Yesterday I heard the last cicadas sing.
And look who arrived on the scene just about the same time.
Studying the shapes of the subject is not the most exciting phase of the dye project. Sluggishness sets in more often than I wish to admit. The insect scene outside shifting from my beloved cicadas to crickets doesn’t help neither.
But before I had a chance to zombify myself, spider lilies turned up, slightly earlier this year, in much like a bull fight fashion.
(Red works for me too!)
Resuscitated, now I’m back on a river-side path where I fell in love with those lilies a year ago. A lady with a dog greeted me back (“I was wondering whether you’d show up this year”). Nice to be remembered as a lily-fanatic with a camera.
This year summer arrived late. Right when it did, I headed west in my little Honda. Along the coast of the Great Channel of Far East (formally known as Japan Sea), until I hit the region called San-in, “in the shadow of mountains”.
I’ve taken city street, cutting through “Japan Alps” at midnight (not the smartest idea), so as to really hear cicadas sing, millions of trillions of them. Each and every mount tall and small buzzed like it is a space craft about to take off, sound that goes well with the blazing summer sun.
Beaches of San-in have minimum dose of concrete holding them in. Mounds of thriving woods in sharp angles and rocky little picturesque islands grow out of glassy teal sea. They perch at the edge of water, appearing wild, but also somewhat reserved. Polite yet unrestricted, the harmonious anarchy.
While treading water impressed, ocean decided to rush into my snout, sending an army of microorganisms as plenty as cicadas in summer hills, on a mission to unlock my senses from inside out. Thanks to them the buzzing intensified, and for a few moments I felt I could almost ‘get’ what their song is all about.
From top:
1 and 2 – Tango Peninsula, Kyoto
3 – Yasugi Beach, Hyogo
4 – Aizu South, Fukushima
5 – Kasumi, Hyogo
All photographed earlier this month.
Heartfelt “Thank You!!” to all of you generous souls I encountered during my trip.
Summer dawn, what’s not to love. It’s here today, not to stay for long.
Up the hill, or down to the beach. Will drive empty streets. Watch the light sneak into the pre-dawn quiet.
I’m the sinister figure looking into your rice field, or up at the sky with my back facing the sun asleep right below the horizon.
What’s she doing out there, which planet is she from, she waiting for a ride back home, oh look, she’s talking, to her friends in the sky, or spirits of frogs ran over during the night…
In fact I’d be talking to myself, can I just not move for a moment or two, which ain’t audible to rural early risers, not until I laugh fairly loudly at my own sloth; I hate tripod.
All the images were shot in late June, 2013 – sometime around the solstice, by yours truly the staying upper, camera hand held.
Listen
until you hear the Waves roaring in the petals.
The drawing is of spider lily petals, colored pencil on paper, 38 x 54cm, a continuing study of the blossom for my upcoming dye piece.
Currently going through bouts of overwhelm at the sight of the bold red challenge. Too late though, I’ve already seen, and heeded, too much of what they have to unveil.
Small adjustment made on texts in the middle on 17Sep21
Memories of many flights linger. Of gliding through salt water mists and sprays. 90 degree dives, the impacts, the chills. How sardines danced on this beak.
“…She’s photographing us…”
their whispers echo, the riverside murmur
Red Spider Lilies.
Autumn in rural Japan, colors are subdued
except for patches of bright blood red,
Spider Lily Red.
Got me an ancient silk in the Spider Lily Red
once worn upon the skin, an innermost thread.
Flashing red under a coat of subtlety
with dye that bleeds just like the blood.
Originally posted on Cowbird.com on October 2, 2012. Photos are from Autumn 2013.
Name: Sofi
Time served as a dog: 15.5yrs
Characteristics: Smart, Sexy, Funny.
Communication Style: Paranormal
Tag Line: Too Cool to Bark.
Testimonial:
Most significant among many things she had taught me during her lifetime would be this: the “supernatural” is in fact the natural, is not to be feared. Nor could be avoided. Not with her anyways. Through invading my head reading my thoughts and intentions – which explains the occasional clouding of her mood – and responding to me in actions even I, the un-evolved, could understand. I was merely transparent, my psychological boundaries were continuously crossed, and most surprisingly, I felt safe, supported even, in this strange style of relating.
Although she was generally a good sport, impressive given the circumstance of being tied to the likes of me, I have reasons to believe she was feeling rather confined in a tidy canine package, haunted by never ceasing hunger for edibles, especially those that goes into my mouth. So when finally the time to leave arrived, it must have come as a long-awaited relief, though, thanks to her, I am no longer sure what the death really means. In any case, upon her departure, she left the door to the world of supernaturals wide open. Hey, shut the door behind you, dog! “Thought you could use a little ventilation~~”. The disciple now hears inaudible giggles of the former dog master stretching out in the Limitless Ether.
– Yuko, dining in peace nowadays.
Originally posted on my previous “photo Journal” diary, edited on October 7, 2013.
