Writing on Water
An ancient Buddhist practice momentarily imprints sacred images on flowing waters, a haunting image of transience. Part of photography’s magic is the apparent capture of moments from the flow, moments to carry, contemplate and share. The photograph reminds us of that moment, passed – and to attend to this moment, now. Paradoxically, the photographer knows fully that the moment is evanescent: the light will change; the face will turn; a camera must be at hand. This afternoon, I glimpsed my husband putting out corn for the two orphan deer that have been visiting; suddenly, they were walking towards him, accompanied by a huge Sandhill Crane. I ran for a camera, but have only the memory of this rare and lovely moment.
Water has been a recurrent subject and concern in my work, from the expansive, changing ocean to a child’s boat in a sink, from the wild beauty of Florida’s springs to the elegant fountains of Rome, where people trustingly fill their water bottles from sculptured dolphins, turtles and lions. The triptych is large, three scrolls about both near and expansive waters that was created for a show with Ann Arbor’s Gallery Project, in which artists were asked to create a piece about an urgent concern.
In Florida, the water table spreads very near the surface and needs our protection, even as we rely on its sustenance. We must be mindful of what we write on the earth’s generous and fragile waters.
