She sang beyond the genius of the sea. |
The water never formed to mind or voice,
Like a body wholly body, fluttering
Its empty sleeves; and yet its mimic motion
Made constant cry, caused constantly a cry,
That was not ours although we understood,
Inhuman, of the veritable ocean.
The sea was not a mask. No more was she.
The song and water were not medleyed sound
Even if what she sang was what she heard,
Since what she sang was uttered word by word.
It may be that in all her phrases stirred
The grinding water and the gasping wind;
But it was she and not the sea we heard.
For she was the maker of the song she sang.
From The Idea of Order at Key West
by Wallace Stevens
A camera can be an aid for memory and a medium for sharing things seen. But not just these: it is also a tool for seeing, for communicating the experience of seeing, and for forging meaning out of it.
The raw materials of these images are mundane: light falling on objects and
surfaces, abstracted shapes and colors, human bodies. What is interesting is
not what the images are, but rather what they become in the minds of viewers
-- including this one.