Category Archives: lightwritten

Upon entering the all that might become

paths crossed (what might become) © 2016 Jered Dawnne

paths crossed (what might become) © 2016 Jered Dawnne

For years—decades, actually—I have been haunted by a phrase, “the all that never was”. Some of you will have seen it crop up from time to time. It’s relatively self-explanatory, and has stood for many things. It has drifted in and out of my writings, both prose and poetry, for the vast majority of those creative endeavors. Technically, in my head, it meant one precise thing, but as such phrases are for me, it had a facility and use that expanded well beyond its original meaning. It’s the kind of thing which, for a writer who rarely sets down the words which rattle about within his skull, haunts a person. That’s why I phrased the first sentence the way that I did. By “haunting”, I don’t mean, “occasionally comes up whenever I’m feeling nostalgic”. “Haunting” for me means that is has been part-and-parcel with every day, woven into dreams, and wrapped around every meditation—for longer than I care to consider, because most of that has been anything but healthy.

Slowly, that concept is turning over in my head. I’m not sure why this image is caught up in that, really, but it is. There was something about that day when this photograph was taken, and it wasn’t just the nuances of being in a new-to-me place and meeting new-to-me people. It was something more than that, perhaps just the getting out and doing, and the departure from more static patterns.

“The all that might become” is a thing both attached to, and filtered by “the all that never was”, but it is a brighter thing, a needed thing, an internal separation from that tendency to keep looking over my shoulder at all the things that didn’t go as hoped and planned.

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patterns of the incomplete

patterns of the incomplete (verdant trance) © 2016 Jered Dawnne

patterns of the incomplete (verdant trance) © 2016 Jered Dawnne

the world revolves in an ever-present spiral, unremarkably smaller and larger, unnoticeably differential, but rarely deferential; just as time cascades in an ever-present deluge, unambiguously shallow and abyssal, acutely reverential, and obliquely referential.

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cadence of the long silences

cadence of the long silences © 2016 Jered Dawnne

cadence of the long silences © 2016 Jered Dawnne: a portion of the facade of the Donohoe Building at the Cherokee Mental Institute

movement
and the Tower, still
transfixed in winged progression
how a soul might fly

     had i known it then
     would i seek for misdirection
     would i yearn for something more
     than the sanctity of tears
     than the wisdom of darklight
     than the strength of unmended minds

Truth
no other vision grows
Star, and its quiescence
the pure and the strong
bereaved in Transformations
that Tower still enthroned
and the multiverse implodes

     had i known it then
     would any of this matter
     would this emptiness still cling
     to the relevance of fear
     to this constant wondering
     to the coldness of broken minds

Moon’s light
above the Tower burning
transfigured in procession
now a soul does fly

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cadence of the long silences © 2016 Jered Dawnne
a variation of “Interim: A Requiem” © 1990.09.05 Jered Dawnne, published 1993 in “The Sabre”

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of moments lost within minds gone elsewhere

linear recursions (drained) © 2016 Jered Dawnne

linear recursions (drained) © 2016 Jered Dawnne

there is a pattern to our incarnations which we rarely perceive, let alone understand. we revolve around each other in sliding spirals, sometimes within each other’s view, but more often not. seldom do we understand what we see within our own reflections, and when those reflections are from within someone else’s eyes, there comes a type of hypnotism of the self. usually, there is only room for conjecture in the spaces between our lives, but sometimes, those interactions create a closeness that is difficult to explain.

and then, they happen in places like this.

it really isn’t that odd for something to begin to grow in a place where so much has been lost. but when it happens, it forms a certain type of unity that will be difficult to unravel.

not that you’d ever want it to.

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pensive stasis

pensive stasis (ordinal) © 2016 Jered Dawnne

pensive stasis (ordinal) © 2016 Jered Dawnne

i was on my way somewhere, the day i took this, and this was the last photo i took before i went there.

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atramentous detachment

atramentous detachment © 2016 Jered Dawnne

atramentous detachment © 2016 Jered Dawnne

one of the things i did this past weekend was wander around a couple of abandoned buildings on the grounds of the Cherokee Mental Health Institute. it had been a very long while since i had satisfied any sort of morbid curiosity, so this was actually a rather conflictive thing for me, internally. something my adoptive parents probably never knew about me was my fascination with abandoned buildings as well as new construction sites: the places i actually went when i skipped out at night. the inherent disparity between such things forms its own gravity, so they sit in the same place in my head. i love the way my brain pushes and pulls me in places like this. visiting here this past Sunday conjured many old memories that hadn’t surfaced in decades, all while making some new ones. it was a heady end to a very nice weekend.

this is the lobby of the old Donohoe building. some topological research online suggests that this was a prison building, which is somewhat substantiated by the thick-grilled, small-paned windows around the exterior. i deliberately captured the small fireplace in the lobby with the lens tilted off the dirty glass to include the early-afternoon reflection of the pillars and trees outside: a mix of the dismal, dark, decaying interior, and the taunting promise of a freedom just out of reach. there was no way not to wonder about the people who had been in and out of there: what caused them to be there, what they experienced, what they did.

i would love/hate to actually tour the interiors and the tunnels between these buildings. their histories, especially apparently from the 1960’s and 70’s, infer violences left seething, sorrows left mourning, and the conflicted fears of being released and being left behind. but when i visit these places where so many dreams have died, i am reminded of the relative ease of my own life, even when the moments are rough and the nights are long and broken and void; so my transient love of life returns for a while, and i am whole again.

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uncertain metaphor

uncertain metaphor (inhibited) © 2003, 2015 Jered Dawnne

uncertain metaphor (inhibited) © 2003, 2015 Jered Dawnne

we dream in segmented silences
the order disarrayed
our reason unhindered
by the all that never was
entranced in certain soliloquies
and the tales of what was done
to bring us to this place
this state
this unknown unwoven keening
and the relegation to dream-states
of our collective will to live
to hope
to chase the light
and ride the waves of those dreams
in the desire to be more
than we were
when our freedoms were more
than token gestures
designed to describe to us
the prisons of our own minds

~ 2016.03.24 © 2016 Jered Dawnne

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production values

I have not been idle; I have actually been quite productive!

In reassembling my catalogues, I was saddened to discover all that the files I burned from last summer’s (2014) trip to Alberta, were unfortunately compromised by the addition of unintended compression. And since I lost the processed RAW and master files from that shoot due the drive failures of early this year, I would actually have to reprocess everything and come up with new production files. This was quite discouraging at first, because it represented a lot of work, especially where the two 180-degree panos were concerned.

However, when I started digging into those photos, as well as others from previous years, the process of reprocessing all these images has somehow managed to become a joy again. While it’s unfortunate that I will have to pull everything out of fineartamerica.com and other places where I sell and replace them with reworked masters, given the improved clarity and less-grainy monochrome processes that I’ve been working with, these revisions have more impact, and since I’m not pressed for time, they can also receive more attention than the originals ever did.

Back last Spring, I think it was, I made a promise to myself to get out and shoot more. That hasn’t happened as much as I would have desired this year, but I think the focus I put onto some other forms of personal improvement were worth the distraction. I did, however, manage to do two things that are important to me: The first is that I (finally) have all my images together in one place and am well towards a standardization of process that improves everything from digital asset management to the quality of the finished works; the second is that I have (also finally) managed to overcome the internal flux that was my love-hate relationship with post-production, and converted it to a simple, joyful love.

The image below is a rework from last summer, originally published under the title “prominence twain” in a couple of versions. Until I remove/redo the contents of the “Grey Mountain” collection, the “darklight” version will remain there, but I believe you’ll find the retitled and reprocessed version below to have more standing.

twisted proximity (passive resistance) © 2014, 2015 Jered Dawnne

twisted proximity (passive resistance) © 2014, 2015 Jered Dawnne

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uncertain illuminations

illuminated barrier (blood magic) © 2003, 2015 Jered Dawnne

illuminated barrier (blood magic) © 2003, 2015 Jered Dawnne: a rose, sinking deeply in a fading sun

You reach a point on some days, when you’re inundated by futility and the knowledge that what will be will never be what you once hoped it would be. Life, the perpetual intercourse, works by its own design and under its own premises, and none of them involve you. You’re just coasting along on the thin, fragile crust of an unconcerned planet, elliptically orbiting a sun that slowly orbits the confluent center of a galaxy that owes you neither recognition nor recompense, and that’s just how it is. So you reach a point on some days, and that point is the place where you decide to drive on anyway, as you always do, or you finally decide to let it all go.

But I’m still here, still here, still here.

That sounds more melodramatic than intended, but I don’t know how else to say it. If you’ve ever battled with depression and anxiety, you get it, though. It’s been one of those weeks. 😉

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bright weaving

the day before tomorrow (bright woven) © 2003, 2015 Jered Dawnne

the day before tomorrow (bright woven) © 2003, 2015 Jered Dawnne: a calla lily in high-key monochrome

There’s something about the form of calla lilies that has always intrigued me. This was from a former neighbor’s garden in Camarillo, California, after a windy afternoon rain had left it a bit soiled. There are several photos of callas from her garden, another neighbor’s garden, and from our own, from this time. Shooting flowers in the wind was one of the ways I practiced panning focus back in the day.

This image has several variants: I believe I did three or four “back in the day”, and I know I did two on this walkthrough. The stem just to the right of the subject presents some intriguing processing challenges, in that it’s very easy to overbrighten it to the distraction of the flower. If you weren’t aware, I’m somewhat averse to literally photoshopping elements of my images. It’s one thing to change the quality and flavor of the lighting to present otherwise unseen aspects of the subject; it’s another thing to change what was actually there, so I don’t do that, that much. This softer, high-key treatment was one way of working around that.

Softer tones like this are not my usual fare, but this is now my favorite version of this image. I will probably be experimenting more in this tonal range.

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this weekend was one of those sad mixes of good intentions and unplanned results: i was going to get out and shoot on what might well have been the last pleasant weekend of the year around here, but such hopes were mooted by circumstances which i was unable to control. so instead of doing what i wanted to do, i did the other thing i needed to do, and that was to tend to how i store and protect my entire image repository. not exactly exciting or fun stuff, but necessary, and for some reason, whenever i think about the technological side of what i do, this image is now attached to that thought. it’s kind of the new “the waiting for it bleeds”, if you remember those old posts on the old blog, from 2004-5. i guess i’m kind of weird that way. oh well. the good news with that is that i’m one major step closer to combining two master catalogs and finally having one continuous archive again. this is at least good for the slightly OCD, digital asset management guy who still lives in my brain.

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