make the world better. To liken it to a great photograph, it’s the marriage of moments, the light, the photographer, the tool and everything in between at that one precise moment. And how can the photographer, the artist take credit to it as it’s his alone?

To whom one owes the spark of insight, to see things in a way, the capacity to perceive, the shade of perception? Does the magic happen in comprehension of a thought or the procreation of the thought itself? experiences? comprehension of experiences? or merely a reaction to them shapes and shifts of what we put out as of our own? to whom we owe this.

individuality and individuation although a process to internalize and make a thesis out of oneself to get geared for the response to whatever come maybe, and etch our names in them, do we fail to recognize that it’s the very same experiences author us?

random fan-girl probably writing her excitement on Facebook?

…..in realization of this, blooms that humbleness :)

weekend expedition No.296

So, the ladies of the Sunnansjö and Grangärde local had decided to have an art stall at display. Locally called the ‘Konstrundan‘ (Swedish: literally meaning The Art-Round ), it’s a yearly affair displaying arts and crafts from the locals residing around the Lake Väsman (Väsman wiki) . And this, was a part of it. Antoinette, one of the sweetest sweetest person I have come to known during my stay here, issued a friendly “command” to capture b/w portraits that they could display along the entrance to familiarize people to the artists a tad before.

So, I headed down (well, actually up to the northern point of the lake) for a little weekend project to catch portraits.

The aim was to catch them while they were at work , - but portraits. A slightly challenging aspect as environment is thrown out, the context hardly visible (as opposed to 35mm shots) but still, the subjects appear busy - or rather distracted, distracting the viewers themselves.

But hey, why not experiment ?

Red-Handed :) !

train back home

The Friday commanded a trip to Stockholm. And way back to Ludvika the day after. And when sights of rusted metal, aging roof starts showing up behind familiar smudgy windows, that’s direction to home :)