It fascinates me the way in which one’s biography contributes to the reading of a photograph and how over time such a reading is subject to change. This, of course, speaks to the impermanent nature of experience and feeling. As Thich Nhat Hanh says, nothing remains the same for two consecutive moments. With this, it simply can’t be possible to have the same experience in viewing a photograph or painting, reading a poem or listening to a musical piece as we did the time before. It has been two years since I shot this image. Initially, I had no interest in working with it because of what I felt it represented at the time. It was a tumultuous chapter I was endeavoring to close and the image spoke to a harsh and explicit uncertainty. In other words, it was suddenly very certain how uncertain things really were. Looking back, I know very well that if I could, I would of chased the sun to its setting place in hopes of finding answers to all that was unresolved within. I was in Colorado at the time, so I assume the sun would set comfortably in a cozy log cabin with old wooden floors? If only such things could be true! Let us remember, it was Rilke who begged us to have patience with times of irresolution and to “live the questions now – perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer.” The sun sets only to rise again, just as conflicts arise only to be met with some form of resolution. This image now represents what I see to be true, that I have lived my way to an answer, and so will you. 🙂
And you wait, keep waiting for that one thing
which would infinitely enrich your life:
the powerful, uniquely uncommon,
the awakening of dormant stones,
depths that would reveal you to yourself.
In the dusk you notice the book shelves
with their volumes in gold and in brown;
and you think of far lands you journeyed,
of pictures and of shimmering gowns
worn by women you conquered and lost.
And it comes to you all of a sudden:
That was it! And you arise, for you are
aware of a year in your distant past
with its fears and events and prayers.
Rainer Maria Rilke