La rêveuse - fotografía 2001 © alfonso brezmesSituamos una planta en un cuarto a oscuras, en el que solamente una rendija de luz alumbra, como fuego, con su lengua ardiente, las sombras. Al cabo de los días y las noches, ella extiende sus brazos lentos, como para abrazar el mundo, hacia esa promesa, hacia ese recuerdo. Y adapta su vida a esa querencia.
Así las almas.
Tropisms
We place a plant in a dark room where only a split of light, as fire, illuminates with ardent tongue the shades. After days and nights, it extends its slow arms, as if to embrace the world, towards this promise, towards this remembrance. And adapts its life to this affection.This way the souls...
14 huellas dejadas:
tropismo, me choca la palabra, tan desencantada, y plana, y hasta áspera para una reflexión tan bella...
How sad to be that plant and to reach that longingly for that bit of light. Wouldn't you want to fling open the curtain and let the whole room bathe in sunlight? It is like reading only one line of a long poem, because it is too dark to read the rest. So we remain in ignorance of all the other words that can be our salvation.
Tropismos:Fototropismos, gravitropismos,tigmotropismos,hidrotropismos...¿Y las nastias y los ritmos circadianos?
NOTA: No sabía qué poner.
Lo único que nos permite sobrevivir es la capacidad de adaptación. Es curioso, sobre ello he publicado un post hoy.
Soy una planta vegetal. Cuestión de tropismo, quizá.
This is a very moving image. She seems to be dreaming and mourning at the same time.
Could be what might be or what can never be.
Beautiful photograph in itself.
The woman seems like a gentle flower, resting her soul unto a petal bed; taking her warmth from the sliver of light, and in turn, sending her dreams as thanks to the light... This is a very touching photograph, intimate and yet universal..
Your words ring so true: it is with the entertwining of souls that life begins to have some kind of purpose. Symbiotic poetry..
Alfonso, sorry, I came here late but I am still in Beirut and my internet is less than perfect :). Kisses.
y buscamos la luz, la suave luz que con su mano cura las heridas
and we look for light, the gentle, light that heals our injuries
Hermosa foto y texto.
Jin: las palabras no son planas o ásperas en sí mismas, a menudo es cuestión tan sólo de cómo las empleamos. En este caso, sigo pensando que Tropismo era la plabra adecuada...
Irene: No. I like a life with lights and shadows: too much light doesn´t allow us to see well...
Neda: how properly you use words and how properly do your words fall over my picture and my soul
Eva: si pudiésemos rescatar algo de la calidez y ritmo de las plantas..
Frances: I like you appreciate the mage, because for me is also very valuable and moving...
Thanks all!
I wasn't brave enough to say what my first thought about the picture was - because it was too sad - but it is very poignant.
Your images always speak of many things, Afonso, and this image initially showed me someone looking sadly at someone looking sadly at an emptiness.
When I read the title, I thought maybe she was a dream and she was dreaming, but I haven't shaken off the sense of loss I got from my first impression.
I hope you are having a happy weekend.
Sorry, but I have to disagree. It looks like light coming into the house from an open window. I is like the fog/cat in Eliot's poem, "rubbing its muzzle into the window panes". It is a light with long hands, like plants, moving slowly, adapting itself, something inmaterial like a soul. Light is always connected to hope. For me the image says: In these obscure times we can only remeber the light of hope which came from our opened windows, light which also means life, and not death. Can you see a cot by the woman?
Yes - and I thought she was looking at an empty crib near the window.
But I am glad for your interpretation, waiting, not mourning.
Publicar un comentario en la entrada