Tag Archives: bokeh

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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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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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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a good time for certain reunions

ice maiden (relit) © 2002, 2015 Jered Dawnne

ice maiden (relit) © 2002, 2015 Jered Dawnne: a small array of ice pushed out of cracks on a frozen lake

every Autumn, i succumb to the groanings of the Old Year as it slips away into preparations for the New Year, and those first preparations are to guard against Winter’s stasis (yes, i do kind of run on an internal Celtic calendar, i guess). this Autumn, i have prepared for the coming Winter by re-importing all of the photographs i’ve taken across the years with the intent of “arting up”. most of these were processed in the past, but many others were skipped, for reasons which i talk about elsewhere. over the weekend and into the wee hours this morning, i processed twenty-four of those photographs into thirty-two separate images. reconnecting with stolen moments from an anxious and hectic time of my life was an interesting endeavor: re-rejecting certain photographs and re-experiencing that minor sense of loss was almost as intriguing as revisiting some of those old creations and making new creations from past rejections.

that means i had fun, by the way.

i have many more of these to work on across the remainder of Autumn, through Winter and into Spring, and this also sets me up for re-importing the old masterfiles and combining them with these in one continuous archive, to recover from that hard drive loss earlier this year. the “fun” and “exciting” side of digital asset management.

anyway, the image above was one of the first i took out on the ice alone with decent equipment, slightly nerve-wrackingly spread-eagled across a crack in the ice over the deeper part of the lake, where the stronger current is, no don’t think about that, the ice is thick, you’ll be fine, just get the shot. there is a lot to play with here in terms of depth of field, and i chose the angle for that that flexibility. i did err on having the edge of the frame too close to the sun, but that can be a fun post-processing challenge, too. i made two versions of it this weekend; this one has a bit more tonal depth than i managed originally, largely a by-product of greater flexibility in current software, and being able to run the full process in the ProPhotoRGB colourspace, as well.

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once known

once known (as was) © 2007, 2015 Jered Dawnne

once known (as was) © 2007, 2015 Jered Dawnne


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remembering not reminiscing
a dance within a gradient
from shadow to light
we are the spans of time
in which we dwell in which
we experiment with gravity
in unknown little whiles

~ © 2015 Jered Dawnne

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transient stasis

transient stasis © 2015 Jered Dawnne

transient stasis © 2015 Jered Dawnne

I brought this bench to where it now resides: a brute-force effort moving it from a former home to this place. The decision to move it was arbitrary and a spurious: made on my last pass through the house after it had sold. But I had spent some good time sitting on it where it once was. I had conducted some good pondering there, and even a few photographs were taken from upon it, so it came along for the move.

After the move, I also spent a goodly amount of time perched upon it in its new setting, taking counsel both for and against certain decisions that were being made at the time. The place where it sits had an interesting feel during the night, even without all the things that were in my head: part melancholy, part solace, part fear, part hope, and part maundering. Whenever I come to visit it now, it feels simultaneously of stasis and transience to me: simple projections, both, I have no doubt.

It has always struck me as odd, this human propensity to mentally attribute one’s emotions upon a place. The skeptic in me strongly doubts that we can truly imprint portions of ourselves on places, let alone imbue them with our essences, but nonetheless, we create such deep connections, regardless of rational considerations. This place is one such for me.

When I took this photograph yesterday, I was reminded not only of what this place means to me, but what it might also mean to my children. And how those meanings have undoubtedly shifted over time. That thought, of course, led to considering what I thought of this bench in the place where it was, and of the things I had considered while sitting upon it there, and what its former setting must have meant to my children. And then the all of what had come before. It is a remembering thing in a remembering place, and there are very few things which I have managed to forget across the years.

But the transient stasis I perceive within this bench is nothing but what I carry within myself. My home is wherever I am, and my places of security are things which move within me, and which move with me, and which are ultimately mine alone.

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