perspective

I spend most of my day staring at glowing rectangles -- from the computer to the television to my iPod. Working a 9 to 5 office job means more time spent with these glowing rectangles, and the need to step away every once in a while to gain perspective. I choose to do that by writing about random moments in my life. While sitting in my office the other day, I realized that it is two much less flashy rectangles that I gaze at to find inspiration for the perspective I try to achieve.

On my office wall, hung so they are centered above the computer monitor in my eye line, hang two equally sized photographs. On the left, a black frame and white matte surround a bright seascape. It’s low tide at the Bay of Fundy. In the distance a man on horseback trots along the clay beach, almost disappearing behind a red rock cliff topped with trees in the foreground. The edge of the blue-silver ocean starts about half way up the picture, and disappears into the horizon.

On the right, a similarly framed picture sits as it’s opposite. Also taken at the Bay of Fundy, it appears to be close up of the trees that cover the cliff seen in the first picture. This is taken at a different time, though. It is either dawn or dusk in Nova Scotia, and fog has rolled in. The trees show as a dark silhouette; their green color has become a deep, dark blue. The sky behind the trees is a musty gray, as if a rain cloud has descended on that sliver of the world.

Other than the location, the only similarity these pieces share is the photographer. He has been able to take two completely different nature scenes, one full of hope and promise and one steeped in dark and despair, and make beautiful pictures out of each.

My placement when hanging the pictures happened randomly but now, I look to these pictures for guidance, because they represent what I try to do each day. I want to take time to appreciate the beautiful moments in life, and create beauty out of moments that seem less than desirable. The photographer uses pictures to relate this perspective, while I choose to take time to notice these moments through writing.

The photographer did what any great artist does. He unknowingly captured my outlook on life and writing style while teaching me about myself at the same time. I am sure he is used to it, though. After all, he is my father.