I walked along the edge of Wards Pond, surrounded on two sides by traffic fumes and car horns. The Pond is in a depression so that you must look up to see the roadways and it gives the place a sense of seclusion, albeit a false one. It is anything but secluded, even though it is less walked around than the larger Jamaica Pond, just across Perkins Street. From my vantage point, it is more surreal than secluded. The husks of old gas lights circling a non-existent dirt path; the overgrown vegetation and fallen tree trunks adjacent to a newly rebuilt walkway made of synthetic boards. Incongruous and, for me, alive with visual possibilities.
Frequently, I seem to find interesting shots around this Pond. Not ones of majestic trees rising up around water's edge. Yes, they're there, but the cars and apartment buildings compete with that majesty, just enough to turn down the heat. So when I'm shooting here, I lower my gaze, I look deep, looking on the water, in the water. I notice the reflections in the Pond and if I let my eyes stay loose, I have to work to see the surface. It becomes an ambiguous portrait of that which resides in the water or in the reflection. Fallen leaves composting in the Pond and reflections of branches soon to join them.
I'm grateful to have this place within walking distance. And grateful that I've slowly learned the patience to walk around it and celebrate the forms of its beauty.
No comments posted.