“From a Spark to a Fire” from Damon Locks’s Where Future Unfolds.
I was in Colorado last week for a family event and took these pictures in the course of a hike into a very small portion of Rocky Mountain National Park. What appealed to me about these subjects was the disarray, the contrast between cleared and nearly-uniform wooded areas and meadows, and the invasive presence of the root balls and fallen trees that previously contributed to that order. Each of these photos presents a sort of sore thumb.
If it can be said that there is an argument between the dead or fallen —the disrupted— plant lives displayed here and those that flourish, it follows that one aspect of the fight is the stubborn, gnarled refusal of the former trees to move on: rather than decompose, they opt to dry out and stay put.
Time, it seems,
forgives, if not redeems.
Sometimes I think it’s a known fact that we are not paid enough money because certain forces know that we’re gonna play this music whether we get money for it or not, you understand? And to some extent, we’re taken complete advantage of, you dig? And to another extent, it’s our gift to the world, so it don’t matter.
Tim Berne, “Terre Haute,” Sanctified Dreams, 1988.
Béla Tarr, Sátántangó, 1994.
Nicole Mitchell, Tomeka Reid, & Mike Reed, “Composition 23b,” Artifacts, 2015.