Abandoned Door – A Metaphor for Transition

Abandoned

Someone, and no matter who, inhabits my head like it’s an empty house, he enters, he leaves, he bangs each door behind him, powerless I put up with this ruckus.
Someone, and maybe it’s me, palms my most private thoughts, he crumples them, returns them to dust.
Someone, and it’s much later now, slowly walks across the room and, not seeing me, stops to contemplate the havoc.
Someone, and no matter where, collects the pieces of my shadow.
~ Claude Estaban, translated by Joanie Mackowski

Many photographers have an affinity and passion for capturing doors as a subject in their art.

Doors are a popular subject, their metaphorical power captures our imagination, wonder, and sense of questioning, too.

Locked? Unlocked? Barred? Ajar? Abandoned?

So many questions. Doors symbolize a transition, a passage, entering from light into dark, or the opposite, leaving by way of a door, and entering into light from a dark interior. The bride once was carried across the threshold of her new home by her new husband. There are doors guarded by fierce creatures – temples come to mind, but I have seen many a library graced with twin, growling lions, or even scarier creatures.

I photographed this door on an abandoned farmstead in eastern Pennsylvania a few years ago.

I cataloged and labeled it, but only recently pulled it out for a serious look. I fell in love with the greens and reds, with the combination of the parallel slats and the vertical panels on the door. And I liked the way nature was gradually taking over the man-made structure, adding to the abandoned feeling.

Do you photograph doors, or notice doors, or use doors in your art or writing?

Do you ever focus on other passages or transitions — gates, windows, tunnels, stairways?  Places that lead to other spaces?

Seeing Red and Green – Photography as Metaphor

Red and Green

Seeing Red and Green © 2011 Bo Mackison

The title of this post is a bit of a puzzler.

Sure, the leaf is green with red veins. Seeing red, seeing green.

But the phrase “seeing red” has a common meaning. I checked with an online, viewer-written dictionary, and this was an accurate summary of the word and its derivation:

The etymology of the word refers to bullfighting. It is well-known that a matador uses a red cape to engage with and then infuriate a bull. When the bull gets agitated, it charges the matador, but it tends to aim for the cape and not the man. “Seeing red” refers to this situation of being so angry, your anger controls you and causes you to feel enraged.

This photo is a good visual reminder for me when I am struggling with angry feelings.

I do not want to ignore my anger, but I don’t want anger to control my actions either. I needed a ritual to help me through difficult moments.

This is what I came up with:

When I look at the green leaf, I visualize “seeing green” which I associate with feeling calm and in control. There are lines of red through the green, acknowledging my “seeing red” feelings, but most of the photograph reinforces the “green” calming.

I imagine my anger as that central red spot (hot spot) in the photo.

Then I visualize my anger flowing through the cool green, and the anger becomes cooler and less intense. It flows away from that hot spot and I imagine my anger dropping off the edge of the photo.

I also discovered a quote — one of those “oh, so true” quotes — to help remind me of the good that comes from staying calm when I feel anything but calm.

If you are patient in one moment of anger, you will escape one hundred days of sorrow. ~Chinese proverb

And deep, cleansing breaths are always a great way to relax and shake off too much tension.

I found that the combination of distraction, visualization, using the quote, and deep breathing to be helpful when I want to move from “seeing red” to “feeling green.”

I am discovering that some photographs have a deeper meaning than that which is first seen.

Plans, Changes – and a Discussion with My Inner Gremlin

Yucca - Boyce Thompson State Arboretum

Yucca Tree © 2013 Bo Mackison

Life is a series of natural and spontaneous changes. Don’t resist them; that only creates sorrow. Let reality be reality. ~ Lao Tzu

Recently I’ve been working with change.

This season is already a bit too hectic for a hardcore introvert, with the approaching holidays and much anticipated visits from relatives traveling to the Midwest from “sea to shining sea.” After the holidays, there will be whirlwind packing, cross-country travel, and then a transition from snowy Wisconsin to sunny Arizona. (Yes, though I am looking forward to Arizona, it is still change, and even a much wanted change requires time for adaptation.)

And if this wasn’t enough for a busy December, I also chose to take big steps in my business. I launched my new website, one that feels in sync with who I am, and what I want to offer. I announced my intentions for the coming year – Focus Sessions, workshops, and a Desert Wisdom Retreat.

And then I heard my inner gremlin say, “Just what the heck do you think you are doing?”

It was a perfectly understandable question from my gremlin. (Her name is Miss Patsy, by the way, and she is a re-incarnation of my third grade teacher who had very high standards, never to be met in this world or the next.)  Yes, this was a typical response to lots of changes, to stepping up my game, but it caught me off guard and threw me far off-balance. I felt as if I were staggering everywhere I walked.

Eventually I stopped and took a great many deep breaths. Then I invited my inner gremlin to join me at a local coffee shop, pen and paper in hand, and I began to free write, letting Miss Patsy take turns when she had something to say. While Miss Patsy kept flinging words at the paper, like “imposter” and “too big for your britches”, I explored my present, where I have been, and where I want to go. And finally, my inner gremlin quieted. And so did I.

I re-affirmed that I am on the right path. This is indeed my journey. I will journey on my own timetable, but I will journey.

And as I squirmed in my seat and got myself comfortable, I settled into the changes. It felt just right.

I discovered new energy and creative determination, and yes, a lot of excitement and grand anticipation, as I take my next steps, one baby step at a time. Hope you will be joining me!

Welcome to My New Home on the Web!

Torch Cactus - Pink Flower

Torch Cactus © 2013 Bo Mackison

Welcome.

Seeded Earth has been officially been re-christened. Though my website has a new name,  seeded wonders and desert wonders will continue to be featured as I post my photography. I’ll also be offering online and in-person photography workshops beginning in early 2014, and a Desert Wisdom Retreat is in the planning stages.

I hope you’ll subscribe to my website, and receive my complimentary 5 session mini-course, the Gifts of the Desert. You’ll also receive my monthly newsletter, Love Letters from the Seeded Earth, which will keep you up to date on all the happenings in the desert and beyond.

It is with great excitement that I embark on the next part of my journey. I do hope you’ll join me!

Limitless Vision

Orange Bumper

Orange Bumper © 2013 Bo Mackison

“The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the source of all true art and all science. He to whom this emotion is a stranger, who can no longer pause to wonder and stand rapt in awe, is as good as dead: his eyes are closed.” ~ Albert Einstein

It is a foggy day in Wisconsin, and when I peer out the windows I see only thick clouds hugging the earth. The streetlights are specks, the world is at a hush. As I paused at my window, taking a break from the last bits of my new website that still need writing, my mind wandered. I reflected on the many places I have traveled in 2013, and truly paused with awe as I recalled the wondrous sights held lovingly in my memory.

My most memorable visits were ones were I stood on the edge of two of the coasts – in early July I stood on the very edge of gritty shoreline, where the tip of Long Island extended far into the Atlantic. I was mesmerized with the waves, infinite. Six weeks later I stood on the shore near the Redwoods, coastal northern California, and watched, again, as the waves pummeled the black sands. This time I stared into the vast forever of the Pacific. And a month ago, I once again trekked to the Atlantic Coast, this time landing in North Carolina. I walked the beaches there, the sand cushioning every step. And again I stared into the vast waters, the seemingly never-ending ocean.

I have such fond memories of those hours looking into the spaciousness of the sea. Staring out into the ocean requires great imagination on my part. There is nothing but the relentless pounding surf, and yet an entire world exists in its depths. And as long as my feet are solidly upon the sandy earth, I feel a deep connection with that which I can only imagine.

In a couple of days – December 5th – I’ll be moving from Seeded Earth to my new website. It’s been in the making for nearly half the year as I gathered together my passions — my photography, book making, and writing, my love of nature and of travel — and gently wrapped them together into new offerings.

Every day is an opportunity for learning and exploring.
The new and mysterious are just beyond.
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