To visitors who’ve recently discovered this place

self-portrait in EdinburghWordPress Discover did me the honor of sharing one of my recent posts yesterday, for which I’m grateful. I’m happy to say Hi! and thanks for reading my work. It means a lot when my words or images connect with people. So, thank you again.

As a number of you’ve just arrived via the portal of a recent Thunderstorm*, I searched through the archives to find other posts that have a similar tone, timbre, or general feeling. Below— a few bits n bobs that may also resonate.

Enjoy! Also, if you like drawings, urban / rural photography, explore the rest of this site.

The bird in my kitchen, and other prophecies

Some thoughts from April in Baltimore

Returning from Riis Beach after a light rain warned of a coming storm

From here I can see the curve of of the earth

A quiet wander through a green wood (part the first)

A Spring rain, soon forgotten

A telegraph from Elysium

Like smoke suspended in the calm

Scaffolding for memory

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*It is odd timing that a post I wrote about a thunderstorm gained a wide new audience so shortly after the dreadful Hurricane that has done and continues to do so much damage in Houston. I’m sure the last thing anyone there cares to think about is rain, or storms, for a very long time— my heart and sympathies go to all who’ve been affected there.

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Spaces

Photo of old book pages

In the ellipses between
drops of rain
In the space between pale night’s end
and grey morning

I find you.
I find forgotten things.

Between lines of writing
in the pages of books
yellowing in drawers
and on shelves,
In the leathery slips
between their bindings—

And in the spaces
between the notes of songs
not yet written.
In the dry crack
precipitating the death
of an incandescent bulb,
that moment the knob twists
(an old brass lamp)

I hear whisperings,
stories long forgotten
and faded—
or things confused
with memories or dreams,

hauntings.

I find everything, and
nothing.

In the spaces between
things, now, I find
space.

Seeing things in similar ways, in black and white

photographs by Elizabeth Daggar
Cathedrals without ceilings
photographs by Elizabeth Daggar
Ornamental
photographs by Elizabeth Daggar
As above, so below
photographs by Elizabeth Daggar
Words on architecture

Today is the day of a complete solar eclipse!

The totality of the eclipse will not be visible in New York City, but a bit more than half of the sun will be obscured, so we’ve built some of these of pinhole viewing devices of shoeboxes and will head to Prospect Park to experience the earthly [urban] effects of this cosmic phenomenon.

I’m curious to see the surroundings as well as looking into the pinhole projector; curious about the effect of altered midday light in that brief window of time.

pinhole projector for eclipse drawing by Elizabeth Daggar

The conversations among windows that happen in the fading light

photo colorization of windows by Elizabeth Daggar
“Rhythms”

I had a little meander through the fourth and third avenue corridors of lower Gowanus last evening as the light struck things at angles. I added some strategic color to these images; some storytelling.

Shooting in color with a phone at that hour is dodgy at best, yet shot in black and white they lose a little something or maybe just feel so different to how it looked in person. These contrivances, then, to inject some of what was lost (or was never there).

photo colorization of windows by Elizabeth Daggar
“Communications”
photo colorization of windows by Elizabeth Daggar
“A nostalgic accord”
photo colorizations of windows in Gowanus by Elizabeth Daggar
“Morse Code”

Scenes from a nearby barrier island


Here are some photographs from my brief but lovely stay in Cherry Grove, Fire Island last week. A soothing balm, and the friends I stayed with had a little oasis of a cottage on the bayside. It was so serene and lovely that I didn’t even go off on a wander to photograph more of the town this time— and that’s rare for me.

More photos after the jump.

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