A Distant Memory

First snow
Originally uploaded by Timothy Neesam.

It seems so distant now. That first snowflake, falling from dark skies above, landing on the tip of my outstretched tongue. Winter was cold and bitter. Snow fell across lands here and distant. Roads iced over, and a quiet hush blanketed the countryside. Mittens warmed our fingertips while hot cocoa filled our coffee cups. Cold, wet shoes dried by the heater near the back porch. Hats and scarves splattered the bench. Winter was harsh and long. We thought it would never end. Cold, dead branches from the tree reached up, almost touching cloud heavy darkened skies. Everything died, everything faded to a washed out grey.

Winter is gone now. No more fallen snow. No more mittens, hats, or cold, wet shoes. Winter is but a distant memory. Spring has taken her place among the seasons of time. It's her turn now. Old man winter, be off. Spring has moved in, your time has gone.

The buds have broken, the skies are no longer dark, and the cold is not fresh on our minds. The hot chocolate stashed, boots slowly packed into the back of the closet. Leaves and flowers come now where there was once barren shades of white and grey.

This fence would now hold back a field of flowers, keeping it boxed and safe for summer to pick up and carry away.

Text by: Carol Schiraldi
Photo by: Timothy Neesam

Abstraction

untitled
Originally uploaded by aeron staen.

They say our brains work in mysterious ways. We sometimes see things that aren't there, or make up sounds in our dreams, yet memories from times past can remain clear in our thoughts, almost as if treasured events happened yesterday. Nobody knows why our minds work the way they do-the human brain is one of the vast uncharted terrotories of scientific discovery-yet it's right under our collective noses. When it comes to the study of the human mind, we remain so close and yet so very distant to true knowledge and understanding.

One thing that is certain though, the artist's fascination with all things abstract. Throughout the years, abstract art has been linked with greatness, mastery, passing fancy, insanity, and almost every point in between. Many artists favor the abstract-it obscures "true" meaning and allows the viewer to impart a sense of purpose to the piece. Some artists say that abstract art actually allows us to remember things that never happened. It works our "inner child" and lets us turn the rules upside down in an attempt at making sense of an otherwise crazy universe.

Regardless of your stance on the abstract, be it "viewer as participant" or "memories yet unseen" abstraction allows the artist to play-to work in a sandbox of shadows and light, to draw with crayons of colors yet unnamed, to bring to life that which isn't really there.

Much like art itself, venturing into the abstract brings point unknown right home to our inner vision.

Text by: Carol Schiraldi
Photo by: Aeron Staen

The Wheel in the Sky

Wheel me round
Originally uploaded by Timothy Neesam.

"...And the wheel in the sky goes 'round...."

What is the purpose of a ferris wheel? Engineering marvel? View from the sky? Carnival ride for the children?

The wheel turns. The clock's hands move. Sand in the hour glass falls. We grow a day older, a day wiser-no longer young and wild, but sensible and melancholy. The wheel turns yet again. The lathe of the heavens spins on the edge of a thin dime.

Everything in the world twists and turns-even the world itself turns on its own axis-how can one possibly stop the spinning madness? But to find the top of a giant wheel in the sky and enjoy a quiet moment, suspended, that's entertainment.

It's one of life's simple pleasures. Enjoy the view.

Text by: Carol Schiraldi
Photo by: Timothy Neesam

Those Shoes

I do
Originally uploaded by chricela.

That man, her dress, that string of pearls, those shoes-love can happen in a blur. One minute, you're sitting in the park, sharing a quiet moment, the next? Strolling down the aisle in front of strangers and relatives alike. That church, her bouquet, that rice-love happens in a moment, forever frozen in time.

There's something magical about the promise of finding that special someone. There's something special about finding someone special. You want to share it with the world. You want to shout it from the highest rooftop. You feel alive.

White shoes, her dress, those pearls, that love-will it last forever?

Text by: Carol Schiraldi
Photo by: Chricela

Mirror Mirror

como
Originally uploaded by thescatteredimage.

"Mirror, mirror on the wall, who's the fairest of them all?"

This isn't your typcial fairy tale. Our lady wears pink in a land of black orbs, surrounded by antiques, she's a thoroughly modern millie. If she's waiting for her prince to show, he'd best come equipped with a cell phone, for this snow white won't tolerate his tardiness. Those camel back chairs amuse her-landmarks from yesterday dotting her horizon, she ignores them handily. Those postcards? Well, she'll probably send them off, sealed with a kiss, to lands afar.

She's a snow white for a new generation-happy, pink, waiting, hiding in between the fringes, the orbs, and the mirrors of her yesterday.

Who are you going to be in your next fairy tale?

Text by: Carol Schiraldi
Photo by: TheScatteredImage

Catwalk

SFMOMA catwalk
Originally uploaded by cawins.

You start walking, turn, stop, and stare into that camera. Work it baby. It's your moment to shine. You're in the spotlight. You're on the catwalk. The whole world is looking at you. Time to put you hand on your hip, stare, glare, and give us your best pout. The fashionistas love you baby. You're the new "it" child. Work it while your hot. Give us some of the incredible face, kid.

Then turn, walk away, and let somebody else have a moment. It's a fickle spotlight and we get to bask in it for only a fleeting moment. I hope you enjoyed yours while it lasted.

Text by: Carol Schiraldi
Photo by: Cawins

Was it a Dream?

Metaire Cemetery Sphinx
Originally uploaded by kathyv.

I travel the world. I see blue skies and feel the cool breeze against my skin. I go to London and watch as the brightly colored red double decker buses dart around random traffic circles. I see the Great Wall of China. The canals of Venice, the great pyramids of Egypt come into focus. I see the Mardi Gras in New Orleans.

Before the tomb of the pharos was looted, at the beginning of time, back in the days men rode camels across the desert in search of long lost treasure, there was the great sphinx-head of a human, body of a lion, soul a complete mystery.

Was it only in my dream? Or did it really exist?

Text by: Carol Schiraldi
Photo by: Kathy V