Over my head, I see the bronze butterfly,
Asleep on the black trunk,
blowing like a leaf in green shadow.
Down the ravine behind the empty house,
The cowbells follow one another
Into the distances of the afternoon.
To my right,
In a field of sunlight between two pines,
The droppings of last year’s horses
Blaze up into golden stones.
I lean back, as the evening darkens and comes on.
A chicken hawk floats over, looking for home.
I have wasted my life.

more soon.

happy new year!

I made this photo:

More soon.

“The fist photography book I can remember having a real impact on me was Masahisa Fukase’s The Solitude of Ravens. In 2002, I was completely new to photography and trying to learn the basics by taking classes at the International Center of Photography. I was fortunate to study with a fabulous photographer named Ellen Binder who made it a practice to bring in photography books to sharewith us. We’d pour over the books while she told stories about how they’d influenced her.
The minute I opened Ravens I felt drawn to Fukase’s brooding approach and the book’s oblique but deafening poetic narrative. I was struck by the iconic nature of the images and completely moved by the intensely personal feel of the world Masahisa had created. Only later would I learn that Fukase made the images while on a train ride home to Hokkaido after the dissolution of his twelve-year marriage.

Masahisa shot from the moving train and ventured out during stops to track the ravens; long a symbol of ominous events and death. The book features mostly stark black and white images of the ravens, flying, falling, in shadow, perched on posts and tress, along and in groups. Many of the images in the book are enlarged, grainy and overexposed. Fukase’s concern for atmosphere and emotion over technical perfection was an important early lesson for me.”

Amy Stein

More info on the book here

(this was reblogged from my post on the Little Brown Mushroom Blog)