The forest is a wonderful place. Walking through the dense foliage while the rain fell on my face, it seems reminiscent from a novel I read as a kid. I can’t place my finger on which one though, but this certainly feels familiar.
It stands out like a bleeding wound. The one tree that had to be different. The red leaves are ablaze with the light from the bright sky shining down upon them. This small tree has found a tiny corner of the forest where it can see the sky. I carefully step over a dense cover of greenery to get underneath and I look up. It’s the best view.
I mentioned the rain. Most people find it bothersome. I think it’s exciting. Must be the kid in me.
I look down at the beaten track and a puddle has formed. Between the rain drops are bubbles forming on it’s surface. The black mud beneath it gives the image a monochrome appearance, so I help it along by shooting it in monochrome. In the reflection I see so much more than just a puddle. It’s like laying on your back looking up at the sky. The small sliver of sky available to you, the trees take the rest.
Winter has barely started. But this is Australia. This land has been tortured by the summer and every thing is ready to explode. Explode in a raging bushfire or a exuberant display of new growth, if only it could get some rain.
I’ve walked here before. In the sweetest of dreams and the worst of nightmares. You can read so much from the trees. They are either giving you life or concealing your death. The rain gives me an atmosphere that sends a shiver down my spine. I am pretty sure it’s not because of the beads of water running down my face.
I stop to gaze upon a plant. Each leaf secures it’s own raindrop. You’d be forgiven for thinking the plant was happy with itself. Standing here with a camera on a tripod, trying to be as still as possible. The ground is flexible and every move you make, the camera makes with you. An occasional heavy drop from the canopy above delivers a blow to my image making endeavours, either from hitting my subject or making a deafening thud on the camera itself.
The diversity of life is astonishing. From the mighty tree straining under it’s own weight, to the humble weed struggling to compete, they all come together to form one forest. I wander around, free to move. they’ll hang around once I go.
Sometimes it’s like looking into a mirror. But it is we who are the mirror. We observe and immitate every other form of life on earth. We adapt and improve upon. Then recklessly destroy.
Sometimes the visual complexity is impossible to appreciate. Sometimes it’s impossible to capture. If only I could illuminate to you the brilliant illumination of water droplets dangling from a branch. But a photograph does not discern the difference between white, and bright.
The complexity can be reduced. Sometimes we need to remove the clutter, forget about the world and focus on one thing at a time. When we stop looking at the grandeur of scale, we appreciate the frailty of the individual.
The frailty in ourselves. Our life of seeming importance. It breaks down, as quickly as our bodies do. When you look at the shattered and decayed life of someone that once held it in high regard, a sense of what the flash that is our lives means starts to creep into our heads.
It’s all just a version of reality. One perspective in a cosmos of perspectives, more diverse and numerous than you could imagine.
Sometimes, just sometimes, you need to force a change of perspective upon yourself.
