Last year the Naples Botanical Garden had a display of origami sculptures throughout the garden. These were big, and not really sculptures. They were created through the collaboration of Dr. Robert J. Lang, one of the world’s most renowned origami artists, and Kevin Box who used the paper origami objects to make cast aluminum replicas that were then painted.
I loved the birds, so took photos of them on several occasions, including a rare evening visit when they were lit from below but also were catching the last soft warm light of the setting sun.
Title is Migrating Peace, of the common crane.
Model folded from a single piece of paper by Dr. Robert J. Lang.
The most amazing part of this exhibit was the display of moldings created from the origami papers that were folded and unfolded.
Crane Unfolded – Phoenix Rising
Hidden within every folded origami object is a “crease pattern” – a document of history accounting for most of the choices or creases made in creating an origami object.
Each fold leaves a permanent crease in the paper that can only be revealed by deconstructing or unfolding the object.
Kevin Box, from his explanation of this exhibit in the Naples Botanical Garden, 2017
The Daily Post’s photography prompt for this week is lines. I spent a lot of time thinking about it and as I was trying to get my Lightroom data and hard drive images merged in my new computer I saw these photos from last year. Thanks, Cheri, as this gave me the perfect theme for using them in a post.
You can see more of Kevin Box’s work by clicking here or googling Kevin Box Origami.
I’ve traveled around the block enough times to realize that my years seem to be marked by rounding cycles that are similar in many ways but also are different. Maybe like a spiral, moving around to familiar places but on a new plane, providing new joy but also new challenges. I plant morning glories every year, even though I never know if they will grow or bloom. Sometimes they do and sometimes they don’t, because of warmth at critical times, amount of fertilizer, and how often I water.
This year my morning glories were slow to bloom because of a month without rain while we were vacationing along the northern east coast. We returned home in mid-August to weak vines with hundred of buds, and then I watered and we received rain. By the time we were rounding the time to head south for a few weeks, the morning glories exploding with blooms.
I am in love with the way the long, narrow white buds unfurl to show the beautiful, clear blue that looks and feels like the finest silk. As late summer rounded the curve into the cool nights of fall, I marveled at the deep purple on the edges and along the curved veins.
The beautiful blue flowers filled my soul with glory every morning as I sat on my purple porch swing with a cup of hot, creamy coffee between my hands, the steam curving up around my face.
Most years JB and I “discuss” when to pull the morning glories, with me negotiating to leave them in the ground until the morning we leave. This year it was JB who suggested we leave them until we returned in November. I thanked him with a smile and a kiss.
This week Ben Huberman at WordPress’s The Daily Post moved outside his comfort zone of straight lines and angles to challenge us to share our interpretation of “rounded.” I love curves, roundness. I have been thinking about the curves and round-about course of my life. I looked through many photographs containing curves because my eye is drawn to the grace they portray. But today I chose to put forth the simple but beautiful roundness of the morning glory. I am needing simple pleasures these days.
What wonderful hands. Hands that have worked, learned their skill, played, been around the block. What a mystery that they can wield a sledge hammer and string a tiny bead. They work without us thinking about how – they just do what we want them to do. Unless we are asking them to do something new, then they become awkward for a while.
I have always loved hands – I fell in love with my honey when I saw his hands work the keys of a piano. He hasn’t played since we married but I still love his hands. Hands need to have veins that show, spots and wrinkles, knuckles that have been deformed by years of use. If eyes are the window to the soul, hands are the door to a life story.
The photos and thoughts are in response to Ailsa’s travel theme, Hands. All hands were taken while vising someplace else.
Old Horse Barn outside Owen Sound Ontario. How elegant it is. I am sitting here wondering what my mind sees and depicts as elegant – maybe the architecture, or the coloring. There is detail that indicates it was not an inexpensive structure to build and that it took some skilled tradesmen. I had always hoped to attain an elegance in my aging years, but now it doesn’t seem to be as important. Now I have more desire to be who I am, to be a little rough around the edges. I want to have fun and to laugh and somehow that doesn’t seem to be compatible with my notion of elegance.
Interesting that the people who have caught my eye as having the kind of elegance I wanted, I have noticed at a distance. They weren’t close friends. The people who I gather around me are people who have character. They are good people, people who care about others and are honest. And they seem to be this way out of habit – values that were formed a long time ago so that now they are comfortable living within their aging bodies. They are comfortable speaking about life as it is, calling a spade a spade. They also respect what other people have to say, correcting inaccurate facts but accepting that others have different values. I have become more accepting that others have different values, but also prefer spending my time with people who share my core values.
The time I have left to live is too short to spend listening to another’s values that I believe are ill-guided and not conducive to serving a common good, a world where there is an equal playing field and everyone plays nice. As I do what I can to make this happen, I am going to laugh and have some fun.