Recognizing Beauty

I gravitate to changing light and visually conflicting elements when I am making images; although when that kind of high drama happens in my personal life, it can be scary. I might resist and flee—instead of embrace—the contrast.

In this image, the sunlight is steady, and the walkway is actually quite broad, so their morning sojourn is in no way risky. Yet, viewed from this angle and because the viewer can’t see the water just below the framing, the girls might look as if they walk a precarious path above a precipitous wall descending to an empty, concrete pool. Danger is perceived, and safety in reality is commingled with contrast.

The well-worn building behind them I recall is an abandoned temple in Mandalay. The doors lack utilitarian doorknobs and appear inactive, but their rich patina glows as if about to become flame. Centuries of sun have caused areas on the facade to turn yellow or black against the variable white tones, emphasizing delicate details. The colors and textures on the wall below the young girls reveal traces of waterlines that are like rings on a tree. In those lines I see history and the passage of time. With its faded grandeur, the building is strong, powerful, but also ragged, aged. The girls cluster like pink blossoms, emanating gentleness, freshness, and youth. Contrast is everywhere and meant to be appreciated.

The parasols are protective; blocking the sun’s glare and any swift winds. I love the elegance of them and how, in contrast, the young girls think of them as common. I find myself wondering; how can all this contrast guide me when I encounter someone whose beliefs are so different from my own? Perhaps it will be by looking beyond the beastly or barrenness and recognizing their beauty.