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Black Portfolio (March 11 / on-line version)

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Black Portfolio (March 11 / on-line version) - Page Text Content

BC: "Tulips Under Moonlight"

FC: the PHOTOGRAPHY of JOHN F. KIRK

1: the PHOTOGRAPHY of JOHN F. KIRK

3: Cities

16: “Clouds come floating into my life, no longer to carry rain or usher storm,

17: but to add color to my sunset sky.” - Rabindranath Tagore

21: Vistas

25: A human being should hear a little music, read a little poetry, and see a fine picture every day of his life, in order that worldly cares may not obliterate the sense of the beautiful which God has implanted in the human soul. – Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

27: “A fool sees not the same tree that a wise man sees.” - William Blake

28: I like this place and could willingly waste my time in it. - Shakespeare

30: Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature's peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms their energy, while cares will drop away from you like the leaves of Autumn. – John Muir

31: Those who dwell among the beauties and mysteries of the earth are never alone or weary of life. – Rachel Carson

34: Everybody needs beauty as well as bread, places to play in and pray in, where nature may heal and give strength to body and soul. – John Muir

35: Thousands of tired, nerve-shaken, over-civilized people are beginning to find out that going to the mountains is going home; that wildness is necessity; that mountain parks and reservations are useful not only as fountains of timber and irrigating rivers, but as fountains of life. - John Muir

38: “I felt my lungs inflate with the onrush of scenery—air, mountains, trees . . . . I thought, 'This is what it is to be happy'.” - Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

43: "In nature, nothing is perfect and everything is perfect. Trees can be contorted, bent in weird ways, and they're still beautiful." – Alice Walker

48: Love means learning to look at yourself The way one looks at distant things For you are only one thing among many. And whoever sees that way heals his heart, Without knowing it, from various ills— A bird and a tree say to him: Friend. Then he wants to use himself and things So that they stand in the glow of ripeness. It doesn’t matter whether he knows What he serves: he who serves best Doesn’t always understand. – Czeslaw Milosz, “Love”

52: Slowly the west reaches for new clothes arraying itself in a wardrobe of dazzling new colors, slipping them on behind a row of ancient pines, by the glow of a remote canyon. You look and watch as these two worlds collide and untangle in a fiery pink-red golden blaze; one part climbing steadily to heaven through hues of blue to black, while the other sinks willingly into the earth. And you, left behind, here, again, for another evening, not yet really belonging to either world; not yet as eternal as the stars now glittering above, and yet no longer as rote as the dust and clay below; left behind, for now, to build a life temporarily your own, sometimes timid, sometimes standing high and growing; now pent in, now reaching out. One moment your life a stone in you, and the next, a blazing new star. — Rainer Maria Rilke, "Sunset" (my rendering & reworking of his poem)

54: "Supposing you only saw the stars once every year. Think what you would think. The wonder of it!" – Tasha Tudor

55: "In this invisible moment between the long past and the unknown future, we stand on the edge, living on the rim of time." – John Otto

57: I am a man: little do I last and the night is enormous. But I look up: the stars write. And without understanding I realize: I too am written in this very instant somebody else spells me out. – Octavio Paz, “Brotherhood” (In homage to Claudius Ptolemy)

59: Flowers

60: Spring! And Earth is like a child who has learned many new poems by heart. And for the trouble of that long learning she wins the prize. Her teacher was demanding. But she loved the white of the old man's beard. And now we can ask her the many names of green and blue, and she knows them, she knows them! Earth, school is out now. You're free to play with the children. We'll catch you, joyous Earth. The happiest will catch you! All that the teacher taught her—the many thoughts pressed now into roots and long tough stems: she sings! She sings! | Rainer Maria Rilke, “Sonnets to Orpheus I, 21”

62: The earth has music for those who listen. - George Santayana

65: Earth laughs in flowers. – Emerson

67: Bring me then the plant that points to those bright Lucidites swirling up from the earth, And life itself exhaling that central breath! Bring me the sunflower crazed with the love of light” - Eugenio Montale

76: “The artist is the confidant of nature, flowers carry on dialogues with him through the graceful bending of their stems and the harmoniously tinted nuances of their blossoms. Every flower has a cordial word which nature directs towards him.” - Auguste Rodin

80: The buds are shouting: “The Gardener is coming. Today he picks the blossoms, Tomorrow, us!” – Kabir

82: Flowers are a proud assertion that a ray of beauty outvalues all the utilities of the world. – Emerson

88: Where is there an outer for this inner? Whose wound has ever been bandaged by linen as fine as these petals? What skies find themselves reflected on the inner ponds of these open roses— these blissfully untroubled ones? See how they relax in all their softness— loosening their petals as if no trembling hand could ever spill them?

89: See how loose and lax they lie? They can hardly contain themselves and all the richness that is theirs. The excess of their fullness pours out of them; the sharing of their inwardness swells the days, until the days begin enclosing around them, and the whole summer becomes a room —a room within a dream. – Rainer Maria Rilke, “The Rose Interior”

90: One could say these roses were each self-contained, if self-contained meant: | Through these petals light must pass. From a thousand skies, each drop of darkness is filtered out, and the glow at the center of each of these roses grows stronger and rises to life.

91: To transform the world outside, to transform wind and rain and the patience of spring, the guilt and restlessness and furtiveness of fate, and the darkness of the Earth at evening on out to the streaming and fleeing of clouds and, further yet, to the vague influence of distant stars, and take all of that and turn it into a handful of inwardness. See how it all lies so at ease in these roses? - Rainer Maria Rilke, (abridged from “A Bowl of Roses”)

93: Somewhere the flower of farewell is blooming. Endlessly it yields its pollen, which we breathe. Even in the breeze of this beginning hour we breathe farewell. | – Rilke

95: Butterflies (& Other Splendid Things)

115: Tell a wise person or else keep silent For the mass of men will mock it right away. I praise what is truly alive And what longs to be burned to death. In the calm waters of the nights of love Where you were begotten, where you have begotten, A strange feeling comes over you When you see the silent candle burning. Now you are no longer caught In this obsession with darkness And a desire for higher lovemaking sweeps you up. Distance does not make you falter. And now, arriving in wonder, flying, And, finally, insane for the light, You are the butterfly, And you are gone. And so long as you haven’t Experienced this—to die And so to grow—you are only Another troubled guest darkening the earth. – Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, “The Holy Longing”

117: Core of every core, kernel of every kernel, almond self-enclosed and sweetening; all of this, all the way on out to the farthest stars is flesh around your fruit. Look—you feel it, the weight is gone nothing any longer clings to you. Your husk is in infinity. All around you is aglow in your infinite peace. And high above you, blazing overhead a billion stars go spinning through the night, But in you something has already begun to live that will last longer than any sun. – Rilke, “Buddha Inside the Light”

119: Insects

121: If the bee disappeared off the face of the earth, man would only have four years left to live. | - Einstein

123: When I hear a man preach, I like to see him act as if he were fighting bees. | – Abraham Lincoln

126: To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee, One clover, and a bee. And reverie. The reverie alone will do, If bees are few. – Emily Dickinson

129: There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle. - Einstein

131: [O]ur task is to stamp this provisional, perishing earth into ourselves so deeply, so painfully and passionately, that its being may rise again, “invisibly,” in us. We are the bees of the Invisible. And we ceaselessly gather the honey of the visible to store it in the great golden hive of the Invisible. - Rilke

133: Wildlife

134: “Where am I? What is this thing called the world? Who is it who has lured me into existence and now leaves me here? Who am I? How did I come into the world? And why was I not consulted?” – Soren Kierkegaard

138: Beauty is not a need but an ecstasy, a heart enflamed and a soul enchanted. It is not the image you would see nor the song you would hear, but rather an image you see though you close your eyes, and a song you hear though you shut your ears. It is not the sap within the furrowed bark, nor a wing attached to a claw, but rather a garden forever in bloom. Beauty is life when life unveils her holy face. And you are life and you are the veil. Beauty is eternity gazing at itself in a mirror. And you are eternity and your are the mirror. Khalil Gibran, The Prophet

149: If you don't know the kind of person I am and I don't know the kind of person you are a pattern that others made may prevail in the world and following the wrong god home we may miss our star. For there is many a small betrayal in the mind, a shrug that lets the fragile sequence break sending with shouts the horrible errors of childhood storming out to play through the broken dyke. And as elephants parade holding each elephant's tail, but if one wanders the circus won't find the park, I call it cruel and maybe the root of all cruelty to know what occurs but not recognize the fact. And so I appeal to a voice, to something shadowy, a remote important region in all who talk: though we could fool each other, we should consider-- lest the parade of our mutual life get lost in the dark. For it is important that awake people be awake, or a breaking line may discourage them back to sleep; the signals we give--yes or no, or maybe-- should be clear: the darkness around us is deep. – William Stafford, “A Ritual To Read To Each Other”

151: Autumn & Sunsets

153: Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower. – Albert Camus

155: The leaves are falling, falling as if from far above, as if orchards were dying up in space, with each leaf gesturing "no" as it falls. And tonight the heavy earth is falling away from all the other stars into loneliness. And we too are all falling. This hand there is falling. And look at the others. It's in all of them. And yet there is one, who holds all this falling, with infinite calm in his hands. – Rilke, “Autumn”

157: Lord, it is time! The summer was so grand! Lay your shadow on the sundials let the wind loose across the fields Command the last fruits to ripen; give them a few more southerly days, drive them onto fullness, press the last sweetness into the heavy wine. Whoever has no house by now will not be able to build one. Whoever is alone now will remain alone for a long time, will stay up, read, write long letters, wander up and down the sidewalks, restless, while the leaves are falling. – Rilke, "Autumn Day"

161: Already the ripening barberries are red, and the old asters hardly breathe in their beds. The man who is not rich now as summer goes will wait and wait and never be himself. The man who cannot quietly close his eyes certain that there is vision after vision tucked away inside simply waiting for nighttime to rise all around him in darkness —it’s all over for him, he’s like an old man. Nothing else will come; no more days will open and everything that does happen will cheat him. Even You, my God. And You are like a stone that draws us daily deeper into the depths. - Rilke

162: Earth’s crammed with heaven, And every common bush afire with God, But only he who sees takes off his shoes; The rest sit round and pluck blackberries. - Elizabeth Barrett Browning

168: As long as I live, I'll hear waterfalls and birds and winds sing. I'll interpret the rocks, learn the language of flood, storm, and the avalanche. I'll acquaint myself with the glaciers and wild gardens, and get as near the heart of the world as I can. – John Muir

171: Passages

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  • By: John K.
  • Joined: almost 4 years ago
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About This Mixbook

  • Title: Black Portfolio (March 11 / on-line version)
  • "The Photography of John F. Kirk" . . . This is a collection of some of my favorite nature and scenic photographs from the past several years. I hope you find as much pleasure in viewing these photos as I found in taking them. Enjoy!
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  • Published: over 3 years ago

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