These are a few photos of some abstract compositions that caught my eye.
I was surprised to see that all 5 of these photos were taken in 2013, but on several different days, over 4 different months. And probably at different locations. Was my world more full of cracks in 2013? Or was it just a time when I had heightened awareness of things crumbling around me? (Because now feels like such a time.)
I do love the way paint looks when it’s past its prime. Well, I don’t love it that way on my own house, but out in the rest of world, I find the patterns and texture of weathered paint to be very appealing. Especially when such weathering reveals multiple layers of paint of different colors. The effect can range from map, to marbelizing, to abstract composition. Here are a few examples that have caught my eye, in my travels, and around my town.
This was a railing at Canobie Lake Park, an amusement park in New Hampshire. Many of the rides and attractions have been around for decades, and display a colorful history of paint color trends. I saw this on our visit to the park this August. This looked to me like a map.
This was likewise a railing at Canobie Lake Park. This particular railing was at the mirror maze, and caught my eye in 2014. I was sad that the mirror maze was no longer at the park this year.
This was a fence in or around Dublin, as seen on my 2014 trip.
This more subtle set of paint layers graced a pedestrian bridge in Central Park. It caught my eye this past Saturday.
This colorful and curvy composition can be seen on the back of a turtle-shaped climbing structure at our local zoo. I took this photo in 2013. I’m sort of curious to see the turtle again, and see if it has a (boring) layer of fresh paint.
This yellow wheel was in a town near Dublin. It appears to have once been purple, and possibly green before that.
This is far from the first time I’ve posted photos of peeling paint, but I think only one of the above (the pink railing) was included in another set. (Admittedly, though, it’s become harder for me to keep track of what I’ve posted here.)
Somehow, 2 weeks have gone by without me posting.
Falling behind in my goals, once again. (What’s new?) I haven’t exactly been cracking under the pressure, but the constant strain of the news cycle has certainly been wearing down on me.
I haven’t managed to work on my next essay for the 52 essays project. Honestly, the news of the travel ban knocked the wind out of me. One blow among many coming from this new regime, but one that hit hard, because it affects so many issues that I care deeply about. It affected so many lives. I haven’t yet found the words to write about that yet. Or I haven’t yet managed to gather all the words I’m finding into a coherent group of words.
But I did want to post something. It’s been a while since I’ve posted photos. I’m not feeling quite cheery enough to post cheery photos. Looking through my collections, I found I had a lot of photos of cracks. Somehow, my eye is often drawn to breakage..
I find beauty in the irregularity of cracks. I am drawn to the imperfections.
I chose these from among dozens of related photos as they show a range of materials: wood, stone, brick, asphalt and concrete. All of them hard and solid, used to build walls or roads. Yet all of them still susceptible to the forces of time and weather.
And all have gained a more interesting story to tell than the original unblemished whole.
This summer we had an infestation of gypsy moth caterpillars in this part of New England. The little buggers were especially partial to oak leaves, and left the oak trees in some neighborhoods almost completely defoliated. Other trees were more mildly affected, whether by the gypsy moth caterpillars or other critters. Come fall, the leaves that fell from these trees displayed a range of damage, sometimes creating quite fascinating designs in the remaining bits of leaves.
Boston, MA 2014
Kyoto, Japan 2004
Cambridge, MA 2009
New Lanark, Scotland, 2015
It is an American holiday tradition to decorate with pumpkins for Halloween, and carve them into jack-o-lanterns. Some pumpkins never quite make it that far…
This pumpkin was not the belle of the pumpkin patch.
There is also the less widely appreciated tradition of stealing pumpkins of other people’s front steps, and smashing them onto the ground. The closest I have come to this tradition is taking our post-Halloween pumpkins to the compost pile, and throwing them down.
Pumpkins actually don’t tend to smash in these circumstances. A compost pile is a rather soft bed of leaves and other squishy organic materials.
These pumpkins are more smushed than smashed. (I confess I am amused by the distorted faces of the decomposing pumpkins.)
These are from 2009, 2012 and 2013. It is totally normal that I have accumulated a collection of photos of smashed and/or rotting pumpkins over the years. I’m sure you can say the same, right?