Journey into obscurity

So what if you do not understand my meaning, my journey into the obscurity? Dust off your living word that spells it in the modern vernacular idiom of the day. That is much,much easier than wondering what King James meant by the obscure, antiquated idiom of the past. Some are prone to tune into a shall we say, the secret chord that was played before the Lord, not the clanging symbol easily heard.
Say what you mean, mean what you say. Speak clearly, your actions are confusing me.
No thanks but thanks. I am one that shuns the white-wall austerity. It is in my bend to filter my words through the stained-glass, bending such blinding light, diffusing it, sending it scattering. Why would you lay beneath a blazing sun and burn? Even you apply the screen.
This life is as through a veil, a depression blue glass at best. Yet you want the unfiltered light. You want
the clear meaning of everything. Nothing a mystery. Nothing of magic. Nothing of poetry. Boring.
I have no words for you. Besides. You would not understand me clearly. Can I say it more plainly? Yes. But I choose not to.


Moving on....

Today in my banality I am relishing being able to print again, even though it cost 83.00 for the Epsom printer.It so far does an adequate job. I have printed, matted and put sleeves on about seven today.
I await the business cards to attach to the back of each, then I will take them to the gallery for everyone to flip through at rapid pace. I was blown away yesterday watching Herb, the retired lawyer photographer, going through the prints quickly, quickly, looking at only a few, then setting them down, never commenting.  I am not sure I could take sitting under a tent at some show and watching this go on all day long. It was as if he was going through legal documents. As Steve Coleman, the Australian photographer said, we want our photographs, our work, to cause one to pause, to connect, to speak. Clearly, mine did not speak.


Or...

Could it be that Herb represents the many, many who simply do not operate upon the secret chord level, but upon the stark, non-obscure surface? I would probably say so. His work does not speak to me. I do not care if he uses film and develops his own. He can afford to. Many are the artists in the gallery, doing it out of hobby or a way to spend retirement or husband's money. A few, I do not claim I am one, hear the secret chord. I would want to be in that company.

In OBSCURITY.