#psychogepgraphy

[kindofbluehour]

KOBH #0073 — Little Bay, Sydney •

Two words and an acronym— Liminality #3 •

Sometimes when I write these notes to complement the images there's a clear agenda, a fully formed topic emerges. 

Sometimes it's a matter of free association. When I considered this image, two words and an acronym came to me: Spiral, Meniscus and ROYGBIV. 

Spiral

The sandstone shape in the foreground with the distinctive sea sponge fissures immediately reminded me of "Land Art" or "Earth Art" specifically the piece “Spiral Jetty” by Robert Smithson. The key difference is that one is naturally occurring; the other is the product of human fabrication.  The key similarity is the pleasing spiral curve in both instances. The attention of the observer is captivated by the shape/symbol.

Meniscus

The exaggerated curved horizon reminded me of the word "meniscus", namely, inter alia — a crescent or a crescent-shaped body; the convex or concave upper surface of a column of liquid, the curvature of which is caused by surface tension.

Accurate but rather technical and rather drab.

Memory chimed in to reveal the poetic association of this word for me — the poem "Out of Time" by Australian poet and journalist, Kenneth Slessor. In particular, this extract:

Fixed in a sweet meniscus, out of Time, 

Out of the torrent, like the fainter land 

Lensed in a bubble's ghostly camera, 

The lighted beach, the sharp and china sand 

Glitters and waters and peninsula - 

The moment's world it was; and I was part, 

Fleshless and ageless, changeless and made free. 

ROYGBIV

The acronym learnt in high school science class — the colour spectrum in order — red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo and violet. Emphasis for this writer's purposes is the last three colours. This image was made with a viewpoint of south: frame-left is west and frame-right being east. 

Closely examine the strata of the sky furthest from the horizon — the colour transitions left to right, from violet to indigo to blue. From our terrestrial viewpoint the frame-right is further from the Sun so the sky tends to blue whilst frame-left is closer and appears violet. 

In one frame, the visual vocabulary of blue hour.

(Sidenote: Port Botany container port appears on the horizon — the cranes so resemble giraffes on the savannah).

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[kindofbluehour]

KOBH #0070 — Coogee Beach, Sydney •

Kind of Blue and Cardinal Points — Liminality #2 •

To paraphrase a favourite album title: “I don’t know this world without Miles Davis”. Further, I don’t know this world without the album “Kind of Blue” which is marking its 60th anniversary this year, as well as being the origin for the name of this blog.

As with many an œuvre that is both a bona fide masterpiece and nearly ubiquitous — like seeing Van Gogh paintings on tea towels —  “Kind of Blue” is playing in cafés and bars everywhere 24/7. It’s too easy to take it for granted — like a firm foundation beneath one’s feet, to continue a point raised in my previous blog.

It is little known that Chinese classical philosophy actually posited five cardinal directions— East, South, West, North and Centre — one includes where one stands. Not as far-fetched as one may think—  despite what occidental histories choose to include or omit — it is indisputable that the Chinese invented the compass thanks to the discovery of magnetite or the lodestone. Our origin or fifth cardinal point, if you like, is from whence we navigate —  commonsense.

“Kind of Blue” is a cardinal point for my aesthetic values. A way to navigate beyond the horizon — like sailors and wolves raising their eyes to greet the moon and finding their way accordingly.

This image is about lighting the way. I made it just after moonrise. Although the moon itself is unseen, it illuminates what’s below. A priori there is also artificial lighting present —  it’s the leitmotif of the entire series — natural/organic and its correlative —  rectilinear and human-originated.

Music may be invisible; yet we palpably experience its emotional and sensate effects.

To quote from TS Eliot’s poem “The Dry Salvages”: 

... [M]usic heard so deeply

That it is not heard at all, but you are the music

While the music lasts.

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