It’s all temporary
Eventually, you’ll have to let go
Over the past few days, I’ve been bombarded, so to speak, with messages about changes. It seems that every movie that I’ve watched talks about it. I get e-mails concerning this subject, etc. Perhaps it’s the blogs that I visit, the movies that I watch, or the e-mails that I subscribe to.
I watched The Curious Case of Benjamin Button the other day. Though it was quite long, it was a very good movie … if you are receptive to it, I think. One of my favorite quotes from the move was from a character, Captain Mike who said:
You can be as mad as a mad dog at the way things went. You could swear, curse the fates, but when it comes to the end, you have to let go. — Captain Mike
Things don’t always go the way that we want and no manner of anger is going to change it. People change. Relationships change. Locations change. People, things, events come and go. So, where am I going with this?
I remember back in high school literature class we were sometimes tasked with reading a poem, short story, or other piece of literature and would have to tell the teacher what the writer was trying to say. In other words, we had to interpret his intentions based on his words. At the time, I thought that it was pure drudgery and a great waste of time. How could I possibly know what was going through her head at the time that she wrote it. Now, I still think the same way about literature or any type of art, especially that which is dear to me, photography.
I’ve never really been drawn dilapidation; however, I do find old structures somewhat spiritual for some reason. This past Saturday, I spent time among what I would call a building graveyard. These were old government buildings that were pretty worn out and nature is having her way with them. She is reasserting herself, letting it be known that these structures were just temporary. Things change!
i was intrigued by the slow changes happening all around. These buildings were once functional, well maintained work spaces. Now, plant and insect food. Were my photographs ever to become famous, doubtless that some critic would happen by and try to make an interpretation of why I took these photos and he would probably get it wrong, unless I specifically told him. He’d base his interpretation on his past history, not on mine.
When I took the top picture, I was thinking: Wow! How tightly we try to hold on to things, yet all the while, they keep changing despite our best efforts.
It is awfully hard to resist trying to stop change in some areas, isn’t it? But, sooner or later we have to face the fact that there are things that are out of our control. Great post.
Paul,
I find it interesting that the door has two locks, one expensive and the other cheap. Maybe they are really attempting to “lock in” change!
Great post. It’s interesting how you sometimes read things you just really need to read at a particular moment. Thanks. Mary Ann
I recently had a discussion with my youngest about interpreting literature particularly poetry…which I viewed as a futile and frustrating exercise in my youth…to my surprise my son is quite insightful and able to think in the abstract…unlike me who tends to be more concrete and less abstract in my analysis.
My attraction to dilapidation as a photoagraphic interest was spurned fairly recently as I have watched the quick demise of my Aunt’s former grand farmstead turned park over the past few years. The park is wonderful, but the buildings are so quickly returning to nature from total neglect it is shocking and sad to me. The house, which I believe was pre-revolutionary war era, was a grand colonial farmhouse. I played there as a child, enjoying the family gatherings we had there, fishing in the ponds, inevitably falling in the water, wandering the fields, hiding in the barns, my older brother scaring the stuff out of us, hearing my Uncle stamp his feet and pronounce that “children should be seen and not heard” when we got a little rowdy…of course he was all bark no bite. My Aunt not letting me leave without some little trinket that I would cherish to the point it would eventually break. I think if I had not had such an intimate connection to that place as a child, I might not be drawn to such places as I am now.
When I see these places I often think of the people and the lives and histories of those who lived there. The joys, the sorrows, the triumphs and tragedies that are a distant and sometimes haunting memory, or totally forgotten and only the walls remember. Perhaps it is a longing for the simpler more carefree times of my youth that draws me to try and connect to these places.
Thanks for this wonderful thoughtful post…Wonderful shot to go along with it…hmmm…now what exactly is behind that door?
It has actually become somewhat of a passion for me and if I weren’t such a chicken about exploring what is labeled off limits…I’m a big chicken about getting in trouble…lol..I would throw caution to the wind and enter those doors beyond the “No Trespassing” signs.
@Laurie: Thanks for the great comment. You highlighted exactly what I was talking about. Our interpretation of a photo is anything but objective and based upon our own personal experiences. You created quite a picture there with your story, particularly about the uncle stamping his feet and making his grand pronouncement.
Looking at the dilapidation does bring up thoughts about the history of the place. You can almost feel the ghosts, it seems. Walking those grounds just made me wonder what it used to be like it its hey day. Some time ago, Paul Butzi told me why he photographs fences and it was as simple as he wonders why the fence was there. Was it there to keep people out, or something in. I thought that was a most profound reason.
Regarding those No Trespassing signs, these buildings look in serious need of care and I would not be one to go walking through them as they could be fairly dangerous, but I’d bet that there were some seriously cool pictures to be had!
I guess it’s where I’m at these days, but this post really moved me.
@Chris: Thanks! I’m there, too, and sometimes, it really scares me!
For me the interpretation of a photo (or the feeling it transports) is not only subjective, but also rather dependent on my momentary mood. So personal experience plus state of mind – sometimes makes for interesting discoveries, both in the photo (or painting or piece of music) and in oneself.
I still sometimes like reading other peoples interpretations or comments to pieces of art. In a strange way it helps my defining my own perspective.