The poetry of a stone.
Stones, I like them. They have patience. They look as if they belong where they are. Just there.
Stones change, by waiting. The sun and the weather change them. Superficial. Inside the stone, there is a rock-steady character.
By photographing them, you can change them. We, humans, change everything. The photo of the stone is not the stone anymore. The photo is like a piece of marble. A classic work of sculpturing. You have the RAW file and you sculpt with light and darkness. Erasing and adding.
The stone gave me a starting point. It showed me it’s skin. But I want to go to the core. I want to find out why I took the picture in the first place. Why did the stone attract my attention. Why not another stone?
IT’s the spirit of the stone I want to catch. The spirit that connects me with the stone, with the earth, with the universe.
And I hope that by using poetry I can lure the spirit out of its comfortable habitat. And catch a glimpse of it’s being.