the Past …
the Present …
or the Future …
and/or any combination thereof in the one single shot (tautology police—over here, at once!).
So my own personal
is ever to capture the essence of the transience of life (wrt tempus, which is fugiting all the time). It’s not easy and mostly I flub. But I try, and as much as I hate explaining my shots sometimes it seems necessary. So here we go—
—the essence here is that outline on the concrete wall at the rear there. Once-was-a-building, so where those cars are parked now is sharing space with … don’t worry about it; and the ‘artistic’ graffiti would probably call for bewilderment on the part of the Victorian bricklayers.
WE ARE GOING INTO
ANZAC Day territory, less than a month to the centennial of a forlorn hope of WW1. Possibly the idea was good (looks good on paper, I tell you~!) but the execution was—dare I say—based on hubris and ran aground in practise. It seems that the jolly Johnnie Turk wasn’t quite the pushover the mighty Royal Navy was expecting—and using battleships to clear minefields by driving through them wasn’t such a good idea either; so we are about to see yet another resurgence in commemorative poppies.
Our poppies in New Zealand used to be made by Old Boys of the RSA (Returned Services Association) but in recent years someone discovered they could save a buck by getting them made in China …
It put a few vets out of a job (and I don’t know if the Chinese survived the hullabaloo when made public) but that’s not the point of this photo. It was taken outside the RSA building in Winton (Southland) recently.
Myself, I see often in metaphor and I see the poppies in full bloom here as a being representative of young souls cut down in their prime. The greying seed pods are ghosts of the ones gone before, looking down without comment after chasing the same dreams (of empire) … and the green as being the idealistic little twerps who haven’t a clue (but will still be fed to the guns of future wars—and whom no-one will ever listen to when they get home (if~!) to tell of what they’ve been through).
PAST IN PRESENT?
Of course. You may remember in some earlier post I showed the below church in a snap taken a hundred years ago whilst under construction—
—and here it is last week, whilst The Spouse was in one of her favourite shops and I was neatly shoved outside, wandering around with a camera and of philosophical bent reflecting on the passing of fashions. All grist to the mill (whatever a grist is—it sounds painful).
I was going to use to respond to the Weekly Photo Challenge which this week was ‘Orange’—
—but the lamp I saw in life as orange came out unusably not so in the shot, so I didn’t.
But the reflective blending-the two-worlds-in-one idea fits nicely. (Hey, if Einstein can babble about time and space being the same thing, why not moi, hmm?)
I SAY OFTEN
that there ain’t no such thing as ‘time’ and it’s beginning to look as if the good people at New Scientist are coming round to that way of thinking too. Now all I need is for some great genius to concur that there’s no such thing as Free Will (which is just another convenient illusion) and my cup will runneth over (thomething like that) but it will be a long wait. Old habits die hard, it seems.
time for another rum (or any other excuse) … don’t wait up.