The Strewing of the Leaves

 Perhaps this is nothing more than a shambolic presentation of abstract work; a strange gallery five images to a page, not a portfolio. Whether good or bad, what something ‘is not’ is as important as what it ‘is.’ Blur or no blur, in the woods, there is beauty in the randomness of the dance. These are and not the artifacts of experience shaped by the accidents of memoriam. Captured in quarter-second sweeps and metered snaps. They reflect the spontaneity and plasticity of image. It’s rhythm—interest, stillness, movement.

And if its really no more than just another collection of near-random photos from the ‘Raw,’
Susan Sontag’s “garbage-strewn plenitude—the willful travesty of Whitman’s magnanimous dream,”
Then consider this a strewing of leaves with no end intended.

Thank you, Whitman.