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Stillborn. by alexstoddard on Flickr.
I’ve been concerned with the concept of death lately. Not so much in fear or worry, but more of an intrigue. I’ve been lucky to have never lost anyone close to me, besides an uncle when I was younger. I remember tears and a funeral and a general somber feeling, but not much else.
I feel like with my 365, I spent a lot of time exploring birth, creation. Bright greens and figures growing within and sprouting from the earth, ferns, leaves, bright eyes frequented my photographs. I consider it rightly so, in a way. I was just beginning photography, had just picked up a camera for the first time and was using it as tool to experience artistic and intellectual growth. Technically, I was still a child. It’s funny that my newfound interest in death comes as I pass into adulthood, as winter peels the leaves from limbs and the trees stand dead in the ground. I’d trade my green forest now for barren landscapes. I feel like for the time being I’m no longer inspired by energy, but rather the lack of it.
It’s sort of ironic how my interests correlate with my life. Throughout my 365, while shooting those happier, green photos, I was more-often-than-not sad – well, not so much sad, but empty. And at this point, when I’m finding inspiration in death and loneliness and all, I’m probably the happiest with my life that I’ve ever been. I’ve figured out what I want to do with my life, I’m in love, I’m pretty content with mostly everything, really. ⇓ 10 notes ⇓
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