Thursday, February 13, 2014

ghosts




"As dusk approaches in the hinterlands, a traveler ponders shelter for the night. He notices brushes growing everywhere, so he bundles an armful together as they stand in the field, and knots them at the top.  Presto, a living grass hut.  The next morning, before embarking on another day's journey, he un-knots the rushes and presto, the hut de-constructs, disappears, and becomes a virtually indistinguishable part of the larger field of rushes once again.  The original wilderness seems to be restored, but minute traces of the shelter remain.  A slight twist or bend in a reed here and there.  There is also the memory of the hut in the mind of the traveler - and in the mind of the reader reading this description.  Wabi-sabi, in it's purest, most idealized form, is precisely about these delicate traces, this faint evidence, at the borders of nothingness." 
 - Leonard Koren, Wabi-Sabi for Artists, Designers, Poets, & Philosophers

I've been thinking a lot about (and feeling) this feeling lately, the feeling left by faint traces.  especially today as I watch the little snow mounds where the girls buried themselves early this morning blend away.   I hesitate to pick a favorite feeling, but this is definitely one of them.

image - Cecile Daladier journal

1 comment:

  1. It's enjoyable to learn more and more from your blog. Thanks for sharing.

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