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solace, twain

solace, twain © 2014 Jered Dawnne

solace, twain © 2014 Jered Dawnne

i didn’t know, when i first saw these trees, how much they would stick with me. this original photograph is from 2006, about two-and-a-half years after i’d moved to the property this photograph was shot from. i didn’t actually risk the trespassing to shoot these trees from several angles until we sold that house another two years later. so before i left, i made one final trip around the area and saw the thing i was already pretty sure i knew—a thing i suspected, but couldn’t really see from our property: the two trees do not actually entwine above the ground. i’m sure their roots are all wrapped within each other, but above the surface of the earth, both trees are independent, though obviously complementary.

i managed to recover the raw image from a drive i thought was dead last night and was very pleased to rediscover this particular image. when i shot this, these trees were still an “it” (a double tree) to me. retouching it last night, i could only think of it as “them” (two separate trees), despite knowing they are fundamentally entwined beneath the ground. with some minor manipulation, i was finally able to bring out what should have been more than a suspicion to me at the time. the specific direction of the wind that morning caused the rime to build only on the north-most tree.

for the time that i lived there, these trees meant a lot of different things to me, but in these latter days, it has come to represent living here in a generally simplistic sense. i’m fairly well engrained within the community, but i very much stand alone. the challenge, and the joy, are the various collaborations within our differences, the strength we draw from one another, and the way we shape the wind.

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shrouded

shrouded (prime) © 2014 Jered Dawnne

shrouded (prime) © 2014 Jered Dawnne

so rushing past deep valleys grew and danced along the road

visions of a world run silent moving greyed and tumbled
sang to me and cloud-surrounded winter-worn stole me
pulled from me those shadows pale like charity and faith and hope
until i dreamt of them and us unwrapped from evening’s settling shroud

when winter comes and covers us in cold and silent whiting
warm me with the constancy of cloudscaped silent home
and like those shrouded mountain-dreams unmake these chains that bind me

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it’s a word-play. the mountains entwined by these clouds are Mount Faith, Mount Hope, and Mount Charity (The Three Sisters), Banff National Park, Alberta, Canada.

some will recognize these words as patterned from the poem “of bluer skies and rain” © 1988 R.J. Dawnne Gee, published in “the sabre”.

text and image © 2014 Jered Dawnne

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indefinite appeal

Sleeping Dragon, left panel © 2014 Jered Dawnne

Sleeping Dragon, left panel © 2014 Jered Dawnne

on some nights, it stretches out before your eyes as if there could be nothing else, as if nothing else ever was. you see it in your dreams in intensely colourful monochrome, and upon waking into the desaturated world, it is the most colourful thing you know.

(this is the left-hand panel of “Sleeping Dragon”. the right-hand panel covers the Fairholme Range and Mount Rundle. the pair are sub-portion of a full 180-degree pano which stretches from the Cascade Valley 180 degrees past the southern ridge of Mount Rundle and the Three Sisters. shot from Sulphur Mountain in the Banff National Park, Alberta, Canada. shown here are Cascade Mountain, the city of Banff, the Palliser Range with Mount Aylmer to the rear, the Bow River Valley and Lake Minnewanka.)

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Enfolded

weather, towering © 2014 Jered Dawnne

a view from Sulphur Mountain, Banff National Park, Alberta, Canada, looking roughly northward.

You fold yourself into a thing, because the enfolding is more significant and meaningful to you than the simple act of being there and participating in it. You move, within and between the trees and mountains for a while, hoping, yearning, needing to be a part of this place, wishing you had come to it sooner, had drawn it into yourself and defined yourself with it, by it, for it. You embrace it for the time you are there, but the time is too short, too involved, too limited, and you know that even when you return in the future, that visit will have the same inherent lack.

Having folded yourself into it, you are no longer merely yourself, and when you leave, some small but powerful portion of it comes away with you, inside of you and surrounding you, transparently opaque within your mind. It is written on the inside of your eyelids every time you dream; it is written on the inside of your mind every time you breathe. It haunts you, and the haunting becomes you.

As you have folded yourself into it, it has wrapped itself inside of you, between and within the folds of flesh and mind, but to say that it has become you is to make it less than it is. You have become a small portion of it, is the thing, and the becoming, then, has a magnetism that is both unavoidable and inescapable.

So, you know one thing: You will stand within it again, and you will walk beneath its eaves and breathe its air and hear its whispers in the leaves and needles, more clearly than you do as you dream each night. And once you have partaken of it again, the enfolding will redefine you.

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Text and image © 2014 Jered Dawnne

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veiled intensities

a collection of retouched photographs from my trip to Alberta, Canada in the summer of 2014, done with a specific set of treatments. just wandering, for the joy of the thing.

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