Another American Adventure: seeing the inside of a soul

Wednesday, February 29, 2012

seeing the inside of a soul

One of my jobs while I am here is to create a digital database of a private art collection. When I go to their house, I feel like I am going inside a soul.

This is outside, looking in to a photograph of a homeless man. I think this photo looks like it belongs in a Church.

Interesting things everywhere you look ... this is a BIG job.

Even outside ... not a great photo, but it was raining and I took this from a window. The sheep and other animals look like they belong there.

This woman is so stunningly beautiful, that she seems real ...

Dancing rabbit and rainy day in Florida.

1 comment:

BarbaraMarch 1, 2012 at 3:32 PM
I would think that is how visiting a private art collection should feel.
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"In those first days, people said, a squirrel could run the long length of Pennsylvania without ever touching the ground. In those first days, the woods were white oak and chestnut, hickory, maple, sycamore, walnut, wild ash, wild plum, and white pine. The pine grew on the ridgetops where the mountains' lumpy spines stuck up and their skin was thinnest.

"The wilderness was uncanny, unknown. Benjamin Franklin had already invented his stove in Philadelphia by 1753, and Thomas Jefferson was a schoolboy in Virginia; French soldiers had been living in forts along Lake Erie for two generations. But west of the Alleghenies in western Pennsylvania, there was not even a settlement, not even a cabin. No Indians lived there, or even near there.

"Wild grapevines tangled the treetops and shut out the sun. Few songbirds lived in the deep woods. Bright Carolina parakeets - red, green, and yellow - nested in the dark forest. There were ravens then, too. Woodpeckers rattled the big trees' trunks, ruffed grouse whirred their tail feathers in the fall, and every long once in a while a nervous gang of empty-headed turkeys came hustling and kicking through the leaves - but no one heard any of this, no one at all."

Annie Dillard, An American Childhood.